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“Come here.” I pulled her across my chest as more water moved around us. I had her to the right side of my body, holding her close. “I would never let that happen, all right?”
She nodded her head, her inky dark hair sticking to her chin. “Promise?”
“Well, gossips will gossip, but who are they to say it wasn’t a prank or planned or that you really loved me? It’s easy to lie in the palace, hmmm?”
Her eyes darted to my mouth, but she didn’t say anything, just rested her chin on my chest and folded her arms across it. “Are you going to kiss me now?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Well, we have no reasons until the wedding so—”
I crashed my mouth against hers the minute another knock sounded. Arthur was whistling as he walked in with Frederick and a crystal decanter of whiskey.
I squeezed my eyes shut while Samira quickly looked away.
Arthur snickered. “Do you have any decorum at all, Yankee?”
“Probably a bit more than you.” I glared. “And do you even knock?”
“Oh, we did.” Frederick cleared his throat. “Three times. We were concerned when Rupert explained an odd story about a towel, a lake, lots of moaning and gaping and you needing private time, and felt the need to let you know that it has now spread downstairs.”
“We are now…” I glanced at Samira and sighed. “…both whores, it appears, me with my towel and you with my best friend.” I shot him a glare but saw no guilt on his face, it was completely dispassionate of any emotion.
It honestly worried me more.
“Well, then.” Arthur sat the decanter on the nearby counter. “Might I suggest you use the door between the two suites to get back to your room, Highness?” He was talking to Samira. “Although, you could always stay the night, God knows you already did and such juicy gossip that’s finally not focused on me feels like a Christmas present.”
He was full of absolute joy, not Christmas joy, but the sort of manwhore joy that spoke volumes about him most likely picking up another conquest since we were suddenly the topic of gossip, he could fly under the radar.
Frederick snatched one of my large white towels and held it up. “I’ll make sure she gets back safely.”
Was he deliberately trying to get her away from me?
And to what purpose?
I was instantly upset when Arthur shook his head at me. Fine, I’d leave it. Samira glanced up at me under wet lashes. “I’ll see you at the engagement party tomorrow then?”
That long?
I nodded. “Mmm, I’ll see you then.” I gripped her hand and kissed the back of it, then her open palm. “My future Queen.”
Her blush was beautiful.
Arthur cleared his throat at all the tension. “Frederick, the towel?”
Samira slowly got out and let him wrap it around her, then stared back at me, nodding. She walked with him. She let him hold her close to his body after she was just touching mine.
He was acting protective, like I was some monster. What the hell shifted? And what if the monster was him? What if all of this was actually something deeper?
“Don’t.” Arthur warned once they were out of earshot. “Don’t let your brain get muddled days before the coronation and the wedding. He would never betray you, nor would I.”
“Then why do I have a bad feeling?” I finally said the words out loud.
“That”—Arthur poured me a glass of whiskey and handed it over—“is a question, I think, only you can answer, Yankee.”
I splashed the bathwater with my free hand.
Arthur laughed at my response and obvious temper and just walked off, leaving me questioning everything. “Have a nice, lonely sleep, I know mine won’t be.”
