Page 4 of A Royal Mistake

The populars would have a field day with that information. Lucky for her, there was no one around to overhear their conversation. He sure as hell wouldn’t be talking to the paparazzi. The only thing he valued more than von der Recke International was his privacy.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t toy with her a bit.

Henry’s grin widened. “So you’re saying you’d prefer a more hands-on approach to courtship?”

“What? No.” Her eyes grew round, and a slow blush spread over her cheeks. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

True, but he rather enjoyed seeing her like this, flushed and alive. It was so contrary to his initial perception of her.

“Rest assured, princess, I have no interest in courting you.” He smoothed his jacket, the picture of disinterest, despite the thrumming in his veins. “I’m in Valeria for business, not pleasure.”

A fact he’d do well to remember.

“Right,” she said, rolling her eyes. A bead of water dropped from her hair and trickled down her chest. It disappeared into the neckline of her yellow sundress, which clung to her curves, the wet fabric highlighting every luscious dip and swell. “And I’m supposed to believe you just happen to have business here at the same time Their Majesties are hostingThe Bachelorette: Royal Edition? Not bloody likely.”

Henry lifted a brow. Was it really so hard for her to believe that not every male on the planet wanted to wed and bed her?

“Believe what you will,” he said, tucking his hands in the pockets of his trousers. It was hot as balls, and he couldn’t wait to ditch the stifling suit. “It makes no difference to me, princess.”

“I very much doubt that,” she said, the corners of her full lips twisting in disapproval.

She had him there. He hadn’t come to Valeria to court her, but he couldn’t afford to be exiled from the palace before he convinced Prince William and the RFV to partner with von der Recke International.

“What happened to your dress, if you don’t mind me asking?” It wasn’t every day The Princess Royal paraded through the gardens, looking like she’d been blasted with a firehose.

“Just a little misunderstanding between His Serene Highness Prince Dominik and myself.” She shot him a pointed look, and it piqued his curiosity. What the hell had Prince Dominik done to earn her ire? “The situation has been resolved.”

Her tone suggested she wouldn’t be sharing the details. Not that it mattered. He had his own sources, and he’d get to the truth of it.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she said, “I need to go change.”

Without another word, she stepped around him and continued down the path.

Henry considered letting her go—a dose of karma might do her some good—but his conscience got the better of him. After all, despite what she thought, he wasn’t a complete Arschloch.

He turned and called out, “Word of advice?”

Philippa froze, and for an instant, he thought she’d continue without responding. Then she turned slowly, meeting his gaze.

“I suggest you take the long route and bypass the rose garden.”

Philippa arched a slender brow. “I grew up in the palace. I think I can find my way back without directions from a”—she cut herself off abruptly and waved in his direction—“guest.”

Henry grinned. He really needed to find out what had happened with Prince Dominik to make her so damn prickly toward visitors.

“I never said you couldn’t find your way.” Hell, he knew better than to offer unsolicited directions. He rubbed the back of his sweat-slicked neck. “I just thought you might want to avoid the rose garden.” He cut his eyes at her ruined dress. “Her Majesty is hosting a tea party with what appeared to be thirty of her closest friends.”

Thirty of her most judgmental, gossip-mongering friends.

Surprise flickered across her face, but it was quickly replaced with well-practiced indifference. “Thank you. I’ll take your suggestion under advisement.”

Spoken like a true royal.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She glowered at him, eyes like molten chocolate as she considered his words. Then she stormed past him, shoes making an undignified squelching sound as she retraced her steps.

Henry laughed quietly as Philippa retreated, and God help him, the sight of her perfect Arsch was almost enough to make him forget why he’d come to Valeria.