CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Asher
Ash awoke to the sensation that he’d been jabbed in the back with dozens of rough, sharp points. His eyes fluttered open, and he realized where he’d been napping. In the cemetery, with Bailey. Judging from the sun’s position in the sky, it was late afternoon. Bailey lay against his chest, nestled into the crook of his shoulder.
Someone cleared his throat, and Ash spotted a member of the Florican guard several feet away. “Your Highness. The crowd has cleared. If you’re ready to return to the palace, we should not have a problem.”
Asher nodded. “Give us a minute.”
The guard departed, and Ash turned to Bailey, ready to wake her. But then he took in the beautiful, sleeping woman curled beside him. Her long lashes rested against her high cheekbones. She’d pressed her perfect ass against him as she’d slept. It took all his restraint not to touch her—to feel her tantalizing shape through her clothes.
He’d never spent so much time staring at a woman as he had Bailey. He wasn’t exactly sure why, unless it was to memorize her. He’d need to remember . . . once he’d said goodbye.
“Bailey.” He nudged her shoulder, but she snuggled in deeper. She laid her small palm low on his stomach. Lord, she was a little too close to home. He could feel the heat from her hand through his thin cotton shirt. It was distracting to say the least. “Bailey, wake up.” He shook her shoulder more firmly.
She blinked. And opened her eyes, incrementally, as though taking her time would let her sleep longer. Was that the way she woke up every morning? Ash wanted to know.
He wanted to know what she looked like when she went to bed. How rumpled her hair was when she awoke. The exact facial expressions he might engender in her when he convinced her to stay in bed longer. Her response if he—
“Ash. Oh God, did I just fall asleep?” Bailey’s hands flew to her cheeks as she scooted to an upright position. “I’m so sorry.”
“There’s no need to apologize. I did, as well. Though I am certain I’ll have an imprint from this tree on my back for the rest of my life.”
He climbed to his feet and helped Bailey do the same. Once she’d brushed herself off, Ash cupped her cheek, running his thumb along her cheekbone. “How are you?”
Bailey reached up and touched his hand, holding it there. “I’m better. Thanks to you. I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you.” After a moment, he dropped his hand, but she kept her fingers wound in his.
“Don’t be. We’re friends, aren’t we? We’ve been through so much together.”
She flashed an easy smile. “Thanks for listening.” She glanced up into his face and he would have sworn an entire universe of possibilities lit up her eyes. Life with Bailey would be different. Relaxed. He could be himself with her. Always.
He couldn’t say the same about Lady Kovačič.
But Bailey wasn’t an heiress and his duty was to his family’s legacy. Royals weren’t the ones who got happy endings. Fairytales were almost always written from the commoner’s point of view.
With all of his resolve, he released her, tearing his eyes from the hurt expression on her face.
Ash led Bailey toward the car, where they easily slipped inside. As the driver turned the key in the ignition, Ash glanced at the clock. At least four hours had passed. So that was all he’d have to do if he wanted to avoid the press—wait them out for several hours. He’d have to remember that.
Bailey leaned into him as the limo cruised through the Florican streets unencumbered. “Thank you. Thank you for bringing me here. For today.”
“Would you mind if we made one more stop today? It won’t be a long one.”
“Sure.” He looped his arm around her shoulders, not caring that he was holding her close for the second time that afternoon. He was comforting her. Surely, it would be rude to sit on opposite sides of the limo after the conversation they’d just had.
The drive was brief, only fifteen minutes or so. Once they’d returned to the palace, Ash led Bailey out one of the side doors. Together, they moved into the gardens. Bailey paused at the queen’s green phallic symbol.
“An unfortunate butterfly,” Ash said. “Best to put it out of your mind.”
She smiled but didn’t comment. “As you wish, Your Highness.”
Ash grinned, and led her to a small gate at the far end of the garden, which he unlatched, letting it swing open. He held out his hand. “This.”
Together, they traveled a path, which only went a few feet beyond the fence. Ash stopped.
“Now, look.”
Bailey gasped. The sea lay spread out before them. Pale, azure water met fine, white sand. They could see for miles in every direction. “This is breathtaking.”
“I could say the same.” Ash kept his voice soft, but her eyes flashed to his. She’d definitely heard him. What was he doing? His relationship with Bailey was supposed to be all for show. He wasn’t supposed to get involved.
He closed his eyes for a moment. When he reopened them, he shook his head, trying to regain his control. Or what was left of it, anyway. “Have a seat.”
Bailey turned and discovered a hand-carved bench resting against a wall of rock. It’d been formed from a series of logs, cut at the right height for a wayward wanderer searching for the perfect view. She touched her fingers to the small plaque above it.
It read: For Vanessa, who will always be my woman, before my queen. Yours, Arthur
Her hand went to her chest. “Your grandfather did this?”
Ash nodded. “Yes.”
“This is so beautiful. My heart hurts.” She faced Ash, the backdrop of the breathtaking sea behind her.
The rest of the words he’d planned disappeared before they could cross his lips. It was a toss-up, really—whether Bailey or the view held more beauty.
No, Bailey was the clear winner.
Yet, there was something he needed to say. Bailey had bared her soul to him, and though she hadn’t asked for it, this desperate need to do the same filled him. “You know my reputation as a playboy of sorts.”
Bailey nodded. She took a seat.
“That image of myself, the one I put out there. It’s because of this.” He patted the weathered bench, joining her.
“I don’t understand.”
Ash took her hand in his. “It’s what this bench represents. My grandparents’ love. If you walk farther, you’ll find one my father made for my mother.” He sat in silence. “The love they had was everywhere. It filled every aspect of my life. As a child, it made me feel safe. As an adult, well, it’s a lot to live up to.”
She leaned back, settling in, and waited for more.
“All of my life, I’ve been afraid of marrying a woman I could never have that kind of a connection with. Or worse, having a marriage in name only. Grandmother abolished the marriage law five years ago, so I wouldn’t end up in an arranged marriage. But it would have almost been better. That way, my choice would be out of my hands, at least.”
“Now the choice has to be yours alone. You don’t want to make the wrong one.”
Ash nodded. “It was easier to spend time with experienced, consenting women who wouldn’t expect anything of me. But it was just sex mixed with fond affection. I’ve never loved them.”
“And you wonder if you’re even capable of love.” Bailey squeezed his hand, sending more heat through him, more want than he’d ever imagined possible.
“Yes.” Ash gripped her hands in his. Of course she would understand. “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever done, and I suppose I keep repeating it. Again and again.”
“I don’t think it sounds bad.” She stared into his eyes and held them. He couldn’t have looked away, even for a heartbeat’s worth of time. “I think it sounds lonely.”
Lonely. She couldn’t have been more wrong. He wasn’t lonely. He had people around him all the time. But none of them knew him the way Bailey did.
“Of course, if you bring all of these women up here, you probably aren’t lonely often. This is beautiful, Asher. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything like it before.” She stared out toward the sea, running her hand along the smooth arm of the bench as she did so.
“I’ve never brought anyone else here.” He blurted it out before he could stop himself. Ash didn’t care. He wanted Bailey to know she was the only woman he’d ever shared this place with. “I suppose I was waiting for the right person to share it with.”
“You think I’m that person?” Her eyes lit.
He was misleading her, he knew. If things had been any different, then he would’ve leaned in and kissed Bailey. But they weren’t. The truth was, he needed an heiress. It was his only chance to save his family’s name.
But an heiress wasn’t what he wanted.
What he wanted was Ms. Bailey Parker.
Before Ash could stop himself, he leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers. The act was gentle, smooth, and so, so right. He didn’t allow himself more contact, in case Bailey didn’t want him.
But she reached up, gripped his shoulders, and guided him closer. He slid his arms around her, threading his fingers through her hair, cupping the base of her head in his hand. She fit in his arms as though she’d been made for him. He kissed her again and she parted her lips, giving him access to explore, and explore he did. At a painstakingly slow pace, Ash swept his tongue inside Bailey’s mouth, tasting, exploring. A small sigh eased from her throat, as their lips met again and again in introduction.
She trailed her fingers inside the neck of his shirt, teasing his collarbone, sending heat shooting through him, beginning at the points where her lithe fingers seared his skin and never ending. He tore his mouth from hers, grazing her neck with his lips, running them over the smooth surface of her neck to her ear. He drew her earlobe into his mouth, giving it a soft suck, a gentle tug.
Bailey in his arms was his nirvana, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted her closer, to feel her skin on his, to deepen their kiss until they drove one another insane. He tugged her onto his lap, not caring that she’d feel him, and know just how much he wanted her. He’d been hard from the instant she’d arrived, maybe even before.
She sighed, opening her mouth against his, letting him slide his tongue inside, allowing him access. He traced his hand up her spine, pulling her ever closer so her breasts pressed against his chest.
Ash wanted her straddling him. Naked. But this was just a kiss, could only ever be a kiss.
He cupped her right breast, running the pad of his thumb over her already firm nipple, teasing her through the fabric. Bailey gasped, pressing closer, pushing down on his obvious erection. God, it was more than he could bear. He had to end it immediately, before he relieved them both of their clothes.
Asher broke the kiss. He stared hard at Bailey, taking in her reddening chin (a by-product of the scrape of his five o’clock shadow on her delicate skin) and her mussed hair. Her chest rose and fell as she regarded him, breathless.
His memories of long text sessions with Bailey, making her laugh, holding her as she cried, all came back. Bailey listened to him, understood him when no one else had. Most important, when he was with her, his loneliness seeped away. Somehow, in a place where he’d thought he’d never bring any woman, and in a life where he’d thought he’d never find anyone, he’d done both of those things.
Ash had fallen in love with Bailey Parker. It was the very worst thing he could have done.