*Rafe*
Ainslee did not come out of the gardens through the front entrance that night. Or any of the three nights after.
I slam my seal onto the papers in front of me with enough force to crack the handle. And the blotter. And the desktop, for that matter. I don’t care. Ainslee has avoided me most of the week. Her wedding is two days from now. We have things we should talk about.
Things that won’t make a damn bit of difference, but hell, I want to talk about them anyway!
To add to my foul mood, Kris saunters into my office without knocking. He came back a few days ago. So far, I’ve avoided him, but here he is, invading my personal space. “Kris,” I say in a clipped tone.
“Prince Rafe,” Kris grins. It can never be good news when Kris is grinning.
“How are things in the hinterlands?” I ask nastily.