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“Heather Lyons has officially charmed me. Royal Marriage Market is an indulgent read that will have you flipping pages until the very end.” – R.S. Grey, USA Today bestselling author.
A sly grin is thrown my way. “Luk got in even later than I did, looking like he’d been at the party of the century.”
“Ah. How very interesting. Who do you think he was cavorting with at such a late hour?”
“I think the better question is, who wasn’t he cavorting around with?”
“Me.” I smile brightly. “And you. Our cavorting was limited to a very exclusive party of two.”
“Is that what we were doing? Were we cavorting?”
We were falling in love, I think. Wonderfully, miserably, tragically, beautifully falling in love. Or at least, I was. But I say, “Of course. You and I are natural cavorters.”
Bittersweet amusement sparkles in his eyes. “I thought our thing was to run amuck.”
“That, too.” I gently touch the back of his hand. “We run amuck and cavort.”
The smile on his face softens. “Only with each other, though. We cavort best when it’s with the other.”
“Shall we make a deal then? Shall we swear to the other that, when it comes time to cavort, we must only do it together?” My words are light, so is my tone, but part of me crumbles within, knowing what I jokingly request will never come to be.
Gravity invades his face as he shifts on the seat toward me, knees brushing up against one another. I am trapped by his gaze, motionless with his leg pressed against mine. “That’s a promise I can easily make.”
I am still as the golden princess before us when he slowly, gently pushes stray hairs freshly escaped from my ponytail behind my ears. The feel of his fingers, light as breezes against my cheeks, leaves me hot and desperate.
“Shall we shake on it?” I whisper.
The muscle within my chest ceases its rhythm when he shakes his head. He stares at me then, as if he is unraveling all my atoms, rendering me exposed and vulnerable.
But then he leans forward, lips caressing one corner of my mouth and then the other. “All the best agreements,” he murmurs, words just as soft as mine, “are sealed with a kiss.”
I consist only of nothing but exposed nerve endings when I replicate his promise. My lips tingle, my heart hammers, and tears swarm my closed eyes. “You have my promise in return.”
He tilts his head up, mouth pressing against my temple before resting his forehead against mine. “I’m going to hold you to that, Els.”