Page 30 of Princess Bride Swap

There was something about the haughty way she said that, the little lick of temper in her voice that allowed him to...relax.

He had failed at keeping his boundaries built with her. This was a mistake, but not fatal. It was here, alone, not at the palace with witnesses. It was early in their marriage, and as she’d said...no countries or responsibilities were expressly harmed.

They had two more days of privacy here. He wanted to return to the palace with every possibility she was pregnant so that he could build back his careful walls of decorum. So...this could be okay. His mistake was not fatal and wouldn’t be.

He would get her pregnant.ForDivio and his family legacy. He could relax, at least for another day or two.

“That isn’t precisely true, Beaugonia. You did ask. In fact, I seem to recall you begging.”

Her cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink, but then she reached across the bed and grabbed a pillow. Then shethrewit at him.

And the laughter that she brought out in him at the worst moments bubbled free. In spite of himself, she made everything feel like...it would be all right. She was a smart woman. She would understand. She would follow suit.

And all would be well.

CHAPTER NINE

BEAUWOKEUPin a cold sweat. Her breath coming in pants. The world dark around her. A strange bed. A warm man. Her mind whirled with something just out of reach.

But she knew one thing.

It had been years since she’d woken up in the middle of a panic attack. And this was the worst possible moment for this to happen to her again.

She struggled to gulp down a breath, but Lyon didn’t stir beside her. So there was still a chance. There was still a chance he didn’t wake up and find out.

Would it be so bad?

She eased off the bed, struggling to breathe, struggling to feel her legs well enough to walk. The room was dark, but her vision felt even more off than just that.

Would it be so bad? For Lyon to wake up and see her greatest weakness? Something that was decidedlynotstable or respectable?

Yes, it would besobad.

She tried to move through the room quietly, relief fighting with everything rioting inside of her. Because Lyon didn’t stir, and she managed to make her way to the bathroom without making any loud noises.

With shaking arms and increasing panic, tears already streaming down her face, she managed to close the door without slamming it.

Then she simply collapsed onto the ground. Shaking and gasping. Cursingeverythingthat made her the way she was.

Maybe it was lucky. It had gripped her at a time when she’d been able to slip away and hide. Lyon would not have to know. If it could always be this way, then she would be fine.

She tried to let that thought calm her, but once it started there was usually no going back. The attack had to run its course. But she was lying naked on the bathroom floor and that was ridiculous.

She didn’t trust herself to stand with as shaky as she was, but she could crawl across the floor to the closet. She left the lights off and tried. Her limbs shook and she didn’t want to make any noise so it was slow going and more pushing herself across the floor than anything else.

Pathetic. Stupid. Crazy.

But those were her father’s words, not hers. She understood that panic was simply...what it was. A misfire in her brain. She couldn’t control it, and it certainly didn’t make her any of the things her father called her.

But something about the night with Lyon, sleeping in his bed, made her feel more a failure than she usually did after a panic attack. Because there was no one to prove wrong. No one to spite.

There was only a man she had to hide this...defect from. And not just to protect Zia anymore, but because...she liked him. This life they were creating. It was the happiest she’d ever been. And maybe that was a low bar, but it was a low bar she was determined to keep reaching.

She made it into the closet. There were clothes of hers in here somewhere. She couldn’t trust herself to stand to reach the light, so she just reached out around the walls and tried to find a shelf or drawer or something.

Stop shaking. Stop crying. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

She counted breaths. She ignored the tears. Her hand finally blindly landed on something that felt like fabric. Once she managed to get it over her head, she realized it was not hers. It was too big and baggy, but it seemed like a sweatshirt and that would work, even if it was Lyon’s.

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