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“So you’re going to want me to take off the robe while we eat?”
She pointed to herself. “I’m not dressed.”
“You’re certainly not dressed to receive company. But I like you that way.”
The warmth of his feelings for her sent a shudder of happiness through her. He put the tray on the bed in front of her, lifted a lid from a plate of food and set that on the tray.
He motioned to the cart. “There’s a variety of juices, pastries, toasts, fruit. What else would you like?”
“Just a bottle of water.”
One of his eyebrows rose. “No fruit?”
“Oh, so suddenly you’re not so unhappy with me eating fruit.”
“I wasn’t unhappy that you were eating fruit the day you fainted. I was unhappy that you seemed to be eating only fruit. You and the baby need a balanced diet.”
Her spirits lifted again. She liked talking about the baby as a baby, not the next heir to Xaviera’s throne. She patted her tummy. “I know exactly what to eat.”
* * *
Though Dom took three calls after they ate and while Ginny showered, he couldn’t shake the glorious feeling that he really didn’t have to do anything for two whole weeks.
When she came out of the bathroom, dressed in a pretty sundress, he caught her shoulders and kissed her deeply before he pulled away and said, “I love the dress, but why don’t you slip into a bikini and we’ll sit on the deck and get some sun?”
She smiled cautiously. “Okay.”
Unexpected fear skittered through him. “What’s wrong?”
“Honestly, I have no idea what we’re supposed to be doing.”
“We can do anything we want, which is why I suggested sitting on the deck, getting some sun. I haven’t had a vacation in a long time and just sitting in the sun for a few hours sounds really nice.”
She bounced to her tiptoes and brushed a quick kiss across his mouth. “Bring a book.”
He laughed. “I’m not that unaccustomed to taking a break.”
“Good.” She turned to go back into the bathroom/dressing room, closet area.
Needing to get dressed himself, he followed her.
She stopped in front of a rack of clothes—her clothes—that now hung there. She frowned. “Did you unpack for me while I showered?”
“No. Servants must have done it. There’s an entrance in the other side of the closet. Obviously, they came in, did what needed to be done and left.”
She turned slightly and smiled at him. “So your privacy isn’t really privacy at all.”
“I have minions scurrying everywhere.”
He meant it as a joke, but his comment caused her head to tilt. That assessing look came to her face again, but he took it as her trying to adjust to everything.
He was glad for that. Two years was a long time, and she’d need to be acclimated to everything around them—around him—in order to be casual in public.
Honesty compelled him to say, “You really won’t get much in the way of privacy.”
She smiled. “Do you think a guidance counselor in a school with two thousand kids ever gets privacy?”
He laughed. “At home.” He winced. “At least I hope no one bothered you at home.”
“It was never a bother to have someone contact me at home. If one of my kids thought enough to call me or come by, it was usually because they were so happy about something they wanted to share.” She raised her gaze to meet his. “Or they were in trouble. And if they were, I wanted to help.”
“That sounds a heck of a lot like my job. But multiply your two thousand by a thousand.”
She nodded. “That’s a lot of people.”
He said, “All of them depending on me,” then watched as she absorbed that.
“That’s good for me to know.”
“And understand. These people depend on me. I will not let them down.”
As easy as breathing, she slid out of the sunny yellow dress and, naked, lifted a bikini out of one of the drawers.
He’d seen her naked, of course; they’d spent the night making love and the morning talking on his bed. What was odd was the strange sense of normalcy that rippled around him. He’d never pictured himself and the princess of Grennady sharing a dressing room. Even if they made love, she’d be dressing in the suite across from his, if only because she was as pampered as he was. Her wardrobe for a two-week cruise wouldn’t have been four suitcases. It would have been closer to ten.
But Ginny was simple. Happy. And so was he. Not with sex. Not with the fact that living as a man and wife for real would make the ruse that much easier. He was happy with the little things. Breakfast in bed. The ability to be honest. Dressing together for a morning that would be spent reading fiction.
