his jacket.
When he finally raised his head, they were both breathing heavily. A shaft of satisfaction rolled through him at the cloudy, unfocused look in her eyes.
“Very hard,” he whispered.
Eleven
I t was beyond difficult to convince Nicolas that she didn’t want him. So impossible, in fact, that she’d given up trying.
How could she claim she wanted nothing to do with him when one touch of his hands or mouth melted her insides like a pot of chocolate fondue?
He’d discussed the idea for the Dream a Little Dream Foundation with his family, even asking Alandra to draw up an official proposal he could take to them. He’d also done a bit of research on his own into its American counterpart, so he could show them what the end product of such an endeavor might be like.
Reaction so far had been positive, and she and Nicolas had been working together on a daily basis to plan things in more detail, crossing all the t’s and dotting all the i’s. Once the king and queen approved, as well as the board of Glendovian officials who oversaw this type of thing, she would be given the freedom to get the ball rolling on establishing the foundation.
Daylight hours were not her problem. She had plenty to do to keep her busy, and managed to make sure she wasn’t alone with Nicolas any more than necessary.
The door of his office stayed open while they were working, and if for some reason it was closed, she found a way to get it open again. If they were alone and things began to feel too tense, too dangerous, she’d make an excuse to get someone else into the room with them.
It was nighttime that caused her the most anxiety. After dinner, when Nicolas would walk her back to her rooms…holding her hand, standing too close, leaning into her at the door.
He kissed her cheek or sometimes her lips. Stroked her hand or shoulder. And always, always his eyes blazed with the clear desire to sweep her up in his arms and cart her off to bed.
She prayed he’d never figure out how very often she wished he would do just that.
Obviously, she wasn’t safe around him, and she didn’t know how she was going to make it another ten days without either giving in or going crazy.
Ten more long, arduous days and she could fly home, fly away to safety.
For some reason, though, that knowledge didn’t comfort her as much as she would have hoped. In fact, it almost saddened her.
But that was an emotion she refused to examine. Her entire existence had been turned upside down, and as soon as she arrived home, life would begin to right itself and return to normal.
She hoped.
For now, though, it was late, and she’d thankfully managed to survive another day, another dinner, another long, excruciating walk back to her suite. She’d changed into a pair of comfortable black satin pajamas and was ready to climb into bed when a soft knock sounded on the sitting room door.
A petite young woman in the uniform of the palace’s household staff stood on the other side.
“Miss,” she said, bobbing a slight curtsy. “Prince Nicolas sends this message and requests an immediate response.” She held out a square envelope.
It was Nicolas’s official stationery, Alandra saw, with her name scrawled in his expansive script across the front, and a dab of wax sealant pressed to the back.
Whatever was inside, she suspected, was either very important or very private.
Running a finger under the flap of the envelope, she broke the seal and removed the folded sheet of paper.
Alandra—
Your presence is required at a very important meeting concerning Dream a Little Dream. We fly to the other side of the island tomorrow morning. Pack for at least one night. Be ready to leave at 7:00 a.m.
Nicolas
She wasn’t sure exactly what response he was awaiting, since he didn’t seem to be giving her much choice in the matter. He hadn’t asked if she wanted to go or would be willing to go, or was even able to go…he’d simply told her
When he finally raised his head, they were both breathing heavily. A shaft of satisfaction rolled through him at the cloudy, unfocused look in her eyes.
“Very hard,” he whispered.
Eleven
I t was beyond difficult to convince Nicolas that she didn’t want him. So impossible, in fact, that she’d given up trying.
How could she claim she wanted nothing to do with him when one touch of his hands or mouth melted her insides like a pot of chocolate fondue?
He’d discussed the idea for the Dream a Little Dream Foundation with his family, even asking Alandra to draw up an official proposal he could take to them. He’d also done a bit of research on his own into its American counterpart, so he could show them what the end product of such an endeavor might be like.
Reaction so far had been positive, and she and Nicolas had been working together on a daily basis to plan things in more detail, crossing all the t’s and dotting all the i’s. Once the king and queen approved, as well as the board of Glendovian officials who oversaw this type of thing, she would be given the freedom to get the ball rolling on establishing the foundation.
Daylight hours were not her problem. She had plenty to do to keep her busy, and managed to make sure she wasn’t alone with Nicolas any more than necessary.
The door of his office stayed open while they were working, and if for some reason it was closed, she found a way to get it open again. If they were alone and things began to feel too tense, too dangerous, she’d make an excuse to get someone else into the room with them.
It was nighttime that caused her the most anxiety. After dinner, when Nicolas would walk her back to her rooms…holding her hand, standing too close, leaning into her at the door.
He kissed her cheek or sometimes her lips. Stroked her hand or shoulder. And always, always his eyes blazed with the clear desire to sweep her up in his arms and cart her off to bed.
She prayed he’d never figure out how very often she wished he would do just that.
Obviously, she wasn’t safe around him, and she didn’t know how she was going to make it another ten days without either giving in or going crazy.
Ten more long, arduous days and she could fly home, fly away to safety.
For some reason, though, that knowledge didn’t comfort her as much as she would have hoped. In fact, it almost saddened her.
But that was an emotion she refused to examine. Her entire existence had been turned upside down, and as soon as she arrived home, life would begin to right itself and return to normal.
She hoped.
For now, though, it was late, and she’d thankfully managed to survive another day, another dinner, another long, excruciating walk back to her suite. She’d changed into a pair of comfortable black satin pajamas and was ready to climb into bed when a soft knock sounded on the sitting room door.
A petite young woman in the uniform of the palace’s household staff stood on the other side.
“Miss,” she said, bobbing a slight curtsy. “Prince Nicolas sends this message and requests an immediate response.” She held out a square envelope.
It was Nicolas’s official stationery, Alandra saw, with her name scrawled in his expansive script across the front, and a dab of wax sealant pressed to the back.
Whatever was inside, she suspected, was either very important or very private.
Running a finger under the flap of the envelope, she broke the seal and removed the folded sheet of paper.
Alandra—
Your presence is required at a very important meeting concerning Dream a Little Dream. We fly to the other side of the island tomorrow morning. Pack for at least one night. Be ready to leave at 7:00 a.m.
Nicolas
She wasn’t sure exactly what response he was awaiting, since he didn’t seem to be giving her much choice in the matter. He hadn’t asked if she wanted to go or would be willing to go, or was even able to go…he’d simply told her
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