Page 22 of Tabloid Princess

“That must be pretty amazing.”

His expression didn’t testify either way. “Do you have five minutes?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to get home.”

“Three minutes.” He shifted a little.

“One-and-a-half.”

His lips quirked and my stomach fluttered again.

I pointed around the corner where there was old graveyard that once belonged to an ancient monastery on the site by the river. “There’s somewhere there. Bill might be happier.”

His lips flickered and he nodded in the direction I was pointing. I walked ahead but the uneven pavement proved too much of a challenge when combined with my shaking knees, I tripped over a paving stone. His hand grabbed my elbow, holding me straight.

“Thanks.” My voice was infinitely breathier than normal.

In the small enclosed space, I sat on the nearest bench. Mainly because I worried I might fall flat on my face. “Yes, Your Highness?”

His lips twitched again. “Oliver, please.”

I blew some air through my lips trying to calm myself down from a state of minor panic. Any minute now some idiot with a phone could walk by and snap me with the future King of England. I couldn’t think of anything worse for either of us.

I didn’t need more gossip and I was sure as hell he didn’t need gossip of my persuasion.

I glanced behind him and noticed that Bill had positioned himself at the entrance. No one was coming in, even if they wanted to.

I breathed a small sigh of relief.

“You seem cross.” Why did his voice sound like that? Melodic and smooth. It was unfair.

“No.” I blinked up to where he still stood, the sun slanting though leafy trees, lighting his ink black hair with strands of gold and fire. “I’ve got nothing to be cross about.”

He hesitated for a moment and then sat on the bench next to me. “Do you mind?” he asked.

“No.” It came out more of a squeak.

“Talk to me.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

I scrunched my face. “It’s rude to answer a question with a question.”

The twitch of his lips stretched into a small smile. “Now you sound like my mother.”

I wanted to slap myself. I just had no filter. For anything.

“I thought you’d be pleased I decided to choose Bright Futures.”

“And fixed the air con?”

He inclined his head slightly. Later, I’d try to tell myself I was sitting in a small graveyard in London with the future King of England, but I knew I wouldn’t even believe myself.

“No one should work in those hot conditions.”

He watched my face closely and must have been analysing the frown I couldn’t keep off my face.