Page 74 of Peasants and Kings
Hadrian arched a brow. “You are no better at the art of subtle conversation than I am. How the hell were you ever planning on being a Rex girl?”
I glared. “I have no problem conversing with other people. My problem isyou.”
He said nothing and then he began to eat, but his gaze remained on me. A shield had been erected and his expression was unusually stoic.
“Why do you bring out the worst in me?” I asked quietly.
“I don’t bring out the worst in you. I bring out the honesty in you. And I think you haven’t been honest with yourself in a very long time. If ever.”
“You are exceedingly arrogant. Not to mention presumptuous. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?”
“Trying to fluster me enough into telling you all my deep and dark secrets.”
“You have deep and dark secrets?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Eat your lobster, Hadrian,” I groused.
We devoured our food as the boat rocked gently from side to side and the waves lapped at the hulls. It was as much about eating as it was about having something to do. I didn’t like the uneasiness that had sprung up between us. It felt like we were on uneven ground, but I wouldn’t be intimidated into answering questions about myself.
“The nuns taught me,” he said, crushing the silence.
My eyes flew to his. His face was stoic, unyielding.
“You were taught by nuns?” I asked. “So was I.”
He shook his head. “I was raised by them.”
I frowned in clear lack of understanding.
“I’m an orphan, Eden.”
My eyes widened in surprise. He’d opened himself up, just a bit, giving me a tiny glimmer into his past.
It felt uncharitable not to give him something in return.
“I’m an orphan too.” I took a sip of my wine. “My mother’s first language was Italian. It was all we spoke in the house when I was growing up. She was an immigrant and didn’t speak English well for some time.”
“And French?”
“I taught myself French last year,” I evaded. I suddenly felt my stomach lurch and hastily set my fork down.
His eyebrows snapped together. “Eden? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “I feel funny.”
“Funny like you’re having an allergic reaction, or funny like—”
“Seasick!” I quickly pushed back from the table, my hand going to my mouth, and then I ran from the salon. I sprinted downstairs, having no idea where I was going, and no sooner had I found a bathroom than I upchucked the rich lobster.
Nausea swam in my belly and I felt clammy and sweaty. I managed to slide across the floor to close the bathroom door and lock it.
I threw up again and groaned.
“Eden,” Hadrian commanded a few moments later through the door, trying to turn the doorknob to enter. “Let me in.”
“No,” I moaned. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
