For a moment, she’d channeled a fire I would have sworn she didn’t possess.
And as the chopper climbs, soaring swiftly away from the picturesque village, she doesn’t look back. She directs her gaze straight ahead at the imposing terrain, to the mountains that, in our not-so-distant history, would have made a nearly impenetrable barrier between our two countries.
Fetching my fiancée from Rinderland in the seventeenth century would have been an undertaking risking life and limb. The party would have plotted the trek meticulously and been in for at least two weeks of travel, even with the most agile horses leading the way.
Now, we’ll arrive at my family’s estate at the edge of Baden Bergen in just forty minutes.
It doesn’t leave much time for pleasantries, but that isn’t the reason I asked Drake, my escort for the trip, to leave behind the headsets that would have allowed us to chat over the sound of the blades. I assumed that having to shout to be heard would make conversation even more difficult for my shy fiancée, keeping her on edge and primed for a fainting spell when I pull the trigger on Stage One of Operation Prince Charmless.
But she doesn’t look anxious.
She looks sleepy and disinterested in anything happening on my side of the chopper. I offer her water, then champagne—both of which she declines with a polite shake of her head before turning back to the window.
I lean in, resting my hand on her knee as I shout, “Have you had breakfast? If not, I can arrange for something to be brought to the garden when we arrive.”
“That would be nice, thank you,” she shouts back without a trace of her usual stutter. “I am hungry.”
“Me, too. Famished.” I smile, silently wondering if she’ll still have an appetite after I’ve sprung my surprise on her, but she doesn’t return the grin. A beat later, she’s back to staring out the window as if she hasn’t seen snow-capped mountains every day of her life.
And that’s the end of the conversation.
She’s done with me.
She doesn’t try to make small talk or express her delight that I came personally to collect her. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I would think that she was…bored.
Bored. By me. I mean, I have my weaknesses, but I’m not boring, and I’m beginning to find her repeated yawns offensive.
Fine, Princess. Yawn away. We’ll see if you’re still yawning once we get to the jump zone.
I force myself to sit silent and still, not wanting to give Elizabeth any clue what I’m up to until the last possible moment. I bide my time until I spot the outskirts of Baden Bergen far below, the green fields and whitewashed farmhouses even more charming from a distance.
We’re mere minutes from the castle grounds.
It’s time to make my move.
Biting the inside of my lip to keep the grin from my face, I reach for the parachute kit tucked behind the front bench and calmly begin to strap in. Drake, who I briefed on my plan before takeoff, and who I chose for his skill at keeping his expression neutral and his opinions to himself, doesn’t blink.
For a long moment, Elizabeth doesn’t react, either.
Because she’s still staring out the window, dammit!
I’m beginning to think I’ll have to do a tap dance to get her attention, but as I click the leg straps into the base of the harness, my oblivious fiancée finally glances my way, her sky-blue eyes going wide as she sees what I’m up to.
Her jaw drops so far I fight the urge to laugh, but she doesn’t say a word. She simply sits there, blinking as if she suspects she’s hallucinating as I double-check the harness and reach for my goggles.
“What’s happening?” she finally asks, her voice so breathy I can barely hear her.
I pretend I don’t, concentrating on sliding the goggle strap over my head.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Her slim hand flutters out to land on my knee, a terrified butterfly seeking comfort that I am unfortunately unable to give.
Still, I find I don’t mind the feel of her fingers curling into my thigh. Her touch is pleasant, and our earlier hug was far less awkward than I feared—at least until she jumped out of my arms like I’d set her on fire.
At the time, I’d assumed she was nervous. But now, her behavior on the flight makes me consider that moment in a different light.
What if she wasn’t anxious?
What if she was repulsed?
I have never repulsed a woman. But I’ve never bored one, either, and up until a hot second ago, Elizabeth acted as if she’d rather watch snails mate than make small talk with the man she’s promised to marry.
Ego taking over, I cover her hand with mine, leaning in until we’re so close I can smell the sweetness of her perfume. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. It’s a surprise! For you.”