Page 69 of Royal Agenda

She kissed his jaw. “I want more memories like tonight, Ryker. And I want them with you. If it means our history starts in Diamond Cove, then that’s what it means.”

He smiled against her cheek and then kissed her in that same spot, moving until his lips hovered over hers. “You could break me, Grace. I am in your hands.”

“Likewise, Ryker. I’ve never been this . . . connected to someone before. It’s terrifying and thrilling, and I think it could swallow me whole and I wouldn’t fight it. I won’t fight it.” She closed the distance, and they crashed together.

Ryker kissed her hungrily, wanting all her promises, all her tomorrows.

Grace kissed just as fiercely, drawing his secrets out one by one until he had shared them all through his lips. He may not have said anything out loud, but he’d placed his truth inside her loving care.

Twenty-Seven

Grace slammed her laptop closed and smiled innocently at Grandma, who stood in the doorway to the second bedroom. She didn’t want anyone to know that a prince lived in Diamond Cove, and she certainly didn’t want to blow his cover. She’d just pulled up the pedigree chart for the royal Isola de la Famiglia family when Grandma cleared her throat.

Grandma wore a pair of navy pajamas—with a crease down the center of each front of the pant legs.

“When do you have time to iron your pajamas?” she blurted out. She hadn’t seen her iron anything the whole time she’d been here, and yet, those creases were always there.

Grandma glanced down at her legs. “I don’t. I take them to the dry cleaner with my tracksuits.”

Grace stifled her smile. Typical Grandma Nancy. She patted the bed next to her in invitation and mused, “I can’t remember the last time I set foot in a dry cleaner’s.”

Grandma settled in and took her hand. “It’s not your style. But that’s okay. You’re beautiful just being you.” She brushed a stray piece of hair off Grace’s forehead. “I love your free spirit.”

Grace gave her a dubious look.

Grandma laughed. “Sometimes it drives me crazy,” she admitted. “But I can see how your intuition guides you, and I’m glad you’re here. Everyone loves your classes—you’ve brought new energy to The Palms. Even Samantha says so.”

Grace lurched forward and engulfed Grandma in a hug. “I love being with you.”

Grandma hugged her back, squeezing tight. Releasing her, she asked, “Did you and Ryker work things out?”

“It was a magical evening. The carriage ride… The food …” She snuck a peak at Grandma from lowered lashes. “The kissing.”

Grandma lightly slapped her arm. “Good for you.”

Grace laughed as she drew her knees up and hugged them, resting her chin on her knee. “I love him—maybe too much.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Grace lifted a shoulder. “I can’t see into the future. You don’t happen to have a crystal ball around here, do you?”

Grandma rolled her eyes. “If you happen to find one, let me know.” She stood up and straightened the covers. “Get some sleep. There’s a brand-new day tomorrow.” She kissed Grace’s head.

“Love you, Grandma.”

“Love you, too.” She left, and Grace listened to her footsteps all the way down the hall and then for her door to close. Then she dove for her laptop and opened it eagerly.

Tracing the family line with her eyes she came to Alessandro de Luca and stopped. His death date was right there. Almost ten months ago. Now that she had his real name, she searched for images.

The first ones that came up were of his funeral. Goodness, the casket was stunning. Walnut wood with silver trim draped in dark green satin.

His parents rode in a horse-drawn carriage, his mother draped with a black lace veil. His dad’s chin was set, and he stared straight ahead.

His two sisters, dressed in black, and his cousins walked behind by rank. One male and his younger sister wore full military dress uniforms. The older sister dabbed her red-rimmed eyes, her grief written all over her face. The younger one was resolute but had tears on her cheeks. Her long brown hair, the exact same color as Ryker’s, was pulled back into a long ponytail.

So much tradition wrapped up in dying. Fascinating. Every culture had their way. Some were cremated, while others were buried at sea. She soaked it all in as she scrolled.

By page five, she started to wonder if they’d taken any images of Alessandro when he was alive. The casket wasn’t ever opened. The pictures from inside the church took up three more pages.