“I shall endeavor to do that, Your Majesty.”
As the king clearly couldn’t think of anything else to say, and with Leo making no effort to fill the void and Portia too overwhelmed to speak, they were ushered along by a palace aide.
“Is that it?” she whispered as Leo led their backward shuffle into the opulent reception room that was filled with people who were all, to her relief, as and if not more ridiculously dressed than she was.
“Hopefully.” He wrapped her hand around his arm when they could finally turn and maneuvered her deftly through the crowd toward his mother and sisters who had already found the refreshments. “Now we just have to make excruciating small talk until the king decides to leave to gamble and drink with his cronies and we can escape.”
“How long does that usually take?”
“You might as well ask how long a piece of string is because it could be one hour and it could very well be six.”
“Six hours wearing this tower of feathers doesn’t bear thinking about when my scalp is already screaming in protest. I swear yourmother has secured it with at least five million pins.” All of which were digging into her skin. “Never mind that I look like an idiot.”
“You look beautiful, Portia, just as you always do—despite the feathers.” And since that lovely compliment wasn’t enough, he then slanted her a glance and a sinful secret smile that revealed just the merest hint of his distracting dimples. “You did well just then, by the way. You didn’t dodge the question, looked him dead in the eye, and didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by his disdain. I was proud of you.”
“Thank you.” That final compliment somehow meant the world. “But to my utter disgust, I will admit only to you that I was intimidated.” She took a moment to properly take in her grand surroundings and all the bejeweled guests. “I’ve never been in a palace before nor met royalty.”
“Now that you have, what do you think?”
“I think the palace is lovely.”
He chuckled. “A very diplomatic and reassuringly Portia-like answer.”
“Leo…” Because her lips still tingled from his kiss, she searched for the right way to casually ask him why he had done it, but the dowager beckoned them over.
“There’s the happy couple!” To Portia’s complete horror, her mother-in-law was now surrounded by a flock of feathered ladies all sporting superior expressions as they stared at her as if she had two heads. “So many people are dying to meet your lovely new wife, Leo.”
“I’ll just bet they are,” he replied for Portia’s ears only. His warm breath causing wholly improper goose bumps to erupt on her skin before he escorted her into the lions’ den. “Just remember, asmyduchess you now outrank almost everyone in this room.” His hand slipped softly to the small of her back in a proprietorial gesture he had never used before, and she could not help hoping that it wasn’t just part of the show he wanted to put on. “Do not be afraid to use that rank and look down that pretty nose of yours to remind them of it, should the need arise. Which it will, my darling.”
My darling.
Two words that somehow held the power to unsettle her as much, if not more, than his out-of-the-blue kiss just had.
Two hours later and the royal reception was still in full swing and showing no signs of winding down. With Leo and his mother watching Emilia like a hawk because she had taken an obvious interest in a handsome officer dressed in his full regimental finery, and Abigail ensconced in a serious conversation with two equally serious-looking young women, Portia decided to seek some respite in the retiring room. She needed a few moments to sit down, regroup, and rest her aching head. It was exhausting being on her best behavior while being judged by all and sundry. And judged she very much had been by almost everyone who pretended to be delighted to make her acquaintance.
She was also exhausted by the weight of her silly court attire, which now seemed to drag her down more with each passing minute, and thoroughly sick to the back teeth of the awful feathers practically riveted to her head. Thanks to them, she had no choice but to keep her chin up and her shoulders back as there was no way of supporting the precarious structure otherwise.
Despite her discomfort, her gaze still drifted to Leo as she escaped. Just as it had repeatedly since they had arrived. And just as it had each time she had looked at him since, her pulse quickened and an odd yearning engulfed her. One that no amount of her practical, logical, and cynical lectures to herself would stop.
She blamed the kiss for her current preoccupation with him. It might not have been as thorough a kiss as their first one, but it was just as potent. That brief peck had certainly affected her enough that her mind couldn’t dislodge it. It was genuinely all she could think about.
Maybe that was why he had done it?
Simply to distract her so that she wouldn’t feel quite so intimidatedby her surroundings and the alien company? In which case, common sense dictated that she shouldn’t read too much into it or expect it to happen again. Or worse, weave fanciful, romantic notions about it meaning something that common sense dictated she had no place even contemplating.
The only problem was that her common sense had chosen today of all days to desert her, and something uncharacteristically hopeful had apparently taken its place. Thanks, no doubt, to all the silly romantic notions Kitty had put in her head.
Alongside Leo’s kiss.
And that off-the-cuff and likely wholly innocuous “my darling” that her stupid heart wanted to believe was significant.
Urgh!What the hell was the matter with her?
Fortunately, the retiring room was blessedly quiet, even the usually hovering maid was missing, so she found a spare chair, pulled the privacy curtain around her, and gratefully rested the side of her confused and aching head against the paneling.
As the cool wood took some of the unwelcome weight off her shoulders, Portia used her fingers to massage the parts of her throbbing scalp that she could get at in between all the hairpins and wondered why none of the other ladies present were also here doing the same. She had not expected to develop any respect for the king’s many female hangers-on, especially the really pompous ones, but it took a special kind of fortitude to sport one of these ridiculous court headdresses for hours on end and still keep the small talk flowing. She even quite admired some of them for being able to converse animatedly about nothing in such a prolonged and seamless manner.
That was not a talent she possessed.
