as Max Hughes had wandered through the rest of the museum and taken tea in the garden there. They’d had the place to themselves. It had seemed as if they were the only people in the world as they talked. He’d admitted he liked to sketch the odd scene now and then, even to paint if he had time.
“Like Churchill,” she’d said, “something to relax you.”
“What do you do in your spare time?” he’d asked.
“Read. Go on long walks. Work on computer programs.”
That was when he’d questioned her about her work. She’d told him about Crosby Systems and her job in Lantanya. He’d been keenly interested and had asked a thousand questions. When she’d asked, he said he was in business, too, mostly as a consultant. His manner had been sardonic as he admitted that last one.
Consultant? Yes, if one stretched the definition of king. Maybe he was more of a figurehead than a ruler, though.
Not that it mattered to her. He’d walked her partway back to the resort, then had to leave for a meeting. She’d been disappointed as she wound her way up the steep slope to the castle-like building on a rocky promontory.
“I’ll see you again,” he’d promised, briefly lifting her hand to his lips.
And he had.
Hearing music from a car passing on the street, Ivy was thrust back into the recent past and that magic night….
A cool breeze blew off the sea and music that filled her soul wafted over her as she’d stood on the patio and observed the very last of the colors in the sunset sink into the sea. She’d been alone.
“Let’s not waste the music,” an amused voice said from the shadows.
A man, tall, with dark hair and eyes and a brilliant smile, stepped into view. Max held his hands out and she stepped into them as if they’d done this a thousand times before. The music rose and throbbed and they dipped and swayed to the notes, wrapped in the magic of it all.
When it stopped, they did, too. They dropped their arms, but didn’t move away.
“That was enchanting,” he murmured, his gaze warm and filled with laughter as he studied her.
“I feel like an enchanted princess,” she said, then looked at him quickly to see if she’d been too bold.
“And I, your devoted knight,” he murmured, a devilish light in his eyes. He executed a smart little bow.
On impulse she nodded regally, her mouth curling with laughter at their acting. And the fact that he’d returned.
“Your meeting, did it go well?” she asked.
He shrugged. “It is concluded.” His smile flashed again. “Please, Your Highness,” he begged, “give me some daring feat to perform so that I may show my devotion and my sorrow that I had to leave you this afternoon.”
She looked around the darkened patio, at the sky, then the capital city lying on the coast, its lights glittering like jewels. On a nearby trellis, she saw what she wanted.
“Sir Knight, there is one thing, a rose, the most perfect bloom of them all, that I crave, but it is out of my reach.”
“Show it to me and it shall be yours.” He dropped to his knee. “Or by my honor and my good name, I shall perish in the attempt.”
“Nay,” she whispered, held by the strong, sensuous line of his lips. “You shall not perish. I won’t allow it.”
“Then tell me where it is.”
“There.” She turned from him and the allure of his smile, of his eyes and the fires that now burned hotly in those dark depths. Pointing to the highest branch and the farthest rose that wafted beyond the stone of the patio’s walls, she waited breathlessly to see what he would do.
“An easy task,” he told her.
He leaped to a chair, a table, then the top of the wall. Without testing the support of the trellis, he stepped upon it and climbed upward, careful of the thorny vines. When he was as high as he could go, he leaned out…and out…and out…
For a moment it seemed to her that he hung between earth and air, attached to neither, as the land dropped sharply off the bluff where the resort was built. Then he deftly plucked the rose she’d indicated, leaped back to the wall, then onto the patio and, again kneeling on one foot, presented the prize to her.
When she hesitated, feeling it was too intimate a gift, he stood and moved close. “You cannot refuse,” he said in a low, husky voice, “when I have risked all for it. And for you.”
He removed the thorns from the stem and tucked the pure white rose into the bosom of her blouse.
“That is where it belongs, next to your heart,” he said in the same tone that sent sprinkles of stardust swirling down to the innermost parts of her.
The music began again, and they danced without speaking for a long time. From the town a clock struck the hour, a plangent vibration that echoed in her heart with each peal.
“Midnight,” she whispered.
“Must you leave?”
She shook her head and looked at her feet, half expecting to find glass slippers. He followed her gaze.
His chuckle made her laugh, too. “We are foolish together, but it is fun, yes?”
She nodded. They danced some more, then went inside for a late supper. Over the meal, they talked about everything. Their lives. Their early dreams. Then later ones. Their sorrows. His mother had died two years ago, his father last fall. Max had traveled the world since then, but there had been no escaping the mourning. He had loved them very much.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, taking his hand and pressing it to her cheek. “My parents are divorced, but at least I still have them both. And a stepmother.”
“She doesn’t like you?” His eyes became dangerous.
“Oh, yes. She’s very nice.”
“But?” When she looked at him perplexed, he added, “There’s always more after such faint praise.”
“Well, she’s always been closer to my sister, Katie. Katie’s a year older than I am and my best friend. I’m the baby of the family. They treat me like a pet.”
He laughed at that and playfully patted her head. She snarled and pretended to bite his hand. Then they fell silent and simply observed each other over the flicker of the candle.
“I have a suite,” he finally said. “I will make for you the most delicious dessert. Will you come with me and let me serve you, sweet princess of the rose?”
She nodded.
He stood and took her hand, helping her from the chair, then they drifted up the marble stairs and along a silent corridor until they came to two magnificent doors carved with two lions raised on their hind legs, their forepaws touching as they gazed fiercely at the onlooker.
