he’d been. ‘So how am I doing?’
‘Not bad.’
‘Not bad?’
‘Well, you haven’t actually apologised yet.’
‘Good point.’ He frowned and shifted in the seat. ‘I’m sorry.’
Laura couldn’t help grinning at his obvious discomfort. ‘Not a fan of apologising?’
Matt grimaced. ‘I haven’t had a huge amount of practice.’
Lucky him. She’d had years of practice. Often apologising for things that hadn’t been her fault. God, she’d been pathetic. ‘I dare say you’ll get better at it.’
He winced. ‘I don’t plan on having to.’
‘No, well, I doubt kings generally have much to apologise for.’
Didn’t they? Any more of those sexy little smiles, thought Matt, and he’d be apologising for a whole lot more than a misunderstanding and an overreaction.
Because despite the shapeless mass of beige cotton covering Laura from head to toe, the imprint of her lying there on the grass in just her bra burned in his head and she might as well be naked. Every time she tucked her hair behind her ears or reached for her glass and lifted it to her mouth the thick cotton rustled and reminded him of exactly what lay beneath.
His head swam for a second and his hands curled into fists. Oh, for God’s sake. He really had to get a grip.
Right. Conversation. That had been the plan. Food might not be a bad idea, either, he thought, taking out a couple of plates, cutlery and a number of small plastic boxes. He pushed a plate across the table to Laura but she shook her head. He opened the boxes and piled a selection of things on his plate.
‘So how’s the accommodation?’ he asked.
See. He could do conversation.
‘Very comfortable, thank you. Who could complain about a four-poster bed and marble en-suite?’
The image of Laura hot and naked and wet in the shower slammed into his head and his mouth went dry as the heavy beat of desire began to pound through him. Perhaps best to steer clear of accommodation as a conversational avenue in the future.
‘And the work?’
‘Really great,’ she said, giving him a dazzling smile that nearly blinded him.
‘You’re very dedicated.’ Neither his culture minister nor his secretary could stop singing her praises. It had been driving him insane.
‘I love my job.’
‘So why the sabbatical?’
Her glass froze halfway to her mouth and she carefully set it back down on the table. ‘What do you mean?’ she said warily.
‘Well, you’re clearly good at your job, and you said yourself you love it. So why the sabbatical?’
‘Oh, well, you know.’ She shrugged and nibbled on her lip in that way that he was discovering meant that she was nervous. Excellent. When he’d thought that something didn’t add up he’d been right.
‘I needed some time out. Stress. Boredom. That sort of thing.’
Matt didn’t believe that for a second. Her whole demeanour had changed and if pushed he’d have said she looked downright shifty. ‘You don’t seem the type to suffer from stress or boredom.’
‘Then I guess it’s working.’
Hmm. Never mind. He’d get to the bottom of her sabbatical soon enough. ‘How long have you lived in Little Somerford?’
She visibly relaxed. ‘A couple of months.’
‘And before that?’
‘London. Born and bred.’
‘Do you miss it?’
‘Bits.’
‘Which bits?’
‘The theatres. My friends.’
Matt tilted his head. ‘You must be what … late twenties?’
‘Early thirties,’ she said cagily, her eyes narrowing.
‘And you move from the bright lights of London and a good job to hole up in a remote village in the country. Why?’
Laura studied her feet. ‘I fancied a change of scenery.’
‘During your sabbatical?’ he said dryly.
‘Exactly.’
‘Aren’t you quite young to take a sabbatical?’
Her head shot up and her eyes flashed. ‘What’s with this obsession with my sabbatical?’
Matt lifted his shoulders and gave her a smile. ‘I’m just interested.’
Laura frowned. ‘You should meet my friend Kate.’
‘Why?’
‘You both have persistence in spades,’ she said darkly. ‘You’d get on like a house on fire.’
Matt grinned. ‘Persistence is useful in my line of work.’
‘I’d call it nosiness.’
‘That’s useful, too. Bit risky, though, I’d have thought, to take a sabbatical at such a relatively early stage in your career.’
Laura let out an exasperated sigh and then threw her hands up. ‘Fine,’ she said, glaring at him. ‘I didn’t exactly choose to take a sabbatical. I was made redundant.’
‘Ah,’ Matt said, his mouth curving into a triumphant smile.
‘There were cutbacks in government spending. Projects were axed. Heads rolled. Mine was one of them.’
‘Ouch.’ Whoever had employed her had been idiots for letting her go. But their loss, his gain. Or rather Sassania’s gain, he amended swiftly.
She stared at him for a second, then blinked. ‘Well, yes,’ she said. ‘But actually, not as ouch now as it was at the time.’ She gave him a quick smile. ‘In fact with the benefit of hindsight I ought to have sent them a big bunch of flowers to say thank you.’
‘Why?’ Matt wished she wouldn’t do that blinking thing. It made him lose his train of thought. The colour of her eyes was so deep, so intense that when the blue disappeared he thought it a shame, yet when it reappeared his head swam and he wished she’d kept her eyes shut.
‘If I hadn’t been made redundant, I wouldn’t have been free to take on this.’ She waved an arm in the direction of the palace. ‘I have ex-colleagues who would give their eye
