For the first few moments, before he stopped to remove his shirt, Rhiane had been hesitant. She was very much like a child who got exactly what they asked for as a present on their birthday, after their parents told them 'No' many times, and they regarded the object of their desires with mixed excitement and disbelief. The princess elect had thought he might still be toying with her. As far as she could tell from their dip on the remote island he hadn't been particularly enthralled by her physique before. Sophia and her predecessors were all noblewomen that were ethereal beauties. While the farmer had been absolutely certain of her appeal to both the middle and lower class she thought perhaps she was too sensual, too vulgar, too far outside the norm for a prince to find physically enticing. She had braced herself for him to pull back from the kiss and make a joke. There was no mischievous laugh or cruel jab.

Had the whispers in her ear not convinced her of his sincerity then the way he no longer held himself back certainly did. With a leap of faith she met him with her lips and bare flesh. The last twenty-four hours had been harrowing. Since the moment that a creature stepped into the path of their vehicle and sent them careening into a ravine she had been a pale imitation of herself. Though she had not died it seemed as if the life had bled away from her soul. Gone was her stubborn zeal, her charismatic smile, her incredible pride, and her aura of confidence. The former farmer had been a hollow shell going through the motions with the hope imitation would be sufficient. Luke had breathed the smoldering intensity of her back into being when he had embraced her.

For two hours they explored one another on the lavish bed. Sheets had only gotten in their way and been discarded though the pillows had been allowed to stay. It was not like any experience Rhiane had before. She found herself aggressively greedy for him, enough she could not be content with a mere half an hour or even an hour, pulling him back or taking the initiative when he paused, possibly out of concern for her health. The room was filled with her gasps and her ecstatic cries. Luce Viscomi had thought to visit them when she had heard they had been served breakfast but quickly turned away once she heard the sounds carrying through the door. The walls muffled noise by design but no system was perfect, especially when someone was on the threshold, which she had been with her hand on the locked knob.

When they had first met Rhiane had quietly feared that they would not be compatible but she found reality to be quite the opposite; now that she had a taste of intimacy with Luke she could not imagine how she could not compare all others to him. She was surprised at her own enthusiasm and that she did not have to feign joy to protect his ego- something she had done before for a man that was inexperienced and arrogant. Each entanglement was thrilling, inviting, and hypnotizing, and made the personality flaws her partner held a more distant memory. Her only real frustration were the limitations of the arm on which she could not put any weight. Had they the time and privacy she might have kept her fiance captive the entire day. It was her fading strength, mitigated by restless sleep and lack of food, and the time constraints that made her reluctantly relent her grasp.

There was no denying the princess elect was a mess. She had rolled on her stomach, her hair damp and plastered to her back, and let out a low groan as she fought the temptation to go to sleep. Now that she had been thoroughly and completely distracted from her guilt she sleepy but also incredibly hungry. Her stomach growled for attention though she didn't move to heed its calls. Rhiane was loathe to do anything but bask in the glow of what had just happened. It was very possible that Luke would not indulge her as he did again, that his feelings would shift, that he would regret and do everything in his power from having history repeat itself. To concede they could not stay forever felt like surrender or defeat. Like a petulant child she wanted to shirk her responsibilities for personal gratification.

"I still need to wash my hair," she sighed miserably into the mattress. Of course it wasn't just bathing. To be a functional adult that wouldn't be executed by Queen Camilla for abdication of her duties she also had to eat, be examined by the doctors to make sure she was healing, review their schedule, have someone help her dress, and find a way to apply make-up with only one hand and no beautician in sight. None of this was made easier by the fact she couldn't expose herself to the royal bodyguards unless she wanted them to have them confirm with their eyes what suspicions they had about exactly what the betrothed couple did and how. Rhiane was not embarrassed but she was smug and wanted to keep all the details for herself. This was not a victory she was willing to share.