Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 26177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
“I would never imagine you to, but are you fast enough?”
“In three.” I rapidly glanced around the extensive kitchen. “Two. One.”
We ran through, I chose the fridge, he chose the pantry? We both returned with our own things and grabbed our pans.
I started making mine while he started making his, the agreement was that they would be cold sandwiches so we could go faster. We had turkey, mustard, mayonnaise, a few high-end cheeses, spinach, tomato, and whatever mystery addition.
“Done!” He held up his hands.
I held up mine. “Same.”
“M’am.” He held out his hand to shake.
“Good sir.” I gripped it as we switched places and each cut into the other’s sandwich and took a bite.
I looked up in awe. “You son of a rascal, you added jam!”
“And what kind?” His grin was smug.
“Strawberry.” I grumbled. “And it’s so good.”
I stared over at mine as he went to cut it. “Nooooooo.”
I tried tackling him from the back, but he just swung me around and took a bite, then looked up in awe. “I love sweet pickles.”
“It was all I could find,” I said, still on his back.
He spun me around and set me onto the counter and fed me more of his sandwich while I grabbed more of mine and handed it to him.
We’d clearly lost track of time because in the next five minutes we both turned to several gasps from servants all dressed in their pressed blue and white uniforms, ready to start setting things up for our official engagement ball and the countdown to our wedding Christmas Eve.
Still chewing, we both again slowly looked to our left.
Several servants were outwardly crying what appeared to be tears of joy, a few of the men kept coughing into their white-gloved hands awkwardly.
“Apologies.” One of the head chefs whose name was lost to me, stepped forward, the man looked like an embodiment of Santa down to his white beard. “We were just under the impression we needed to start at five.”
“FIVE!” We yelled in unison, mouths full as we both clambered to start putting things away.
Immediately the staff started helping and had everything cleaned up in no time, all before Zautland stopped and shoveled the rest of my sandwich down his throat. “I was hungry!”
The staff couldn’t hide their joy, so I shoveled his down, would most likely regret it when I had to fit into a dress in a few hours, we slid to a stop at the door and turned around. He bowed. “Thank you, we were just… um. Starving.”
“For… sandwiches?”
“Yes.” He nodded his head. “We have a busy night and—” He stopped talking and I could almost hear his internal groan.
So I’m not sure why I added in. “It’s taxing, the holidays, an engagement, marriage—”
“—Making a royal heir.” He just had to speak.
Gasps were heard all around.
“Gonna kill you,” I said under my breath.
“Realized it the minute the words tumbled out,” he said as he smiled through his teeth, when we left it was like Mission Impossible, dodging servants, until laughing we finally made it to the royal quarters were everyone was staying for Christmas, I was just leaning up to give him a quick kiss when I heard a throat clear.
“Shit, this has really gotta stop happening to us,” he said under his breath as both Arthur and Frederick had their doors open, their heads poked out in disbelief.
“We…” I tried covering. “We were just—”
Zautland pulled me against his chest. “Leaving, just leaving, long night. See you in a few hours.”
He tugged me into his room in front of them.
But I didn’t mind.
He kissed me on the forehead, then in true Yankee form, when he had me in the palm of his hands, turned me around and slapped me on the ass! “Off you go.”
“You little!” I lunged for him, only to get caught in his arms. He twirled me around and kissed my neck, whispering against it, “You need sleep, then you need to put on a pretty dress, tell everyone all the pretty words they need to hear, then hold my hand. I’ll need you tonight. Is that selfish?”
I hugged him tight. “No. It’s not. But if you ever slap my ass again like that, I’m chasing you around the castle.”
He chuckled against my neck, his breath warm. “I’m counting on it.”
When he set me down, I ran just in case and when I shut the door, I just stood with my back pressed against it and wondered if this is what the word wooing meant.
Because he was too damn good at it.
Chapter Eight
Zautland
Frederick walked by me in his impeccable black-and-white suit, his sash, and all his medals. His gloved hands held a glass of champagne. “I guess congratulations are in order.”
I was wearing a black suit, longer coattails with a red sash, medals from my father and black gloves.