Page 40 of Royal Catch
The drinks are flowing, the lights built into the stone floor give off a warm glow, and jazz plays softly through nearby speakers. It’s a warm June night, stars twinkling in the sky, and the moment feels ripe for romance.Since when am I a romantic?Maybe knowing I’ll lose my father soon has made me more emotional. Or maybe it’sher.
My gaze lands on Polly, who’s laughing at something Phillip is saying. I find myself smiling just watching her laugh. She’s lit up, beautiful in her open enjoyment of life. Slowly, I get the feeling someone is watching me. I turn and meet Francesca’s eyes. She’s standing a short distance away. I have not been fair to her.
I cross to her. “Would you like to dance?”
She looks uneasy. “No one is dancing, Your Highness.” She looks at my toes. “It would not be proper.”
“Very well. Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thank you.”
I squash my irritation at her prim and proper ways and work for pleasant conversation. “What do you think of the competition?”
She meets my eyes briefly before looking to the side. “It was…difficult, but I know the reward will be worth it.” She means me.
“Thank you.”
Polly lets out a squeal, and I turn just as Lucas is bending her backward over his arm. Are my brothers passing her around? She was just laughing with Phillip. Lucas pulls her back upright and they’re dancing a fast tango. I can’t stop staring. They look good together and they dance in perfect synch. My gut clenches.Dammit. She is mine.
Oscar taps him on the shoulder and gestures to be let in. Lucas hands Polly over to Oscar, who pulls her into a slow waltz. She looks over his shoulder to grin at Lucas, who’s miming crying tears.
I’m done sharing. I take a step toward Polly when Francesca says, “She cannot win the competition. She’s unsuited to be queen.”
I know this, but I’ve heard it one too many times. “That’s for me to decide,” I snap and stride over to Polly and Oscar without a backward glance.
“My turn,” I growl at Oscar.
“No way,” Oscar says. “I get at least this song.”
I shove him away, and he lets me, holding up his palms. “Okay, big guy,” he says with a laugh. “Jealous much?”
I ignore that because I am never jealous. I’m above that pettiness. It was simply my turn. I pull Polly flush against my body, one arm banded around her waist, the other holding her hand as I lead her in a slow sway. The tension that built up all night immediately eases, having her back in my arms.
She puts a hand on my shoulder and goes up on tiptoe to whisper in my ear, “As much as I enjoy dancing with you, Francesca is going to throw me off this roof if you don’t back off. She’s glaring an army of daggers at me.”
“I asked her to dance and she refused. My duty is done.”
“She refused? I don’t get it. Doesn’t she know what a hottie you are?”
I grin, loving her casual slang. “Apparently not. Maybe she only wants me for my kingdom.”
“And I thought she was so smart.” She looks around. “Oh no! Gabriel, she left. She must’ve been insulted by watching you dance with me.” She gives me a small shove, but I’m not going anywhere. “Go to her and make amends. She should know you care about her.”
Except I don’t. Not at all. I lower my voice. “You could stay.”
She tries to pull away, but I tighten my hold. Her eyes are wide, pleading with me. “I’m sorry, I’m not…I can’t.” She twists in my arms. “Let’s get a drink!”
“After our dance.”
She sighs dramatically, but a moment later she’s resting her cheek on my chest, right over my heart. She’s not indifferent to me. She may even return the depth of feeling coursing through me every time I see her.
I lean down to her ear and whisper, “My parents had an arranged marriage that turned into love. I want that too.” I hold my breath. I’m telling her I love her, my heart waving in the wind.
She pulls away, crossing her arms tightly. “Francesca is your arranged marriage that could turn into love if you just gave her a fair chance.”
Every part of me reaches out to her—body, heart, and soul. “I want you. Polly, I love you.”
She stares at me, frowning, looking like she’s trying not to cry.
