Her Royal Highness (Royals #2) - Rachel Hawkins Page 0,27

look means, its significance is totally lost on me, and Sakshi gives me that vaguely pitying smile I’ve seen every time I reinforce her idea of me as the Clueless Colonist.

Patting my knee, she mouths, We’ll talk later.

Really looking forward to that.

I try to go back to looking at the village, but now Perry is piping up from Sakshi’s other side. “I went to St. Edmund’s for a bit,” he offers. “But Mum thought they were too soft on me, so I got sent to Gregorstoun a few years back.”

Seb meets his eyes in the rearview mirror, one side of his mouth kicking up in a smile. He and Flora really don’t look that much alike, but that smile? That is for sure a Flora smile, one I’ve seen curl and twist on her face multiple times in the past few weeks.

“Gregorstoun must have been a whole new world for you, then, mate,” Seb drawls, and Perry’s cheeks flame red as he gives an awkward chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” he says, Perry’s attempt at Laddish Camaraderie, I guess.

Flora turns to her brother to ask him something, and as she does, Perry leans across Sakshi’s acres of leg to hiss, “Bloody hell, I’m straight, and that’s twice he made me blush. He must be a menace to girls.”

I roll my lips together to keep from laughing, more at Perry’s vaguely scandalized expression than the idea of Seb as a menace, but Sakshi just looks confused.

“Wait, you’re straight?” she asks, and Perry sits up, his eyes darting to the front seat.

Flora and Seb are still talking, surrounded in that bubble I’ve seen Flora create before where she can pretend we lesser mortals don’t exist.

“Yeah,” Perry says in a low voice. “Wait, you didn’t think I was? Saks, we’ve known each other since we were five. How could you not know that?”

Sakshi gives an elegant shrug. “It’s hard to tell with you lot, to be honest.”

“My lot?” Perry repeats, aghast, and Sakshi waves her hand.

“You know. Pale weedy aristocrats.”

“Weedy?” Perry is about to literally choke on his outrage now, but the car is mercifully pulling into a spot just in front of the biggest of the white buildings we’ve passed, a place with THE RAMSAY ARMS painted in bold brown letters on one side.

Seb opens his door and steps out, then turns to fold the front seat forward, offering me his hand with a “Milady.”

I blush as I put my palm against his, allowing him to help me out of the car.

“Thanks,” I mutter, and he gives me a wink before leaning against the open car door, elbow cocked.

He really is just . . . ridiculously good-looking, and when I glance over at the other side of the car, I see Sakshi already on the sidewalk, practically melting as she stares at him.

Perry is next to her, his face still red, his arms folded tightly over his chest. “So are we going in, or are we standing here while Google Earth grabs pictures?” he asks, nodding at Seb, and Sakshi elbows him hard in the ribs.

“Peregrine!” I hear her say, which is how I know it’s serious—she doesn’t use his full name except in cases of emergency.

Perry scowls, rubbing the spot, then shoots Seb another dark look.

But Seb only flashes me another smile. “Shall we, Roomie Quint?” he asks, offering me his arm, and after a beat, I take it.

CHAPTER 13

“My name is actually Millie,” I tell him as we walk toward the pub. “Flora just calls me by my last name because—”

“Because she’s trying to keep you at a distance,” he finishes. “Classic Flo. No one gets to be her friend until they’ve jumped through roughly a hundred rings, most of them on fire.”

“That is not . . . even remotely what I was going to say,” I tell him, glancing toward Flora.

She’s sashaying toward the pub. There really is no other word for the sway she puts into her hips, or the careless way she leads, knowing we’ll all follow.

And then I realize I’m basically staring at Flora, and shake myself out of it, focusing on the ornate wooden door in front of me.

The pub is basically everything I’ve ever imagined a Scottish pub would be—and believe me, I have spent a lot of time imagining Scottish pubs. I have a Pinterest board and everything.

There’s a dark carpet, pattern too faint to make out after so much time (and, I’m guessing, so many feet and spilled pints), cozy booths, and a bunch