Add to that the fact that he’s gorgeous, sexy, and painfully masculine.
But what he just said threw me off a hundred-story building. I was going to test a few seduction tricks on him, but now that he’s stated his loyalty to Kaled, he won’t let himself lay a single finger on me.
Feeling guilty even for the thought of messing with his friendship with my brother, I change the subject to break the tension that’s returned.
“If I tell you something, will you promise not to laugh?”
“You’ve probably noticed I’m not big on smiling.”
“It’s a figure of speech. I meant: promise you won’t think I’m an idiot.”
“I don’t think you’re an idiot, Jazmina.”
“Even after what I did yesterday?”
“Your mistake was sneaking away from the bodyguards and putting yourself at risk, but nothing that happened after you got to the party was your fault.”
Before I can think, I take his hand and squeeze it. “You have no idea how good it feels to hear that. I’ll probably mess up a lot before I start living the way I want.”
Again he veers slightly off the road to look at me and then at our joined hands. Embarrassed, I let go.
He says nothing, and assuming he doesn’t want to be involved in my plans, I fall quiet.
“Say what you were going to say but were afraid I’d laugh.”
“It’s nothing major. I just thought that when Scots go to social gatherings, they wear that skirt. A kilt, right?”
“Uh-huh. But nowadays they’re only used on special occasions—weddings, funerals, big celebrations. Today, specifically, even if we were going to a party, it wouldn’t be appropriate,” he says, cryptic.
I might be losing my mind, but I swear he’s hiding a smile, which in itself is a miracle.
“Why not?”
“I’m in the company of Her Royal Highness, Princess Jazmina Faheem of Rheadur.”
I get the distinct feeling I’m stepping into a trap, but I can’t resist. “And what does that have to do with anything?”
“Kilts are worn without underwear. I’d be naked under the skirt, princess.”
“Oh!” Heat floods me. “Can I ask why . . .um . . .you don’t wear anything underneath?”
“Mostly tradition. But I think the freedom of movement has something to do with it too.”
The heat spreads everywhere. “Okay, that’s enough.”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“And you seem delighted watching me get embarrassed, Your Grace. Anyway, I’d like to see you in traditional Scottish clothing. Naked or not.”
He chokes so hard he coughs for almost a minute.
I turn to watch him and realize he has absolutely no idea what to say. Score one for me.
“The plaids on those outfits have meanings, right?” I change the subject before the thought of a naked Rodrick makes me combust.
“Yes. They’re called tartans, and each clan has their own pattern.”
“From afar, other than some being green, others red or blue, they all look the same.”