25. Prince Cole
Chapter 25
Prince Cole
“I loved her against reason, against promise,
against peace, against hope, against happiness,
against all discouragement that could be. ”
— Charles Dickens
T here’s no remorse in me when I glance over the faces of all the women, each etched with disdain for my plan.
I come to a halt in the dining room, rocking back on my heels and fixing my gaze on Davina. She catches my gaze with a frown, and I give her a wink.
She fidgets in her seat, adjusting the napkin in her lap as if it could shield her from my gaze.
“Cole,” Rafe says, breaking the silence. “What a delightful surprise.”
“Delightful?” I repeat, amused. “Glad to know my presence still has that effect. So, what’s this about? Are we celebrating something?”
Davina scoffs, clearly unamused.
“No,” Rafe responds, “we’re talking about her progress.”
“Hmm,” Juliet hums thoughtfully. “Maybe she has to go outside?—”
“What?” Rafe’s eyes narrow. “You know she can’t do that.”
Juliet shrugs nonchalantly. “Well, she doesn’t seem to make any progress inside the palace.”
Davina sighs. “You’re both so helpful, really.”
Rafe runs a hand down his face. “I am trying my best, Princess.”
“At this point, I don’t think that I have any powers. It doesn’t feel like I have any. Shouldn’t I feel different or something?”
“Do you expect me to have an answer for you? I have no idea. I’ve never had any powers myself.”
She gives him a sidelong glance. “Obviously.”
“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugs innocently. “Whatever you want it to mean.”
“So…what about chess?”
“No!” she and Nora exclaim in unison. “With everything going on, you’re thinking about chess?”
He raises his hands in surrender, muttering something under his breath.
I make my way up to the table and walk behind the backs of every chair until I come to stand behind Rafe, who’s seated next to Davina. Bending down, I place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “This is where I’m sitting.”
He nods, his wine goblet freezing halfway to his mouth. “By the way, ladies,” he drawls, “I am awfully aware of the problems we have. However, I would rather be comfy in my bed. Good night.”
“We should organize a ball,” Juliet suggests brightly. “Have a little bit of fun.”
I settle into my seat, my legs stretching out beneath the long white linen tablecloth that covers my lap. Turning toward Juliet, who looks at me without disdain, I let my right palm rest on Davina’s thigh.
Her entire body stiffens, her fork clattering when she drops it on the plate.
I lift a brow. “Dancing?”
I’m not usually one for dancing, but the thought of Davina’s body moving with mine, pressed close together, suddenly makes the idea very tempting.
“Absolutely!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together. “Dancing is always a great idea, and your ballroom is magnificent, Your Highness.”
“It is,” I drawl, my fingertips tracing delicate circles on the white fabric of Davina’s dress as they crawl up her leg.
I pause when I feel something bulky. Her body tenses, and I realize she has what feels like a dagger strapped to her.
Grinning, I glance at her from my peripheral.
Such a devious little thing.
I let my hand slide upward until I press into the soft crease of her inner thigh, my knuckles brushing against the edge of her corset. My heart skips when her hand slams down on top of mine.
“Dancing sounds lovely,” she says, “as long as I don’t have to dance with the cocky prince.”
“Hostile, aren’t we?” I tighten my grip, a smirk spreading across my face. “How… thrilling .”
Her hand moves away from mine, and I dip my fingers in farther, leaning back in my chair as I reach for Rafe’s wine and bring it to my lips.
Suddenly her hand grazes my thigh, her fingertips brushing my cock. A cough whips through me, the wine burning as it runs down my throat. I’m half tempted to pick her up, throw her over my shoulder, and bring her somewhere private to push up her dress and bury my face?—
Her fist connects with my cock.
I bite my tongue, stifling a groan of pain.
“My diary is waiting for me,” she says with a sweet, innocent smile and a glance that avoids meeting my eyes. “Good night.”
Nora snorts. “Davina and her goddamn diary.”