Page 115 of The Dandelion Princess
“I like a challenge,” he grunts, his face suddenly serious.
My breath catches and my hands feel unsteady. Is this possible? Marc and I are nothing alike. He wears linen suits, dark sunglasses, and silk ties to boiling-hot tennis matches. He deserves a self-contained goddess whose clothes are always crisp and whose angles are always right.
I try to imagine this perfect woman, but she won’t materialize.
My mind is busy remembering all the straw hats he brought along just in case I burned, his laughter at my improper jokes, and the way he would tuck my flyaway curls behind my ear. I think of all his crumpled programs, used to fan the back of my neck.
Watching his progress, my thoughts are like a herd of cattle, preparing to ford a stream, bunching up at the riverbank, watching the rushing water, terrified and dizzy with excitement at the same time.Vede. This is it. Marc is coming for me where everyone can see. He deserves a goddess but he’s getting agremlin. There’s no taking this back. I swear, if he falls I’m going to kill him.
Just as I’m getting used to the idea of being kissed again, a shaft of light falls across the terrace and my brother strides into view.
“What in the hell are you doing?” Noah’s thunderous gaze bounces from me to his best friend, and I have never wanted to assassinate the future head of a government more.
But Marc’s attention remains fixed on me, gaze warming my skin. His tone is mild. “I’m going to kiss your sister in another minute. When she’s had enough of that, I’m going to ask her to start dating me with a view to matrimony.”
“She doesn’t need you to make a noble sacrifice,” Noah growls. “She’s got spreadsheets.”
“He’sonthe spreadsheet, you idiot,” I shout.
“I’m at the top of the list.” Marc looks at me again. “Elskede, don’t turn me down just for that. I promise you I can be profoundly inappropriate.”
My eyes dance. He’s already doing a bang up job with the flashing abs and the climbing walls. My heart is beating so hard I can feel it in my palms.
“Stop making passes at my sister,” my brother barks. “And come down so I can knock your teeth in—” Noah reaches for the vines but Caroline, appearing out of nowhere, canons into him.
They stumble back a few paces, and he holds her, the both of them panting with surprise. She scoops a fall of hair out of her face and seems to regain her footing. When he moves to the wall, Caroline reaches for him again, placing her hand on my brother’s sleeve.
“Noah,” she whispers, shaking her head. The gesture is so little and yet it carries the weight of a command. Clara gasps.
Noah checks. I wait for him to pour out his royal wrath—using words liketemerityandpresumption—but it never comes. When he drops back, Caroline retreats through the open door.
My brother straightens his tie. “We’ll settle this later,” he clips.
“It’s already settled,” Marc says, sparing his best friend a glance. “Ella is my girl. You should go find your own.”
I imagined Marc’s loyalty to Noah and the Crown as a genetically altered gorilla, rampaging on a remote, skeleton-littered island. I thought it would end up destroying me if I got in the way of it, but it’s only grumpy and human-sized now. Noah fixes his jaw, inhales sharply, and departs.
Marc continues his climb until he’s within kissing distance.
“Watch out,” he tells me. My sisters shuffle back, eyes wide, holding hands like finalists in a beauty pageant, and I don’t breathe until he lands the vault onto the balcony.
I rush into his arms. “You idiot,” I breathe.
He holds me like he has done a thousand times this spring, and I feel like the door of a vault when the tumblers fall into place. Secure. Safe as solid gold. When I’m here, I never worry if I’m not enough or way too much. For this man, I am just right.
“Cat memes?” I remind him. “Nothing but cat memes andwhui-hofor a whole week?”
He nuzzles into me. “I was afraid I was going to tell you that I love you over text,” he says. He lifts my face for a soft kiss. “I do.”
I close my eyes and burrow into him, reading the signs secreted in between bottles of Vestfyn and first-thing-in-the-morning selfies.
I touch the soft flesh of his side and he claps a restraining hand over my fingers. “Don’t be mad about the cat memes. I’ve been busy getting you something you’ll really like.”
My room is filled with Noah’s gifts. “I likeyou,” I breathe.
He rewards me with another kiss. “Don’t stop there.”
“My sisters need to leave,” I say, laughing against his lips.
