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Who did Benedikt share with? Matthias?
To her delight he’d begun sharing with her.
He’d been open when they’d discussed his plans for the state, his reforms and snags blocking his way. Yesterday, picnicking by a mountain tarn, he’d mentioned problems in a local tender process and asked her opinion.
It had felt the most natural thing to thrash out the issues with him.
That was when she’d realised he already knew about her work, not only as a botanist. She’d done her share of contract negotiations. The centre where she’d worked, initially funded by an endowment from her grandparents, was at the forefront of research into Alpine plants. That research was leading to potential new medications.
Would she be able to continue her scientific work part-time? It seemed unlikely. She couldn’t imagine life without it. She sighed. Was that the lot of all royals, putting their personal lives aside?
Annalena lay back on the rug and closed her eyes, wondering what dreams Benedikt might have set aside.
She was drowsing when a deep voice murmured, ‘Sleeping beauty, I presume?’
Lips brushed hers, brushed and clung. She raised a hand to stroke Benedikt’s lean cheek and thick hair. He smelt of mountain sunshine and tasted tantalisingly masculine. She sighed against his mouth as her body softened.
Would she ever get enough of him? Their sexual connection was amazing but it wasn’t the whole of what she felt. Her link to him grew stronger with each hour yet she still had so much to learn about him.
Benedikt pulled back, expression unreadable with the sunlight behind his head. ‘That was a big sigh. What were you thinking about?’
About how big my feelings are for you. About how I’ve begun to yearn for more.
Yearning was dangerous. He’d been clear in what he could offer—partnership based on duty with lovemaking to soften the edges. Because itwaslovemaking, she realised, at least on her part. She mightn’t actually be in love but she wasn’t as heart whole as she’d once been. The realisation made her tremble.
‘I was wondering about you, actually.’
‘What exactly?’
She wished she could see his face clearly. ‘What you’d do if you weren’t King. What were your dreams? And,’ she hurried on, ‘you said your family saved you from your father and yourself—’
‘And you want to understand.’ His voice held an edge she couldn’t decipher. Not anger but something hard. So she was surprised when he said, ‘I know I owe you more. You’ve shared so much with me.’
Abruptly he moved away and Annalena was about to protest when she realised he was just leaning across to the picnic basket. ‘Would you like to share an apple?’
She nodded, watching as he took a paring knife, neatly coring and segmenting the fruit.
He frowned as if in concentration, but his expression transformed into a teasing smile as he held a segment to her lips until she opened and took a bite, tasting crisp sweetness.
Satisfaction flared in those golden-brown eyes and, she’d swear, sensual interest. But for once Benedikt didn’t pursue that. He put the knife away then leaned back, propped on one elbow, munching.
‘What would I do if I weren’t King? Easy. Focus on my business. I thought I had years left to pursue my own commercial interests.’
‘Tell me about them.’
He offered her another bite of apple. ‘I began in media and advertising. That’s where my grandfather made his fortune. I still have some investments there in North America, but my main interest became IT. Software development, cyber security, a range of areas. I finance start-up companies. I suppose I’m drawn to the industry’s creativeness. But I dabble in other things too.’
‘You have a nose for business.’
He shrugged as if unwilling to accept praise. Most men she knew loved accolades but Benedikt wasn’t most men.
‘So, you’d devote yourself to business.’
That boyish grin returned and her heart pattered faster. ‘I’d make time for mountaineering. And skiing.’
‘I love skiing.’
‘This winter, we’ll go together.’