To Steal a Prince (12 page)

It’s just me, Damon, and the frothing waves. We’re alone on a stretch of pure, unspoiled sand. Damon’s stomach is pressed to my back, and I can feel his abs rising and falling with the horse’s gait. A warm wind breezes past as waves lap the shore. This is bliss.

“I take it this is your first time on a horse?” Damon asks.

“Yes.” I grip the saddle horn.

“Do you find it enjoyable so far?”

“I do.” I don’t really want to talk about me. It might be time to change the subject. “I take it that it’s your millionth or so time on a horse. How often do you ride Felix?”

“As often as I can, which isn’t much lately. He has trainers who turn him out daily. That was just a holding area back there. He has a huge paddock to run around in when he’s not feeling lazy.”

“How long have you had him?”

The prince shifts the reins to one hand. “He was my 25th birthday present. My father let me choose the most promising foal.”

“He likes horses?”

“We’ve always had horses. My father breeds and shows Andalusians. His horses have won more titles than I can keep track of.”

“Does he ride them himself, in the shows?”

“No, he hires people to do that. He just collects the ribbons and pins them on his wall. He doesn’t breed them either, if you were wondering. But he comes to the stables to see the new stock every spring.”

“Oh.”

“So, yes, to answer your earlier question, he quite likes horses from a distance. That way he doesn’t get the smell on his clothes.”

Felix bobs his head, carrying us steadily along the shore. “Then why have horses at all?”

“You can ask him that, if you’re feeling bold. I’m not sure I’d recommend it, though.”

I think it would be wiser not to ask. His father hates me enough already.

We sway together as seabirds wing overhead. Why is Damon so insistent on keeping me around? His family clearly doesn’t like me. I only make Nic’s job more difficult. What does Damon want with me? I know I should keep these questions locked deep inside, but they insist on rattling around in my head until there’s nothing left but an interminable throbbing.

“Do you like me?” I blurt out.

The prince pulls on the reins, bringing Felix to a stop. “Have I not made that clear?”

“But why? Why me? I’m poor. I’m a thief. I’m generally no good, and have no idea why you would want me here.”

Damon cups my chin, making me look back at him. “Let me tell you something. I had someone dress me each morning until I was fifteen. He would still be dressing me today if I hadn’t asked him to stop. I don’t want that kind of life. When I go out, women present themselves to me as who they think I want them to be, and say what they think I want to hear. I don’t want to be with that kind of person.

“You’re different. You’re real. And I want that. I want someone who’s comfortable enough to be her true self around me. I already feel enough like a puppet here. I don’t want someone else getting tangled in the strings.”

I lean against him, feeling drained. “What are we, though?”

“Grace, I’m Crown Prince Darius Alexander Lion IV, heir to the throne of the City of Lions and all outlying territories. The last thing I need is another label.” He kisses the back of my neck. “Isn’t this enough for now?”

I glance back to find that Nic has almost caught up to us. “How fast can this horse go?”

“Only one way to find out.” Damon wraps an arm around my waist. “Hold on.” He kicks the stallion’s sides. Felix responds, digging his hooves into the sand. His legs churn faster, faster. When he reaches a full-fledged gallop, it feels like we’re floating.

Felix surges under us, and for the first time I have a full sense of his incredible power. We fly down the beach, kicking up sand and foam. I stretch out my arms, feel them slice through the oncoming wind. Damon holds me fast all the while. I can see why he chases moments such as this. Right now, there’s nothing more real than us, and the horse beneath us.

At last Felix slows, his chest heaving. Damon slides off his back, then holds out his hand. He helps me dismount, hugging me close. There’s no way he can miss the beat of my heart against his. He slides the blazer off my shoulders, throwing it over the saddle.

Damon pats Felix on the side of the neck. “Rest now,” he tells the horse. “You’ve earned it.”

Felix holds his head high, his haughty eyes bright. He stamps a hoof, as if demanding us to challenge him further.

“No running off, now. You behave, or I’ll set Sasha on your tail.”

The stallion whinnies in protest, but stays put.

“What about me?” I ask. “Do I have to behave too?”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t.” Damon scoops me up and carries me into the ocean.

I revel in the warmth of the water as sea spray collects on my lashes. There’s nowhere I’d rather be. Damon’s here, and that’s all I want.

Turning my head up to his, I position myself to be kissed. Damon closes the gap eagerly, his lips insistent against mine. I don’t care if I only last a few more days at the palace, or turn out to be nothing to him. I’ll take as much of him as I can get.

I could never get enough of him. His hair is slick, sticking up where I grabbed it, and his tongue tastes of salt. He slips a hand down the back of my bikini bottom, his fingers exploring my curves. His other hand tugs at the string that holds my suit together, and I don’t stop him. I find myself leaning into him, wordlessly encouraging him to work faster. His fingers fumble at the strings.

“Highness,” Nic calls.

I crouch down in the water, heart racing. I forgot all about the bodyguard. How much has he seen?

Damon bites back a curse. “What is it?”

Nic slides off his horse. “You’re wanted back at the palace.”

The prince lets out a long sigh. “How important is this summons?”

“The family wants another dinner to make up for the last one.”

Damon looks at me, then stretches out his hand. It seems that our time here is over. I make sure my suit is tied tightly before heading back to shore with him.

“Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be appreciated to skip a meal with the family,” Damon says. “Will you accompany me, Grace?”

“I’m not sure I can survive another dinner.”

“Come on, it could be fun this time. Besides, these are some of the only times I see my father.”

“Besides in passing, when he yells at you?” I wring water from my hair, splashing the sand.

“Exactly. Dinners are better, though. He can’t yell when he’s eating.”

“I’ll go. It can’t be worse than the first one.”

Nic scoffs, clearly not as optimistic as I am.

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a pale orange glow over the water. Someone whistles from the woods, and the horses race toward the sound. Damon raises a hand to the man who collects the pair of reins.

“That’s the horsemaster,” he tells me. “He’ll see that they get back to their paddock.”

With the horses gone, Damon speaks into his watch, clearing Rashad to land. The flight back is uneventful. I spend most of the trip staring at the ivory towers, which have turned cream in the dusk light. I rest my head on Damon’s shoulder as we land. I can’t believe it’s been such a perfect day.

“Let’s get you ready for the evening.” The prince gives me his arm as we step onto the helipad. He escorts me to my room, ignoring the stares we collect for waltzing around the palace in our bathing suits.

Safely behind the blue door, the first thing I check on is the rose he gave me last night. The petals almost shine, the dying sun setting their color ablaze. The rose is still in the jar, though it dips dangerously low.

“Do you know where I could find a pair of scissors?” I ask Damon.

“Scissors?” He turns to inspect the rose. “No, what you need is a taller vase. I think there’s one in here.” The prince opens yet another hidden panel, pulling out a thin white vase. “I think this should do.”

I transfer the water and the rose into their new home.

“Perfect,” Damon says.

“Thank you.” I press my face to his chest. I know it’s silly to care so much about a flower, but I’m glad I didn’t have to cut it. The rose belongs in the room now. Maybe there’s hope for me finding my place in the palace.

“We don’t have much time,” Damon says. “Would you like to select a dress?”

I take the first one that looks promising. It’s a modest cut, but it shimmers purple. Damon turns around as I pull off the bikini and slip on the dress. I eye him warily the whole time, but he doesn’t move an inch. I’m almost annoyed that he doesn’t try to sneak a peek. He’s clearly a better person than I am, or at least much more disciplined.

“Can you zip me up?” I ask.

Damon obliges, his fingers brushing my back. I want to tell him to stop, to pull the zipper the other way. But if I did that, there’s no way we would make it to dinner.

I’m glad the dress fits well. I don’t want to make Damon wait while I try on a pile of clothes. Selecting a pair of heels at random, I try to force them onto my feet. I’m having difficulties, mostly because I’m thinking of how easy it would be to rip off Damon’s trunks and pin him to the bed. I can’t get the image out of my head. What’s happening to me?

“Allow me.” Damon kneels, cupping my foot. With the utmost care, he guides it into the shoe.

It’s very odd to have a prince kneeling before me. He looks up at me, his expression tender enough to make my heart burst. This feels like one of those moments that can be inexplicably flawless, where some kind of magic happens and I have the potential to say something so powerful that he realizes he’s falling in love with me.

“I’m sorry my feet are so sandy.”

At least he laughs. I wince, once again appalled by my ability to ruin sweet moments.

“No one will notice.”

“You will.”

He rises, giving me a kiss on the forehead. “I don’t care.”

I’m glad at least one of us can be sweet.

“There’s somewhere else I want to take you before dinner.” Damon opens the door, beckoning me to follow. We gather even more looks now that I’m dressed up and he’s half undressed. Damon serenely disregards them, a habit that I suspect comes from lots of practice. I wonder how often he creates bizarre scenarios for the servants to talk about, and how often he does it purely for entertainment.

“In here,” Damon says. We enter the elevator again, which takes us to L1. We walk down the same sterile hallway, and I recognize the black door that guards the Jewel Room.

“Weren’t we just here?”

Damon enters the nine-digit code. “This time, you need something pretty.”

He has to nudge me into the room, because I’m too stunned to move on my own.

“Could you repeat that?” I ask. “I think I started hallucinating for a second there.”

Laughing, the prince stretches out an arm. “Pick one! Anything you want.”

“Really? But there’s so much to choose from…” I know I’m just selecting something to borrow for dinner, but the task still seems enormous. Gems of all colors catch my eyes. I know I want a necklace, but should I take something green? Red? A shining dark stone or a fiery opal? Would diamonds be too gaudy? I have to sit on one of the benches. This is a monumental task, and there’s very little time before dinner.

“Having trouble?” Damon settles in next to me.

“There’s just so much! Even narrowing it down to necklaces doesn’t help. It’s like a dragon’s den.”

“More like a lion’s.” He tucks an errant lock of hair behind my ear. “It’s not like you need a necklace, you know. You’d outshine anything in this room.”

“Really?”

“I’ve met many beautiful women, Grace Sparrow, but none half as fascinating as you.”

I stare at my hands, clasped tightly in my lap. “No one’s ever called me fascinating before.”

“Maybe they weren’t paying enough attention.” He leans close, and I can tell he wants a kiss.

I gasp, leaping up. There it is, right behind him. The perfect piece.

“What is it?”

Carefully, I take the necklace from its display. Facing away from Damon, I put it around my neck.

“Well? Let’s see.”

I turn to show him the alexandrite pendant. In this light, it matches my dress perfectly. It’s simple, stunning, and, best of all, makes Damon’s eyes light up.

“It looks perfect on you.”

I beam, unable to help myself. “So,” I say, pretending to primp my hair, “go on. What exactly do you find so fascinating about me?”

“I’m still trying to figure you out.”

“What’s there to figure out?”

A shadow passes over his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s no good way to ask this, so… Why do you feel the need to steal?”

I feel the blood drain from my face. Did he really just ask that?

“I’ve offended you. There’s no need to answer.”

“No, there is a need. Because of course I’m offended. Of course you wouldn’t understand. Just look what you’re surrounded with.” I gesture violently at the jewels all around us. “You could never even begin to fathom what it’s like to go without food or shelter for a week.”

“And you can?” His voice is sympathetic, but I’m too enraged to care.

“Have you ever even felt hunger? Not the kind where you forgot to eat breakfast, but the kind where there’s nothing but cold in the fridge and crumbs in the pantry, where days stretch out and blur together and all you can think about is food. The sharp pains of an empty stomach are replaced by a dull ache, until that’s all that’s left.”

“Grace…”

I suck in a breath, trying to bite back the sudden surge of anger. “When my parents were too busy drinking and gambling to care that I was starving, I lost my morals pretty fast. I did what I had to do, and I don’t regret it. Do you? Are you sorry that I stole rather than starved?”

“I apologize. There’s no way for me to understand what you went through, is there?” He seems genuinely upset that he’s hurt me.

My outburst has sapped me. I sink to a bench, ashamed. There’s no way he could have known about my past. And he asked because he cared, didn’t he? Who am I to yell at him?

“It’s all right. Everything I’ve been through has made me who I am today. And I’m doing pretty well at the moment, wouldn’t you say?” I do my best to laugh, but the sound comes out all mangled.