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“Good answer.” She jotted down another note. “How about women you’ve already dated? Could we add any of them to the shortlist?”
“I—”
“Or men. Don’t think those tabloid stories are true, but if they are, and you’re bisexual like they say, gay marriage is legal in Agafonza.” She fanned herself with the notepad and smirked. “Lord have mercy, I just had an early hot flash imagining being the meat between two handsome princes. There will be sword crossing with, you know, their princely swords.”
I burst into helpless laughter and fed her a bite of dessert. “Add this to the list. My future spouse must possess an absolutely filthy sense of humor. However, I’m afraid I must disappoint you, as I’m straight.”
“Boo hiss.” She giggled and added the note. “Spoil my spank bank, why don’t you?”
“An interesting thought just occurred to me.” I fed her the last bite of ostkaka topped with a glistening strawberry and wondered if I could perhaps convince her to marry me without violating her consent again.
“Oh?”
“You mentioned you wished to help me secure Agafonza’s future, correct?”
“Sure did. I think you’re doing something amazing, and I love being able to help.”
“Well…” I stood and offered my arm, then escorted her to the couch and sat next to her. “You are unattached, are you not?”
Clutching her stomach, she fell to her side and howled her mirth. Tears streamed from her eyes as I waited for her to pull herself together. Although I loved seeing her laugh, I couldn’t decide whether I should be insulted or not.
“You should be doing standup comedy,” she finally said after wiping her eyes. “That’s danged funny.”
I pulled her into my lap, then twisted my fingers into her hair and kissed her hard. I poured over a month of frustration and desire into our kiss and didn’t stop until she whimpered for air.
“Savva, I—” She paled, and her lips parted with obvious shock. “Holy fuck. You aren’t kidding.”
“I was describing you, darling.” I brushed my lips over her swollen mouth. “You’re the kindest person I know, and easily one of the most intelligent. You’re more beautiful than any princess and will deny it. Your true beauty shines brighter than any of the stars you study.”
“Are you high?”
“I counted the number of times you touched borrowed pearls to make sure you didn’t lose them.” I cupped her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. “It was every twenty-eight seconds, and your first thought was to refuse them altogether. You ate food you didn’t always want to spare a cook’s feelings and have been unfailingly kind and generous to everyone.”
She opened her mouth to speak, and I kissed her again to stall the words. “People in my world don’t do that, and you were courteous to me even when you disapproved of what you were led to believe was my lifestyle.”
“Your world is out of whack.”
“Probably, and knowing you think so makes me even more determined to have you for my wife because I think you can help me make it better.” I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I read your notes from our meetings. Without experience, your insight into the funding process was brilliant. Even my secretary, who has attended the symposium many times, couldn’t compare to you. Imagine what we could do for Agafonza if we work together.”
“Savva…” She wriggled free and sat next to me. “I don’t even know what to say, but I think you’re making me out to be a whole lot more than I am.”
“No.” I went to my knees, positioning myself between her legs. “Damaris Anne Lawton, will you marry me?”
CHAPTER 8
DAMARIS
I stared at Savva, wondering if I’d gotten myself trapped in an alternate universe in which a prince would choose someone like me for their wife.
“Nope. Still not making a danged bit of sense.” I slid out of reach and went to the table, then picked up my wineglass as he rose to his feet. “Rohypnol is a controlled substance, even for a prince.”
“I believe I shall be insulted that your first thought was to wonder if I’ve drugged you.” He took the glass from my shaking hand and swallowed what was left. “I did not.”
“No, I thought you were the one who had gotten a roofie. It’s just…” I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Christ, Savva. What the heck are you thinking? Nobody’s going to believe me as your wife.”
“They’ll wonder why you settled for me when you could do so much better.”
I rolled my eyes and went to the French door leading to the patio. Needing some air, I walked outside, unsurprised when he followed. After sitting in one of the wrought iron café chairs, I said, “The joke has gone on long enough, sugar. I’m not the woman you need, but I promise I’ll help you find her.”
