Page 23 of The Prince's Castaway Baby

What do I know about love, though? I’ve never really loved anyone.

Once, I thought I did. When I was twenty-one, my high school sweetheart and I discussed getting married. I would have been so happy with her, but her dowry wouldn’t have been enough, and despite how modern the royal family might pretend to be these days, she was still a commoner. In my parents’ eyes, she wasn’t good enough. Her parents had no titles. She wasn’t an heiress or due to inherit a fortune.

Our relationship had been fine during school, they had said. They had even been glad that it kept me out of trouble, by and large. She had been so sensible compared to me, and she had stopped me being rash and stupid.

But it could have gone no further than it did. I had been told that in no uncertain terms, so Clara and I had broken up a few months later, and I had never seen her again.

And that’s when I turned into the man I’m reputed to be today. I spent the next four years of my life going wild, partying and being as outrageous as I possibly could. I don’t need a psychologist to tell me what the motivation for that was.

I haven’t thought about Clara in years. I wonder if she’s happy now. Maybe she’s married. Maybe she’s not. I don’t really have a way of knowing.

No doubt my parents wouldn’t be happy to see me consorting with Billie, either. Not that we’re consorting really — not anywhere except inside my head, anyway. Yes, we’re lying incredibly close to each other, and my mind is running to places it shouldn’t, but none of this has to mean anything.

I don’t have to think about the heat of her body as it presses against mine.

Despite how real this feels in my head, Billie would never be an acceptable match for me. We could never go further than this, in reality. And the worst part is that just makes me want her more.

She keeps her eyes fixed on the horizon, and I keep mine fixed on her: the gentle curve of her chin, the way her blond hair falls around her face and she keeps pushing it back behind her ear with a frown.

I let my eyes linger on her plush lips, noticing the way they’re slightly chapped from the salt air, and betray myself by wondering what they would feel like pressed against my skin.

And I’m thinking about this now, so I might as well finish the thought and then put it away forever.

What’s more, it’s hot on the island and she’s been wearing a lot of T-shirts and tank tops, and her breasts aren’t exactly small. I’ve tried my best not to notice them, but they’re perfectly formed — round and firm and soft-looking, and the shirts she wears do nothing but complement them, giving her just the right amount of cleavage.

A little fantasy of seeing her naked can’t hurt — right?

It’s only weird if I act on it. What’s inside my head can’t hurt her unless she knows about it.

It can hurt me, though.

The more I dwell on this, the more I want it. God, why am I doing this to myself?

I force myself to look back out into the ocean, but my mind is still firmly stuck on Billie. She has less than a week left on her permit. That means we have less than a week of being together.

After that, I’ll never see her again. Somehow that thought makes me ache even more than anything else. Attraction can be fleeting. It could vanish overnight and that wouldn’t bother me, much.

But the bonds we’re forming? This strange, easy friendship? I wish this could be forever.

We lie behind the bush for a while, and this time it’s Billie’s turn to get bored. She huffs a sigh as she sits up, then pushes herself to her feet. “This is a waste of time,” she says. “Let’s just go back.”

“Okay,” I say, jumping to my feet before she offers me her hand again.

I don’t think I can handle skin-to-skin contact again today. That doesn’t stop me looking longingly at her hand as we walk back, though.

I have to stop thinking like this before it really becomes a problem. It’s never going to happen anyway, because she clearly doesn’t feel like that towards me. She’s only just starting to warm up to me, to stop being irritated by everything I do. There’s no way she’s looking at me with attractionat all.

I’d take her looking at me even infriendship, though.

We get back to the cabin, and I excuse myself to my room. She gives me a funny look but doesn’t question me. No doubt, she’ll be glad for some alone time too.

What she doesn’t know is that I’m going to lie on my bed and feel sorry for myself. Today was a complete write-off. I didn’t get any turtles, and worse, I didn’t get Billie.

And I’m pretty sure I never will.

CHAPTER 12

BILLIE

---