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REGAN WAS ALREADY up when breakfast arrived on the King’s private terrace. She’d showered and changed into her own clothes—jeans and a T-shirt—ignoring the beautiful items the King had provided for her, since she had no idea what would be expected of her today. She thought about the woman who had slipped him her phone number the night before and wondered if he had gone to find her after he’d walked away from her. And then reminded herself yet again that she didn’t care.

She stared at the selection of local pastries and fruits and thought about his revelation concerning his sister the night before. She honestly hadn’t thought he had the potential to feel anything on a personal level, but after the disclosure about Milena was torn from his chest she could see that he did. He felt things incredibly deeply and she was coming to understand that the way he had coped with taking control of a family and a country so young was to close down his emotions and just get on with it.

She recalled the way he had fed her in the garden suite when she’d gone on a hunger strike. At the time she’d assumed that he’d fed her for purely selfish reasons, but had he done it because deep down he was a nice person? Somehow she preferred the first option. It made it much easier to dislike him if she thought he was a hard-hearted tyrant.

She spied the food now and tried to stop thinking about him so that she could figure out if she was hungry or not when he walked through the glass doors and joined her.

Smoothing the napkin on her lap, she told her heartbeat to settle down.

‘You were right last night,’ he said quietly, his eyes on her fa

ce. ‘It was insensitive of me not to have informed you about the situation with Princess Alexa. I hadn’t looked at it from your point of view, and I also genuinely believed that Alexa would not be overly disappointed if the betrothal didn’t go ahead. I’m sorry I put you in that position.’

Not expecting him to apologise, Regan felt taken aback. ‘I probably overreacted a little,’ she admitted, knowing that really, she had overreacted a lot because she’d been unexpectedly jealous of the other woman. Something that didn’t make sense at all given their circumstances. ‘But it’s okay.’ She forced a lightness into her voice. ‘I told Princess Alexa not to give up hope.’

His brows drew together. ‘Why would you tell her that?’

‘Because I felt sorry for her. She was really upset and she’s perfect for you.’ That thought had kept her up a lot during the night. ‘She’s beautiful and poised and royal. In terms of matches you’d make beautiful babies together. You should definitely go ahead with it.’

He moved towards the table and picked up a peach, testing it for ripeness. She hadn’t realised how much she wanted him to deny her advice until he didn’t. ‘You’re always looking for the silver lining, aren’t you?’

‘I prefer silver linings to thunderclouds. Life’s tough enough without always waiting to be rained on.’

‘That’s a romantic way of looking at the world. If you’re not careful you’ll be blindsided when you least expect it. And you hate surprises.’

‘I hate bad surprises.’

‘Is there any other kind?’

Well, there was her reaction to his kisses. That was definitely a thundercloud because, as intoxicating as they were, as much as they made her burn for more, she would never be what he was looking for in a woman.

‘Good point,’ she agreed, frowning as a thought came to her. ‘You’re not going to say anything to Princess Alexa, are you? I wouldn’t want her to get into trouble for approaching me.’

‘First you protect my staff, and now the Princess? Who are you going to protect next? Because I don’t ever see you protecting yourself and you make yourself vulnerable in the process.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘It is true.’ He leant against the table beside her. ‘You didn’t even realise how much danger you were in that night at the shisha bar, or walking around a strange city alone. Anything could have happened to you.’

‘It didn’t,’ she said, feeling the need to defend herself.

‘All evidence to the contrary,’ he said, bringing a slice of peach to his mouth. His eyes held hers and the air in the room grew unbearably hot.

‘How is it you can eat that and not spill a drop?’ she began on a rushed breath. ‘Did you go to a special etiquette school for royals or is it something you’re born knowing how to do?’

‘I’m careful.’

‘Well, if I was eating that I’d have juice all over me by now. When I was younger my mother used to secure a tea towel around my neck whenever I sat down to a meal.’ Aware that she was babbling because he made her so nervous, and he was so close, she stopped when he deftly sliced a sliver of peach and held it out to her. ‘Open,’ he ordered softly.

Open?

Without thinking she parted her lips and the sweet, fragrant fruit slipped inside. Regan’s tongue came out to capture it and her heart beat a primal warning through every cell in her body as his eyes lingered on her sticky lips.

Kiss me, she thought. Please, please, just kiss me before I die.

‘Your Majesty?’ A male voice interrupted the awareness sparking between them as brightly as the Christmas lights at Macy’s.

Tarik walked into the room, bowing formally. ‘Excuse me,’ he murmured, seeming to sense that he had interrupted something he shouldn’t have. ‘You asked me to brief you here and... I did knock.’

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