Page 42 of A Royal Mistake

Pippa turnedand walked the opposite direction from Henry. They couldn’t be seen leaving together. It would only encourage the gossip mongers and someone might follow them out. No, she’d have to be cleverer if she wanted to make her escape.

She smiled and dipped her chin in greeting as she made her way across the ballroom, never slowing her step or breaking stride.

Not when Henry was waiting for her.

Her belly fluttered in anticipation. It would be her first late-night visit to the gardens without a chaperone—assuming she could slip away—and despite her naivety in other areas of her life, she knew exactly what happened in the gardens after dark. Lord knew Xander had been caught snogging in the gardens enough times to clue her in.

She was finally going to kiss Henry. To find out if his kisses were as explosive as she’d imagined. The prospect was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

You won’t be kissing anyone if you don’t ditch security.

Since their talk, Sarah had been giving her more space, going so far as to wait outside Henry’s suite during their mentoring sessions, but she had a feeling a late-night walk in the gardens would be a different story. Especially with so many guests on the palace grounds. Sarah had made it clear she wasn’t about to let Pippa out of her sight tonight, so how could she get the bodyguard to change her mind?

As she skirted the edge of the dance floor, taking a wide berth to accommodate her voluminous gown, she spotted Prince Yoshi moving toward her. He moved gracefully, like a panther on the hunt. The way his gaze locked on her left no doubt she was the prey.

She gave him an encouraging smile and quickened her pace, an idea forming in her mind.

When she reached Sarah, who stood guard near the eastern exit, she moved in close, careful to ensure she wouldn’t be overheard.

“I need to use the loo. I’m going to be a few minutes.” She placed her hand over her stomach as if it were upset. “Can you stay here and ensure I’m not followed?” She glanced over her shoulder meaningfully and when she turned back to Sarah, the guard’s eyes were fixed on the Japanese heir, who was closing in on them.

“I should accompany you,” Sarah said, worry lining her eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” Pippa assured her, resting a hand on her shoulder and offering an appreciative smile. “Thank you.”

Sarah nodded and Pippa slipped around her into the hall, confident the prince would keep the bodyguard occupied long enough to make her escape. The hall was empty when she emerged from the ballroom and with each step she took, the sound of music faded. Halfway down the hall, she came to a bathroom, but she hurried past, not stopping until she reached the parlor at the end of the corridor.

She ducked inside and closed the door behind her, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. She’d done it. She’d actually ditched her security detail. It had been easier than expected, thanks to the panther prince.

Pride swelled in her chest, but she wasn’t in the clear yet.

Pippa blinked. The darkness of the parlor was a shock to the system after the blazing lights of the ballroom, but she didn’t dare turn on the lights. No need to draw unwanted attention. She visualized the room’s layout and made her way toward the French doors. Then she slipped outside and made a run for the gardens, holding up her voluminous skirt and moving as fast as her heels would allow.

It was wild. Completely undignified. Risky as hell.

And she was loving every minute.

When she reached the edge of the garden, she slowed to a walk, sucking in what little breath she could.

Because running in a corset? So not a good idea.

With the light of the moon as her only guide, she ventured into the rose garden, giving silent thanks it appeared unoccupied. The night was still and quiet, save for the chirping of the crickets.

“Henry?” she called quietly, steering clear of a row of red Grandiflora roses. The blossoms were large and pungent, but they were thorny little buggers. She continued deeper into the garden, calling out again, “Henry?”

Where the hell is he?

Perhaps she’d taken too long. Maybe he’d given up on her and gone back to the ball. That would be just her luck. The one time she successfully ditched her security detail, her partner in crime had ditched her.

So much for that late-night kiss in the garden.

The sharp tang of disappointment welled up from her belly, souring her mood. She turned on her heel, prepared to return to the ball, and there he was as if he’d just materialized from the shadows. Henry. Standing in the moonlight, looking like the bad boy of the ball, holding a single long-stemmed red rose.

She smiled, her mood buoying. “I’m not sure it’s wise to pick the queen’s roses when you’re already suspected of forging an invitation to the ball,” she said, gesturing toward the flower.

“A beautiful flower for a beautiful woman.” He flashed her a wicked grin. “Besides, you’re worth the risk, Pippa.”

Heat flooded her limbs, but it wasn’t modesty or shame. Not this time. It was something stronger, needier. More potent.