Page 74 of Reveal Me
And what exactly I’m going to do with my life—other than spend it loving Sean Beckett.
‘That’s a pity; we’d prepared for a visitor.’ Mrs Medway gazes at Sean in open awe. She bristles, opens her mouth, then closes it again. Finally she says, ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to stay for dinner, Mr Beckett?’
My breath hitches.
My heart leaps ridiculously in my chest.
He’s going to say no, of course he is. There’s no way he’s going to sit here under the prying eyes of my mother’s staff. It’s one thing creeping into my bedroom, but staying for dinner will bring a lot of heat on us. And no matter what he says, I’m still not entirely sure he’s ready for it.
He turns to look at me, pausing thoughtfully, then rubs a contemplative thumb over his jawline.
Stay. Stay. Stay.I will him silently.
He whips out his phone. ‘Do you know what?’ He flashes Mrs Medway a killer smile. ‘I’d love to stay for dinner. Thank you so very much. I just need to rearrange a meeting.’
Right there in that moment, I realise heisready.
The question is, am I?
Chapter Thirty-Three
SEAN
I never want to leave her. Doing something as normal as eating together is something we’ve been denied for too long, along with so many other small milestones, like first dates, and dances, and introducing her to my family.
‘Wonderful,’ the housekeeper says, backing out of the room.
I don’t miss the smile that Layla bites back. ‘She will report your presence to my mother. Thankfully, I think she’s rather taken with you.’
‘If that’s her idea of being taken, I’d hate to meet her if she wasn’t.’ I brush a hand over Layla’s cheek. I can’t stop touching her. My gaze strays to her lips. The urge to take her in my arms and steal her away from this glorified prison is overwhelming. If this is what love does to a person, I can see why people try to avoid it. It’s all-consuming. Makes me irrational. Whatever terrible consequences we have to face, it’ll be worth it if it means I get to do life with her.
‘Another drink perhaps?’ Layla nods towards the drink’s cabinet.
We might need it. Now I’ve broached the subject, it’s imperative we continue our conversation now–not later. ‘Yes, please.’ I drop my hand abruptly and fetch my glass for a refill. ‘Does the housekeeper always hover over you like that? It’s very intrusive.’
‘Unfortunately, yes.’ Layla puts her hand out to take the glass from me, and as our fingers brush, every hair on my forearm stands on end.
‘It must be suffocating.’ I watch her ass sway as she struts towards the drinks cabinet, snatching up her own glass in the process. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her to move in with me. To beg her if needs be. I could protect her, provide for her.
‘You get used to it.’ She shrugs. ‘Thank goodness I’m a spare and not the heir.’ She pours two generous measures of whiskey and hands one to me.
‘I should be waiting on you.’ I bet she’s never poured anyone a drink in her life. It occurs to me that my royal etiquette is shocking. ‘You know, I have no idea of how to act appropriately around you. What the proper etiquette is when it comes to the Royal Family.’
She laughs then, low and sweet. The sound makes my stomach flip. ‘I love that you don’tactany way around me. You are what you are, and I respect you for that.’
We cross the room together, side by side, hovering in front of the fireplace. Flames lick over the logs, crackling and spitting, piercing the silence that’s fallen between us. It’s not an uncomfortable silence. Far from it, actually.
I glance around at the panelled walls and antiques, drinking in the princess’s privileged prison. The portraits on the wall stare accusingly back at us. ‘I take it these aren’t your pieces.’
‘No,’ she scoffs. ‘Mine are much more colourful.’
‘Tell me more.’ I’ve been wondering about her work for weeks. Wondering about the paintings that pour from her soul.
She spins on her heels to face me, swirling the whiskey in her glass contemplatively ‘My recent pieces are,’ she pauses, ‘darker, yet somehow more vibrant than anything I’ve ever produced before—thanks to you.’ She stares at me from under those thick dark eyelashes.
‘Show me.’
Her eyes meet mine. ‘They’re quite personal …It would be like laying my soul bare for speculation.’
