Page 33 of How to Date a Prince

“Forgiven.”

And I keep staring at Thomas as I recall the spectacle I made of myself with Katie, both in front of him and then after with the paparazzi, till he shifts. Because I’m making things awkward again. Also, I’m fairly certain he’s staring at my mouth right now, waiting for more nonsense to fall out at any moment.

“Sorry.” I fidget with my sketchbook. “I was thinking of something.”

“A new diversion?” He raises a dark eyebrow. His lips twitch.

I shake my head, blushing, but I consciously relax my shoulders. “No, no. I’ll, err, stay here. Quietly.”

“Well, if it’s fine by you, so will I.” Thomas gazes at me till I look down at my sketchbook. Goose bumps cover my arms.

And that’s how Thomas and I end up peacefully sharing a reception room for at least an hour. I’m head down, sketching away and making notes, while Thomas writes in his journal with a fountain pen. It’s a surprisingly comfortable way to spend time in each other’s company. I’m intensely curious about what he’s working on. However, I don’t want to bother him, because courtesy, but also because he’s ridiculously attractive as he focuses with intent on his notebook, and I’m indulging in the view.

“What do you think you’ll make?” Thomas asks into the quiet a while later.

“Something with clay.”

He looks impressed. “Wow. Clay?”

I nod, not up for sharing anything more. He’s already seen too much in my sketchbook. Who knows how far he got into it. God knows if he’s found the nudes from my life drawing classes. And, strategically, he’s at a competitive advantage knowing what I want to work on. “And you?”

“I’ll probably write a song,” he says. “It’s either that or a poem.”

It’s my turn to look impressed. “You can sing?”

Thomas laughs. “Don’t look so surprised. I can also play the guitar. Feed and dress myself too.”

“I can’t say the same for me with the last two points, unfortunately. I can dress myself sometimes when no one is looking. That’s the truth.”

Thomas shakes his head, looking more somber, and I haven’t even mentioned staff.

“Well, consider coming downstairs for dinner or drinks sometime. If Wilson’s not around, it’ll even be civil.” It could be my imagination, but his expression softens ever so slightly. And then his face brightens with a smile like a flood to my senses. My breath catches for a moment before I reply.

“Imagine.” I shake my head. “If I can reach some kind of peace with an abolitionist, maybe there’s hope for Wilson too.”

And I excuse myself and find the appropriate person to put in my materials request for tomorrow, feeling cheered.

* * *

I stay in my room for dinner, reading the latestVogue, which brims with all kinds of style inspiration. After I finish reading, I decide to go on a walk around the property. I avoid the dining hall. When I go to the kitchen in search of a bottle of water to take with me, I emerge from the walk-in fridge to the sight of Thomas as he arrives in the kitchen.

While long summer shadows beckon across the grasses beyond the window, I glance from the outdoor view to the indoor view of Thomas. He’s tanned, the light catching his eyes and highlighting the side of his face in a warm glow. I can see a faint scar on his cheek. My stomach dances at the sight of his toned forearms, revealed by his rolled-up sleeves, which proved an effective distraction during week one’s challenge. And frankly, he’s more delicious than any exotic pastry.

“Now what?” He arches an eyebrow at me. “Are you skulking about?”

“As a prince, I have it on good authority that I do not skulk.” But my lips curl into a smile.

Thomas considers, tapping his finger against his lips. A lock of hair has fallen across his brow. “How about sneak?”

“I’m not sneaking!” I gasp in mock dismay, holding up a bottle of water. “I was going for a walk. It’s too beautiful out to sit cooped up inside.”

He glances outside the window. “Good idea.”

“Do you want to join me?” I ask impulsively before I lose my nerve.

“I’ll consider it,” he says lightly. “On one condition.”

“Oh?” My stomach knots. “I didn’t imagine that walks came with conditions.”

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