I suppose it could be worse. I almost blurted out my real name. I can’t believe I had an entire carriage ride to think this through and failed to consider the possibility of needing a false one.
I hadn’t considered that my stepfamily would be here, too. I took one look at Tremaine, already drunk on fine liquor and regaling two widows with boorish jokes, and walked straight past him into the gallery. I had no plan. I hoped vaguely that I might run into my fantasy man from the streets.
On the one hand, going off with a stranger to explore the castle is an undeniably bad idea. On the other hand, there is nothing he can do to me that Tremaine hasn’t already done, except kill me.
Alex doesn’t seem like the murdering type. His large hand around mine and his broad-shouldered presence at my side might send my pulse pounding and provoke a fluttery swoop in my belly, yet I feel safer with him than I’ve felt with anyone since my parents died. Protected.
Years of yearning for security makes that feeling impossible to resist.
He guides me away from the grand stairway with guards stationed at either end. Strains of music chase after us.
“That is the way to the royal living quarters,” he explains when I cast him a questioning glance. His fine jacket is slightly too large for him. I wonder if it’s a castoff. He never explained why he was riding a horse despite not being a guard. I’m starting to think he might be a servant, though it seems rude to ask.
I don’t mind if he’s a servant. I’m one, too. Revealing that detail would make my presence here difficult to explain, however, so I’ll be keeping the truth to myself.
“Would you like to see the library?”
“Yes!” Tremaine sold off the books of any value from my father’s collection years ago. “I love to read. I haven’t had a?—”
Once again, I’m forced to bite off mid-sentence. No true lady lacks for books. Cilla and Stacia have access to classic works of literature, even if they are ancient and I’m the only one who ever reads them.
“You haven’t had a what?” Alex prompts.
“I haven’t visited a library in a long time,” I finish feebly.
“You don’t have one at home? I thought all the noble families did. The size of one’s…library is a point of pride.”
The teasing in his tone and that hesitation implies a mildly off-color joke. A shaky laugh bubbles out of me. Is this flirting? I don’t quite know how to respond.
He places his hand at the small of my back and guides me through an enormous double door. Inside, I gasp.
Painted ceilings soar above neat rows of heavy dark wood shelves. The outer walls are lined with rows of books soaring above my head, with ladders fastened to a railing to reach them. Above the shelves are stained-glass windows depicting historical events of Belterre’s past. In one panel, a dragon rears back as a knight brandishes a sword.
“The size of the prince’s, erm, library, is most impressive.” I cast him a sly, shy smile. Alex chuckles. Heat flares in my body. I made him laugh! If this is flirting, I like it.
“What kind of books do you read?” He guides me deeper into the elaborately decorated room. Cool air whispers along my exposed skin. I shiver, wishing I’d thought to bring a wrap. “History? Literature?”
“Poetry.” In truth, my mother’s collection of novels are my favorites. They’re full of plucky heroines yearning for dashing heroes who save them from danger. I’ve never been the adventurous sort, except when it comes to heroines in books. Poetry, however, feels like a safer choice to share with Alex than my affection for tawdry stories about people falling in love.
“A lyrical selection,” he drawls, prompting an anxious twinge in my middle. Did I sound pretentious?
“The rhyming makes them easy to memorize.” With so little time to read what with all my chores, I’ll memorize a poem and recite it to myself in lieu of conversation with an actual person.
Alex gestures gallantly. I sweep past him, my breath hitching when I notice the forest-green shade of his eye color. I thought they were blue, but I was busy trying not to be trampled by his rearing horse the day we met.
His eyes darken and drop lower before rising again to meet mine. A few steps away, I spin on the ball of one foot, giddy with excitement. Will he kiss me?
I shouldn’t try kissing him. I’ve never done it. That was one indignity Tremaine spared me. He never feigned affection.
A shadow creeps down my spine.
I can’t let Alex find out I’m not a virgin. Men don’t likeused goods, as my stepfather always reminds me. That’s all I am. Used. Worthless. If Alex knows, he won’t look at me with a wildfire blazing in those forest-green eyes of his anymore.
This courtship will only last a few hours. I won’t let Tremaine ruin it.
In the distance, a bell rings nine times.
Three hours left. Less than that, unless I want a very long walk home, alone, at night. I’d best depart by eleven, if not earlier.
