“I’m sorry,” he sighed against her hair, because there was nothing else to say but that he was sorry for making her wait, for making her entertain thoughts about the possibilities between him and Anelle, for making her suffer alone in her room as she fought off the demons that plagued her restless sleep. The prince gathered the peasant closer into his warmth and comforted her the best way he can until she drifted off to sleep. And somehow it comforted him too to know that his presence chased away her fears, that perhaps deep inside, though they were equally stubbornly independent individuals, she needed him. What scared him was the slow realization that she needed her as well. 

The Luke his mother raised was not like that. He would not say that he was sorry, he would not keep a woman with so much baggage, hell, he would not share a bed with a woman only to literally sleep the night away. What the few weeks with Rhiane had done to him was terrifying. Without her knowing, she was slowly peeling off the layers of the prince that hid the man that he was – not a royal, but a person. It made him weak, and yet just like the few hours at the Late Night, he enjoyed the freedom of being able to truly live without rules and without expectations. The flings he had in the past, though it distracted him from his royal obligations and the pressure his title carried, expected him to be the crown prince and not Luke. His clothing, his posture, his hairstyle, his perfume, his manners, his words – it had to be fitting of the title. It was how he knew to live his life until that night. Until the careless betting and friendly banters, the drinks they offered freely, with strangers who expected nothing from him, because they had next to nothing compared to him.

But the night was ending and soon it will be dawn. The alcohol in his veins pulled him closer and closer to the edge of consciousness until he could no longer hold on to his musings. Lying on the cheap mattress with a peasant girl in his arms, the future king contemplated what could he have missed all his life.

[hr]

A soft knock and a gentle voice roused Luke form his slumber. His brows furrowed; eyelids still heavy. It felt like sands were in his eyes and a jackhammer in his head. He did not get roaring drunk, but enough of the substance in his system made his head hurt like a hangover but not really. He groaned and rolled over so he was lying on his back. A weight pressed against his shoulder stopped him from rolling himself to a sitting position. Then he remembered where he was.

Luke forced his eyes to crack open. Shafts of the morning light slanted from the shuttered window. He surveyed the room, which was nothing like the room she briefly had in the palace. This was a reflection of her personality, of the things she liked and the things that pleased her eyes. Her old room in the capital had no such thing. Not even a photo of her as a child. Then his head turned to the weight that kept him on the bed. There she was. Rhiane was still curled against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her hair fanned around her.

“Rhi,” the voice from beyond the door tried again. “Rhi, your staff is waiting outside.” The team must have headed out early in the morning knowing that the prince and his betrothed didn’t have decent clothing with them. They had to dress Rhiane, put on her make-up, do her hair, discuss the itinerary, among other preparations. Luke wouldn’t want any assistance, as usual, except maybe with his hair. But the new day had come and they had better get up to greet it or Anelle would demand it from them herself. The plan was to setup tents outside the property since neither her nor Luke had gotten express permission from the family to use the barn or the vacant area of the farm as their preparation area. Although he had the power to demand it, doing so would make his image unpleasant for Sebastian. Luke had yet spoken with the foreigner about the password of the drive.

Luke turned on his side once more. A finger beneath her chin gently lifted her still sleeping face up at an angle that satisfied him. He brushed a kiss on those inviting lips, pulled away and whispered her name. Then he dove in again, unable to resist nibbling lightly on her bottom lips as his arm draped over her curves. “Good morning, princess,” he whispered against her lips.