more surprised than Zara herself. But, surprising as it was, it was true. Today, he had shown her something other than the palace. Today, he had shown her what she could mean, not just to her country, not just to him, but to others. And what others could mean to her. She was beginning to feel that she was part of something. A part of the people here in this country, of the royal family.
“Forgive me for feeling surprised by that, Princess. But just yesterday you tried to get yourself thrown out.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Things change.”
A shadow fell over his expression, and he took another sip of wine. “I suppose sometimes things do change. But people rarely do.”
“Why does that sound ominous?”
“It shouldn’t. Just realistic. I want you to understand that just because what you want has changed, it doesn’t mean that I will.”
“Because you’re so very terrible?” She had yet to see evidence of this legendary playboy and lapsed prince. Andres wasn’t perfect. She wasn’t entirely certain she could characterize him as nice. But she liked him. He was full of passion, fire and intensity. And, though he would deny it, conviction.
Deeper than the conviction was the pain. Pain that she had heard in the cracks of the story he’d told about his mother. In his explanation for why he had slept with his brother’s fiancée. How deeply must a man hate himself to try and make everyone else hate him too? Beneath his words now, she sensed it. That same intent.
“There are quite a few people on this earth who would tell you that I am.”
“Happily for you, I am not one of them. Which is really quite convenient when you think about it. I doubt you want a wife who hates you.”
He laughed, the sound like the edge of a rusty knife’s blade. “It may be inevitable. I’m not entirely certain as I’ve never had a wife before.”
“It’s only inevitable if you make it so. It’s your decision.”
“And yours, I think, Princess,” he said, a strange kind of insincerity coating his words.
“Then I purpose to like you. For a very long time.” She was quite satisfied with the declaration.
“Very kind of you.”
A moment later the waitstaff appeared, putting plates down in front of them. It was chicken, which made her smile because he’d remembered that he owed her chicken. “I like you even more now.”
“You are very cheaply bought.”
“If you recall, I was a gift.” She sliced a small piece off her chicken and took a bite. She chewed thoughtfully, then smiled. “I was quite cheap for you. Free even.”
“Yes. My little fruit basket.”
“On a fruit-basket scale I’m quite large. Impressive.”
“Yes, but on the scale of small, feral women, you are tiny.”
“I have no frame of reference for playboy princes and how large or small they might be. Though I would consider you large.” She felt her face get hot and she took another bite of food.
“Are you trying to engage me in a bit of dirty talk?” His eyes glittered with amusement and she decided that keeping that look on his face would become a goal of hers.
Help children with reading, find useful ways to spend her time, make Andres’s eyes glitter.
She added to her list.
“Perhaps. But I have no experience with that.”
“Tell me.” He shifted in his chair. “What do you have experience with?”
“Well, as you know, I have a great amount of experience wandering the woods alone. As you’ve seen today, I have some experience with children. I have some experience with grief. And now I have a bit of experience with sex.”
The glitter in his eyes turned molten. “Not nearly enough as far as I’m concerned. I will have to expand your education.”
“I feel agreeable to that.”
“Well, I do live for your agreement.”
“In this case, I imagine you might.”
A smile curved the corner of his mouth upward. “Do you think?”
“You have quite a bit of power, Andres, and certainly you have some over me. But I don’t think I’m wrong in imagining that I might have some over you too.”
“Do you not like dessert, Zara?”
“I am fond of cake. Why?”
“You seem intent on ensuring that you never get to have it.”
“I do?”
Just then the waiter came back by and Andres stood. “Send my bill to the palace. And we will take a cake.”
“Are we leaving?”
“We are. And quickly.”
He wrapped his hand around her arm and pulled her up to her feet.
“Why are you in such a hurry?”
“Because,” he said, leaning in, “you have tempted me. And now I must have you.”
A shiver went down Zara’s spine. “You must have me?”
“I need you.”
How long had it been since anyone needed her? Had anyone ever needed her? She wasn’t certain that they had. It felt... It felt good. The ache inside her was changing, shifting. It wasn’t a yawning howl of isolation, not that brittle emptiness. This was something else. It was warm, and it burned like fire, creating a desperate feeling at her center that she couldn’t quite understand. Desperate to do something. To touch him. To be close to him, skin to skin so that there was no distance between them. To make sure he felt the same thing she did.
He said that he needed her. And she desperately needed that to be true.
Desperately needed to feel connected.
Such a strange thing that, on the heels of feeling that she was in the place she belonged, she realized how much more there was. How much more she wanted.
To not just fit in with this place, but with this man.
The waiter appeared a moment later with a large bag, containing a white pastry box. Andres accepted it and whispered to her, “This is, I think, having your cake and eating it too.”
“I don’t understand what that means.”
“You’re about to.”
