Page 70 of The Unlikely Spare

“I—”

His hand brushes mine as he adjusts his grip on the didgeridoo. The contact burns through me like lightning.

I jerk back, straightening abruptly. “You’ll figure it out. Maybe try not thinking so much.”

“Thinking too much.” He looks up at me, something unreadable in his expression. “Yes. That is most definitely my problem.”

The moment stretches between us. Then that practiced royal smile clicks into place.

“Well, don’t let me keep you from your very important door-watching duties,” he says, voice dripping with false cheer. “I’m sure the corridor’s absolutely riveting this time of night.”

And there it is. The dismissal. The reminder of our positions.

“Right,” I say, jaw tight. “Try not to summon any demon spirits with that thing.”

“If I do, I’ll be sure to introduce them to you first. You can protect me with your sparkling personality.”

“My personality’s not the one that needs work,” I say.

His smile goes sharp. “No, just your deference.”

The word deference hits like a punch to the gut. We’re back on familiar ground now. Him the arrogant prince, me the subordinate employee.

Safe. Distant.

“I’ll be outside,” I say flatly. “Try not to cause an international incident from your living room.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He’s already raising the didgeridoo again. “Perhaps I’ll perfect my technique and serenade you through the door.”

“Do that, and I’ll leave you to the mercy of the next spider.”

I close the door on his startled face, my hands shaking slightly.

Fuck.

What in the name of God am I doing?

Chapter Seventeen

Eoin

Morning finds me stationed at the western edge of the ceremonial grounds of the Royal Darwin Navy Base, sweat already pooling beneath my suit jacket as Prince Nicholas makes his way through a tour of Australia’s northern naval headquarters. The heat sits heavy in the air, turning every breath into work.

But Nicholas looks irritatingly unaffected in his lightweight linen suit, that practiced smile never wavering.

Last night keeps playing in my head. The memory of him soft and sleep-rumpled, fingers tracing those dot paintings like they held secrets he desperately wanted to know and understand. The sound of his real laugh. How his pupils had blown wide. How our hands brushed.

“Quite the impressive display of military might, wouldn’t you say, Officer O’Connell?” Nicholas’s voice cuts through my thoughts as he approaches. My heart kicks up a notch. “All this security makes your job rather redundant, doesn’t it?”

“Security is never redundant, sir,” I reply. “Especially when the principal seems determined to find trouble.”

The naval commander beside Nicholas looks mildly alarmed, but Nicholas’s eyes narrow, something flashing in their depths. That otherworldly blue that photographs never quite capture.

“How fortunate that I have you to save me from myself then. Though I must say, your definition of ‘trouble’ seems rather broad. Last night, it included indigenous musical instruments. Today, what? Aggressive handshaking with admirals?” His smile turns sharper.

I hold his gaze, refusing to look away first. “I believe I have quite a good handle on what constitutes trouble.”

Nicholas’s eyes widen, his composure slipping.