“So, what other things do you want to learn?”
Rachel looked up from the laptop she’d been working on to blink at him. “I’m sorry?”
He’d been on the phone with someone for the past hour. She hadn’t noticed that his phone call had finished. They were flying to Paris and she absolutely loved the luxury of the plane. It was smaller than the plane that had flown her from Padar to Izara, but still amazingly plush and decadent. The royal family definitely traveled in style!
“You told me that you want to learn to dance and ride horses. What other things are you teaching yourself?”
She rested her hands on the leather armrests, her fingers grateful for the rest from the summary she’d been typing up.
“Well, I’ve always wanted to speak French and Spanish fluently. But I can’t seem to find the time to do that. Every once in a while, I study a verb or two, but I haven’t found a way for me to practice often enough for it to make an impact on my progress.”
“What else?”
She shrugged. “I want to know how to defend myself. As a single woman,” she didn’t add that she’d probably be single for a long time. “I know that it’s important to know how to fight off an attacker. So, that’s another skill I want to practice. I don’t have a regular schedule, so I can’t find a self-defense class where I can learn the skills.” She shrugged. “And that isn’t something I can learn online by myself.”
He nodded and she wondered what he was thinking.
Fortunately, it didn’t take long for him to explain.
“I’ll teach you,” he announced.
“Teach me?”
“I’ll teach you self-defense in the morning before we start working.”
Rachel stiffened with horror. “Um…no, that’s okay.”
He shook his head, waving aside her argument. “I think it’s an excellent idea.”
Before she could argue further, his phone rang and he took the call. Rachel watched as he stood up, pacing as he spoke, circling the table where they were working.
She was fascinated by the way he moved with such amazing grace for a man so tall and muscular. He looked like a dangerous panther, but she also knew that he was a bit of a tease.
More humanity, she thought with a mental grimace. She needed to stop thinking like that. The man was gorgeous and all that, but he wouldn’t be interested in a mouse like her. She was too timid and she wasn’t glamorous like the women she’d see him paired with in pictures online.
Getting back to work, she focused on the project and not on the man who looked…decadently delicious.
They landed in Paris and were immediately taken to the hotel. But he didn’t give her a chance to open her computer again.
“We need to hurry,” he told her.
She looked up at him, startled once again. “We do?”
“Yep. Come along. You won’t need your work stuff.”
“Where are we going?” she asked, grabbing her tote bag, which also acted as her purse.
“The Eiffel Tower,” he announced.
They were back in the limousine and driving through the gorgeous streets of Paris towards the famous monument. “Why are we going to the Eiffel Tower?”
“Because it’s one of my favorite places,” he replied easily.
“Why?”
“Because I like it. And it fascinates me. I appreciate the way the design connects with the earth and enables the wind. It’s one of the ugliest and most beautiful structures in the world, in my opinion.”
She tilted her head. “Ugly?”
He shrugged. “It’s just a massive steel structure. Did you know that it was built for the World’s Fair?”
“Same with the Space Needle in Seattle, Washington,” she replied.
“That’s another one that I like to visit, but The Eiffel Tower is still my favorite.”
“You like this one even more than the huge, elaborate building designs that have emerged over the past few years?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Think about it. The buildings that are going up now are all done with computers. The architects design something and then a computer does all of the calculations, another computer cuts the materials, and yet another computer monitors the construction. Back in the eighteen hundreds, when The Eiffel Tower was built, there weren’t any computers. All of the calculations were done by hand. They didn’t even have a calculator.” He shook his head, pausing to consider the architectural feat. “It’s amazing. I also think the massive cathedrals around the world are just as remarkable. Those were done by uneducated stone cutters without computers too.” He winked at her. “That’s why we’re also visiting Montmartre this afternoon.”
Her eyes widened. “We are?”
“Yeah. It’s another architectural feat.”
The limousine pulled up outside of the tower and a uniformed staff member smiled in greeting as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. “Bonjour, Your Highness,” the staff member greeted him. “Je m’appelle Elizabet et…” they had a rapid fire conversation in French while Rachel listened, irritated with herself for not having a better grasp on the language. Meanwhile, Tarin spoke the language like a native, fluently conversing with the woman, who smiled flirtatiously up at him.
At the end of the conversation, he put a hand to the small of Rachel’s back and led her towards the monument. “She said that the officials offered a private tour, but I explained that I’d already visited several times over the years and just wanted to visit the top.”
“And?” she prompted when he didn’t continue.
He looked down at her, amused at her annoyed expression, which only ruffled her further, and went on. “She said that we’ll have a private elevator to the top and can spend as much time as we’d like there, although other visitors will also be present.”
“Is that okay?” she asked, glancing at his guards who were walking in a perimeter around them.
“Of course,” he assured her. But Rachel wasn’t convinced. “But…”
He pulled her closer. “The security team is pretty good at what they do,” he assured her as they stepped into elevator. “But I’m flattered that you care. Maybe if you cared just a bit more, you’d actually use my name.”
She snorted. “Not gonna happen.”
He laughed and she shivered at the sound, hoping that he didn’t understand what that shiver meant. It would be beyond humiliating for him to know how she felt about him.
The elevator doors opened and she pulled back, startled to find they were at the top of the tower.
“Coming?” he asked when she pressed her shoulders back against the wall of the elevator while everyone else stepped out.
“Um…” she peeked out at the city skyline through the protective fencing surrounding the top of the tower. “I think I’ll just stay here,” she told him.
He laughed, taking her hands and slowly leading her onto the landing. “It’s perfectly safe,” he assured her.
“Yeah? When was the last time someone fell off?”
He shook his head. “The only deaths that have occurred here are suicides, honey. Not accidental deaths. It’s very safe.”
Tentatively, she stepped out and looked down. Thankfully, the floor wasn’t made of steel mesh, it was a solid surface. She took one step, then another, slowly inching out of the private elevator. “I guess I should have warned you about my fear of heights,” she said, trying to joke.
If she’d looked up at him, she might have noticed the gentleness in his eyes, but Rachel was too focused on watching her step, then peering out at the horizon, almost as if she needed to make sure that her weight wasn’t tipping the tower over.
“I’m sorry, Rachel. I should have asked. But come with me. I promise it will be okay.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his side, holding her securely against him. “Better?” he asked.
Yes, but she couldn’t admit it because her ability to speak fizzled to a halt. Or perhaps it was her brain that fizzled at his touch. Too terrified to care, she pressed against him, wrapping her arms around his waist in what might be considered a death grip, but she didn’t care. He rubbed her back, helping to assure her that she was safe.
When she finally found the courage to look up, Rachel gasped. All of Paris was laid out before her, the sun making the city shimmer and gleam. Because it was a clear day with low humidity, the view seemed to go on forever!
“Oh my!” she whispered, her fear of heights pushed away as awe poured over her. “That’s beautiful!”
“Yeah. I agree,” he replied. Tightening his arms around her, he nodded towards the distance. “There’s the Seine over there, which means that Notre Dame is…” he shifted slightly, “over there.” He squeezed her waist. “It doesn’t look like much during the daytime, especially after the fire. I’ll have to bring you back at night, so that you can see everything lit up.”
She shivered just thinking about coming up here at night. “I’m fine right now. Everything is so pretty during the daytime.”
Tarin chuckled, thinking that Rachel was far more interesting than he’d thought. Yes, the sexual attraction was still there, but at the moment, with her fear of heights more prominent in his mind, she was soft and sweet, clinging to him as if she trusted him. For a man, that was a heady combination.
“I love being up here,” he said smiling as her arms tightened around his waist. “It’s such an amazing view, but more than that, the architectural knowledge needed to build this structure is mind-boggling. Plus, I can see all of the other buildings around Paris that were built centuries ago. It’s such a shame about the fire at Notre Dame. I would have liked to show you that.”
Rachel turned her face up to his and, with the wind whipping around them, her body pressed against his, he wanted to lean down and kiss her. The urge was almost overpowering. The moment stretched, their pulses keeping time together. He looked at her mouth, noticed her lips soften, as if she were anticipating his kiss. He moved slightly so that they were facing each other and saw that her gaze had dropped to his mouth. Was she waiting for the kiss as well? Tarin leaned down and….
Someone bumped him, shattering the fragile moment. Pulling back, he shifted again so that they were looking out at the view. Unfortunately, his mind was still on the lost kiss, still wondering what it would feel like to taste her lips. Would she melt against him?
He sighed, staring out at the views but…they weren’t as interesting anymore. Not nearly as interesting as kissing Rachel. Feeling her press her softness against him while knowing that she was his woman would be…unimaginably heady.
“We should go,” he said, abruptly turning, but keeping his arm around her waist to protect her from the milling crowd.
The private staff elevator was waiting and whisked them to the ground level. “Merci,” he said to Elizabet and shook her hand. “I appreciate the speedy in and out with your assistance.”
She smiled, glanced at Rachel with a tinge of envy since Rachel was still in his arms, still pressed against him even though they were safely on the ground.
Unfortunately, the jealous glance must have alerted Rachel of her current position because she jerked away, and smoothed her hands down over her dress.
They made their wait back to the SUV and Tarin took her hand as she stepped into the vehicle. He paused, watching her cute butt as she ducked down, but the view quickly disappeared when she found her seat.
With a silent groan, Tarin followed, sitting next to her and wishing he could take her hand or, even better, pull her onto his lap. Instead, he focused on the next stop. “Now to Montmartre.”
“I’ve never even seen Montmartre,” she said, primly folding her hands in her lap.
He looked at her, intrigued by the formal demeanor after such a sweetly affectionate reaction on the tower.
“Are you prepared to climb?”
She blinked and pushed her glasses higher up onto her nose. “Climb?”
“Yep. There are three hundred steps up to the cathedral.” He chuckled at her grimace. “Relax. I’ll get you a crepe at the base, so you’ll be full of energy.”
That seemed to perk her up and she looked out the window eagerly. “A crepe? A real crepe?” she whispered with excitement.
He smiled at her eagerness. “Have you never had a crepe made from a street vendor?”
She shook her head, those corkscrew curls dancing around her cheeks and his fingers itched to catch one, feel its texture. In the dim light of the palace, her hair looked auburn-brown. But in the sunlight, there were sparks of red, and he was fascinated by the difference. She continued to spark his interest in unexpected ways.
“No. I’m from Georgia. We don’t really have street vendors where I come from. There might be some hot dog vendors in Atlanta. And we have some interesting foods at the state fair, of course. But nothing like handmade crepes!”
He chuckled. “There are some who think of the hot dogs in New York as a delicacy.”
She squinched up her nose. “I’ve read about what goes into hot dogs. No thank you!”
“I agree, but they do seem iconic.”
“I’m not even sure that there’s actual meat in a hot dog. At least, not meat that I’d eat if it were put on my plate. So no, I’ll pass.”
The SUV driver pulled up to the curb and Tarin stepped out, then turned to hand her out. Rachel hesitated, but he didn’t relent, waiting patiently for her hand. When she placed it in his, he tightened his fingers around hers, watching her reaction. Sure enough, just as had happened up in the tower, her expression changed, her lips softened and her eyes brightened with awareness.
Excellent, he thought. He hadn’t planned to seduce the lovely woman, but when she looked at him like that, he knew that she burned with the same desire he felt. Tarin vowed not to rush her though. He’d take things slowly and if she felt pressured in any way, he’d back off.
With that plan in place, he tucked her hand onto his arm and led her over to one of the street vendors. “Duex crepes au chocolat, s’il vous plait,” he said to the vendor.
Rachel watched the vendor, utterly fascinated, and Tarin watched Rachel as the man scooped the egg mixture onto the flat heating surface, then lifted a wooden tool and smoothed the egg mixture into a large circle. The crepe cooked quickly and the man flipped it over, then added real chocolate pieces to the center.
Tarin watched as Rachel licked her lips, leaning forward like a small child eager for candy. Once again, she’d surprised him with her eagerness, her lack of guile. And especially, her appetite. He couldn’t stand it when women picked at a pile of lettuce leaves, looking like skeletons. Rachel was slender, but she obviously didn’t starve herself.
When the vendor handed her a crepe, Tarin watched as she took her first bite, holding his own as he waited for her verdict.
“Oh, this is amazing!” she whispered reverently, licking a bit of chocolate from the corner of her mouth.
He watched as she ate, his thoughts once again off into a sexual fantasy. Would it always be like this with her? Wasn’t there anything she could do that would keep his mind away from making love to her?
Probably not, he sighed and ate his own crepe, not really tasting it since he was still focused on that mouth of hers.
“Let’s go,” he groaned, taking their trash and tossing it into a nearby trashcan. With that, he took her hand. “Ready?”
Rachel looked up at the long hillside. There were two ways to get to the top. Up those stairs or via the trolley-like thing that toted people up the hillside. There was a long line for the trolley, so she glanced back up the stairs. “I should have worn different shoes for this, but…” With a smile, she nodded up at him. “Ready!”
With a grin, he started up the stairs. By the time they reached the top, she was gasping for breath. He seemed like he’d just strolled around the block. He wasn’t out of breath, not even sweating a little.
“You could at least pretend that you’re a bit winded,” Rachel grumbled as she glared up at him.
He laughed. “Sorry, honey. You could always join me for a workout in the morning.”
Rachel looked up at him, wondering if it was a sexual workout. Or was that just where her mind had gone?
Fortunately, Tarin didn’t give her much time to wonder. “Come on inside. It’s beautiful!”
They walked along the courtyard and Rachel looked around, stunned by the crowd. People were sitting and picnicking, laughing, talking, debating or just milling casually around. For some, it didn’t appear as if they were doing much other than reading or relaxing. “Seems like a lot of tourists,” she commented.
“A lot of them are students who come up here to sit in the sunshine or artists who want to sketch the city,” he replied.
Inside, the cathedral was quiet and dark, but astonishingly beautiful. In the narthex area, there weren’t pews, but instead, moveable chairs were lined up, as if waiting for parishioners to arrive. And yet, the main draw of her gaze was the enormous mural on the domed ceiling.
“It’s beautiful!” she whispered, walking alongside him.
“Montmartre is actually the name of the hill and the surrounding area,” Tarin told her as he led her through the cathedral. “This church is called the Basilica of the Sacred Heart, or Sacre-Coeur.”
“I like it,” she smiled up at him. “And you have an amazing French accent. How did you learn the language?”
“Again, one of those princely lessons we all have to learn.” He took her hand and led her down one of the pews to sit down. “This place was built over eight hundred years ago.” He shook his head in amazement. “How did they do it? With all that we’ve learned over the past eight hundred years, how did the architects build something this amazing? Something that has endured for centuries?”
She’d never really thought about it through that lens before. “I can’t imagine,” Rachel replied honestly, then turned to look up at him. “If you didn’t have your royal responsibilities, would you be building things?”
He paused thoughtfully. And then he nodded slowly. “Yes. Most likely.”
She smiled, feeling a bit sad for him. Not too sad because…well, because he was a freaking prince who lived a life of luxury, servants catering to his every whim, and the ability to travel wherever he wanted. She still hadn’t figured out how he’d made the coffee this morning, but she was fairly certain that he hadn’t done it. No way!
“So, being in charge of the infrastructure of the country was the next best thing?”
He shrugged. “In a way.”
“Do you ever regret it?”
“No. We all have burdens that we have to face. Did you have an ideal childhood? Are you doing your dream job right now?”
The happiness faded from her eyes and she looked away. “No. You’re right.”
Tarin paused, but instead of explaining, she closed off, hunching her shoulders. “What just happened, Rachel?” he asked. “What was your dream?”
For a moment, he didn’t think she was going to answer him. She stared out at the windows, but he doubted she was really seeing them.
Finally, she answered, “I wanted to be a ballerina,” she admitted, sighing and fighting back the ridiculous sensation of feeling…somehow robbed. “I loved dancing. I loved the music and the movement and feeling the rhythm.”
“What happened?”
She shrugged and stood up. “I wasn’t good enough.” She walked out of the cathedral, blinking as the sun shone down on her.
“How do you know that you weren’t good enough?”
She shrugged dismissively again. “My family explained it to me. Everyone has dreams. You didn’t get yours. I didn’t get mine.”
He pulled her to a stop. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I suspect that the loss of your dream was more difficult than mine.”
She squinted up at him. “Probably not, Your Highness. You get to look around at buildings every day and wonder what it would be like to have built them yourself. And over the next several days, you’re interviewing various architectural firms, asking them to do the very thing that you craved to do yourself.”
“How is that worse?”
She smiled up at him, trying to pretend that her heart wasn’t aching. “I don’t see dancers all the time,” she explained succinctly. “So, I’m not reminded of the loss of my dream like you are.”
He shook his head. “You’re not a horrible dancer, Rachel. I don’t know what went on in your life before, but you’re an extremely good dancer.”
She shrugged. “Yes, well, it was a dream. Dancers don’t really make enough money to live on anyway, so it wasn’t a realistic dream. And it’s a very competitive career. I was smart and studied hard in school, got good grades and now,” she paused, looking up at the beautiful blue sky with small puffs of white clouds. “I’m happy with my job and my life.”
He eyed her carefully and Rachel squirmed under the weight of his gaze, feeling as if he could see what she kept carefully hidden. “Someone convinced you to give up on your dream.” He moved to stand in front of her. “Who was it?”
Her eyes shuttered and she looked out across the skyline of Paris. “This is a much better view than from the top of the tower,” she said, purposely changing the subject. “I like it here. It isn’t so high up that it’s scary.”
He frowned, but she refused to budge. “Ready to go?” she asked.
He sighed and turned. “Fine. But this conversation isn’t over.”
She wondered why he even cared. But she was also relieved that he was willing to drop the subject, at least for the moment. “So what’s next? I know that you’ve scheduled meetings with two architectural firms. But…?”
“There’s something I want to show you first.”
They walked down the three hundred steps, but instead of getting into the waiting SUV, he led her down the street, making a few turns, and then…he stopped.
“What is that?” she gasped, staring up at what looked like a bronze man coming out of a stone wall.
“It’s called ‘Le Passe Murielle’. It’s about a man, named Duteille, who suddenly discovered that he could pass through walls. He was imprisoned at one point, but still snuck out through the walls at night only to be back in the morning, confusing the warden. He had an affair with a woman, sneaking through walls to avoid detection from her husband. But eventually, he lost his ability to pass through the walls and got stuck. So, here he rests, stuck in the stone wall for eternity, cursed to stare out at everyone who walks by. He’ll live his life here, unmoving and frozen in time.”
Rachel stared up at the bronze statue, her heart thudding in her chest. “How desperately sad,” she whispered. “What a magical gift, to be able to pass through walls like that. And yet, to find himself stuck forever. The gift turned into a curse.”
“That’s awfully poetic, Rachel,” he teased, leaning forward.
She blushed and looked away. “I used to be romantic,” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Then I…”
“Then you were told you can’t dance,” he finished after she paused. Tarin took her hand and led her to the waiting SUV, helping her inside. “Back to business,” he announced.
Rachel was grateful to start working. The three tourist stops in Paris had been wonderful, but after her revelations about her dreams –she had no idea why she’d told Prince Tarin about that– she wanted to get back to her normal routines, lose herself in her job. Working projects like this wasn’t her dream job, but she gained a great deal of satisfaction in doing her job, in managing the details, and ensuring that projects came together smoothly.
It wasn’t dancing, but it paid a whole lot better!