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“Until good old cousin Henry and his harem of revolving wives.”
“That’s your example? Henry the Eighth was not an honorable man.”
“There’s always Edward the Eighth who abdicated for love.”
“There is another option,” Leo hedged.
“Don’t even think about it.” Alex held up his hand before Leo could even get any more words out. “Me on the throne?”
Alex shuddered.
So did Leo.
Leo always hoped he’d have the luck of Prince Phillip of England. Phillip was chosen as a suitor for Princess Elizabeth when she was just five years old. Luckily for them, they fell in love and reigned happily ever after to this day.
Leo and Isabel hadn’t been in love. They’d never pretended that could be between them. But maybe, just maybe, it was possible with Lady Teresa? He just had to give it a try.
Now he at least had an inkling of what that sensation might feel like. His gaze went to Esme again. Just the sight of her and butterflies flapped around in his heart.
He shook himself, turning back to his brother. “We’ve always had different responsibilities, you and I.”
“Not really,” said Alex. “Our only requirement is to live life to the fullest and pay taxes. But we beat the latter game and get paid by taxes. No reason you can’t live a full life now that you’re solely in charge of it.”
“Be serious.”
“I am,” said Alex. “No one’s arranging your life but you.”
“We need an alliance for Cordoba’s future.”
“Sometimes I wonder if instead of rescuing a damsel in distress, you need to be rescued from yourself.”
With a final pat on the shoulder, Alex turned over and, in an instant, he was asleep. In a matter of moments, so was everyone else. Except Leo.
The King of Cordoba stayed awake and watched Penelope who fell asleep against Esme’s shoulder. He watched Esme shift in her sleep and bring his daughter into the cradle of her embrace.
The move tugged hard at Leo’s heart strings, shaking off the butterflies and turning them into something else. Something bigger. Perhaps birds?
He didn’t know. He just knew the rumbling they made inside of his chest wouldn’t let him close his eyes. And so he watched over the two of them as they flew through the sky.
Chapter Sixteen
“Ms. Pickett, wake up. We’re nearly there.”
Esme’s eyes fluttered open. Slowly, a round cherubic face came into view. The little angel had the most beautiful hazel eyes. There were sparkles in the pupils. The little girl looked as pretty as a princess. Even after six hours of flying, Penelope still looked entirely put together, not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in her clothes. It couldn’t be anything but magic.
“Look.” Penelope pointed out the window. “This is my favorite part.”
Esme sat up. Her contorted bones crackled and snapped. Then her eyes popped out of her head as she turned and looked out the window. It was a storybook illustration come to life. Like the bird from The Lion King flying out of the mist and down onto Pride Rock. Only on the rock sat a castle that put the Disney Cinderella Castle to shame.
The clouds parted to reveal a lush green land. Set against the backdrop of the rising sun, which turned the sky various shades of pink and lavender, rose a white castle. Brick battlements bordered one side from the sea. Silver and gold capped towers and turrets reached for the sky.
“It looks like magic,” Esme breathed.
“Our ancestors were an eclectic and flashy bunch,” said the five-year-old, surprising Esme once again with her grasp of the English language. “They were Moors from Africa, Spanish conquistadors, and French aristocrats, with a few English cousins coming along during the Middle Ages.”
“People would pay just for the view,” said Jan, leaning over to catch a glimpse for herself.
“It’s hard to get here for the average person.” Alex rejoined their bunch, taking his former seat beside Jan.
