Page 49 of The Forgotten Queen
“Hugging?”
“Yes.”
She cleared her throat. “Kissing?”
His lips worked into a bigger smile. “I think yes.”
“I think not,” she said a little too emphatically. “You already saw what happened when you tried to kiss me at our wedding.”
“I can’t be blamed for that. It was a command…seal the marriage with a kiss.Who doesn’t obey commands?”
“Well, kissing is not part of our deal.”
“Are you sure? I think that it would add a nice touch to our facade.”
“I think not,” she said again.
“Tell you what,” Marx said as he sat back in his chair. “I won’t kiss you until you ask me to.”
Sydria leaned forward, so her eyes could meet his. “I won’t ask you to.”
A smile cracked through his relaxed front. “Okay.” He had aWe’ll seeexpression on his face that she wanted to slap away.
Instead, she straightened, adding more jelly to her toast. “Good. I’m glad we got that all situated.”
“Me too.” His smile seemed to widen as he stared back at her. “Well,” he finally said, scooting his chair back so he could stand. “I have a lot of things to get done today. So I’ll see you at the dress fitting.”
“Wait.” Her hand went out. “What am I supposed to tell your mom and sister?”
“About what?”
“Are they supposed to know that we’re,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “pretending?”
Marx leaned down, resting his palm against the table in front of her so that his warm words tickled her neck and shoulder as he spoke.
“I think not.” He leaned his head even closer to her cheek. He seemed to have this pretend relationship thing down to a science. Too bad there wasn’t anyone there to witness his performance. “We’re supposed to be convincing my father that we’re falling in love. So I would strongly advise that we don’t tell my mother or sister that we’re faking it.”
She gave a stiff nod. “My thoughts exactly.”
His hazel eyes held hers. Why wasn’t he backing off? She’d given him his answer.
“Have a good day, Queen Sydria.” He pushed off the table and walked to the door. The air around Sydria lightened, and she breathed easier with the space.
“Oh,” he said, pausing right before he left, “I almost forgot. If we’re going to figure out who you are. I need to know your uncle’s name.”
“Von Nealman. He and my Aunt Edmay live in a seaside cottage a few miles from here.”
He nodded. “Also, I’d like to know what exactly youdoremember.”
“I remember—”
He held up his hand. “No, like, write it down on a piece of paper, and we’ll talk about it later.”
“Okay. I’ll do that.”
He nodded again, then left the terrace. Sydria resettled into her chair, picking up the strawberry toast. She stared at it for a moment before dropping it back down onto the plate. She was too anxious to eat. It was because Marx was digging into her past. Not because he’d been close enough for her to realize how good he smelled. That freshly showered scent was still lingering around her, leaving her stomach swirling.
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