Heat flushed in her cheeks. He wished the moonlight was stronger so that he could see her better.

“Funny and kind might have been mentioned, too.”

“And here I thought I was like an annoying little sister to them,” she quipped, but her voice was softened by emotion.

“They all love you,” he said, simply, but it was something he was reminding himself of, too. Sofia was not just some woman he’d met, some woman he could treat like he might any other woman, if he was a normal, non-royal guy. She was different.

“I’m not that ambitious,” she said, wriggling so she was a bit closer, shivering a little. He put his arm around her, to warm her, and told himself it was a purely practical consideration.

“Aren’t you? According to Dante, you’d run the place if he stepped aside.”

She made a small laughing sound. “Hardly.”

“You sure?”

“Why do you say that? You seem to think you know more about me than I do.”

“I know that you came on a three-day hike with some guy you’d just met on the off chance it would get your pitch across the line.”

Her eyes lifted to his and even in the dark, he felt the spark of their connection warming his whole body.

“I came for Salvatore, because he couldn’t.”

“In case you’re wondering, this isn’t what I imagined my sleeping arrangements would be with Torre.”

She laughed. “Hey, no judgements here.”

“He’s not really my type.”

Her laughter was silenced by a hitch in her throat, and he realised, belatedly, what he’d admitted. “But I am?” she asked, the words husky.

“Sofia…” there was a plea in his voice. “Leave it.”

She expelled a soft breath and moved a hand to his chest. “Yeah, you’re right,” she murmured, and she flipped back over, so she was facing away from him. “Let’s leave it.”

He wasn’t sure if she fell asleep or just fell silent, but either way he was glad the conversation was at an end.

It wasimpossible not to feel awkward the next morning. While nothing had happened, strictly speaking, they both knewsomethinghad changed. Something weird and unexpected, something totally inappropriate given, well, about a million factors, really. From his being royal, and a close friend of the Santoros, to the fact he was just fresh out of a long-term relationship, to the fact she was always, always guarded with herself, to the point of iciness; not to mention the fact they were pitching a huge development to him.

And yet she’d still had one of the best sleeps of her life, lying curled against him like a conch shell, enjoying his warmth and strength, the feel of his breath in the curve of her neck, the thwomp of his heart, beating against her back.

She wriggled away from him carefully, wondering if he was awake but, in the light of day, almost not daring to look.

“Morning.” His voice was gruff; her pulse trembled.

“Morning.” She turned to face him, forcing a smile, but it was so painfully awkward, she winced. “Thanks for last night. I’ll rug up more warmly tonight, so I don’t have to bother you.”

A little divot formed between his brows. “It was no bother. At least, not in the way you might think.”

That didn’t make much sense, but she didn’t ask him to elaborate. “Anyway,” she said with a lift of her shoulders. “Where to today?”

“About twice the distance of yesterday,” he said, casually, like her legs weren’t already killing her.

“Great,” she enthused to cover her inner groan. “Can’t wait. I’m just going to use the facilities.”

He nodded once, and she felt his eyes on her the whole way to the tiny little building.

He had been right;they were basic. Just a tiny room with a toilet in one corner—though thank god it had some kind of rudimentary flushing mechanism—and a small sink. It was enough to freshen up though, to brush her teeth, wash her face, and apply some moisturiser. She brushed her hair and pulled it into a ponytail before returning to the campsite, which Ares had already packed up and put away.