Page 103 of Of Glass and of Gold

At first, his features fell—until a stronger smile replaced the previous.

I brought my hand over my mouth to cover the bulge in my cheek, peering down into my lap while I continued working the deliciously buttery mound. The counselor’s throaty rasp echoed across the room, calling all the young ladies’ attentions to the prince.

“Ladies. Thank you all for joining me here tonight. Anything you require to make yourselves at home, please don’t hesitate to request from any of our talented staff.” Then he crossed the few feet that separated us. A high-back chair was brought to the end of the table by gloved staff.

Directly beside us.

He lowered into his chair, groaning, but I tried keeping my gaze off those dazzling blue eyes, knowing it was from the kick I gave.

In a low, husky voice, he said, “You look absolutely stunning.”

My gaze slowly flitted up to his. My thoughts couldn’t gather fast enough in their swirling torrent. “I didn’t wait for you. I ate my pastry.” For some reason I pointed to my plate littered with nothing but a few crumbs.

He nearly laughed, breath escaping from his nose. “Would you like another?”

“No, I don’t want to impo—”

“She’d love one,” Melody barged in to say.

I shot her a death glare from across the table, but she simply held her smile. Without taking his gaze from me the entire time, he replied, “You could never impose.”

My cheeks heated, and the surging warmth behind my eyes had me reaching for the recently filled wine glass. After a few unladylike chugs, I set it down.

That was the best wine I’d ever had in my entire life, but I tried not to shout it, though I wanted to—it was that good.

Nicholas had already waved down a server and requested another serving for me. His ocean stare settled on me again, and I didn’t shrink away. “Thank you.”

His beautiful blush colored lips rose to one side, and I found myself joining him. The ladies around me made significant effort to monopolize conversation with him after that, and I gladly kept silent. It gave me an opportunity to savor the delicious courses that were served round after round.

“Will you travel a lot with your future queen?” one woman from several seats down leaned in to ask, nearly shouting to make sure she was noticed.

“What hobbies will you wish your future queen to enjoy?” another said.

“What hobbies do you enjoy, Your Highness?” Kenzie threw in.

And so the questions continued, leaving Nicholas barely any time to pick at his food. But, ever the royal, he engaged them in pleasant conversation. I wondered if his time as prince had always been this way, fleeting interactions that never gave him time for himself. Recalling our exchange at the first luncheon confirmed the thought.

Before I could catch it, I realized I’d been staring at him while he gave yet another graceful, unhurried answer to another bombarding question. The smallest knowing smile upturned the corner of his full lips, and his knee gently rested against mine under the table. I sucked in a tiny breath, electricity surging through me at his secret touch.

I wanted more, so my knee subtly pushed back.

“And what of children, Your Highness?” The horrifying question came from the woman next to Kenzie. The steak knife in front of me might as well have lodged in my stomach.

Nicholas nearly choked on the wine he started to sip.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep!” she rushed out her apology.

“No, no,” Nicholas hurried to soothe her distress. “It is a perfectly acceptable question, given your situation.” He gestured to the room in the castle, where these women held a chance at becoming his future wife. My chest heated, my breathing becoming strained with each inhale.

“I would love an heir, as I’m sure most in my position would.” His gaze slid to my plate, not reaching me fully. “But that would be something I would leave to private discussions with my wife.”

The air suddenly became too thin and though I was anchored in my chair, the room started spinning.

“Excuse me, I-I need some air,” I said at the same time I pushed my chair back with more force than necessary. It scraped against the wood, calling attention from others down the table. I didn’t care. The click of my heels echoed in the room, and as I neared the front doors, I started sprinting.

“Where’s the closest door to outside?” I threw the question at a guard, placing a hand on my stomach to center myself.

He pointed down the hall, and I took off. Blood roared in my ears, my lungs collapsing in on themselves. Still, my feet worked harder, faster, until I reached the same familiar row of exposed alcoves to the garden.

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