long does it usually take?”
“Drinks or supper?”
She laughed. “No, the maze.”
“If you know your way, not long. Ten minutes, maybe. For the novice, though, it’s easy to get turned around. I’ve seen people wander through there for hours.”
She shot him a cocky smile. “I’ll bet I could figure it out in no time.”
“It’s more confusing than you might think.”
“I have a very good sense of direction. And I like a challenge.”
He didn’t doubt that she did. She certainly had spunk. He liked that about her. In his opinion, it took a strong and independent woman to withstand a marriage of convenience. Melissa seemed to have what it would take. He hoped she felt the same way.
“Just in case, I think it should wait.”
She looked disappointed, but she didn’t push the issue. Duty was duty, and she seemed to embrace the concept. One more trait in her favor.
“Tomorrow, then?” she asked.
“Of course.”
She gazed up at him through a curtain of thick, dark lashes, a wicked smile teasing the corners of her lips. “You promise?”
“I’m a man of my word,” he said.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the saying ‘Chivalry is dead.’”
“Not on Morgan Isle it isn’t.” He gazed down at her, into the smoky depths of her eyes, and swore he could see a shadow of apprehension. Maybe even sorrow. Then it was gone.
Either he’d imagined it, or she wasn’t as tough as she wanted people to believe.
“Now,” he said, “are you ready to have drinks with my parents?”
“I guess so.” She took a long, deep breath, and blew it out. Then asked, “Anything I should know before-hand? It’s important that I make a good impression.”
“Just be yourself and I know they’ll find you as enchanting and interesting as I do.”
He could see from her smile that she appreciated his answer.
“I like you, Your Highness.”
He returned the smile. “I would have to say, that’s a very good thing.”
“Why is that?”
“Because, Princess, I like you, too.”
As Melissa had suspected, “drinks with the king and queen” was code for a thorough grilling by not only Chris’s parents, but his brother and sisters as well. They seemed to want to know all about her and her half siblings, and the country of Morgan Isle. And they weren’t shy about asking. She tried to answer their questions as honestly as possible without giving away too much, or in some cases, too little. She had been with her new family such a short time that in some cases she simply didn’t know the answers.
Dinner was a five-course feast of seafood caught off their own shores, organic vegetables from the royal family’s personal garden and bread baked fresh from wheat grown in their own fields. They followed it up with a dessert that was so mouthwateringly delicious Melissa was tempted to ask for seconds.
Though she had never been one to choose organic or natural products, it really did make a difference. She would go so far as to say it was one of the tastiest, freshest meals she’d ever eaten.
It was nine-thirty by the time dinner was over and she thoroughly expected another round of drinks, and very possibly more questions. Instead, Chris’s parents excused themselves to their quarters. The king did look exhausted, but she supposed that was only natural when she considered that he spent his days running an entire country. And though he didn’t exactly have one foot in the grave, he was no kid, either. In his late sixties would be her guess, but she wasn’t rude enough to ask.
She also didn’t miss the way his children seemed to coddle him. The fleeting and furtive looks of concern they would direct his way when they thought no one was looking. She couldn’t escape the feeling that there was something going on with his royal highness. Something they didn’t want her to know.
Everyone said their good-nights, his brother and sisters included—although she doubted they all actually went to bed this early—and Chris walked her to her room.
“Everyone retires early here,” she said when they stopped outside her door.
He leaned against the doorjamb. “Our primary business is farming. Early to bed, early to rise.”
“In New Orleans, if I was in bed by one it was an early night. It’s a totally different culture.”
“To be honest,” he said, “I’ve always been something of a night owl myself.”
“Would you like to come in for a while?” she asked, gesturing inside her room. “We could have a drink and…talk.”
He looked past her into the bedroom. A single lamp burned beside the bed and the maid had turned down the covers. There was no denying that it looked awfully inviting. “I’d like to, but I shouldn’t.”
“Tired of me already?” she teased.
“Quite the opposite.” He took a step closer, his eyes simmering with desire. “If I allow myself to come into your room tonight, you know as well as I that we’ll be doing much more than just talking. Is that what you want?”
Though a part of her wanted to say yes—the curious, reckless, and let’s face it, lonely part—she knew it wouldn’t be right. She’d met him only a few hours ago. Shouldn’t she at least get to know him a little before she let her hormones call the shots? Before she gave in to the inevitable? Because she knew without a doubt that sometime before she flew home to Morgan Isle, she would sleep with Chris.
But not tonight.
“No, I guess not.” She took a step back from him, from the heady pull of attraction that would instead have her wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer for a long, deep kiss.
He looked disappointed, but not at all surprised. “I thought we would take a tour of the island tomorrow. See the village and the fields we control.”
She smiled. “I’d like that.”
“Shall we have breakfast first? Say, eight o’clock. If that’s not too early.”
She doubted she’d be able to sleep late, if she slept at all. She smiled. “I’d like that.”
“Good night, Melissa. Sleep well.”
“Good night, Chris.”
He took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against it, and for an instant she thought he might take her in his arms and kiss her anyway, then he let go of her hand and backed away. He flashed her one
