Page 17 of Royally Matched
Rather cynical than have my heart broken, thank you very much.
“Didn’t you say I was young in the Dark Ages? Makeup your mind. And you haven’t taken your shot yet. Hurry up.”
“Such a tragedy,” she mumbles as she pulls the bow of her string back with a creak of stretching fibres before she releases the arrow. It sails through the air and punctures the straw below the target.
“Too bad, Ami. Perhaps you should concentrate on your archery rather than on all these fictitious love affairs you’re going to have.”
“Ha ha. At least I get to fancy the pants off whoever it is I end up marrying. I’ll be sizzling all over the place. Just you wait and see.”
Entirely without my permission, my mind instantly turns to Duck, that tall glass of rugged water who saved me from drunk Austin Whatshisname’s proposal. The man who made my pulse quicken with a single flash of those bright blue-green eyes of his, whose lips lifted into the sexiest of smiles that made my whole body feel like it was humming.
Who knew a smile could havethatkind of an effect on a person?
But I point blankly refuse to call it the sizzle, even if there was major sizzling going on. Shame Duck isn’t Enzo Revera, Mr. Perfect For Me.
But at least I’ll never see him again, so any feelings of sizzle can fade to nothing, just like they always do.
Amelia narrows her eyes at me. “Who are you thinking about?”
“No one,” I reply hastily, my voice sounding as high as a mouse’s. I clear my throat. “Absolutely no one.”
“I think it was someone. You went all pink and dreamy looking. You’re Sofia—you don’t do pink and dreamy.”
I rub my belly. “It must have been something I ate.”
Amelia raises her brows at me as if to say, “fat chance.” “I didn’t see it, but Max told me some guy swept in and saved you from an inappropriate proposal at the ball the other night. Who was he?”
My belly does a flip at the memory. It was so very gallant of Duck. He handled the situation so seamlessly, saving me from too much humiliation. I didn’t see him again after that or I would have thanked him. It’s not everyone who would have stepped in the way he did.
“His name was Duck.”
“Duck?” She asks on a giggle. “Why?”
“Something to do with a scorchedderriere, I believe.”
“Was he hot?”
I concentrate on not thinking about his blue-green eyes, the color of the ocean, only brighter. More intense. His deep velvety voice. The way his suit was at least a size too small, but somehow failed to detract from his attractiveness, suggesting a rather spectacular physique hidden beneath.
I clear my throat. “I suppose you could say that, although he wasn’t my type at all.”
“You mean he had a personality,” she replies with a snort laugh.
I throw her a look.
“Sorry, it’s just the man you danced with half the night seemed rather dull.”
“Lord Strozzi is not dull.”
“Lord Strozzi? Does he have an actual name?”
“Enzo Revera. He’s intelligent and well-read and enjoys opera and classical music and understands the way our country is run.”
Amelia yawns. “Sounds riveting to me.”
“He’s riveting tome, and that’s what matters,” I reply, even though I’m not being entirely honest. It may have just been nerves, but he wasn’t exactly easy to talk to you.When he did speak, I learned very quickly that he has a fondness for big words and wanted to explain his approach to business in rather a lot of detail. But I reminded myself that these are the things I want in a husband. I might not have felt any attraction for him, but that sort of thing fades and you’re either left with compatibility or nothing, and I know that Enzo and I are compatible. That’s what counts.
“There you are,” a male voice says, and we turn to see Alex running toward us, panting lightly, wearing his running shorts and sneakers and not a lot else.