Page 39 of Royal Trouble

Not with courtiers tripping all over themselves to turn up fresh gossip.

He leaned out over the starboard side of the boat and inhaled deeply, relishing the salty spray that rose up from the water. The day was shaping up perfectly for a jaunt along the coast, even if the water was getting a bit choppy. The sun was shining, the winds were strong, and the company was good. Everly and Elena seemed to be getting on beautifully, although their hushed conversations were starting to make him nervous. He wouldn’t be surprised in the least if the women were conspiring against them, but at least Liam and Elena were keeping their hands to themselves, so all in all, he was calling it a win.

Xander rejoined the group in the stern as Liam circled around, reversing course toward home. The boat leaned hard and righted itself, cutting through the waves with ease. At the sight of him, Elena hopped to her feet and joined him at the helm for another sailing lesson.

Given the fact that she’d shown zero interest and even less aptitude for the sport, he suspected she was just trying to give him and Everly some privacy.

He took the empty seat next to her, noting she looked a bit pale. Her usually flushed cheeks were devoid of color, and her lips were stretched in a thin line.

“Everything okay?”

She forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Lena was just telling me about the time you and Liam dyed the palace nanny’s hair purple.”

He threw his hands up in mock protest. “It was all Liam’s idea.”

“Riiight,” she drawled, shielding her eyes from the sun and staring out at the water. “Somehow I doubt that’s true.”

“You catch one tapestry on fire,” he said, heaving a dramatic sigh, “and suddenly everything that goes wrong in the palace is your fault.”

Everly laughed and clutched a hand to her stomach.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, the briny sea air whipping her hair around her face. “Just a bit too much sun and wine, I think.”

Or a bit of motion sickness. The water had been calm when they’d set out this morning, but now the boat rose and fell with the waves, which could be messing with her senses.

Bollocks. He was a right fool. He’d known she wasn’t accustomed to sailing on open water, and he hadn’t offered her a damn thing for seasickness.

He stood and extended his hand. “Walk with me.”

She considered but eventually accepted, wrapping her fingers tightly around his as she climbed unsteadily to her feet. He’d fucked a lot of women, but he’d never done something as intimate as hold hands with a woman. He was surprised to discover how damn small Everly’s hand was in his, but her touch was warm and welcome as he led her to the port side of the boat.

Don’t go getting used to it. A woman like Everly isn’t for you.

She was too smart. Too independent. Too…everything.

“The fresh air will help,” he explained, slipping an arm around her waist to steady her. “And watching the horizon.”

“I told you, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“Really?” he asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Because you look a bit green around the gills.”

She frowned. “Is this how you woo all your dates? By telling them they look like shit?”

“So this is a date, then?” he asked, latching onto her slip of the tongue. Because he wanted to distract her from the nausea she refused to acknowledge, not because the idea of a date with Everly set his pulse pounding.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” she huffed, gripping the handrail as the boat rocked to the left. “Stop putting words in my mouth.”

He wiggled his brows. “I can think of a few other things I’d like to put in your mouth. Just say the word, love.”

“You’re an—” Her eyes grew wide, and her shoulders jerked forward as she leaned over and vomited on his favorite boat shoes.

So much for distracting her.

Xander gave silent thanks for his military training, during which he’d suffered far greater indignities. He tried not to think about the hot, sticky liquid seeping into his shoes and focused on Everly. When she straightened, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, her cheeks were stained pink, and her eyes were glassy.

Bollocks. Not the tears. He could deal with a lot of things, but tears weren’t one of them. If she started crying now, he was done for.