Page 50 of Claimed By the Crown Prince
‘To do what, exactly?’
Laia’s insides dropped. He was angry, and he was wreaking his revenge, and she couldn’t blame him. He would walk away from her now...leave her behind.
For the first time in her life Laia realised that she’d protected herself from this kind of pain by not forming close relationships. Deep down she’d always feared rejection or abandonment, because of her mother’s untimely death.
Her half-sister Maddi was the only person she’d allowed herself to get close to, and it had taken her years to build up the courage to go and find her.
In that moment Laia felt absurdly emotional...as if she’d ruined something. She didn’t get emotional. She’d learnt at an early age to hide her emotions.
Her father had used to say to her,‘You can cry in private, Laia, but no one wants to see their King or Queen be weak in public.’
Terrified Dax would see the tears pricking her eyes, Laia got up and said, ‘It’s fine. Forget it, Dax. If you want to go I won’t stop you.’
She turned and went back up the beach, but after a couple of seconds she heard a muffled curse behind her and Dax caught her arm, stopping her.
He came around and stood in front of her. Laia looked down. He tipped up her chin. She couldn’t hide her emotion. He cursed again.
He said, ‘I know it’s ridiculous, but after last night...that locked door was like a slap in the face. I’m not your enemy, Laia.’
No. He was something she didn’t even want to investigate.
Laia blinked back the emotion. Her chest felt very full. ‘I know that. It was a reflex. To be fair, it’s not as if I have all my doors open at the castle and people coming in and out as they please.’
He looked slightly horrified. ‘I should hope not. That would put your safety and security at risk.’
The thought of having someone like Dax caring about her safety and security made Laia feel wobbly all over again.
‘Do you want me to stay, Laia?’ Dax asked.
She felt as if she was on the verge of a cliff, with nothing to stop her freefalling over the edge.
She nodded. ‘Yes, but only if you want to.’
Dax cupped her jaw, a thumb moving across her cheek. ‘I want to. How long have we got?’
Laia had to ignore the dart of resentment that this was finite. That she had been born to a life of duty and responsibility.
‘Twenty-four hours...’
Dax smiled, and it was sexy and wicked. The tension was gone as if it had never been there.
‘Now you have me here for a whole twenty-four hours, what will you do with me?’
Laia fell over the edge of the cliff. It was a dizzying, soaring, swooping feeling of letting go all the shackles that bound her to everything she knew. Dax was here of his own free will. Because he wanted to be. Because he wanted to spend time with her.
But underlying it were a thousand voices urging her to be careful. What was she doing? What was she risking by indulging so selfishly like this?
She ignored them all. Pushed them away. Embraced her finite freedom.
Twenty-four measly hours. That was all she was asking for.
She couldn’t help smiling. ‘First, we eat. I brought a picnic.’
‘So, how many languages do you speak?’ Laia asked Dax.
Dax was leaning on his bent arm, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle. They were under the shade of the trees, eating the picnic Laia had prepared.
Laia was trying not to ogle his body. He looked up to the sky and squinted a little as he mentally calculated, and then he looked at her and said, ‘Seven.’