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What the hell did that mean?
He opened his mouth to ask, but one look at her rigid posture and tense expression let him know that line of questioning would only lead to another argument. He reached out and trailed his thumb down her cheek.
“I’ll be back.”
She didn’t respond.
He hauled her close, her gasp of surprise allowing him to sweep his tongue into her mouth and immediately deepen the kiss. He needed to be close to her, craved it more than his next breath. He hated the distance their argument had forged between them and he’d determine how to mend it later. Right now, he knew he couldn’t leave until he’d at least physically bridged the looming gap between them.
She moaned and slid her hands up to grip his shoulders, her body softening into his. He shivered at the submission and slanted his head, rasping his tongue against hers, wanting more than this one kiss could give him but knowing now wasn’t the time nor the place to claim it.
He ended the embrace and, breathing heavily, leaned his forehead on hers. “I said, I’ll be back.”
Her hand migrated to his cheek and his heart jolted at the heat simmering in her gaze. “Okay, Terminator.”
Much better.
“That’s my Dani,” he said, brushing one last kiss to those exquisite lips, and leaving, while he still had the strength to go.
***
“And what about when you’re not? I can’t afford to let myself depend on you and then you’re gone!”
The words circled Jameson’s mind, like water around a clogged, slowly emptying drain. Where did she think he was going?
Or did he have it wrong?
Had he been preparing for their future while she’d been planning a life without him?
“Have you heard a word I’ve said?” Rhys asked.
Jameson started then shot a look at his friend. “No.”
Through the partially closed door of their sitting room, the din of male voices, clinking glasses, and the clack of billiard balls provided a soothing background noise. By virtue of his father belonging to Vault, the oldest, most exclusive private club in London, Jameson had been entered as a member shortly after his birth. He’d rarely come, not being a fan of the antiquated customs and elitist atmosphere and preferring the pub near uni when he’d needed a drink and to be near people. Since his ouster from Birmingham, he had found the private sitting rooms here to be a refuge when he wanted the spirit of being in public but the peace of being left alone.
“That’s something. At least you didn’t lie about it,” Rhys said, taking a sip of his whisky.
“Why would I?” Jameson leaned back against the supple leather of the chair. “I can admit my mind was elsewhere. Something is going on with Dani.”
“I’ll say. The media has been bloody relentless. That whole bit about a cookout at the Regatta...” Rhys shook his head. “How can you stand it?”
“Me? I wouldn’t dare center myself. It’s about how Dani’s handling it, not me.” However... “What the fuck is wrong with these people? Grown men and women printing such vile, racist garbage. Do they think it’s a game? How do they live with themselves? I wish the fucking lot would sod off.”
Rhys’s eyes widened. “Such language from a member of the royal family. And I imagine they’re so far up their own asses in their perceived importance they no longer question their morality. They’re going in because of who you are, what you represent, and their belief she threatens it.”
He didn’t need Rhys’s reminder. The guilt constantly ate at him.
“Of course, but that’s not what I was referring to.” An unease had grabbed hold of him. One he couldn’t shake. “I told her we could leave. That we’d essentially done what the queen had asked. We could get away for a while and let the attention dissipate. She refused.”
“So?”
“She’s close to signing a very important contract for her business but there’s a few matters they’ve needed to resolve.That’swhere her focus should lie, but she’s here because of me and this issue with my family. And for her efforts she’s being pilloried by the press!” Saying it aloud fortified his belief in the logic of his reasoning. He continued slowly, almost to himself, “She should be happy to go.”
“But she’s not?”
“No.”
Rhys pursed his lips. “Did you ask her about it?”
