Page 129 of Loyally, Luke
“A surprise? We’re already going to be a half hour late, and you thought to keep it a surprise? Why on earth did you think that was a good idea? It’s the king!”
“I was trying to be blinkin’ romantic,” Gordon roared back.
“Were you now?” Nessa’s voice dropped into a coo and she leaned up and kissed the man on his cheek. “Well, a few minutes won’t hurt, will it?”
Nothing, except the love between Gordon and Nessa, made sense at the moment.
And the fact they’d decided to adopt Faye and Jamie.
Everything else reminded him of a scene from a Monty Python movie.
“What are you two talking about?”
“You’re going to a ball!” Faye shouted, her hands outstretched like something Penelope would do. “A real ball! Just like a princess.”
Even though Luke didn’t understand anything about what Faye just said, a knot started developing in his stomach.
“Och, lass. You kinna say it like that.” Gordon shook his head and reached for a garment bag hanging on a closet door nearby. “Go on in that room and put these on. You kinna go looking like you just finished working a job.”
Luke stared down at the garment bag in his hand. “I don’t quite understand what—”
“The king sent a special invitation to you for tonight’s Wild Hyacinth Ball.” Nessa’s voice grew in volume and pitch to the point Luke took a step back. “Isn’t it marvelous? We were given orders to get you there, if you’re willing.”
Nope. Still not fully comprehending. Ball? As in... really? Luke blinked a few times as he tried to make sense of the situation. “The king invited me to a ball?”
Even saying it made him feel a little queasy. And ridiculous. And like he’d stepped into one of Penelope’s daydreams. A shiver ran through his body.
“That’s right.” Nessa took him by the shoulders and guided him to the next room. “And we’re going to get you there.” She laughed. “Like regular fairy godparents.”
The Penelope daydream reference died a death in his brain.
“Fairy godparents?” Gordon groaned. “Do I look like a fairy to you?”
“At the moment, you look more like an ogre,” Nessa shot back, brow raised.
He huffed.
Nessa turned back to Luke and nudged him into the room before whispering, “Skymarian godparents then. Every story needs one or two, you know?” She laughed again. “So get yourself ready, my boy, so we can take you to your princess.”
Another unrecognizable Gaelic word sounded from Gordon as the door closed, followed by some giggling and another thud or two.
Luke stared at the closed door. Why did he feel like he’d stepped back in time to one of Izzy or Penelope’s sleepovers? An ache pulsed over his left eyebrow.
What was happening? He looked down at the garment bag in hishand and unzipped it to reveal—the knot moved from his stomach to his throat—a tux?
A sudden chill spilled ice through his body. No, he couldn’t do this. He wasn’t made for something like this. A ball? A royal ball?
He had a hard enough time not wanting to run for his life from a friendly meeting with the king in his private apartments. And if he sweated like a cow in a slaughterhouse over a structured and somewhat brief press conference, how on earth would he make it through an entire evening of dancing and small talk with rich people?
He reached for the door handle and paused. But one more night with Ellie?
He rocked back from the door and placed the tux on the nearby chair, staring down at it as if it held some answers. If her dad had invited him, then he knew he at least liked Luke enough to be seen in public with him, let alone to allow his daughter to be seen with him.
A ballroom, though? And dancing... in front of other people?
His hands grew sweaty just thinking about it.
Memories of spending time with her over the last month flooded through him and his chest responded with a strange contradiction of expanding and contracting, like a fight or flight between pain and sweetness. Love was hard.
