“Oh my God!”
“Cora,” he clipped, “stop saying that or I’ll kiss you quiet.”
I snapped my mouth shut.
“Get hold of yourself,” he ordered.
I stared up at him. Then I asked, “Your father is the king?”
“Yes, love, that’s what being a prince means,” he answered with waning patience.
“Holy crap,” I whispered.
“Cora –”
“So, uh… where are you in line to the throne?”
“First.”
“Holy crap!” My voice was rising again just as my body went solid and his fingers tightened at my neck.
“Cora, damn it to hell,” he bit out.
I sucked in breath then I whispered, “First in line?”
“Yes,” he gritted.
“Wow,” I breathed.
“Are you done?” he asked.
“Do you have brothers or sisters?”
He glared at me. Then he muttered, “I see you’re not done.”
I pulled the bunched fabric of his shirt in my fists back and then slammed them against his chest. “Tell me.”
“Dash, the second son, Orlando, the third. Now are we done?”
“Those are your brothers?” I asked in shock.
“Yes.”
“You look nothing alike.”
“Three different mothers.”
“Holy crap!” I cried.
“Woman,” he clipped.
“Right, right.” I glanced around to see eyes on us, a number of them. In fact, we were drawing a crowd. Then again, he was the future freaking king, for God’s sake. “Sorry,” I whispered when I looked back at him.
“Finished?” he asked.
“Um… for now,” I answered.
He looked over my head again and muttered, “Gods, save me.”