“What?” he finally asked.
His question made her nervous. She looked away, her hands found her thighs, and she rubbed against them, like she was wiping sweat from her palms. Her tell. He grasped her hand and interlaced their fingers.
“I want to be able to see you,” she said, her gaze returning to his.
He resisted the urge to smile. It was exactly what he wanted, but he hadn’t thought she would be willing to attempt anything other than preplanned, official rendezvous. “What do you have in mind?”
“I thought we could try dating.”
He snickered. At the hurt on her face, he sobered and attempted to choose his words wisely. He knew how important this moment was for her. One didn’t get to pick their fears, and Ele had been sidled with some very inconvenient ones for her station in life. Her willingness to enter into any kind of association with him, a man who thrived on media attention, spoke to the depths of her feelings. He heaved an inward sigh of relief because he was so very aware of the weight of his own feelings for her.
He squeezed her hand. “I would love that,” he said simply. He could have pointed out how beyond dating they were. Yet he understood her hesitation to commit to more than such a casual descriptor.
“Really?” she said, her eyes alight with excitement, pleasure, and surprise.
“Did you think I would give you a different answer?”
“I wasn’t completely sure. I mean, I see you.” She swallowed and winced. “I know how much you like your life and what you’ve made of it. And I understand flying under the radar isn’t your style.”
Tristan’s face locked up, his smile frozen. “Under the radar. You want to date secretly?”
It was exactly what he didn’t want. He’d spent his allotted amount of time in stale hotel rooms with her. He wanted to be able to be with her for real even if he had no idea what it might look like. They both had impossible schedules, but he would love to come home to her every night and to find things to do with her on days when their commitments were light. To be confined to their homes held little appeal. Besides, it wasn’t like he could hang in the Royal Palace.
How would that work?
And as he asked himself that question, he understood her hesitation. She was hedging her bets.
They had spent very little time together in a fairly ideal situation and with Robert running interference. She wasn’t sure what she felt for him. She was still searching for certainty. And he was already there.
Bloody hell, that hurts.
Suddenly, he needed space. His hand slackened on hers until they drifted apart. Ele’s gaze remained zeroed in on his mouth, and Tristan watched as her smile faltered. Her eyes snapped to his, and she shifted in his lap. He put his hands on her hips and steadied her as she stood, no verbal communication needed between them. When he knew she was firmly on her feet, he got to his and walked to the other side of the parlor, looking out into the darkness.
“I said something wrong,” Ele commented.
The heel of his hand rubbed over his heart, like the touch could soothe the weird ache residing there. “No,” Tristan assured her. It might be wrong for him, but he wasn’t going to argue for her to feel something more or different.
“I think we need some time to see what’s really between us.”
The sword is not quite deep enough. A little deeper, love.
He might have offered a grunt. He heard a rustling and then the click of her heels as she moved closer to him. He prayed she didn’t touch him.
“There are duties, responsibilities I have. I can’t just be whimsical in my choices and decisions. If we were to move forward and then discover our differences were too great or that I couldn’t handle the constant limelight you had shining on you or if you decided the weight of my life was too heavy for you to shoulder … I mean, I’m not just a normal girl … there would be consequences. Far-reaching consequences. Things I can’t share with you right now, but it’s not just about me. You understand that, right?”
“Right.”
“I thought we could see how things went. Spend more time together. Date?”
He chuckled, but it tasted of bitterness. “Date. But not in public? How does that work?”
Her scent surrounded him, and he knew she was right behind him. Touching distance.
“I don’t know, truthfully. I’ve never dated before.” She sighed. “I’m almost thirty, and I’ve never dated anyone.”
He rejected any pity for her circumstances, but he sympathized with her. He couldn’t imagine surviving what she had, only to become a prisoner to her fears. He should be rejoicing in her bravery, and if she wasn’t breaking his heart, he would be proud of her for going after what she wanted. That she was presenting this to him instead of Robert or Millie was practically a miracle.
He turned to her. “Ele, what are you hoping will happen?”
She looked away. “It’s been a long time since I’ve hoped for anything.”
“Right, Ele, but if we do this, what are you hoping to find out or figure out?”
“If we’re compatible?”
“What other evidence do you need of that?” he said. It cost him everything to keep his voice level, to not snap at her. Because, again, if she couldn’t feel what was between them, he refused to convince her.
She held his gaze. “None.” At his furrowed brow, she went on, “I don’t need any other evidence. But everything about you has taken me by surprise. I didn’t know I could feel about another person what I feel for you. But I am literally bloody Rapunzel. I’ve been living in a tower, one of my own making, and my first step outside, the first person I see, I fall for. You make me feel safe, even when you’re not around. But you live this life, this big life. And I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I want to be able to support you and give you what you need. I don’t only want to be taken care of. I want to take care of someone. And what if I can’t?”
She looked away from him, and panic raced through him.
“I don’t want to be your queen,” she whispered. “I want to be your warrior.”
He fought a smile because she was magnificent. And perhaps a little bit tragic.
Because he couldn’t offer her any guarantees, and she wanted assurances.
He reached out for her, lightly gripping her chin and turning her head. He wished a million little things in that moment: he could promise her it would be okay; the story of the two of them would be a big splash but then would die a natural death like all celebrity gossip fodder; her fears about their compatibility were baseless; the bigness of his life was really just another social media filter, glossing over the serrated edges to provide a smooth little lie. So, instead of words, he brought their mouths together, a soothing touch of lips, muting all the uncertainties.
“When can I see you again?” he asked, leaning his forehead against hers.
She startled a little and pulled back. “You still want to see me again?”
“E,” he sighed. “I’m in this with you.”
He might have promised her the kingdom by the smile that lit up her face.
So easy to please.
She threw herself into his arms for the second time tonight. And he held on. Tight.