“I don’t like surprises.” Her fingers dig deeper into my thigh, sending a zip of awareness dancing along my spine. It’s a shocking development, but not nearly as startling as the answering spark of hunger that flickers in Elizabeth’s eyes as she adds in a stronger voice, “It isn’t safe to parachute out of a helicopter. People die this way.”
“I won’t die,” I assure her, my fingers threading through hers, lured there by the chemistry simmering between us.
“If you jump up when you go, even a little bit, you’ll hit the blades,” she says, her breath coming faster as her cheeks flush a pretty pink. “There will be pieces of you all over the castle lawn.”
“I won’t jump. I’ll just fall.”
“Don’t fall. Stay here.” Her free hand grips my other knee as her gaze locks with mine, transforming awareness into something more intense.
Something more dangerous.
Holy hell, am I turned on?
Better question—is she turned on? Or just scared? Possibly a mixture of both?
I have no fucking clue, but I have a crazy notion that I’d like to find out. That I’d like to make her look at me like this again a few more times before we go our separate ways.
But, of course, that would be a very bad idea.
Far worse than jumping out of a helicopter at 7000 feet.
I’m here to scare her off, not turn her on.
With a final smile for my soon-to-be-ex fiancée, I squeeze her hand, detangle myself from her grasp, and scoot to the far edge of the bench. A beat later, I’ve slid open the door, letting a maelstrom into the cab and banishing any possibility of conversation.
Sitting on the floor of the chopper, I swing my legs out, resting my feet on the landing skid below. I glance over my shoulder with a grin to find Elizabeth’s face obscured by long blond hair writhing around her head like a modern-day Medusa.
Medusa, who turned men to stone, which is exactly what Elizabeth will do to me if I let her. Spark of attraction aside, for me, an arranged marriage would be a death sentence for my soul.
And that’s as much reason as any to jump.
I turn back to the world roaring by beneath me, lean forward, and fall, leaving temptation far behind me.
Chapter Six
Sabrina
My heart is in my throat.
Literally.
In my throat.
I’ve always thought people were exaggerating when they said that, but right now, my heart is throbbing in my windpipe, making me gasp for breath as I lean forward far enough to see my sister’s bonkers fiancé plummeting to his death.
And then his chute inflates, revealing a puffball of white with the words, “Welcome Elizabeth” scrawled across the top in Gallantian blue, and a strange tightness grips my chest.
Lizzy would hate watching Andrew jump out of this helicopter even more than I do, but she might like this gesture.
She might like it a lot.
It’s cheesy but kind, and despite my hatred for Andrew and arranged marriages, I find myself reaching for my cell to snap a quick picture to send to my sister later.
Not only did Andrew take time out of his busy about-to-be-king schedule to collect his fiancée, but he also planned a surprise for her. And yes, the surprise is terrifying and risky and dumb, but it’s also…sweet.
Could Prince Andrew be sweet?
Could I have him all wrong?
My mind rejects the thought outright, but as the man in black closes the sliding door and relative peace returns to the cabin, I can’t stop thinking about myself at age nine. I wasn’t an unholy terror, and I never picked on other children, but I was wild.
On clear summer days, I would get up early, shimmy down the crumbling lattice outside my childhood bedroom, and run away into the woods before Minnesota Nanny could fetch me for lessons. I’d spend the day climbing trees and wading in chilly mountain streams and making fairy castles out of rocks while my sisters learned to knit and compose poetry and other things that Minnesota knew I had no interest in or aptitude for.
Sometimes, I’d come home after sundown, heedless of the drama my absence had caused my family. Once I saw how scared Minnesota and Lizzy were, I’d feel bad, but not bad enough to return earlier the next time I ran off.
Now, of course, I would never dream of frightening the people I love like that, and I know better than to think the woods are as safe as I believed them to be as a child. Nature is glorious, but it can also be merciless, and as vulnerable humans, we would do well to remember that before we wander into the wilderness without water, a pocketknife, and a compass.
I’ve grown up since those long-ago days.
Apparently, so has Andrew. He’s still ridiculous and far too proud of his ass-ets, but he might also be a decent human being.