That muscle in his jaw ticks, but I think it’s because he’s holding back a smile this time.
“I think I did?” he asks, and, yup, definitely a smile.
One that is immediately captured by a camera as a series of clicks go off, and I lift our joined hands between us, shaking them slightly.
“It was a little bit for naught, though,” I say. “Definitely a grand gesture, and I was very impressed and kind of turned on, but . . .” I shake my head and laugh.
Tilting his chin, Miles looks down at me, and his fingers flex in mine. “It’s still different,” he says. “We can’t keep people from taking pictures, but we can not pose for them. Not fake anything, not use this”—he tugs at our hands—“for anyone else’s benefit.”
I nod, but even as I do, I’m thinking of those prom pics that nearly made it onto TMZ, the way I’d started getting hyperaware of someone taking my picture. How I’d thought Ellie could keep her life here separate from mine in Florida, and that people would eventually forget about me.
They won’t if I’m dating one of the Royal Wreckers, even if he is the least wreckish.
Miles frowns. “What is it?” he asks, but before I can reply, Seb is there, his jacket flapping open, his hair windblown yet weirdly perfect, his eyes shining, and his breath . . .
Stepping back, I place a hand over my mouth. “Oh my god, did you fall into a vat of whiskey?” I ask him, then glance around. I know Seb can be a mess, and Miles knows Seb can be a mess, but the general public has been spared a lot of his messitude.
“Did you know that Tamsin and Flora were shagging?” he asks me bluntly, raking a hand through his hair.
“What, no!” Miles says, startled, and sadly my “No, I didn’t” is just delayed enough to sound pretty weak.
Miles looks down at me, pulling back. “Wait, do you know something about that?”
“Not the shagging part,” I admit, tucking my hair behind my ear. “But just the general, you know, them-ness of them.”
I turn and look at Seb, acutely aware that there are photographers nearby and that he is super, super drunk. In public.
“But why is that a big deal?” I whisper. “You don’t even like Tamsin.”
“I might, though,” he fires back. “I might decide to like her, who can say?”
Rolling my eyes, I mutter, “And this is the most eligible bachelor in Scotland. Be still my beating heart.”
I can see Dons approaching, also three sheets to the wind, listing slightly, and I tug on Seb’s arm. “Hey,” I say softly. “Why don’t we go somewhere quiet and talk about this? Somewhere not quite so public and . . . exposed.”
But Seb shakes me off. “No,” he says, and Miles steps forward, putting his hands on Seb’s shoulders. “Mate,” he starts, but Seb steps back from him.
“Don’t ‘mate’ me,” he says, and I wrinkle my nose.
“Word choice,” I mutter, but Seb—who has managed to keep his disastrous life private for all this time—is now on a roll.
“It just doesn’t make any bloody sense,” he says plaintively. Throwing one hand out at me, he all but cries, “You didn’t want me, and you picked Monters of all people.”
I open my mouth, but Seb just waves off anything I was about to say. “Oh, don’t give me that ‘it’s just for show’ thing. The two of you have been making sex eyes at each other since day one.”
My face flames hot, and I make a startled noise. “Have not!” I reply, and Miles is spluttering, too.
“Daisy and I only . . . recently realized th-that we—”
“Oh, stuff it, Monters,” Seb says, placing his hands on his hips. “I’m not blind. But then Daisy’s friend calls me a wanker, now Tamsin prefers Flora, and am I not the good-looking one? Am I not on a million bleeding bedroom walls all over this country? I just . . .” He shakes his head, and I look over at Dons, who is giggling into his cider.
“Who let him get this drunk?” I ask.
Dons shrugs. “Sherbet’s not here, Spiffy’s laid up with his ankle, Gilly’s on the field, Monters has been too wrapped up in you to notice what Seb is up to, sooooo . . .” He pokes at his own chest and grins brightly. “Me! I did!”
Laughing, he slaps Seb on the back. “But it’s good! Man deserves to let his hair down.”
I don’t point out that Seb is not so much letting his hair down as letting his feelings spew out his mouth, but then I don’t have to because Seb keeps going.
“And Ellie,” he says darkly, and now I step forward, grabbing his jacket and not caring who might be taking pictures.
“Seb, no.”
“Ellie loves Alex. Boring, stupid Alex. I!” He lifts one hand, nearly smacking me in the face. “I am the interesting brother. I b-bought her a house.”
“You tried to steal a house from a farmer, and also you’re seventeen,” I remind him.
“But I love her,” he replies, and then from behind us, I hear, “What?”
Great. Greatgreatgreat. Exactly what this moment needs.
Alex and Ellie stand there, clearly worried and confused. They’re holding hands, and I think for a second of the tableau we must all make standing there. Me clutching Seb’s jacket, Miles right beside me, Dons giggling his stupid drunk ass off.
Seb’s chest rises and falls underneath my hands as he takes a deep breath, and I hope—I pray—that he’s not—
“I’m in love with Eleanor,” he announces, and we all freeze for just a second.
And then Alex—sweet, noble, quiet Alex—rears back and punches Seb right in the face.
Which is when things go crazy.
A ROYAL BRAWL!
Shocking pictures out of Scotland today as Prince Alexander and Prince Sebastian took sibling rivalry to a new—and physical!—level. While the younger Prince Sebastian’s crowd has certainly had run-ins with the press and they’re no stranger to throwing punches, the prince himself has always stayed above the fray, and his older brother is usually a model of restraint. However, it appears something sparked off a row during the McGregor Charity Polo Match. Rumor has it the two were fighting over a relationship between Prince Sebastian and Daisy Winters, younger sister of Alexander’s fiancée, Eleanor. Daisy was said to be dating Sebastian’s friend, Miles Montgomery, seen in these photos just to the right of Miss Winters, but sources tell us tension has been building between the friends for some time now.