The Millionaire's Royal Rescue

“I’m glad you approve. So it’s a date?”

The startled look on Grayson’s face alerted Annabelle to her slip of the tongue. She inwardly groaned. If only it were possible to go back in time, she would. In a heartbeat.

CHAPTER TWELVE

A DATE?

Was she serious?

Grayson’s heart was lodged in his throat. Sure they’d had some fun this evening, well, pretty much all day. He hadn’t even minded playing the part of her horse for the races. But this was going further than he’d intended.

Granted, he probably shouldn’t have given in to his urge to tickle her—to hear her laugh, but hindsight was always twenty-twenty. And then he’d made things worse by kissing her. Or was it that she’d kissed him? It was all a bit jumbled in his mind.

He got up and backed away from Annabelle. Some distance would help them both think clearly. He hoped.

Because there was no way he was dating her—or anyone. He’d sworn off relationships after Abbi had died in that car crash. He couldn’t make himself that vulnerable again. He couldn’t go through the pain of losing yet another person who he loved.

“I...I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea,” he stammered. His heart was pounding so hard now that it was echoing in his ears.

“I didn’t.” She glanced away and started straightening up the papers. “It was just a slip of the tongue. Honest.”

He wanted to believe her, but he recalled the intensity of their kiss. And it sure wasn’t just him who had been into it. She’d been a driving force that had kicked up the flames of desire.

Perhaps it was time to straighten a few things out between them. He certainly didn’t want her to get the wrong idea and end up getting hurt.

“Annabelle, we need to talk.”

“About the note?”

He shook his head. The hopeful look on her face fell and he knew that he was on dangerous ground. One wrong word or look and things would go downhill quickly.

“Listen, Annabelle, I think I gave you the wrong impression.” Boy, this was harder than he’d thought it would be. And with her staring right at him, he struggled to find the right words. “I didn’t mean to imply with that kiss that there could be anything between us. I...I just got caught up in the moment.”

Her gaze narrowed in on him and he prepared himself for her wrath. He was certain that someone as beautiful, fun and engaging as her was not used to being rejected—not that he was rejecting her. He was just letting her know that he wasn’t emotionally available. And he didn’t know if he ever would be.

Annabelle got to her feet. “I didn’t think that this,” she waved her hand at the couch, “was a prelude to marriage. I may be a bit sheltered thanks to my father and my uncle, but even I am not naive. Or perhaps that’s what you’re worried about, my father and uncle forcing you to marry me.” Her eyes grew dark and the room grew distinctly chilly. “Trust me. That would not happen. I wouldn’t allow it. And I’m sorry you think so little of me.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

She turned her back to him and began gathering all of the papers. Oh, boy, had he made a mess of things. Where had the smiling and laughing Annabelle gone? And how did he get her back?

He jammed his fingers through his hair. “Annabelle, that isn’t what I meant. It’s just that, well, I’m not ready for anything serious. And I didn’t want you to get the wrong impression. I like you, but that’s all it can ever be.”

With all of her papers and pens gathered, she straightened. Her guarded gaze met his. “Thank you for sorting it out. I’ll make sure that nothing like that ever happens again. And now, I’m going to bed. Alone.”

When she started toward the door, he called out, “But what about the note?”

She paused and for a moment he wasn’t sure she was going to say anything, but then she turned back to him. “That’s not your problem. I appreciate what you’ve done. But I won’t be needing your assistance going forward.”

“Annabelle, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

She turned and marched out the door.

Great! Could he have made more of a mess of things?

Frustration balled up in his gut. He felt like throwing something. He’d never felt this sort of overwhelming sense of failure. He’d meant to protect Annabelle and instead he’d done the exact opposite.

Energy built up in his body and he needed to expunge it. But when he glanced around, he knew this was not the place to take out his emotions. This palace was more exotic than any museum he’d ever visited. He might be rich, but he’d be willing to guess that most of the pieces in this room were priceless. He needed to get out of here.