Instead of shirking away, Ele approached Tristan. She’d imagined this meeting hundreds of times over the last two months. She had no idea it would take place in America. In some of her more wild imaginings, she’d envisioned sending Robert for him in the middle of the night and bringing him to Coventry Castle, an isolated holding in the wilds of the mountains. Ingress and egress were difficult, so you didn’t go there unless you had time to spare. And she would want time to spend with him. She blinked away the thought and tried to focus on the fact that he was right here, a mere twelve inches between them.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” she began. She wanted to turn him toward her, so she could look at him, but he seemed content to face the window, so she went with it. “I owe you an apology for the way we parted at St. Peter’s.” The script in her head directed her to lay it all out there, to tell him everything. But the thought of exposure proved too much. “Not many people have seen me experience a panic attack, and I didn’t handle the revelation well.”
Tristan remained statue-like, giving nothing away, even as he seemed to be waiting for something. As the silence stretched, Ele shifted uncomfortably. For as happy as she had been to see him at her door, she’d expected more of a connection between them, and the lack of it saddened her. Maybe she had built it up in her head. Those stolen kisses must have been all her, and the liquid heat of desire she could conjure with just the thought of him appeared now to have been one-sided. Disappointment knifed through her.
Pasting a bland smile on her face, she offered an out. “I hope you’ll accept my apology.” When he continued to glance out the window, she turned to him. “I know you have a lot going on.” Her dismissive tone indicated the meeting was over. “Robert will see you out.”
Shifting away from him, she moseyed to the door. As she reached for the knob, Tristan grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her away from it. She faced him, startled but curious.
Immediately, he released her, like her wrist was hot and he’d burned his hand. “Is that all?” he challenged.
No! she wanted to scream. It’s not all. I want to experience all of those feelings again. The desire, the security, the rightness of being around you. But she merely stared at him.
“What do you mean?” she said instead, a complete copout.
He sighed, in frustration maybe. “This is a lot of trouble to go through to apologize. You could have found me at home. You didn’t have to fly halfway around the world to have this conversation.”
“I couldn’t have done this at home.”
His creased brow indicated his disbelief. “Really?”
“You are the most conspicuous footballer in our country. Was I just supposed to show up at your flat? Or maybe at the pitch? Or was I supposed to call you on a mobile?”
“Any or all of those.”
“Right. Because I could just grab a taxi. Or you know, have Robert arrange for security to clear your building. Or enter the stadium with forty thousand other people and wait by the changing room door with wife and girlfriend wannabes? Or perhaps I should have crashed one of your hotel rooms? Exactly how does the crown princess—the spare—gain access to you?”
“Apparently by hitching a ride to America with the football delegation.”
She’d been trying to get him to understand the difficulties of her station, but instead, it just seemed to piss him off, an emotion she didn’t think he engaged in often. She’d apologized. What more did he want?
“I owe you so much for that day. And instead of expressing my gratitude, I was rude and dismissive. Coming here gave me the opportunity to say I was sorry.”
She’d been trying to understand what had happened at St. Peter’s the day she met Tristan. She’d suffered one of the worst panic attacks of her life, but it’d loosened something inside of her head. She couldn’t explain it, but she was braver, less cognizant of the time and less afraid of what was going on around her. She was ready for Tristan in a way she hadn’t been when she met him. Although she wanted to say that, she wasn’t sure what it would look like or if he would even consider her like that.
“And that’s it?” His gaze met hers before dropping to her mouth.
Like a practiced response, her lips parted before her bottom lip was trapped between her teeth as she attempted to stem her desire to have his mouth on hers. His eyes snapped back to hers, and he shuffled a step away from her.
“No,” she said softly.
“No what?”
With their eyes locked, she wondered if she had the courage, the fortitude to see this through. She wanted so badly to take a risk and she knew if she didn’t seize this time with him, she would always regret it. But taking the leap—suggesting what she wanted, putting her desire into words—required a boldness she was having a hard time finding.
“Come on, Princess,” he cajoled.
Somehow, he knew, but he was going to make her ask, to put it into words. She wanted to be annoyed and angry with him; instead, she found she appreciated his apparent confidence in her ability to give voice to her wants.
He stepped closer to her, just out of reach but close enough for his scent to invade her nostrils, for her to see the challenge in his eyes. Although he’d seen her at her weakest moment, he didn’t think she was weak. He believed in her strength. She shifted infinitesimally closer without meaning to, her body obviously making decisions for her brain.
“That’s it, Your Highness,” he teased.
She reached out, her hand suddenly on his jaw, the tiny bristles of stubble rough against her smooth palm. He closed his eyes and breathed out in relief. Her thumb caressed the corner of his mouth. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her and pull her closer, to make the move for her, but she knew he wasn’t going to. Taking what she wanted was going to be her greatest act of surrender.
Instead of a shift, an ambiguous movement, Ele boldly hastened closer. Tristan grinned. Her opposite hand landed on his neck and circled his nape, her fingers spreading along the graduated cut of his hair. She glanced up at the dyed tips and smiled.
“Nice hair,” she remarked.