It wasn’t as if he wanted a relationship with her, Artur thought as he spotted a flash of her red dress through the crowd. They had decided long ago that they made better friends. But she had ideas. She knew how to get this society crowd behind one of her plans—and when it came time to put in the labor, she was willing to roll up her sleeves and help.
Tatyana appeared at his elbow while he was still thinking about her.
“How’s it going?” She looked pink-cheeked and happy, in her element at the gala. “You’ve really been working the room.”
He couldn’t help but mirror her happy smile. “There are many people here with excellent ideas about how we can improve relations between the citizens and the royal family. I’m trying to drink in as much of it as possible.”
“Maybe you should think about having a real drink, before you get parched.” Tatyana’s eyes sparkled. “Shall I get us something from the bar?”
He pretended to be shocked. “You think I can drink on the job? Shame on you.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “I know you can drink on the job. It’s hard to miss your face in the tabloids, you know.”
From somewhere off to the side, a camera shutter clicked. He half-registered that someone was capturing the moment, and he wondered how he looked, gazing down at Tatyana like this, laughing with her, leaning in close.
Then a movement snagged his attention. It was Amy, in her navy blue maternity gown, giving him a little wave over Tatyana’s shoulder. She had concern written all over her face.
And just like that, those old memories of Tatyana fled his mind like they had never been there at all. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “Excuse me,” he said. “I think there’s a matter that needs my attention.”
“Of course, of course.” Tatyana didn’t stop him as he moved past her, making a beeline for Amy.
“What’s wrong?” He resisted the urge to put a hand out on her belly.
“It’s your cousin, Ruslan. He’s—” She gestured back toward the dessert table. “We were talking, and—” Amy quickly outlined the rather sad conversation she’d had with the boy. “I wish I knew a way to make him feel better, or at least help him have more fun, but I thought maybe you were the person to do that.”
He looked over her shoulder and spotted Ruslan half-hidden behind the table, clearly still sulking. “I feel for him. I really do.” Artur looked back into Amy’s blue eyes. “But he’s right that leaving isn’t an option. He needs to stick the party out.”
Her brows drew together in confusion.
“It’s not an easy life,” he went on. “But the struggle is what made me the man I am today.”
Amy looked skeptical. “All those parties on private yachts must have been so difficult.”
“Before those parties,” he said, leaning in closer to breathe in the scent of her skin. “Ever since I was years younger than Ruslan is now, I had to sit through events like this. It was part of my duty as a member of the royal family. We serve the public, even when it’s not what we want to be doing. And I’ll admit, I strayed a bit—but I’m back where I belong now. Doing my duty—just like Ruslan is.”
She gave a nod, seeming to decide something, then stepped back. Her smile was different—strange, somehow—and he recognized it after a moment as her PR smile. “All of this is good to know,” Amy said.
He wasn’t sure if it was
a good thing or a bad thing, but as Amy turned away to circulate through the room, he caught her by the wrist, pulled her close, and pressed a quick kiss to her temple. “I’ll go give him a pep talk. All right?”
“Good,” she said, but her voice sounded far away. “That’s good.”
13
The last leg of the tour ended with a rather subdued ride back through the Stolvenian countryside on one of those summer days that reminded Artur of being young. The memory was bittersweet. Their caravan went past little town after little town, and Amy’s head dropped back against the seat as she nodded off. She hadn’t said much since the gala.
He couldn’t tell, exactly, what it was that had her so quiet. Was it the fact that she hadn’t been able to engineer a whirlwind romance between him and one of those women? They had all been intelligent and beautiful and given him a new outlook on what it meant to be a prince, but at the end of the day, he still wanted Amy—more than he’d have imagined possible at the beginning of all this.
Amy excused herself the minute they returned to the palace. Artur wanted to follow her, but from the set of her shoulders he decided it would be better to give himself the evening off. He wanted to sort through his pictures. The day had been set aside for travel, so no one bothered him as he downloaded the photos to his computer.
There were so many of Amy. More than he remembered taking. There wasn’t a bad one in the bunch—the light seemed drawn to her, to illuminate her from the inside out, almost.
Now, that was an idea.
Artur closed out the photos on his computer and picked up the phone. There was a team of photographers attached to the royal family who had been thoroughly vetted and understood the need for discretion, and he knew Yana was the right woman for the job. She answered his call on the first ring.
“Prince Artur,” she said, her voice warm and welcoming. “You’re not thinking of traveling again, are you?”