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“It’s the same thing!”
Oh, my God.
Their bickering was insane. I’d honestly never heard anything like it. It was juvenile, ridiculous, and absolutely hilarious all at the same time.
It was just… petty. Daft little swipes at each other, the kind that actually made me a little sad I didn’t have any such relationship with my own brother. Vincent and I had always gotten along, but we’d never been close, not like this.
Not that it was surprising, given the family dynamic.
I wasn’t the person he’d rush to in a crisis, not like Freya had to William. It was clear to me that he was the most comfortable one for her to turn to, not their parents or their grandparents or even her fiancé.
No, her brother.
That’s why their bickering was funny.
To me, it was clear they adored one another. Something about their body language and the looks they shared screamed of a close sibling bond, despite what their words said.
I didn’t know why I’d stepped in. I didn’t know why I’d put myself in this situation where I was going to help. I wasn’t entirely sure therewassuch a dramatic crisis, even with the weather forecast.
The wedding was still four days away. A lot could change between now and then, not least the weather. British weather was exceptionally fickle, changing its mind at the barest whisper of a breeze in another direction. Literally, sometimes.
Also, I wasn’t sure the Met Office even knew what they were doing half the time. I’d once opened their app to check my local weather for it to tell me it was raining… while I was standing in a cloudless sky. You could say I had a hefty dose of scepticism where they were concerned.
“William!” Freya hammered on the door again. “It’s still snowing, and you aren’t moving!”
“Christ, I’m ready, I’m ready.” The door swung open, and William stepped out.
He wore a white collared shirt under a maroon jumper, navy trousers, and shiny dark brown shoes, and I could swear that every inch of his clothing was perfectly tailored to his wide shoulders and unfortunately sculpted arms. His dark hair was still wet, and it glistened off the overhead lights.
I wasn’t going to talk about his beard.
It was wet.
I could see the water droplets.
I didn’t need my brain to go there. At all.
If I did, I’d start thinking about what was under the shirt and jumper combo, and then I’d never think about anything else.
It had been bad enough trying not to think about kissing him on the watchtower. At the time it had been nothing more than a fleeting impulse, a flash of an idea that lasted no longer than the blink of an eye, yet as soon as we’d arrived back at the castle and parted ways to sleep, it’d come back.
Lingering ever since.
If the thought of kissing William was a tornado, the inability to get it out of my mind was the destruction such a storm left in its wake.
That was a warning.
That it was a bad idea. That this whole shebang was a gross misjudgement on both our parts, but especially mine.
I didn’twantto kiss William.
It would only lead to bad things. Bad choices. Bad mistakes.
But oh, at the same time… I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have his lips against mine.
Just for a second. Half of one, even.
“Thank God. Finally,” Freya said with a huff. “I need Grandpa out of here before Mum arrives.”
