All the Feels (Spoiler Alert #2)(16)

Suddenly, he was startlingly close too. Not touching her, but near enough to exude noticeable heat.

“I could give you a tour of the main house and grounds tonight, if you want.” His hands shoved in his jeans pockets, he looked down at her. “Or I can just find us food, show you the guesthouse, and save everything else for tomorrow.”

Since she was starving, sticky with travel, and nearly listing in exhaustion, the answer was clear. “The second option, please.”

Before she could stop him, he somehow managed to wrangle all their luggage and drag it with him across the drawbridge and up to the huge, dark-wood front door with a lion’s head knocker. All along the way, discreetly positioned outside lights blinked to life and illuminated their path.

At the entrance, he set down the bags while he fumbled for his keys. “Dammit, they’re somewhere … around … here …”

A quick glance at the property didn’t reveal any other outbuildings. She had to assume she was sleeping in the stables. Which seemed appropriate, as she was most definitely a peasant compared to his handsome prince.

“Aha!” He brandished the keys in triumph. “I win again!”

She kept her voice dry as those beds of succulents. “You had a wily opponent.”

With a quick beep of a small remote on his key chain, he deactivated his house alarm.

“You have no idea, Nanny Clegg.” Waving her ahead, he stood in front of their bags. “After you.”

The air within his home was cool and not as stale as she’d have expected after his lengthy absence. Inside, the castle theme was pronounced but not tacky. Someone—maybe Alex, maybe the owners before him—had left enough touches for character, but nothing more.

The tiled foyer led into a large open area with a soaring, dark-beamed ceiling, the white walls illuminated by warm lamplight. A huge slab of yet more dark wood crowned an enormous stone fireplace, its interior filled with yet more succulents. The furniture—a couple of long, low couches facing a huge television; a marble-topped coffee table; several smaller seating arrangements punctuated by cleverly designed open shelving—looked stylish but comfortable, substantial enough to fill but not crowd the space.

“There’s a guest bathroom down that hall”—he pointed toward a shadowy corridor—“if you want to freshen up before eating. I’ll see what Dina left in the fridge for dinner.”

As she ventured down the dimly lit hall, located the impeccably outfitted guest bathroom, and closed the door behind her, her head began to ache—dehydration again—and she wondered who Dina might be. A girlfriend he somehow hadn’t mentioned before now, despite all his incessant rambling?

That seemed unlikely. Dina was probably a housekeeper or his cook.

Lauren’s shoulders loosened. Only because it might have been awkward to reconcile her need to watch over Alex with the demands of a girlfriend, who might understandably want privacy for a long-awaited reunion.

Otherwise, his having a girlfriend wouldn’t bother her at all.

After relieving her bladder and washing her hands, she splashed more water on her face. Only to discover that his hand towel was made from some form of cotton she’d never encountered before, one presumably blessed by angels during the manufacturing process. The towel simultaneously dried her face and caressed it, and if she weren’t a pathologically honest person, she’d have slipped it in her purse.

Once she’d dried the marble-topped vanity with another one of those miraculous hand towels, she contemplated herself in the mirror. Rumpled, water-splotched tee. Under-eye circles fully as dark as Alex’s fading shiner. Limp hair falling from a haphazard ponytail.

Still, she’d never emerged from a plane this unscathed before. After a single business-class flight, she was likely to weep in despair the next time she sat in coach.

Faced with Alex’s inimitable charm and gimlet eye and expensive tickets, no one had blinked at either her size or her need for a seat belt extender. As he’d promised, the wider seat gave her just enough room to sit comfortably. More than that, its various controls allowed her to lie almost flat after a three-course dinner, a quilted blanket on top of her as she resisted removing her complimentary eye mask and glancing to her left, where Alex was seated by the window in their two-person row.

She hadn’t slept much, but she’d had substantial time to herself in the dim cabin. He’d even kept his promise, despite those inadequately hidden fingers he’d crossed behind his back, and let her rest without bothering her. Probably because he’d done some napping himself. At mealtimes, he’d picked at her in his usual way, but—

He hadn’t complained that she took up more than her share of the wide armrest between them. He hadn’t remarked on how the tray table sat at a wonky angle as she ate because of her belly. And when they’d lifted off and landed, he’d somehow reached new heights of ridiculousness, his whispered asides so outrageous, she ended up paying more attention to him than the thud of gears or the sight of land either dropping away from them or zooming closer with dizzying speed.

She blinked at the mirror, then realized she’d been staring blankly at her own reflection for minutes now.

Exhaustion. That was all her current stage of confusion indicated. Travel fatigue.

When she came back to the great room, she saw a newly lit area off to the side. A casual dining nook, the table now carelessly set with a couple of mismatched napkins and two plates and a jumbled pile of silverware in the middle.