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When Ian beckoned her, she wound her way through the crowd, telling herself not to say something dumb. Fortunately, the prince was funny and relaxed. He won Bella’s approval by praising Ian’s contribution to naval rescues.
The moment was, of course, brief. Everyone wanted an opportunity to rub shoulders with royalty, particularly the red-haired, younger prince.
Ian grabbed two more glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and laughed at Bella. “You’ve got stars in your eyes. Should I be jealous?”
“He’s so sweet and down-to-earth. I can’t believe he hasn’t found his own happily-ever-after.”
“Not all men want marriage,” Ian said. “Perhaps he’s enjoying his life too much to settle down with one woman. Either that or he doesn’t want to parade his private life out in public.”
The offhand statement depressed Bella. Was Ian trying to tell her something without hurting her feelings? His comment about marriage could be general or personal. She hoped it was the former.
Then it struck her. She was writing a tale in her head that was more fiction than fact. In the midst of the glamor and the champagne and the storybook evening, she had begun to regard Ian as hers. That was a sure recipe for pain and heartbreak. Besides, they weren’t even compatible in bed. That didn’t bode well for any kind of relationship at all.
She might as well suck it up and face the truth. Ian had a life in London that didn’t include her and likely never would. Their paths had crossed thanks to Finley, but that was more accident than destiny.
After meeting Harry, the Queen’s quiet greeting half an hour later was almost anticlimactic. Bella nodded and murmured her gratitude for a wonderful evening. Ian repeated something similar. Then Elizabeth moved on to the next group of guests.
Ian rolled his shoulders and yawned behind his hand. “I think we can go now. I’d like to get out of these clothes.”
“Of course,” Bella said calmly, trying not to think about Ian Larrimore naked. “I’m ready when you are.”
They headed toward the exit, but Ian was caught at the last minute by one of his fellow honorees. “I’ll wait in the anteroom,” Bella whispered. It was far cooler, and unlike the gallery, there were benches along the wall where she could perch and rest her aching feet.
Nothing prepared her for what happened next. One moment she was sitting quietly with her eyes closed imagining what it must have been like to attend a royal ball several centuries ago. The next instant, the twenty-first century present intruded rudely.
“May we have a statement, ma’am? You’re Ian’s Larrimore’s date tonight, aren’t you?”
