The King and the Kindergarten Teacher (The Rebel Royals 1)

“That will ruin your appetite for the rest of the day.”

Leo looked up to see Giles looking down disapprovingly at the last bite of his cookie. Leo wasn’t usually prone to wanting treats or sweets. However, the last piece laying on the plate taunted him, causing his mouth to water with desire. He picked it up and devoured it in one bite.

“It’s just a one-time thing,” he said. “I won’t form a habit.”

The last bite was even sweeter and more satisfying. It lingered on his tongue, sticking to the insides of his teeth. He felt every bit of sugar as he swallowed. And then it was gone.

He felt the absence acutely, almost like a missing limb. But he had all his limbs and faculties about him. He looked back to the door where he’d last seen Esme. The need in his stomach migrated to somewhere north in the vicinity of his chest.

He’d never had these feelings before, this intense craving for … something. Perhaps it was due to his one too many years as a widow. He hadn’t engaged in female pleasures since the passing of his wife. He hadn’t had the time or inclination. There was always his duty to consider, and his reputation to uphold, and so he’d never indulged.

There had only been Isabel. They’d been engaged since he was six. He’d felt duty bound to her from the moment he understood that girls and boys were different and boys had certain urges. But his promise had been given, albeit by proxy. So, because he’d never felt free to have a taste test, he’d never even considered being with another woman.

He’d cared for his wife, as was his duty. But his heart had never fluttered or warmed at the thought of Isabel. Her taste had never lingered on his tongue, or set a trail as he swallowed her scent, or settled with sugary hooks in his belly.

“I wouldn’t begrudge you sowing your royal oats.”

It was Giles’s words more than the sound of his voice that jerked Leo back to the present.

“But,” Giles said, “not in front of the princess or Lady Teresa.”

Fire licked over the warmth in Leo’s gut. “You overstep your place, Giles. I take grave offense for you thinking I would ever do anything untoward in front of my own child.”

“You’re a man, majesty,” Giles said plainly.

“I thought I was a king.”

“And she is a commoner.”

Leo opened his mouth. Then closed it. He looked down at his empty plate. There were still a few brown crumbs on the white porcelain. His fingers itched to swipe them off the plate and into his mouth for just another hint of Esme.

“She’s also an American.” Giles ticked Esme’s disqualifications off on his fingers. “She’s a school teacher. She lacks any and all knowledge of royal life outside of children’s books. She has no qualifications to be a queen.”

“She makes Penelope smile.” Shouldn’t that be a factor in his decision of a wife? His child was his first priority. Shouldn’t her new stepmother be chosen with Pea in mind and not the entire country? “And she knows fractions. Mathematics is a necessity in our business.”

Giles ground his molars. His face pinched as he appeared to struggle to hold his tongue. It was an anomaly for them both. Leo never stepped an inch off his prescribed path. Giles had never had to scold him, not seriously.

Leo’s attraction to Esme was a serious matter. A matter that had no footing in the real world. Leo lifted his napkin to his mouth and dabbed at his lips, removing any excess crumbs from his face.

“Luckily, Lady Teresa excels at numbers and spreadsheets,” he said, placing the napkin over the remaining crumbs on his plate.

Giles breathed a sigh of relief.

There were a few crumbs on his shirt front. He brushed those away too. “Partnering with the Almodovars will be good for business.”

“Lady Teresa will be good for you,” said Giles. “That is, if you let her in.”

Let her in? Leo was prepared to entwine two powerful families. The contracts were being drawn as they spoke. She would have access to his empire. But he knew that wasn’t the access Giles spoke of.

“Cookies for breakfast?“ Alex came into the dining area, looking surprisingly put together. He

’d gone out before the dinner party was over and hadn’t slinked back into the suite until the early morning hours. “Is it my birthday or are people finally reading my memos?”

Alex swiped two cookies off the plate and plunked one and then the other into his mouth. “These are delicious.”

“Pea made them,” said Leo. He swatted at his brother’s hand before he could steal more. “Save some for your niece.”

“I’ll miss this American cuisine with their overuse of sugar and fats,” said Alex around a mouthful of a third cookie. “If I could snag an American baker for the Union Day pie competition, I’d be a shoe in against the Duke of Mondego and whatever French chef he brings in this year.”