CHAPTER 10
Betty
The private jet to Solmarina was every bit as ridiculous as the one that had brought me to Valdoria, except now I had to share it with my husband.
My husband. The words still tasted strange, like biting into what you thought was chocolate and discovering it was actually carob. Technically edible, but a disappointment on every level.
Three days had passed since the revelation in the library.
Three days since Peter had transformed into Prince Archibald like some kind of reverse Cinderella.
Three days of a wedding I barely remembered, a reception I'd survived on autopilot, and a wedding night spent in separate rooms while the entire palace pretended not to notice.
Now we were trapped in a flying tin can together for the next several hours, and Archie was treating me with the kind of careful politeness usually reserved for unexploded ordnance.
He sat across from me, reviewing documents with the kind of focus that suggested they contained the secrets of the universe rather than whatever boring diplomatic nonsense princes had to deal with.
His handwriting was annoyingly elegant. Even the way he held his pen was annoyingly elegant. Everything about him was annoying.
Including the fact that he still looked unfairly attractive in his traveling clothes, a navy sweater that probably cost more than my car and trousers that fit him in ways I was absolutely not noticing.
I turned back to the window and watched clouds drift past, which was only slightly more interesting than pretending my new husband didn't exist.
"The islands come into view soon," he said eventually, his first words to me since we'd boarded.
"Thrilling."
"The staff at the palace will have prepared your rooms. I thought you'd prefer to maintain our current sleeping arrangements."
"Our current sleeping arrangements being complete avoidance of each other? Yes, that sounds delightful. Really capturing that newlywed magic."
He set down his pen with a controlled movement that suggested he was working very hard to maintain his composure. Good. I hoped his composure was having a terrible time.
"Betty, we're going to have to figure out how to coexist for six months."
"Coexist. What a romantic word. I should embroider it on a pillow. 'Welcome to our home, where we coexist.'"
"This was never supposed to be romantic."
"No, you're right. Romance would have required honesty, and we've established that's not really your thing."
His pen tapped against the armrest three times before he caught himself and stopped. "I've apologized. Multiple times. I know it doesn't fix what I did, but I'm not sure what else you want from me."
"I don't know either." The admission slipped out before I could stop it. "I don't know what I want. Except maybe a time machine so I could go back and not develop feelings for my lying riding instructor."
Something shifted in his expression. "You developed feelings for me?"
"I developed feelings for Peter. The jury's still out on Prince Archibald."
"They're the same person."
"Are they? Because Peter made me laugh and listened to me complain about croissant torture and looked at me like I was a person instead of a political problem. Prince Archibald lied to my face for days and let me stress about meeting him while knowing the whole time that I already had."
"Fair point." He was quiet for a moment. "For what it's worth, Peter liked you too. Very much."
"Peter doesn't exist."
"Peter is who I am when I'm not being the prince. He's the version of me that gets to have opinions and make jokes and care about things that don't involve treaty negotiations." He leaned forward slightly. "Peter is real. He's just not the whole picture."
I didn't have a response to that, so I went back to staring out the window.
The silence stretched between us, thick with all the things we weren't saying. I was acutely aware of every sound he made, every rustle of paper, every shift in his seat. The cabin suddenly seemed much smaller than it had when we'd boarded.
"Can I ask you something?" he said after a while.
"You can ask. I reserve the right to respond with hostility."
"Noted." A hint of something that might have been amusement crossed his face. "At the reception, when we were descending the staircase, you smiled at me. Just for a second, before you remembered you were angry. It looked real."
"It wasn't."
"It looked real."
"Fine. Maybe for one second I forgot that you were the worst and remembered that you were..." I trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.
"That I was what?"
"Someone I liked. Someone I thought I could maybe learn to love, given enough time and enough lattes.
" I turned to face him properly. "That's what makes this so hard.
I was actually looking forward to meeting Prince Archibald.
I'd convinced myself that maybe he'd be decent.
Maybe we could make this work. And then I walked into that library and discovered that the only person in this whole ridiculous situation who'd made me feel hopeful was the same person who'd been lying to me all along. "
He was quiet, processing that. When he spoke again, his voice was softer.
"I didn't set out to deceive you. I just wanted to see who you were without the complications of titles and expectations.
By the time I realized I was falling for you, I'd already dug myself into a hole I didn't know how to climb out of. "
"You could have tried honesty. Revolutionary concept, I know."
"I tried. Multiple times. Something always interrupted."
"That's convenient."
"It's the truth." He ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration that was entirely too attractive. "I know you don't believe me, and I know I don't deserve your trust. But I'm asking you to give me a chance to earn it back."
"Why should I?"
"Because I think we could be good together. Not just as political partners, but as actual partners. And because whether you want to admit it or not, you felt something for me in those stables. Something real."
The annoying part was that he was right. I still felt something real, even now, even furious, even trapped on a plane with a man who'd made me feel like an idiot.
The physical awareness hadn't gone away just because I'd learned his real name. If anything, it had gotten worse. Now when I looked at him, I saw both Peter and Archie layered together, and the combination was infuriatingly appealing.
"I'm not saying I forgive you," I said finally.
"I'm not asking you to. Not yet."
"And I'm not saying I trust you."
"That's fair."
"But I guess I'm willing to... coexist. For now. In a hostile, suspicious kind of way."
"I'll take hostile and suspicious over complete silence."
"Don't push your luck."
The pilot's voice came over the intercom, announcing our approach to Solmarina. I turned back to the window, grateful for the distraction.
The islands that came into view were nothing like what I'd expected.
I'd been picturing something gray and imposing, all dramatic cliffs and medieval fortifications.
Instead, I was looking down at what appeared to be a postcard come to life: white sand beaches, crystal blue water, and clusters of buildings in every shade of blue and white imaginable.
"It's gorgeous," I admitted grudgingly.
"The main island is where the palace is located. The royal family has lived there for eight hundred years."
"Eight hundred years of Solmarian royalty. That's a lot of accumulated stuffiness."
"You'd be surprised. Solmarina is actually quite progressive by European standards. We have universal healthcare, strong environmental protections, and my mother only threatens to have people executed on special occasions."
I glanced at him to see if he was joking. The slight quirk at the corner of his mouth suggested he was, but with royalty, you could never be entirely sure.
"Your mother. The queen." The reality of my situation hit me fresh. "I'm about to meet my mother-in-law. Who is an actual queen."
"She's looking forward to meeting you."
"Is she? Or is she looking forward to assessing whether the American barista is going to embarrass her country?"
"Probably both. She's efficient like that."
"Fantastic."
The landing was smooth, and within minutes we were being escorted off the plane by yet another security detail in expensive suits.
The Solmarina team wore slightly different colors than the Valdorian one, but they had the same general air of people who could kill you with their pinky fingers if the situation required it.
A convoy of black cars waited on the tarmac, engines running. Archie gestured for me to get into the lead car, and I slid across the leather seat, grateful to be out of the Mediterranean heat.
When Archie settled beside me, the spacious interior suddenly seemed considerably less spacious. I was acutely aware of how close he was sitting, of the way his cologne mixed with something that was just him, of the heat radiating from his body in the air-conditioned space.
This was going to be a long six months if I couldn't even share a car with him without my nervous system staging a revolt.
"The drive takes about twenty minutes," he said, adjusting his cufflinks in a gesture that drew my attention to his hands.
I remembered those hands from the stables. The way they'd guided mine on the reins. The way they'd steadied me when I'd dismounted. The way they'd almost touched my face by the fountain before we'd been interrupted.
I looked away quickly, annoyed at myself for noticing. Annoyed at him for having nice hands. Annoyed at the entire situation.
"Betty," he said, and something in his tone made me turn back. "I know this is hard. I know I made it harder by handling everything so badly. But I want you to know that whatever else happens between us, I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you're happy here."
"Why?"