Page 57 of The Royal Governess
What? Was he familiar with the other kind of cigarette and could he distinguish one from the other? I was so upset, I couldn’t speak. Words failed me. How could I explain this without making Lexi look like teen-age trouble?
At the door, Marco turned. “Gregorio, we will talk later.”
“Can I go back to the party?” His son stood there looking repentant and helpless.
Chuckling, Marco turned to me. “The party that was so boring,” he murmured to me under his breath.
But he lost the grin when he faced his son again. “Yes, but don’t tell Ama about this. She will ask. Just tell her you were…showing Lexi the dungeons.”
“No!” Lexi and I said at once.
“Really, Marco.” I shook my head at him. “What would two people be doing down there?”
He seemed to turn that over. Such an innocent. This man was going to have a hard time with Gregorio’s teenage years if he didn’t wise up.
“Mom, what about me?” By this time, we were in the hallway. Lexi turned with a questioning look.
Was she kidding? “Keep walking, Missy. The party’s over for you.”
The look Lexi speared my way could have taken down an elephant. Sure, it hurt but I pretended not to notice. The two of them took off down the hall. Gregorio followed her partway and then turned off at the first stairway.
Sometimes parenting could be exhausting. A hand on my shoulder, Marco brought me to a halt. “It was just a cigarette, Christina. The European cigarettes can smell different.”
Oh. Well. “But I don’t want her smoking. Where will that lead?”
“What would be so bad? Hmm?” The back of his hand brushed my cheek when he tucked a curl behind my ear.
Just when I was trying to keep myself in check, he had to go and do that. My whole body quivered. What had we been talking about? “At least they weren’t…” My words and thoughts drifted off. I was mesmerized by those eyes again.
“Oh, no.” With a decisive shake of his head, Marco’s features set into forbidding lines. “That cannot happen. Would not happen. After all, Gregorio will be king one day.”
My back straightened. What was he saying? What did being king have to do with anything? Marco might be my employer but I wasn’t letting this pass. Pivoting, I faced off with His Royal and oh, so irritating Majesty. Over his shoulder hung a portrait of one of his ancestors. The guy in the painting might be from two centuries earlier but he sure looked as if he were sneering at me.
You’re not good enough. I felt the force of that dismissive look. But this time I wasn’t taking that ––not from anyone. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.”
Marco bit his lip, the way he did when he realized he should choose his words more carefully. “It’s just that there are expectations for my son, Christina. And he would not want to ruin them by any…indiscretion with Lexi.” Too late, he realized what he’d just said. His face flushed.
My own skin felt burning hot. The man fried my mind. And he’d hurt my feelings terribly. “Really.” Well, that just about tore it. My hands went to my hips and I was ready to do battle. The silly romantic dancing out on the back patio was long forgotten. In unguarded moments people could be seen for what they really are.
And Marco was sure looking like a stuck-up, pompous idiot.
But I needed a little clarification first. When my mother was alive, she often warned me about jumping to conclusions. So I sucked in a breath, but the air felt stale and dry in my throat. “Do I understand you to say that my daughter might be a bad influence? Do you think that coming back to his room was her idea?”
Marco directed a level look my way, as if we were standing in his office and this was our first meeting. “Of course not, Profesora.”
Oh. Well. So we were back to keeping our roles separate. He was the king and I was the governess. My satisfaction was short-lived. A little piece of my heart wanted to hear my name spoken softly, just one more time.
That wasn’t going to happen. He darted a look toward the end of the hall. “Could we talk about this another time? I have guests…”
“But of course, Your Majesty.” My tone hit its mark. “When heads are cooler.”
Giving me a startled look, Marco ran his fingers through his hair, as if to check the temperature. “My head…is not hot.”
This was getting worse by the minute. Marco looked adorable when he was out of his depth.
“This is not about your head or your hair. Please don’t take me literally. But we’re both upset…”
Dropping his eyes, he tugged at the sleeve of his tuxedo. “I am not upset. But you are being unreasonable.”
