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Nothing.
Not even the gnawing sensation that claws my stomach or the hollow ache buried deep in my heart.
Finally, his demeanor returns to its carefree façade. “You don’t have to worry about me falling in love with you,” he says with a wink.
I choose my next words carefully. “I’m talking about more than that. I’ve heard about your…your reputation with women. And I…well, when it comes to the types of things married couples do, you and I…we won’t be doing those things.”
“I see,” he says, a hint of amusement playing around his lips. “Do you not dothose thingsat all?”
A blush of heat floods my cheeks. “I don’t have to answer that.”
He gives me a pointed look. “You requested that I never lie to you when asked a question. I think I should be allowed the same respect.”
“Butthose thingsare private.”
“As are my—how did you put it? Drunken debauching? Yes, such activities of mine are private too, and yet you’ve made them the topic of our conversation more than once now.”
“And you’ve made them the topic of everyone’s conversation by making a public spectacle of yourself. That isn’t what I call private, Your Highness.” I say his title with clear mocking.
“Well played, Miss Fairfield. Still, if we are to be married and I am to participate in this grand charade of ours, I do insist on the same level of candor you expect from me. So tell me. Do you or do you not dothose things?” When I don’t answer, he elucidates. “Lovemaking. Kissing. Canoodling—”
“Yes,” I bite out. “I…I participate in such activities when the need drives me. Sometimes…alone. Other times with a partner. A temporary one.” Oh, for the love of the All of All, why am I even telling him this? There was once a time when talk of sex and sensuality made me feel bold. I spoke about my evening exploits and flirtations the way most people talk about the weather. But those days are long gone. I’ve learned what dark paths lie at the end of lust and romance, and I never want to walk them again. Or talk about them at all.
He narrows his eyes. “I see. The matter at hand is you don’t want to do those things withme. Partially because you dislike me, but more so because we are to be married. There’s nothing temporary about that, is there? So you’d like to ensure we never cross the line into physical intimacy because you prefer the occasional dalliance over a deep relationship.”
I purse my lips. Since when does the playboy prince have the mind of a private investigator?
He wags a gloved finger at me. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
I hide my growing discomfort behind a seething grin. “Don’t presume to know me, Highness.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare to presume a thing about you, darling.”
I clamp my jaw tight. “I thought I told you—”
“To dispose of the false flattery? I know. But I’m afraid it can’t be avoided if we want to put on a proper show.” He gestures toward the window, and I realize the coach has stopped.
All prior thoughts flee from my mind as I stare out at the small crowd gathered outside a quaint stone structure bearing a sign that readsThe Golden Stone. It’s the restaurant where Albert and I will be spending our first evening as a couple in the public eye. My pulse kicks up at the sight of so many people waiting to be let inside. Thankfully, Albert and I have reservations, but it doesn’t calm my nerves. I try to remind myself that the more people the better. I need to be seen—both in my ensemble and with my fiancé—for this tour to have the effect I intend. Despite telling myself this, I can’t bear to move as the footman opens the coach door.
Thankfully, Albert is quicker to act. He steps out of the coach and turns to me with an open palm. A few people from the crowd turn curious glances our way. Lowering his voice, he leans forward. “Ready to dazzle, Miss Fairfield?”
I swallow hard and place my hand in his.
7
As soon as we’re seated inside the restaurant, I realize my mistake. Not only is this my first public outing with Albert, but it’s my first step into the public eye since the scandal erupted. Every day since my name first graced the headlines, I’ve kept my focus on work and spent most of my time either at my studio or my cottage. I’ve shopped, held meetings, seen clients, and interacted with my design team, but nothing more than what is already part of my weekly routine. I haven’t so much as set foot at a society function.
The grand opening of the newest upscale restaurant in the most popular human city in the Earthen Court is certainly a society event. That was the whole point, of course, but I failed to account for how anxious I’d be. Or how many sets of eyes look our way. How many lips whisper behind their hands.
Are they whispering because there’s a prince in their midst? Or because he’s with me, an alleged husband-stealing harlot?
My only solace is that the restaurant is dim. The walls and ceiling are comprised of dark slate, evoking a cavelike atmosphere. Artful water fixtures are interspersed along the walls to give the illusion of trickling waterfalls. A few simple lightbulbs hang from climbing ivy, but most of the light comes from the glowing green sprites that flutter overhead. If I weren’t so nervous, I’d be impressed by the decor and the way it utilizes natural elements—something that would normally appeal more to the fae—in a way that is considered safe and charming to human clientele.
“Relax.” Albert’s whispered voice steals my attention. He sits across from me in a wooden chair that matches my own. Both seats retain some organic shape provided by the trees they were carved from. The armrests are curved branches, the legs spindly roots. A roughly hewn stone table stands between us set with dishes, napkins, and flatware.
I blink at him. Now that he’s without his top hat, he looks a little more like his roguish self with the way his golden locks fall lazily about his face. Unlike me, he doesn’t seem at all perturbed by the whispers uttered from nearby tables. “I’m plenty relaxed,” I mutter, keeping my voice low to avoid being overheard.
“You look as taut as a bowstring.” He takes a hearty drink of his wine—the only thing we’ve been served so far—which earns him a scowl from me. If he turns into a befuddled buffoon, I will kill him.
