“Says the man who grew up in a resort.”
I laugh and nod my head. “Touché. I guess we’ve both had unusual lives.”
“Indeed, we have,” she says, then she lets out a long sigh. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Why did you agree to do the show? I mean, when you found out Dylan was changing the entire format and forcing me on you?” Arabella asks.
“Money,” I say, hating like hell to admit that to someone like her.
“But surely you could have found another network? You’re talented and you have a huge following.”
Shaking my head, I say, “Not big enough. The ratings for season two weren’t all that stellar, to be honest. And if I turned this down, I don’t think I would have gotten picked up by anyone—not quickly enough, anyway.” I rub my tongue over my teeth, and for some dumb reason, keep talking. “I’m trying to buy back our family’s yacht for my brother. He had to sell it to save our resort, and since then, I’ve been trying to raise enough cash to surprise him with it. A few weeks ago, someone else made an offer on it, so it’s now or never.”
“She must be a very special boat for you to be willing to come out here with me.”
I nod. “Waltzing Matilda—a ninety-foot schooner. Our Uncle Oscar bought it when he was a young man and sailed it all the way from Australia to the Benavente Islands. Our family’s best times were on that yacht and I know Harrison would give anything to have her back.”
“To carry on the tradition with his own family?”
“Yup,” I turn to her. “I owe him everything and that’s the only thing I can think of to pay him back.”
“That’s beautiful,” Arabella says.
I shrug. “Not really. It’s just a boat.”
“No, it’s not. It’s a beautiful gesture that will mean a lot to your family,” she says. “Which makes me all the more terrified of messing this up for you.”
“You won’t,” I answer.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because you’re tough and you’re smart and you also have a lot to lose if we can’t make it out of here in time.”
Arabella smiles, her back straightening a little at my words. “Thank you, Will. I promise to do my best to help you get Matilda back.”
“I know you will.”
Uh-oh, we’re staring into each other’s eyes again. That is no bueno. “Okay, truth or dare time,” I say, desperate to bring things back to casual acquaintance territory.
Arabella grins and shakes her head. “That sounds like a terrible idea, especially with a man whose middle name is Dare.”
“It’s Danger, actually, but I promise to go easy on you.”
“Oh no, don’t do that,” she says with a grin. “I’m up first. I choose truth, if only because it seems like the slightly wiser of the two options.”
“Okay.” I tap my lips for a second, thinking of the perfect question. “What is the worst part about being royal?”
She leans toward me and whispers, “Can we shut off the cameras for this conversation?”
I nod, then do as she asked.
“Thank you,” she says. “Now I can speak freely, which is something I normally can never do.”
“So, is that the worst bit? Lack of freedom?” I ask, taking the lid off my water bottle.
Arabella nods. “Definitely.”
“Huh. I would've thought it was the constant media attention and all the public criticism.”
“That bit sucks a big bag of dicks as well,” she says, causing me to spit out my water.
I burst out laughing, and she joins in with a satisfied smile. When we’re done, I let my smile fade. “But bags of dicks aside, tell me more about this lack of freedom.”
“Well,” she says with a sigh. “First, I’d like to preface this with my knowledge of how very irritating it would be for most people to listen to someone in a position of considerable privilege complain about how awful their life is. I do understand how lucky I am that I never have to worry where my next meal is coming from or if I can pay the power bill this month. Those are real problems compared to mine.”
“But?”
“But my … particular situation … has in fact lent itself to a more restricted existence than other royals.”
I stare down at her for a second, trying not to think about kissing her. “How so?”
Arabella narrows her eyes, giving me an intense look. “What I’m about to tell you is extremely private, so I must ask you never to share it with anyone.”
“Never. Not even if I were tortured.”
“Excellent,” she says with a grin that quickly fades. “The truth is, as long as I can remember, people have always said how much I resemble my mother—not only in how I look, but how I speak and move. Everything. I know they mean it as a comfort to me, but it has the opposite effect. As far as I can gather, my mother was … not well, and the royal life proved too difficult for her.” Arabella turns her gaze to the shore, and when she speaks again, her voice is quiet. “She couldn’t handle it, and it took its toll on her, mentally and physically. Eventually, it was her undoing.”
I stare at her for a moment, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words. “But your mum passed on, didn’t she?”
She nods. “When I was two months old. Who does that when they have a new baby who needs them?”
My heart squeezes, and instinctively, I reach for her, folding my hand around hers. “I'm so sorry, Arabella. I don't even know what to say.”
“It's fine, really,” she says, shaking her head quickly. “It's not like I knew her or anything.”
“But the fact that you never got a chance to know her, I'm sorry for that.”
“Thank you. I used to spend hours at a time secretly watching any footage of her that I could find, trying to imitate the way she walked, or how she spoke. I didn't know then how she died. The official line is that she had sudden heart failure, which is what I believed for most of my childhood.”
Well, my idea of steering the conversation into safer waters has failed miserably. We’re about to go over a waterfall, aren’t we? “When did you find out?”
“When I was twelve. It was the anniversary of her death, and I wanted to do something special for her to mark the occasion—a family dinner in the solarium, which was her favourite place at the palace. Arthur was almost grown by then, but still had that surly teenager in him. When I asked him if he would come, he said ‘never,’ and told me there was nothing to celebrate. I got angry and pushed the issue until he finally cracked.”
A heavy feeling fills me and it’s all I can do not to pull her into my arms and hold her until I can take all her pain away. “God, what a burden for a twelve-year-old.”
She nods slowly, seeming to be lost in the memory for a moment before she clears her throat and snaps back into being a very formal princess. “I'm sure she didn't realize what legacy she was leaving for me. A lifetime of being surrounded by people who treat me as if I’m the world’s most delicate vase. When you grow up that way, you start to believe it yourself.”