Page 95 of Royally Matched
I know that I have Marco to thank for all of this, and not just because he brought me here to this little village,but because he is Marco, a man so very different from me. He’s a man who lives life to the fullest, grabbing it by the antlers and refusing to let go. His laughter, his humor, his pure joy to be alive has touched me in a way I never expected, and I love the person I am when I’m with him.
He swings me around to face him, his gaze intense, and every time his eyes meet mine, my heart skips a beat. His ruffled hair and rugged stubble give him a carefree, easy charm that I’m finding I no longer want to resist. There’s such a quiet strength to him, evidenced in his confident stance and the way he carries himself. The hint of a smile playing on his lips drives me wild. His presence is magnetic, and despite my best efforts, I can’t help but be drawn to him, imagining what it would be like to have him all to myself. No one else.
Just him and me.
I cannot remember the last time I had so much unbridled fun, existing in the moment with the most wonderful of men. This feels amazing, and I never want our evening to end.
Chapter 25
Marco
Who knew I would be dancingThe Macarenawith a beautiful princess in a small town in the mountains, laughing and enjoying every moment? I sure didn’t, and it only goes to show how much my life has changed in the last few weeks since I met this gorgeous, vivacious woman at my side.
I watch in admiration as Sofia moves to the music, her face bright, her eyes sparkling with joy. This is not the woman I met at the ball, the tightly controlledPrincess Sofia, dressed in a formal gown, making polite conversation with all her potential suitors.
No, this is a very different Sofia. She’s free and she’s joyful and she’s dancing in a way I never would have pictured that princess dancing. “Happy abandonment” is the expression that comes to mind, and it makes her even more beautiful, even more attractive to me.
The song finishes and a loud cheer goes up from the crowd.
“That was so much fun,” Sofia says, her beaming smile reaching from ear to ear as she catches her breath.
“You knew all the moves. I would never have picked you as aMacarenafan.”
“What can I say? I’m a woman of many layers,” she replies lightly.
“That you certainly are.”
The atmosphere shifts around us and I’m sure she knows I’m speaking about more than just her surprising dance moves. She is a woman of many layers, and I’m revelling in discovering each and every one of them.
“Shall we get some water? I’m absolutely parched from all the dancing.”
“Sure.”
We walk hand in hand, as we’ve been doing all night, over to a refreshments stall, where I purchase us a bottle of water each.
There’s something in the air on this magical night, far from our lives back in Villadorata, that makes me feel anything is possible. It’s like we’re in a bubble together, just her and me, and I don’t want anything to break it.
“Tell me something,” she says as we lean against the cool stone wall of one of the buildings, baskets of hanging flowers above our heads. “That community garden I visited you at in Tideswell.”
“What about it?”
She looks me in the eye. “You’re the one who donated the funds for it.”
It’s a statement more than a question, and although I masked the fact it was me, telling her instead that it was Enzo who donated the money at the time, I find I don’t want to be anything but honest with her now. Back then I admit I was suspicious of her, and I wanted her to think the best of the man she had chosen as her potential husband.
Now, I want that man to be me.
The thought steals the air from my lungs.
“Why did you say it was Enzo when it was you?”
“I guess I wanted you to think good thoughts about him.” I pause before I add, “At the time.”
“And now?” she asks, her eyes intense, and as I drop my gaze to her plump, luscious lips I notice they’re parted, her cheeks rosy from the dance, and I find the strength of the magnetic pull I have for this beautiful, sexy woman with hidden depths has become almost impossible to resist.
I lift my eyes to hers, concentrating on her deep pools of mahogany. “And now I want you to think good thoughts about me.”
“You do?” she asks.