“There’s no need to apologize.” Their dance ended, and she trailed her fingers up his neck and into his hair. “We could always disappear for a little while, and I could see to your…sudden princely needs. There is no shame in it, and I will let you know that I am not a virgin,” she said, whispering the last few words as close to his ear as she could.
That was more information than he needed, and Quincy coughed, trying to clear his throat as he fought against the urge to laugh hysterically. Never did he think his night would start out so badly, wind up being great, and then go back to being… He wasn’t sure what. There was no way in hell he was going to take Gigi away to some dark corner and have his way with her. No way in hell. That was one can of worms he wasn’t about to open.
He bowed his head and took a step back. “I am sorry, but I fear there are other women I must dance with tonight. A prince must remember his manners.”
Gigi glared. “Not always. You and I have a connection, and we both know your father favors me.”
“Does he now?” Quincy asked as he stared her down. “Well, thankfully, he is not me.”
“No, but sooner or later, you will have to choose me,” she said. “I am the only choice. So go, dance with the others.” She swayed her hips as she walked by him. “But in the end, it’s me you will end up with. Good evening, my dear Prince Quincy.”
He watched her walk into the crowd as his anger built and his face warmed. It was true King Lamont had been pushing him towards Gigi. She was the daughter of the wealthiest family on the isle and her parents were important members of the parliament, but it was her attitude he didn’t think he’d be able to stomach. If King Lamont made his decision for Quincy, Gigi would be his betrothed before the summer ended.
All he could do was hope something drastic prevented that from happening.
Chapter 11
Olivia rolled over the next morning, relishing the way her body felt—sore but just as relaxed as if she and Quincy had gone at it again. If she could wake up like that every morning, it’d be pretty damn good. Though she wore herself out the night before, she was up early enough that Allete did not come in to wake her.
The air was fresh though humid, and she woke with the need to paint. She hopped out of bed, still wearing Quincy’s clothes, and grabbed her paints and brushes. She hummed while she pulled her messy hair back into a ponytail, changed into some old painting jeans and a tank, and stepped out onto the balcony to set up her easel. Maybe today she would get something accomplished for her portfolio and feel a little better about where she stood.
As the sun rose higher into the sky and the rest of the palace bustled to life, Olivia painted, finishing the scene of the palace crumbling from age and neglect. She set that one aside and picked up another of the haunted jungle, shadowy and dark. The only color was the flora and fauna buried deep in the center of the shadow. The brushes moved smoothly across the canvas, and soon she was covered in blues and greens, violets and shades of red while she perfected it and set it aside to dry as well. The whole time, her thoughts were on Quincy and the way his hands moved across her skin. How he’d kissed her deeply, letting his tongue move with hers…
“Princess Olivia? You are a mess!”
“Huh?” She turned, the end of the paintbrush in her mouth as she nibbled on the wood. She’d been so lost reliving last night she hadn’t heard her barrage of ladies enter her room. “Morning, Allete.”
“What are you doing, miss?” She moved to her side and looked at the finished paintings drying in the sun. “Those are beautiful. What time did you wake up this morning?”
“Early,” Olivia said with a satisfied sigh. “Finally found some time to get them done.”
“Well, they are magnificent, but what is that one you started? I don’t recognize that place.”
So focused was she on remembering every detail of last night that she hadn’t noticed she’d started to paint Quincy’s private cove. It was barely started, mostly the outcropping into the waves she’d fallen off of last night and the faint hint of the beach. With a blanket and her shoes from last night set off to the side.
“Are those your shoes?” Allete asked as she leaned in closer.
Olivia shrugged. “I guess so. I was letting the inspiration of the island take me for a ride.”
“Well, I am afraid your inspiration must be put on hold. You must look good for the outing today.” She walked back inside, dragging Olivia with her. “Wash your brushes quickly, then you must shower and dress.” The maid frowned and leaned forward, sniffing Olivia’s hair. “Interesting.”
“What? Do I smell bad?”
“No, but you smell like Prince Quincy’s shampoo. Odd, that’s all. I thought you had your own. The maids must have switched it by accident,” Allete said and pushed her once again towards the bathroom. She missed Olivia’s wide-eyed stare and gulp.