Chapter Ten

The Best Damn Date Lorena Had Ever Been On

When Rosamund and Lorena finished up at Finlay’s Tea Room, Angus was waiting for them outside, but the princess said something to him privately and he drove off. Rosamund held out the umbrella and Lorena hopped under it, the rain still falling all around them. The pitter-patter on the cobblestone road and old brick buildings made Lorena glad for her steaming to-go mug of black tea.

“Shall we?” Rosamund gestured up the road.

Lorena nodded. “Where are we going?”

Rosamund shrugged. “Nowhere in particular.”

Wandering without an agenda? Chaos. The very concept made Lorena’s skin crawl. Yet she found herself interested in spending more time with Rosamund—not for work, despite the excuse she’d given earlier—and if an afternoon without an agenda was what it took to get the princess out of Lorena’s system, so be it. “Let’s go.”

The two women strolled up the sidewalk under that oversized umbrella, their sides pressed together, and Lorena struggled to focus on the gorgeous city around her. Rosamund fit better against her than she’d expected, felt like she belonged there, warm and soft. How dangerous.

Rosamund talked about the landmarks they passed—a rearing horse statue strung with flower garlands, a bronze pear tree, a giant gravestone inscribed in Gaelic—but didn’t stop for anything until they reached an expansive white building with a Closed sign hanging in the window. “Och, this is my favorite museum!” Rosamund looked around surreptitiously. “Let’s go around back.”

“But it’s closed—”

“Don’t worry. I’m friends with the owner.” Rosamund opened the gate with her free hand and ushered Lorena in. Hesitantly, she entered the museum’s back yard.

Its courtyard, more like. A circular travertine stone path swirled in the grass around a collection of marble statues. In the corners, rock features burbled with water. Vibrant potted flowers exploded with color under the gray sky.

Rosamund handed Lorena the umbrella and skipped up the steps to the porch, where she knocked her playful rhythm at the door. A minute later, the door opened to reveal a heavyset gray-haired woman, whose face broke into a fond smile.

“Rose! What a right pleasure. How can I be of service?”

Rosamund flashed a charming smile. “I was hoping to give my friend a special tour of your magnificent establishment, but you’re closed today. I couldn’t convince you to make an exception…?”

The woman chucked Rosamund under the chin. “Anything for my favorite patron. Come on in, both of you. Get out of the rain.”

Rosamund gestured for Lorena to join her, so she trotted up the steps and ducked through the doorway. Inside, the walls were checkered with framed paintings, both landscapes and portraits. In the center of the floor, a stylized iron statuette of a woman stood tall on a pedestal.

Smiling, Rosamund came to stand beside Lorena. “Welcome to the Hall of Ìovorian Art. My favorite museum in Àverness.”

The woman closed the door with a chuckle. “You’re only saying that to butter me up for a private tour.”

The princess grinned. “Is it working?”

“Like picking a pear.”

An Ìovorian expression Lorena didn’t understand. Rosamund laughed. Did that mean yes or no?

Lorena stuck out her hand. “I’m Lorena, by the way. I didn’t catch your name.”

The woman’s brows jumped. “Och, you’ve a polite one today, Rose.” She pumped Lorena’s hand with surprising strength. “I’m Marcail. I own this place, but its latest expansion is all thanks to Rose here. Her contributions have been invaluable.”

Rosamund ducked her head modestly, but her smile glowed with pride.

Lorena looked from her to Marcail. “Contributions? Like what?” Since when did the princess participate in anything serious?

“Och, she helped me file for a massive grant from the royal treasury. And she personally donated half the contemporary art wing.” Marcail inclined her head fondly toward the princess. “Whatever the press says, that’s a good girl there. You take care of her.”

Rosamund waved this off with a delicate flick of her wrist. “Absolutely not. I’m bad news, and don’t you forget it.”

“Aye, to be sure.” Marcail winked at Lorena, who warmed to be included in the joke, even as her head spun. Rowdy Rosamund had a charitable side.

“Anyway,” said Marcail, “how about that private tour?”

She guided them to the section on ancient Ìovoria and talked their way through history, showing off ancient sculptures and ceramics and other artifacts. Once Lorena had read every plaque in that section, they moved on to medieval art, then to the Renaissance.

Lorena lingered there, admiring a painting of the Ìovorian Highlands she’d seen herself that very morning.

Rosamund stood beside her, their shoulders grazing. “What do you think?”

Lorena half turned. “About this piece?”

“About the museum.” Rosamund seemed hopeful.

“It’s very cool. I love art museums.”

Rosamund beamed. “Me too! They’re somehow both fun and peaceful at the same time.” She grimaced playfully. “I don’t get it, but I like it.”

Lorena cocked her head. “I imagine peace is hard to come by in your life.”

“Aye, I don’t get much of it; that’s for sure. And I’m never even sure if I want it when it does show up.”

Lorena fully abandoned her appraisal of the painting to face the princess. “What do you mean?”

Rosamund shrugged and lowered her voice. “My mum and I have different ideas of what it should mean. Her peace means settling down. Settling. But I can’t bring myself to settle for a person or situation that’s boring and quiet just because that’s what I’m supposed to do.”

“Like what?” Lorena asked as if she didn’t already know what Queen Catriona wanted for her spectacular daughter.

Rosamund looked away. “She wants me with someone dull. Someone regal, someone serious. And she wants me to stay in Ìovoria, only traveling when absolutely necessary.” Her eyes widened with desperation as she spoke. “I can’t sit at the palace all day every day. I’ll die of boredom. Oh my God. Is that what being queen will mean for me? What if all the papers are right? What if I’m not cut out for this position?”

Lorena’s fingers burned with the foolish desire to reach out, to comfort. Don’t touch her. It’s literally against the rules for royalty. But as if on their own, her fingers intertwined with Rosamund’s. Warm hand, soft touch. Utter pleasure.

A faint smile curved the princess’s lips.

Lorena smiled back despite herself. “You’re going to be okay. I won’t let you end up with someone you don’t like.” She squeezed lightly. “And my opinion may not count for much, but I think you can handle being queen.”

Rosamund took in a long, deep breath. “You think so?”

“Absolutely. I believe in you.” What Lorena wouldn’t give to hear her parents say that to her; probably the same way Rosamund would do better to hear it from her own mother. But in the absence of healthy relationships with parents, support had to come from wherever a girl could get it.

Out of nowhere, Rosamund pulled Lorena in for a hug. Arms wrapped around her, she whispered, “Thanks. That means a lot.”

Tentatively, Lorena hugged her, and she liked it more than she should have. Sharp awareness of Rosamund’s curves, of her vulnerability in sharing what she had, on their fake date no less… No, I don’t like it. I don’t like her. Not like that. We’re becoming friends; that’s all.

But when Rose pulled away and returned her attention to the painting, Lorena felt a loss.

*

After leaving the Hall of Ìovorian Art two hours later, Rose held the umbrella as she and Lorena trotted through the drizzle to the car. With a nod, Angus waited for them to buckle up and then turned onto the main road.

“Was there anything in particular you wanted to see today?” she asked Lorena. “I know my favorites, but I don’t want you to miss anything you were excited about.”

Lorena smiled bashfully, and her hand went to her stomach. “I’m getting kinda hungry. Do you have any recommendations for an early dinner?”

“Och! Of course.” Rose glanced at her phone for the time. Almost five o’clock. The day had flown by, and she was running out of time for their fake date. I have to impress her. Take her out somewhere really fancy. Typically, Dìnnear a ’Phrionnsa was her go-to for that, but Lorena had already been there. It wouldn’t have the same effect. But then again…the best dates weren’t about impressing someone. They were about providing exactly what both people were looking for. Rose wanted time alone with Lorena, check. So that left what Lorena wanted. “What are you feeling? Comfort food? Traditional Ìovorian cuisine? Steakhouse? Seafood?” She winced but offered, “Takeaway?”

Lorena tapped her lower lip pensively. “Let’s go traditional. Really make it an Ìovoria day.”

“I can do that. Angus, take us to Calton 22, please.” Rose smiled at the driver, who nodded and changed lanes. As they made their way through the city, she made a quick call to the restaurant manager and reserved their best private room under a false name. If she were on her own, being out in public would be part of the experience—Rowdy Rosamund making an appearance—but she wanted to preserve Lorena’s privacy as much as possible.

Plus, it would be nice not to have to perform for the masses.

They came to a stop outside a glass-fronted building, and Rose slid on her sunglasses despite the gloomy weather. Maybe she could avoid being spotted at all. She opened the door, popped the umbrella open, and held it out so Lorena exited the car without getting wet. So far, so good.

They strode through the rain, and Rose held the glass door for Lorena. The greeter winced sympathetically as Lorena wiped rainwater from her glasses.

“Little damp out, eh?”

“A little,” Lorena said with a laugh, “but we’ll call it refreshing to keep our spirits up. How’s your day?”

The greeter seemed surprised at the pleasantries. He pushed up his own glasses. “Good, thanks. And yours?”

Say it’s good, Rose willed her.

“Honestly?” Lorena glanced at Rose and smiled. “Today’s been great so far.”

Warmth burst in Rose’s chest, and she beamed. I’ll be riding the high of “great” for the next forty-eight hours, but let’s see if we can make it even better. “We have a reservation for Kate.”

“Och, yes. I—” The greeter’s gaze flicked to Rose and recognition flickered. Lowering his voice: “Your Highness?”

Shite. She nodded once. “The private room, if you please?”

“Of course, of course.” He called over a waiter, who held out his hand to direct them to the left, to a spiral staircase. They climbed up to the second level, and he opened the third door to reveal a small room. Golden globe lights appeared suspended in the air as if by magic. A single white-clothed table sat in the center of the room, prepared with two sumptuous leather seats, crystal plateware, a bottle of top-shelf red wine, and two empty wine glasses. The server helped them into their chairs, poured them the wine, bowed, and left them to peruse the menus.

“I feel so special up here.” Lorena leaned back to admire the floating lights. “This whole day has been a blast. Thank you for showing me around, and for bringing me here.”

Rose’s cheeks heated. “Erm, of course.” For all her audacity, she didn’t dare say what came to mind. Didn’t dare say, you deserve it, or I’m glad it’s you, or I don’t think it could be anyone else.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice you left your sidekick at home,” Lorena teased. “Who’s watching Iver while you’re out and about with me?”

“The palace staff. He’s well behaved, so they like him pretty well.” Rose sipped from her wine glass. “Is Amado okay when you’re not there? I didn’t think to ask if he gets separation anxiety or anything. I can have someone look in on him—”

Lorena waved this off. “Oh, no, he’s fine. He sleeps mostly. He’ll need lots of snuggles tonight though.” She pulled out her phone and showed Rose a photo of her and Amado cuddling. “He’s a loving boy when he wants to be.”

“Very cute.” Rose grinned. “How long have the two of you been a pair?”

“I found him on my first day in my office, back home in the States.” Lorena scrolled until she found a picture of a ragged orange kitten hiding in a cardboard box. “He was a baby then, covered in ticks and fleas. It was so sad. I took him to the vet, who cleaned him up, and I left my phone number in case anyone called to claim him, but no one ever did. We’ve been inseparable ever since. I even take him with me to the office most days, as long as I’m not meeting with any clients with cat allergies.”

“You don’t take him to the palace meeting rooms.” That element of chaos would’ve made their interviews so much more interesting.

“Well, yeah, I feel like it’s probably frowned upon.”

“Aye, but frowned upon isn’t the same thing as illegal.”

“I’ve never been one to toe the line between the two.”

Rose met her gaze with a wicked smile. “Maybe I can convert you to the dark side.”

Unexpectedly, Lorena snorted. “Oh, please. Like you’re the villain of anyone’s story.”

Rose’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me? I worked hard to develop my Bad Child Supreme personality.”

With a half smile, Lorena rolled her eyes. “You’re a rascal, but you’re not the dark side.”

Try asking my mother.

The waiter returned with an assortment of appetizers, and they fell silent. After he refilled their wineglasses and disappeared, Lorena took a fine bite of a sausage roll. She chewed and swallowed before saying, “Tell me more about you growing up.”

Rose swirled her wine gently for a few seconds. “Want to hear the bad stories or the really bad stories?”

“Come on.”

“How much of your life at this point have you spent asking other people to talk about themselves?”

“Technically, I haven’t spent as much time asking as I’ve spent listening to the answers.” Lorena smiled slightly. “People don’t usually require a lot of prodding. They like to talk about themselves if someone will listen.”

“You think so?” Rose sipped the rich pinot. “I feel like people don’t usually want to talk about themselves. Not their real selves, anyway. The versions they want you to see.”

“I guess that’s where our experiences differ. People talking to me want me to find them someone who will love them for who they are, quirks and all.” Lorena finished the sausage roll and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “They’re honest with me because they trust me not to use it against them.”

Rosamund reached for a honey-drizzled pear slice. “Are you saying people don’t trust me?”

“My guess is most people don’t know you.” Lorena leaned back and eyed her. “You parade around for the paparazzi, so people think they know you. I thought I knew who you were. But that’s not really you, or at least it’s not all of you. There’s more to you than Rowdy Rosamund.”

A little too close to the truth for comfort, but Rose grinned. “I parade, do I?”

“Oh, definitely.” Lorena cocked her head. “What other word is there for it?”

“Swanning, maybe.”

“Sure, you swan about, for whatever reason.” She wove her hand gracefully through the air; Rose followed the motion with her eyes.

That hand came to rest on the table. Rose wanted nothing more than to take it in her own, to lace those long fingers with hers. She fiddled with her napkin to remove the itch to touch from her fingertips. “You don’t like it?”

Lorena’s gaze softened. “I like you. I haven’t figured out the swanning; that’s all.”

Rose took another sip of wine. “What do you mean, you haven’t figured it out? I like attention. It’s as simple as that.” It really wasn’t, but she didn’t need her matchmaker poking around her soft spots.

“No, I don’t think so.” Lorena took a long, deep, thoughtful breath. “That’s the running theory, sure. You even have your mother convinced, of all people. But I’m waiting for whatever’s hidden behind the pretty swan exterior.”

She saw past the Rowdy Rosamund persona. She might not be sure what she was looking for, but she saw past it. For that alone, Rose could’ve kissed her. But she pushed back. “What if reality isn’t as pretty as the swan?”

Lorena’s brow furrowed as if this were irrelevant. “Things don’t have to be pretty to be worthwhile.”

Rose warmed inside. Someone thought she was worthwhile. Not just someone, but Lorena. She relaxed in her seat, an irrepressible smile tugging at her lips.

*

The rain stopped halfway through dinner, and Rose and Lorena walked to the palace in the orange light of the setting sun. Though she usually preferred clear weather, Rose missed the rain, missed huddling under the umbrella with Lorena, so close and intimate. But they walked close enough together their hands sometimes brushed.

They made it back to the palace, and Rose walked Lorena to her suite (or, more accurately, followed as Lorena led the way. How did this woman already know her way around this massive place?). When they reached the door, Rose expected a polite goodbye and a shoo-shoo, but Lorena fiddled with her purse, with her key. Didn’t even reach for the doorknob.

“I guess this is good night.” Lorena sounded uncertain for the first time Rose could remember.

Rose cocked her head. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Lorena tilted her head, too, mirroring her in a tiny gesture that made hope flutter in Rose’s chest. “No?”

“No. But that depends on how it went.”

Those absurdly long lashes blinked. “Oh. Right.” Lorena mustered up a smile. “You did well. I officially rescind my accusation that you’re a bad dater.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.” Rose stepped closer, near enough to smell that tantalizing combination of vanilla and sugar. All goodness. All Lorena. Rose hadn’t been able to think of anyone else since Miss Prim and Proper stepped foot on the palace grounds. Did she taste as good as she smelled? “I usually end a good date with a kiss.”

Lorena’s cheeks darkened. Her gaze flicked to Rose’s mouth.

Another step forward. Rose tipped Lorena’s chin up, and two sets of brown eyes met. Her whole body was aflame with desire. “If you want me to stop, you can say so.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Lorena whispered, sounding lost.

Trembling, Rose moistened her lips, then drew Lorena in…

And Lorena’s fucking phone went off.

“Sorry! Sorry.” Lorena backed up, digging through her purse. She took one look at the caller ID and grimaced. “This is a work call. I need to take this. I’m so sorry. Thank you for a wonderful day, Rose.” She squeezed Rose’s hand before answering the phone call and disappearing into her suite. “Hello, this is Lorena…”

Rose’s hand buzzed from the brief contact, and something else clicked into place that made her smile despite the moment ruiner.

That was the first time Lorena had ever called her by her nickname.