is fine. More than fine,” he added grudgingly. “It’s the headline we’re all having a little trouble with.”
“Yes,” she said, taking in ROYAL FIANCÉE TREATED FOR RAGING PSYCHOSIS. “I can see that. By the way, I never used the word ‘raging.’
“Really, Chris.” The corner of his mouth twitched, but he still looked severe. Severely cute! His dark hair tumbled across his forehead and he looked like he’d thrown his clothes on. He hadn’t shaved yet, either. Yum. Someone had clearly hauled him out of bed and tossed him the morning paper. “What possessed you?”
“The devil?”
“That’s what Jenny thinks. She’s been lying down with a cool cloth on her forehead all morning.”
“Oh,” Christina said, feeling fresh guilt. She didn’t mean to make Jenny’s job eight times as hard. It just sort of happened naturally. Like acid rain. “I’ll go see her, if you want.”
“That would be nice. Do you know what else would be nice?”
“No,” she said humbly, “but I can guess.”
He gave in and laughed. “Christ! I just about wet my pants when I saw this.”
“What’d your dad say?”
“Never mind,” he said, getting stern all over again, so she knew the king had thought it was hilarious. Sometimes she thought David was more Edmund’s son than King Alexander’s. “Look, just try to ignore these impulses toward wickedness, all right? For all our sakes.”
“Well, I’ll try,” she said doubtfully.
“Thank you.” He snatched her plate—onto which she had just piled her three scrambled eggs with chives and cheddar—and her fork. “As penance, I’m going to eat your breakfast.”
“That’ll learn me.” She cracked another three eggs into the bowl. “Sorry about the rude wake-up call.”
“Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”
Christina deduced that Jenny hadn’t ratted her out, and made a mental note to do something especially nice for the woman. Maybe even (ech!) go shoe shopping with her. “There just wasn’t a good way to bring it up.”
“Try harder next time,” he said sourly.
“I will,” she promised, shutting off the burner, “for a kiss.”
He looked around, seeing the now-deserted kitchen. “I’ll give you more than a kiss, you little—”
Shrieking, she darted away from him. He caught her in one of the dry goods cupboards, which they promptly defiled.
Chapter 16
C hristina watched the mountains below. No matter how often she was reminded of Alaska’s beauty, it knocked her out every time. It was like living in a postcard. It gave her hope for the rest of the planet…if they could keep this place nice, they could probably—
“My lady…” The flight attendant, wearing a navy blue blazer with the royal family’s crest, paused by Christina’s seat.
She stopped in mid-slurp. It was hard to make a perfect Bloody Mary; most people put too much Tabasco in them. Why not just add too much battery acid? Anyway, this one was perfect. It was also her third.
She had thought riding in the royal family’s private jet would be cool. Instead, it was weird. The thing was practically empty, except for the crew, Jenny, and the prince. And Jenny was lying down in the rear of the plane, fighting off another migraine with Advil and cold cloths.
She’d tried to distract herself with the view, but that didn’t last very long. And now here was a flight attendant with news of their doom.
“My lady?”
“Eh? We’re crashing? It’s okay. You can tell me. We’re crashing, aren’t we? I promise I won’t get mad. Just tell me.”
“No, my lady. The prince would like to see you in his room.”
“The prince wants to see me?”
“Yes.”
“But we’re not crashing?”
“Correct.”
“So I can unbuckle?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then. But I’m taking my drink.” She unlatched her seat belt, cautiously stood, then walked toward the rear of the plane. She knocked on a small door where the bathrooms would be on a commercial plane, heard
“Yes,” she said, taking in ROYAL FIANCÉE TREATED FOR RAGING PSYCHOSIS. “I can see that. By the way, I never used the word ‘raging.’
“Really, Chris.” The corner of his mouth twitched, but he still looked severe. Severely cute! His dark hair tumbled across his forehead and he looked like he’d thrown his clothes on. He hadn’t shaved yet, either. Yum. Someone had clearly hauled him out of bed and tossed him the morning paper. “What possessed you?”
“The devil?”
“That’s what Jenny thinks. She’s been lying down with a cool cloth on her forehead all morning.”
“Oh,” Christina said, feeling fresh guilt. She didn’t mean to make Jenny’s job eight times as hard. It just sort of happened naturally. Like acid rain. “I’ll go see her, if you want.”
“That would be nice. Do you know what else would be nice?”
“No,” she said humbly, “but I can guess.”
He gave in and laughed. “Christ! I just about wet my pants when I saw this.”
“What’d your dad say?”
“Never mind,” he said, getting stern all over again, so she knew the king had thought it was hilarious. Sometimes she thought David was more Edmund’s son than King Alexander’s. “Look, just try to ignore these impulses toward wickedness, all right? For all our sakes.”
“Well, I’ll try,” she said doubtfully.
“Thank you.” He snatched her plate—onto which she had just piled her three scrambled eggs with chives and cheddar—and her fork. “As penance, I’m going to eat your breakfast.”
“That’ll learn me.” She cracked another three eggs into the bowl. “Sorry about the rude wake-up call.”
“Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”
Christina deduced that Jenny hadn’t ratted her out, and made a mental note to do something especially nice for the woman. Maybe even (ech!) go shoe shopping with her. “There just wasn’t a good way to bring it up.”
“Try harder next time,” he said sourly.
“I will,” she promised, shutting off the burner, “for a kiss.”
He looked around, seeing the now-deserted kitchen. “I’ll give you more than a kiss, you little—”
Shrieking, she darted away from him. He caught her in one of the dry goods cupboards, which they promptly defiled.
Chapter 16
C hristina watched the mountains below. No matter how often she was reminded of Alaska’s beauty, it knocked her out every time. It was like living in a postcard. It gave her hope for the rest of the planet…if they could keep this place nice, they could probably—
“My lady…” The flight attendant, wearing a navy blue blazer with the royal family’s crest, paused by Christina’s seat.
She stopped in mid-slurp. It was hard to make a perfect Bloody Mary; most people put too much Tabasco in them. Why not just add too much battery acid? Anyway, this one was perfect. It was also her third.
She had thought riding in the royal family’s private jet would be cool. Instead, it was weird. The thing was practically empty, except for the crew, Jenny, and the prince. And Jenny was lying down in the rear of the plane, fighting off another migraine with Advil and cold cloths.
She’d tried to distract herself with the view, but that didn’t last very long. And now here was a flight attendant with news of their doom.
“My lady?”
“Eh? We’re crashing? It’s okay. You can tell me. We’re crashing, aren’t we? I promise I won’t get mad. Just tell me.”
“No, my lady. The prince would like to see you in his room.”
“The prince wants to see me?”
“Yes.”
“But we’re not crashing?”
“Correct.”
“So I can unbuckle?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then. But I’m taking my drink.” She unlatched her seat belt, cautiously stood, then walked toward the rear of the plane. She knocked on a small door where the bathrooms would be on a commercial plane, heard
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