Page 150 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

I set down the bite I’m about to take. “A surprise?”

“We’ll leave in an hour.”

“Leave? Where are we going?”

He looks up, and even though his expression doesn’t change, his amusement carries in his tone. “I said it was a surprise.”

I look down at my breakfast. The morning light shines across my mostly eaten poached eggs, sausage, toast, and a fresh glass of orange juice. It is a delicious breakfast, but my attention is suddenly much too diverted. “Are we going riding? Is it something we’redoing,or a gift? If it’s a gift, you really have been giving me too many gifts! Or are we seeing a person? Are we seeing my cousin about the estate?”

His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t reply.

“Rahk!”

Finally, a smirk ghosts across his face as he looks at me. “If you’rethatimpatient, we could go now.”

“Yes!” I shove back my chair and get to my feet. “Let’s go!”

He smiles and follows me to the front of the house. As he hands me into the carriage he says, “I thought you might want to go straight there. It is why I waited until the end of breakfast to mention it.”

My eyes widen just as I land on the cushion. “Did you not get to finish your breakfast? We can go back! I didn’t mean to pull you away—”

He climbs in beside me—instead of across from me—chuckling as the footman closes the door. He stretches his legs across the space in the cab, lets out a sigh, and leans back. He casually drapes his arms over the back of the bench. I happen to be sitting upright when he does so, which then presents me with the option of sitting with a ramrod spine the entire drive . . . or leaning back into his arm. I prefer the latter option, with the exception that it feels very intentional. Leaning back is a statement.

So is staying upright.

I lean toward the window, avoiding either statement, and eagerly peer out of it. Then, when that doesn’t give me clues as to the surprise, I turn toward Rahk. “Do I get a hint?”

One of his legs is stretched straight, and he draws the other one up so it’s bent at the knee. He looks down at me. I’m very aware of how only six inches separate my arm from his side.

“Do you want a hint?” he asks.

I nod quickly.

“Well, let’s see,” he murmurs, shifting his gaze to the opposite side of the carriage. At the same time, he slides his arm and wraps it around my shoulders, drawing me against him.

My eyes nearly bug out of my head in surprise. His familiar scent fills my awareness, somehow both soothing and enlivening. I should resist this—I should resisthim—just like I should have resisted the kiss he gave me a few nights ago that I have not stopped dreaming about since.

But I love how warm his side feels. I love that he wanted me here. I love the way his hand settles on my ribcage and makes me forget every reason I wanted to stay sitting upright.

“It is a place,” he begins, “that was once stolen, but is now restored.”

That distracts me enough that I make a face. “What isthatsupposed to mean?”

He lifts one eyebrow, trying not to smile as he looks down at me. He gives my ribs a soft stroke. “That’s the only hint you get.”

“I asked for a hint, not a riddle,” I reply, sitting backward. “Are you taking me to the Long Lost Wood? What surprise would you have for me there? Dead bodies and a house-sized vegetable?”

A wave of frustration over that situation passes across his face. Then he pats me lightly. “You only need be patient for a few more minutes.”

Those minutes last a lifetime. I’m not sure what to do with the rather intimate way he has his arm around me. It feels silly and strange to ask,“Does this mean you have feelings for me and want our marriage to be more than an inconvenient arrangement? I suppose the kiss might have also indicated that, but you haven’t been kissing me the last few nights, so I don’t know if that was a one-time thing. And if you go back to Nothril, would you ever visit me?”It occurs to me several minutes later that he has given me an opportunity to reciprocate in some way—to flirt back, to lean closer.

And I cannot deny that in other circumstances, I think I would do exactly that. Maybe he would kiss me then. Maybe he would stop sleeping in his study then.

But the more I think about it, the more upset I become. He doesn’t know I’m the Ivy Mask. I’ve lied to him and deceived him. I know our marriage can never work. He doesn’t know any of this—save that he will live in Nothril and I will live here. I have to be the one to keep the boundaries between us. As much as I loved that kiss, as much as I want more and more and more, how can I accept his affection, knowing what I know—and knowing what hedoesn’tknow?

The carriage comes to a halt. I’ve forgotten about the surprise. I should be excited for it, but I find myself dreading it instead. Rahk removes his arm from around me and climbs out of the carriage, turning to help me out after him.

Then I forget everything of the past few minutes.

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