Page 27 of Royal Cocktail

“Why wouldn’t I believe you? Just because you … walked away after the first time we finally slept together? Because you never … called? Because I … learned that not only were you a … prince, but you were … prancing around Europe with a dozen … girls on your arm.”

This time her speech wasn’t clear. The words came painfully slow, their tones slurring together so that he had to concentrate to understand her.

“I am sorry. At first, I was frantic. My father had a heart attack, and I was about to inherit the throne. I couldn’t—I couldn’t be with you. I knew that. And I was so angry at the world and my fate that I pushed that reality down, burying myself in the minutiae of duty.”

“You’re saying you didn’t … call me because you … wanted me?”

The dysarthria did nothing to mask the sarcasm. He heard that loud and clear.

“I was an idiot. And then—I don’t know. Once my father was well, I could have come back. I could have flown to Texas and told you everything.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“I see.” She took another sip of whiskey. She’d barely made a dent.

He picked up his glass and downed the rest of his.

“So you’re here now … with me … because you need to learn about amending your constitution.”

He knew he ought to say yes. Whatever had been between them was gone—and if it wasn’t, it might as well be. Even if he hadn’t hurt her, they had no future.

But he didn’t say yes. Instead, he told her the truth. “I’m here because Professor Malkin is getting an award on Friday. Your firm’s symposium was a happy coincidence.”

“So you could have just hired another attorney?”

“Could have, yes. Probably should have.”

“But you didn’t.” She stirred her whiskey with her fingertip, then sucked the liquid off.

“No,” he said, his entire body tightening. “I didn’t.”

She withdrew the digit, her cheeks pink.

“I was coming to Austin. You’d written this article. Your firm was hosting an international law symposium. The coincidence seemed too much to ignore.”

“Quantum entanglement,” she said, then grinned.

He realized he was smiling. “Not exactly, but I’m proud of you for trying.”

“Well, I never was the physicist.”

“No.” He reached for her hand, and she didn’t withdraw it. “You’re right that I could have asked another lawyer. Maybe I should have. But I wanted you.”

“Why?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Because you’d already helped me once, so I hoped you could help me again.”

“I did? How?”

“You fell for me, and not my crown. And back then, that mattered more than you can know.”

Chapter Thirteen

Skye paced the living room as Bart sat on the couch watching her, probably thinking she was crazy.

He caught her eye as she reached the wall, turned around, and started back toward the kitchen. “Did you tell him you’re happily engaged, and that he needs to keep his distance?”