Page 84 of A Girl and HER Prince
She exploded at him, even as those awful tears glistened down her cheeks. “No, it’snotfine! And I’ll cry! I’ll cry because you won’t! You keep everything inside like you’re afraid to feel anything. And it’s not right what you’re doing to yourself. You know why? Because you’re the best man I know, and you’re going to live and you’re going to show your father just how well you can do it on your own! You hear me! You’ve got to survive for that… to happen.” She let out a sob. “I love you… and if that’s enough to get you through this then I’ll shout it to the ends of the earth.”
“Love?” That was the antiseptic he needed. He settled back, feeling… happy. What he’d do for a luscious slice of moussaka about now, made for two on the top deck of his ship… and yeah, he was there now.
He must’ve blacked out some time between droning on about how Bris and Achilles wouldn’t stop fighting and shouting at Livvy to “Leave it!” when he felt her unwrap the bandage on his forearm.
He remembered her saying something about how they were getting off this island in the morning. Was that part of a dream or was that true?
He woke up with a start, staring around him at the silent warehouse. Wispy beams of moonlight spilled through the window. He was warm… but not feverish. That was good, wasn’t it? Or did that just mean he was dead?
A donkey huffed a hot, stinky breath into his ear, and he twisted away.No, I’m not dead.He felt Livvy on the other side of him with hardly any of the blanket that he’d kicked off while he’d tossed and turned throughout the night. And yet, she’d still tried to put every bit of covering she’d found over his ungrateful body.
So naughty!
His angel was a sweetheart.
He quickly fixed her well-meaning mistake and moved the blanket over her where it belonged.
She stirred and he settled back down, surrounded by barn animals on one side and the love of his life on the other. Breathing deeply, he touched her arm, caressing the soft skin—the smoothness, the gentle curve down to her wrist. He tried to memorize the feel of her. If they truly were getting off this island in the morning, this would be his last night with her.
That was all he could fathom before he fell back into a deep sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Saturday, August 25th
Venice had moved the blanket on her!
That troublemaker. He was the worst patient… He’d sung some made-up ditty about her eyes; he’d tried to undo his bandages; he shouted at the donkey. She could forgive all of that, except his mad ramblings about not being able to love her.
And yet, he’d had enough presence of mind to cover her up. Last night she hadn’t thought he’d ever regain consciousness. She slid the blanket back over him and sat up to stare at his face bathed in the morning light.
He looked so peaceful. Normally seeing such serenity on his face could only mean he’d died—that much she’d gleaned from the short time she’d known him—but no, his breathing was steady and even, and for this moment, at least, he wasn’t bearing that impossible weight he’d tried to put on those princely shoulders of his.
She’d been so afraid for him last night. It felt like losing her father all over again, and she’d pled with him, bargained, threatened. Venice had talked long after he was conscious of what he was saying, and he’d broken her heart. The grief over what he’d said still wouldn’t leave her:“I don’t want to let you go!”
The fever had loosened the truth that she’d expected from his lips all along.
Her hand went to his forehead. It was cool. Nothing to how it had been before she’d stitched him up, but Venice was a fighter. He’d proved he had the strength of a bear when he’d dragged her ashore. He’d saved her and yet, all he could talk about last night was what a disappointment he was to his father, his people, and toher—that made her the angriest of all… and weepy!
He’d been so out of it, but that didn’t stop him from pouring out his soul to her. Everything he’d confessed, his eyes had been telling her all along.
No wonder he refused to talk about his feelings, his fears, his weaknesses—he was trying to shield those he loved from himself, like he wasn’t human like the rest of them had the privilege of being.
And now he was doing it again. The fool! He wasn’t the only fighter around here. She’d save him from himself if he kept walking down that plank. She sighed, feeling her emotion tickle the back of her throat as she thought about losing him. Clearly, he didn’t want her in his life. She’d been right about them all along, and his lies ate at her, and yet, it was all about him believing that he couldn’t love.
That last memory choked her with grief, not seeing the man before her, but the small boy who’d watched members of his family die in front of his eyes.
She leaned over him and kissed his forehead. A hint of a smile touched his lips. She groaned. Maybe she should be smacking him across the forehead instead—that might make what she’d told him last night penetrate his thick noggin—“… you’re the best man I know, and you’re going to live and you’re going to show your father just how well you can do it on your own.”
Hopefully he’d take that to heart when they got off the island this morning.
They just had to find a way to make that possible, and after that? She’d never see him again.
She slipped out of the comfortable little nest they’d made of wood and farm animals… though Steve was immediately on his feet, following her. Her hand went to the donkey’s sturdy, furry head as she moved through the boatyard.
Last night, when she’d riffled through the worktable’s drawers for the needle and thread, she’d found flares and a gun.
Venice had warned her that whoever might come after them might be the ones who’d wanted them dead, but if they truly got picked up by murderers, they could defend themselves and hijack their boat to get back to safety.
