Page 40 of Royal Agenda

He shook his head. She tossed it back into the ocean. “Tell me something about you.”

He lowered his brow in concentration. “Why? What do you want to know?”

She moved forward, turning so she walked backward. His gaze on her was intense, and she felt as though she was being stalked, hunted, but not in a bad way. More like the man had his eye single to her, and nothing else in the world mattered. She was his objective and his motivation in one. “Anything,” she said, her words inviting in a come hither way that made her cheeks blush. “Nothing huge. I know you’re a barber, and that you charge half price for a half of a haircut.”

He huffed a laugh. “You read my price sheet?”

She laughed in return. “I was in your chair for an hour; I read all the signs on the walls.”

He looked out over the water, and she got the impression he was sifting through his memories to give her the best one he could find. The silence was comfortable, punctuated by the waves rolling on the shore and the occasional stop to check a shell for magical properties. The sun disappeared, and stars began to twinkle. She closed her eyes and made a wish for a kiss. Hey, a girl could dream. And while most women had rules about not kissing on the first date, she had rules about not missing an opportunity and seizing the joy in every day.

“When I first came to America, I had a freedom that I’d never had before. I could go anywhere, and no one stopped me. I could eat what I wanted, and no one cared. I thought it was grande.” He paused, grabbed a shell, and chucked it into the ocean with barely a glance. “But then I became lonely. You see when no one cares what you do—you realize no one cares about you.” He shuffled his feet, moving sand. “It was me against the world, and I felt very small.”

Grace’s heart twisted for him. “When I’m in records, I find islands—a person who doesn't have people—no one to tie them to the human family. I wonder what happened to them, how they lived. I want them to know that they are not alone, not really. We’re all connected. All you have to do is check the DNA and the relationships emerge.”

“You are saying I am big?” He puffed out his chest.

She tipped her head back to look up at him. “I’m saying, you’re not an island.”

He brushed her hair off her shoulder. A sweet, tender gesture before continuing on in their search. The moon came up over the water. A sliver of light that flooded the darkness.

Something sparkled in the sand. She dashed two steps forward and grabbed it before a wave washed over her feet. Squealing against the cold that sprayed up her legs, she darted out of the water.

Ryker laughed at her antics as she held up the shell. “Did you find one?”

She held out her palm to show him, a little disappointed since she’d daydreamed about finding a moonshell with him and the two of them falling under its love spell for all of eternity. Did she mention she was a dreamer? It came with having intuition–at least that’s what she’d been told by an old woman in Belarus. She’d worn rags and fed birds but her wisdom was sought by everyone from miles around. “It’s a common jingle shell. Look how pretty it is in the moonlight though.” The pearl exterior glistened like the water itself.

“It could be a moon shell. What better way to keep something priceless safe than to hide it in plain sight—disguised as a common jingle shell?” His eyes flashed.

She stared at him, thinking there was more to his statement than the words she could hear. Was he something special hiding in plain sight? “Lock it away?” she offered.

He shook his head. “It would wither and die.”

Ryker closed her fingers over the precious find. “Keep it safe, la mia sirena. It is said that the moonshell is so rare that mermen will hunt for the owners and seduce a woman out to sea.” He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“It wouldn’t take much.” She grinned wickedly. “I hear Atlantis is beautiful this time of year.”

He laughed, drawing her in for a hug and then holding her against his chest. She nestled into his crisp scent and warm arms. “You like adventure, sí?”

“Si, l’avventura è vita,” adventure is life. She fit here, in this space between his chin and shoulder as if the pocket had been carved just for her. And she fit in with his stories and fairy tales. A man who could talk of mermen and seduction while trailing his fingers up her back was a man who would not scoff when she walked him through a cemetery.

“No, la mia sirena, amore è vita.'' Love is life. His hand ran down her back and then up again. He moved his fingers into her hair and gently rubbed circles at the base of her neck. If food was Isoladian’s women’s love language, then caresses were Isoladian men’s. She didn’t mind one bit. He was romantic and proper, and she was safe in his arms. Safe from the world. Safe from danger. But mostly, safe to be herself–which was rarer for her than a moonstone.

“Most men don’t use the L-word on the first date,” she teased, even as she allowed him to tip her head with his movements. She was officially clay in his hands. If he wanted to drag her into the Bermuda Triangle, she’d let him. “They’re afraid of it.”

“I am not like most men,” he countered. “And I fear nothing.”

“Nothing?” she pushed back so she could look him in the eye. “Spiders?”

“You mock me. Spiders?” he narrowed his eyes, slightly offended.

“I was just checking.” She snuggled back into him. “Fearless, huh?”

“I speak too fast, sí? “His lips brushed her ear as he spoke, and it was all she could do not to melt right into the sea and be washed away forever. “I am afraid that you will disappear in the morning, and I will not see you again.” He moved his hand so that his thumb brushed her jaw, incapacitating her more–which she didn’t think was possible until it happened. She would not underestimate his powers of seduction again. Not that she fought against them. Perhaps she should make him work harder, but that was not in her. She couldn’t play games of the heart.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised. Her conscience pricked. “Yet,” she added. “I’d like to see where this goes.” She touched her forehead to his chin, breathing in the moment and trying to clear her head at the same time.

“Me too,” he said softly.

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