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

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Jucar’s molars ground. His eyes cast down from his king, but they still burned a hole straight through Esme. He bowed his head to Leo. “We’ll pay for the damage, of course.”

“No,” said Esme. “It was my fault. I’ll pay for it.”

“No one’s paying for anything,” said Leo. “It was already in need of repair. I’ll take care of it. Everyone can go back to their business or their play.”

The Viscount practically cuffed his son as he stormed off. The staff pretended not to see as they dispersed. The other children trailed off, including Penelope. She gave a sad smile of regret to her father, and Leo’s heart twisted. Whatever joy had been in her eyes, in all the children’s eyes, was now gone after the display. Esme watched the scene with a cloud hovering over her beautiful face.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I was just trying to have some fun with them. They were cooped up inside, and I figured I could get some of that energy out before bedtime.”

Every fiber of his being urged him to go to her and take her in his arms, to tell her that she’d had good intentions. But good intentions weren’t enough in this realm. “You just have to realize this isn’t a fairytale, Esme. It’s the real world.”

She looked up at him then. Though there was a cloud of sadness over her, her eyes were as bright and hopeful as ever. Not a dragon truck, nor a decapitated stone dragon would ever deter this woman.

“I still believe there’s magic in ordinary things,” said Esme.

“So you slay a priceless dragon statue given to my family over a century ago?”

“A century ago? That sounds like it would be expensive.”

Leo nodded, and she cringed. The way her nose scrunched and her lips pursed made the butterflies in his stomach turn into raging wasps. They were desperate to get out, to get to her for a taste of what they knew was honey on those lips.

“Oh, Leo. I’m so sorry. You have to let me make up for it.”

“How? Should I lock you in a tower and throw away the key for a hundred years?”

She lifted one shoulder and tilted her head in a way that told him she was seriously considering it. So was he.

“There are worse fates,” she said.

That didn’t sound like an ill-fated idea at all. Keeping her captive sounded like the best idea he’d heard all day, all year, all his life.

A throat cleared behind Leo. Leo glanced over his shoulder and was startled to find Omar still standing there.

Leo cleared his own throat. He straightened his jacket, running his hands over his torso in a physical attempt to quiet the raging in his belly. “Just try to stay out of trouble, Ms. Pickett.”

“No more dragon hunts.” She put her right hand to her forehead and saluted. “You got it, your majesty.”

With a nod, Leo turned on his heel and headed inside. The silence from the marquis was deafening.

“What?” Leo growled when they were a distance away from Esme.

“Nothing,” said Omar.

“Right, it’s nothing.”

“Sure thing, Pinocchio.”

Chapter Twenty

Unlike Esme, Jan spent the afternoon testing the local cuisine with Prince Alex. She’d come back smelling of exotic spices and wearing a huge grin on her characteristically serious face. The two friends were in one of the three kitchens of the castle when Mrs. Dolevitt happened upon them with the head chef in tow.

The man in the pristine white apron had blinked and rubbed his eyes when he saw that the delectable smell was coming from the machinations of a female chef. More and more, Esme was learning that certain parts of this enchanted kingdom were still in the dark ages when it came to women’s equality.

But, as the saying goes, a way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. So, after a taste test, the chef invited Jan up to the big kitchen to help with the dessert for tonight’s state dinner. Esme tagged along, hoping to catch a glimpse of a certain royal.

“We’ll mix a little cumin and cinnamon, with a dash of cayenne,” said Jan, tossing in a couple of pinches and a dash of the spices.

“That’s new,” said Esme. “Sweet and spicy all in one dessert pie. This place has broadened your imagination.”



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