Page 37 of A Royal Mistake

“Very well, Your Highness. When I win, you’ll save me a dance at your ball.”

She snorted. “Done.”

This was going to be too easy. “During my second volunteer mission, I wandered away from the village solo, determined to do some exploring, although we’d been warned against it.” He paused for dramatic effect. “After about thirty minutes of wandering through the forest, I heard a strange snuffling sound, so naturally I went to investigate.”

“So brave,” she teased, resting her chin on her hand.

“More like so stupid.” He closed his eyes at the memory. He’d never told anyone this story, not even Jack, and he couldn’t believe he was telling Pippa now. She’d probably never let him hear the end of it, but fair was fair. She’d shared her embarrassing moment. The least he could do was share one of his own. “The next thing I know, I’m face-to-face with a wild boar.”

She gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth, so he paused, letting the suspense build.

“Human attacks are rare, but that damned thing charged me without hesitation. I ran the entire way back to the village, certain I was going to get a tusk in the arse. I swear I’ve never run so fast in my life. That damn boar didn’t let up, not for a second. I had to climb over the railing of a livestock pen to get away from it. In my haste I fell over the railing, landing face first in the mud.”

Pippa crowed with laughter and when she finally got control of herself, she was wiping tears from her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you win. Even I can’t top that story.”

“Thank you.” He grinned.Pride is a small price to pay for a dance with such a beautiful woman. “I look forward to collecting my prize.”

10

Pippa shovedanother brie-and-mushroom canapé into her mouth, eyeing the table for something that would give her dragon breath. She needed onions or fish or garlic. Wait—did that only work on vampires?

She glanced at the horde of suitors eyeing her hungrily.

Close enough.

She’d try anything that would keep the suitors at arm’s length. In the last hour, she’d danced with at least six different men. If she didn’t slow the tide, she’d collapse from exhaustion before the night was over.

It didn’t help that Miquel the Mountain had trod on her toes for the better part of two waltzes, which might not have been so bad if he weren’t a freaking giant. But he was a giant and in between snippets of conversation, he’d damn near broken her pinky toe. She glanced down at the tops of her sparkly heels, which were now missing several crystals.

Another pair bites the dust.

Spotting a caviar garnish, she used a water cracker to scoop the tiny fish eggs onto her plate. She hated caviar. It was slimy and disgusting and it tasted like rubbish, but she was desperate.

And starving.

Preparation for the ball had taken all day, and she’d been given zero breaks to stuff her face. Which was probably a good thing, because her dress was a corseted nightmare, laced so tight she could barely breathe. It was blindingly white, covered in Swarovskicrystals, and the silk skirt was so full she could only get within arm’s length of the table. So here she was, scrubbed, polished, and laced into a blinding white gown that might’ve passed for a wedding dress under different circumstances.

Sweet Fanny Adams. This must be hell.

She shoved the terrifying thought aside, focusing on the mission at hand. Fill her plate, spoil her breath, take a break to rest her aching feet. She piled a few pastries on top of the caviar, uncertain how she’d be able to breathe after consuming so much food. With any luck, maybe her dress would split and she could call it a night.

Or, if things got really desperate, she could cut one of the seams herself.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Liam asked, leaning over her left shoulder to peer down at her plate.

“Just getting a bite to eat.” She clutched the plate protectively as she turned to meet his judgmental stare.

“A bite?” Xander cut in, appearing on her right side and snatching the plate from her grasp. “That looks more like a buffet.”

“Hey!” Pippa yelped as Xander popped a tiny chocolate cake into his mouth. She narrowed her eyes at her older brother. “Get your own.”

She moved to reclaim her plate, but he dodged, keeping it just out of reach.

“Shouldn’t you be dancing, Bunny?” He held up a canapé for inspection. As if he wouldn’t eat anything. “This whole bloody affair is for you, after all.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me. And quit calling me Bunny. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not twelve years old anymore.”

“Quite the do they’ve put on for you,” Xander said, ignoring her request and popping the savory hors d’œuvre into his mouth.