Everything.
The word came unbidden to my mind, shocking in its simplicity and truth. I pushed it away, maintaining my stone-faced expression.
"She's my responsibility until the handover is complete. After that, she's yours. But I'm watching you. Remember that."
I left him in the alcove and returned to my position, scanning the room automatically. Evangeline was speaking with some diplomat, her smile polite but not reaching her eyes. The manstood too close, trying too hard to make her laugh. I felt a surge of irrational jealousy and clamped down on it hard.
Not my place. Not my right.
The remainder of the dinner passed in excruciating slowness. Halliwell kept his distance, sticking to the opposite side of the room. Smart man. When the event finally concluded, I watched Evangeline leave with her mother, her back straight, head held high—every inch the perfect princess. She never once glanced in my direction.
I needed air.
The palace halls were still bustling with departing guests and busy staff clearing away the evening's extravagance. I slipped out a side entrance, heading for the only place I knew would be quiet at this hour—the royal stables.
The night air was bitterly cold, and the stars were brilliant in the clear sky above. My breath clouded before me as I followed the path down the gentle slope toward the stables. Like everything else on the palace grounds, the structure was old but immaculately maintained. Inside, the air was warm and heavy with the scent of hay and horses.
Moving down the centre aisle, the soft whickers of curious horses followed my progress. At the far end, in the last stall, was the grey stallion I'd exercised a few times during my previous stay. Brutus, they called him. A fitting name for the massive beast.
He recognised me, ears pricking forward as I approached. I extended my hand, letting him catch my scent before I stroked his powerful neck.
"At least you're straightforward," I murmured. "No games, no pretence."
Unlike me, who'd been lying to myself for weeks, pretending I could walk away from Evangeline without regret. Pretending I didn't dream about her every night. Pretending I wasn't falling?—
No. I wouldn't even think of the word.
Brutus bumped my shoulder with his head, demanding more attention. I obliged, finding comfort in the simple interaction. Animals never wanted more from you than you were willing to give.
"You always did have a way with horses. More than with people, it seems."
The soft voice froze me, and every muscle in my body went taut with awareness. I didn't need to turn to find out who it was. Her voice burned into my memory, along with every breath, sigh, and challenge she'd ever thrown at me.
Her scent reached me before I turned—vanilla and something uniquely her that made my mouth water and my body respond in ways that had nothing to do with professional duty. The sight nearly brought me to my knees when I finally faced her.
Evangeline stood at the entrance to the stall like something from a fairy tale, still wearing that emerald gown that had been torturing me all evening. The heavy cloak draped over her shoulders had slipped slightly, revealing the elegant line of her collarbones. Her cheeks were flushed from the night air, making her skin glow in the dim stable lighting, and her hair had come loose from its formal style, soft tendrils framing her face.
She was beautiful. Devastatingly, impossibly beautiful. And she looked at me like I was the only man in the world.
"Princess," I acknowledged, my voice rougher than I intended. The single word came out like gravel, betraying far too much. "It's late. You shouldn't be out here alone."
"I'm not alone," she said simply, stepping closer. "You're here."
The words hung between us, heavy with meaning I wasn't ready to acknowledge. The space between us felt charged, electric, like the moment before lightning strikes. I turned backto Brutus, desperate for something to focus on other than how she looked at me, her presence making the air feel too thick to breathe.
"Does Halliwell know where you are?" I asked, hoping she'd dismissed him rather than simply evaded him like she had with me in Luxembourg.
"Roger is enjoying the after-dinner drinks with the delegation from Spain. I dismissed him for the evening." Her voice was steady, but I caught the slight breathlessness underneath. "I didn't want him. I wanted to find you."
My heart hammered against my ribs as I heard her step closer, the soft rustle of silk against hay. The sound was intimate, domestic—entirely at odds with the formal dinner we'd just left. Here, in the warm darkness of the stables, she wasn't a princess. She was just Evangeline.
Just the woman who'd been haunting my every thought for months.
"Evangeline," I said, her name escaping before I could stop it. The informality felt like crossing a line, but I was past caring about lines. "You should go back inside."
"Should I?" She took another step closer. I could feel the heat of her body now and hear the slight catch in her breathing. "Tell me, James—do you want me to go?"
I closed my eyes, fighting for control. Three days until I left Bellavista. Three days to maintain my professional distance. Three days to resist the pull of gravity between us.
