Prince Ever After. A.C. Arthur
at him. “The last time I danced was at the Ambassador’s Ball. With you.”
The words seemed quiet in the interior of the car. Spoken slowly, as if she were afraid he wouldn’t remember. Roland DeSaunters only recalled the women who had done something memorable in his life. Dancing with her so that Kristian could dance with the woman he was in love with was in no way memorable. Still, he was looking at her strangely and it was making Val uncomfortable.
He didn’t seem out of his mind. Actually, Roland had always been reported to be the most down-to-earth of the royal children. He’d been photographed playing tennis with budding young athletes at a training camp he’d visited in Europe, toasting a couple who had just been married in a hotel in Scotland where he’d been staying, and at a restaurant at the theme park in the United States, sharing a breakfast table with an adorable three-year-old girl who was elated to finally meet a real-life prince. That had happened just a few months ago, which was why it was so fresh in Val’s mind. She wasn’t about to admit that she kept close tabs on the royal family, all of them. That would be like owning up to a dream she’d convinced herself was foolish and childish to have.
“Your idea of living life is by working all day at the museum and then returning home by yourself?” he asked, but he was shaking his head as if already replying to her answer. “That’s not living at all.”
“It’s my life to do with as I please,” she replied.
How many times had she recited those words to herself? Far too many to be normal.
“We should all be so lucky,” was his quick retort. “I feel like dancing.”
“There’s no music,” she quipped, and this time she looked out the window.
It had grown dark outside, the clouds helping nightfall to arrive earlier. Heavy drops came down with a steady rhythm, moving in rivulets over the car windows.
“There’s always music in your heart,” he answered.
His voice sounded wistful that time, and Val couldn’t stop herself from turning to stare at him. He was looking out the front windshield, no doubt seeing nothing but the water raining down.
“My mother used to say that,” he told her, and then smiled as he looked at her. “She loved to dance and swore she never needed a record playing to do so.”
“I have no memories of my mother,” Val admitted, again without being able to stop herself, or at least monitor what she was saying. “She died when I was born.”
“They may be gone from this spiritual plane, but they’re always with us,” Roland said as he reached a hand over to rest on hers.
For a few stilted moments Val could only stare down at their hands. His skin was a shade darker than her butter-toned complexion. He had manicured nails. There were no rings on his right hand or on her left. They were still, and yet, deep inside, Val could swear she felt something moving, shifting, changing.
“We cannot dance in the car,” she said, and then cleared her throat because she thought her voice sounded rough.
“Then we’ll get out,” he told her, and with his free hand he pushed a button somewhere that had the door locks releasing with a loud click.
“It’s raining,” she announced.
“It’s fine,” he countered.
“No. It’s not.”
“What are you afraid of?” he asked. “What do you think will happen if you do something unorthodox for once in your life?”
“N-n othing,” she stammered. “I mean, I don’t know. I never thought about dancing in the rain.”
“That’s it right there.”
He gripped her fingers at that point, squeezing until she looked up at him.
“You don’t think. You just do. Open the car door, step out and dance!” he told her. “I dare you to simply let go of all those thoughts and just do it.”
Val didn’t like to be dared. She didn’t like people to think she was afraid of anything, either. Fear led to vulnerability and she never wanted to be vulnerable to anyone, ever. She was sliding her hand from his grip before her thoughts could catch up with her motions. Her other hand was on the door handle when she looked up at him.
“I’m not afraid of anything,” she announced. “Especially not a dare from you.”
“Prove it,” he demanded, and then he smiled. The full grin in his deep brown eyes reached simultaneously into her chest to squeeze her heart, just lightly enough that her breath caught.
Val pulled on the handle and pushed the door open. She didn’t think as she stepped out and felt the cool rain pelting against her face. Moving away from the car, she stretched her arms out wide and turned in a circle. Giddiness rose from the pit of her stomach and she laughed before spinning around again. The next spin was with her head held back, eyes wide-open to the drops that fell, dripping into her mouth and sliding down her face.
It was cool and refreshing and, in a sense, liberating. She didn’t care who saw her, hadn’t even thought of who might come along this part of the road and find her there. Her own laughter had filled her mind so she could no longer hear thoughts that might tell her she was insane or acting foolish. When the spinning had her becoming dizzy she stopped, but continued to move her feet.
With this motion Val hummed a tune she’d heard her father play late some nights. It was slow and sad—a love song, Val was certain. Still, she danced to it, moving her feet and then her hips and upper body. She danced and imagined the song was happier and that hearing it made two people feel safe and loved. It joined them and held them close together through all eternity.
Yes, she thought, it was their song. Her parents had a song and it had made them happy at one time. Val continued to move, continued to sway with the music that only she could hear.
She was so in tune with herself and her thoughts and the brimming emotions, she’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. That was, until his hands slipped around her waist and she felt herself being turned around.
Val opened her eyes and looked up at him. Rain drops were heavy on her lids and she blinked quickly, still able to see him as clearly as if they were back sitting in the car. His face was as wet as hers, drops of rain falling on his lips. They weren’t too thick, but just thick enough, she thought, and then wondered why she was thinking about his mouth at all.
His fingers splayed at her lower back as he gathered her closer. Their bodies were touching, wet shirt against wet shirt, so close they were now heartbeat to heartbeat. Her arms were still in the air from her dancing, and she brought them down slowly, letting her hands rest on the soaked material of his suit jacket. She heard thunder.
No, that was the incessant beat of her heart as she realized with a start that he was leaning in closer. His head was moving down, toward hers. She tilted hers back a little, not sure what to expect but wanting to be ready. Yes, she definitely wanted to be ready.
“You should do this more often,” he whispered, his breath warm against her rain-chilled nose.
“Do what?” she asked, more than a little confused at the moment. Was she supposed to be following her mind or her body?
Her mind said she was chilly and getting soaked, now that she’d stopped dancing. Her body, on the other hand said, he was keeping her warm.
“This,” he said in the barest whisper, just before his lips touched hers.
She didn’t say a word. Instead, Val pressed into him, tilting her head to the side to slant her lips over his. Warmth continued to spread throughout her body, even before he parted his lips just enough so that his tongue could slip out. Her lips had been wet from the rain but now they were moist from the touch of his tongue. Her lips parted, exactly what her body—and now, her mind—wanted them to do.
His hands moved farther up