Page 115 of American Royals

The cloakroom was very quiet, as still as the sumptuous furs that hung around them. Sam felt hyperaware of every inch of darkness that separated her from Teddy.

His voice cut through the silence. “What happens next?”

“Beatrice is going to talk to our dad tonight, tell him her decision. Then I’m sure they’ll get Robert involved, figure out the best way to break the news—he’ll probably make you do another interview, or maybe a press conference. And you’ll have to give back all the presents stacked in that room. And cancel next weekend’s cake tasting,” Sam added, in that nervous rambling way of hers. “I was really looking forward to that.”

“Samantha. I meant what happens next for us.”

Sam swallowed. She felt suddenly like she’d melted, like she was nothing but lightning encased in skin.

“Last time we were here, you said that you refused to take orders from me.”

“That depends on the order.”

“Well, I was hoping that you would kiss me, but since I can’t command you, I guess I’ll have to—”

Her next words were silenced as Teddy lowered his mouth to hers.

It no longer seemed to matter that Sam couldn’t see him—that he was darkness, and she was darkness, and darkness swirled all around them. Because everything in the world had narrowed to that single point of contact. To the searing feeling of Teddy’s mouth on hers.

She hooked her arms around his shoulders and yanked him closer. Teddy reached under her curls to cradle the base of her neck, his other hand slipping around her waist. Sam’s breath caught in her throat. They stumbled back onto the furs, and Teddy knocked his head against a shelf, but not even that broke apart their kiss.

“We should get back,” Teddy whispered at last, his breath warm in her ear.

Sam nipped one last time at his lower lip, just because she could. She felt rather than saw him smile against her skin.

“If we must,” she said dramatically, and forced herself to step back. She was dangerously close to dragging Teddy up to her bedroom, no matter the consequences.

“Sam.” Teddy ran a hand through his hair, a shadow against the dark. “I’m sorry for the way this all happened. It hasn’t been especially fair to you.”

“It hasn’t been fair to any of us.” Sam thought of Beatrice, cornered by their dad into proposing when she didn’t really mean it.

“I like you,” Teddy said baldly. “In Telluride, I kept wishing that I could hit pause—keep spending time with you, learning more about you. What I’m trying to say is, you deserve better than this. Than hiding with me in a coatroom.”

His words warmed her. “I do wish it was a bit more spacious,” she teased, but he didn’t take the bait.

“I just … I would hate to cause problems for you, with your family.”

Whatever happened, Sam knew that she and Beatrice would be in it together. “What about you and your family?” she asked, deflecting.

Teddy heaved a quiet breath. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I hope we can figure something out. If we don’t, I guess I’ll learn what it’s like to lose everything.”

“Not everything. You’ll still have me.”

Sam felt for his hand, and Teddy gripped it hard.

“We’re going to have to give people time, you know,” he said. “Neither of us comes out looking very good here. I’ll be the guy dating his ex-fiancée’s sister, and you’re the maid of honor dating the former groom.”

“They’ll get over it eventually. Stranger things have happened when it comes to royal weddings,” Sam declared, with more confidence than she felt.

“Such as?”

“Louis XIV had an affair with his brother’s wife. Henry VIII married his brother’s wife.” Sam laughed. “You’ve also got the medieval king Hardecanute—that means ‘Tough Knot’—who died of drunkenness at a wedding feast. I’m serious,” she insisted, at Teddy’s skeptical look. “He literally drank himself to death!”

“I believe you.” Teddy was clearly fighting back his amusement.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Never,” he said quickly. “I’m just thinking about how difficult it’s going to be, being with you. Difficult and unpredictable and never, ever boring.”