Royally Seduced. Marie Donovan

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      “The man did die by his own hand in the end,” Jack pointed out.

      “He should have done everyone a favor and done that first. Or maybe he could have even believed his wife was telling the truth about being faithful to him and then gone and kicked Iago’s ass for making trouble.”

      “Unfortunately, marital fidelity and ass-kicking make for dull theater.”

      “Not if they have a good fight choreographer for the ass-kicking scene. Those guys can make thumb-wrestling look fascinating.”

      “Thumb-wrestling?”

      Aha, so there was at least one American tradition he didn’t know about. She was about to lift her hand to show him but realized they’d be holding hands again, albeit in a combative manner. “I’ll show you later.” She dropped the willow branches and turned toward the sound of rushing water.

      Jack stood there gazing up at the tree. “Aspirin is derived from willow bark—the scientific name salicylic acid comes from the willow genus Salix.”

      She turned slowly to stare at him. “How do you know that?”

      “Science class.”

      Lily raised her eyebrows. “You must have paid better attention in science class than I did.” She was lucky to recall that the scientific name for humans was Homo sapiens.

      “I know you have your own strengths.” He moved close and for a second, she thought he would kiss her under the umbrella of the bowing branches. But he must have picked up her hesitation again and withdrew, the gleam in his brown eyes shuttered. “Allons! Let’s go see the waterfall.”

      “Okay.” She followed him, expecting to see a stream burbling over a shallow drop, but instead they stepped into another grotto, with a high waterfall thundering down to a pool at their feet. “Holy cow, look at that. And this is part of that same quarry?”

      He nodded and tipped his face up to the water, little droplets condensing on his cheeks. She closed her eyes and did the same, exhaling deeply as some of her tension flowed away.

      Traveling without Sarah had been more stressful than she realized. She had to be constantly alert to where she was and who she was near. And the language barrier—well, that wasn’t so bad. Sarah had been right that there were plenty of English speakers roaming Paris.

      Like Jack. He was a bit of a puzzle—scruffy-looking but clean and obviously well-educated with a variety of knowledge. She opened her eyes to find him watching her with an enigmatic expression.

      “You rarely find places like this in any city.”

      “No.” She shook her head in agreement. “There’s nothing like it in Philadelphia or New York.”

      “That is a replica of the Roman temple of Daphne.” He pointed up to the round Grecian-looking building. “It’s the highest point in the park and you can see all the way across Paris to the Sacre-Coeur Cathedral.”

      “Great!” Lily checked her camera to make sure she had plenty of space on her memory card and set off after him. The stairs were cut into the rock as before and twisted around as they ascended. She was so excited that she didn’t realize Jack had fallen behind. He waved her on when she stopped. “Just getting a drink—I’ll catch up to you in a minute.”

      She was too excited to drink and quickly got to the top. “Oh,” she gasped. It was just as Jack had said, the best view in the city. She looked down on all the cute neighborhoods and across northeast Paris to the white dome of Sacre-Coeur Cathedral. She grabbed her camera and took shots from every angle, zooming in on the cathedral and the houses below. The bridge made a cool composition with the surrounding trees reflecting in the water. “‘A favorite of local Parisians, Parc Butts-Something-Or-Other is a hidden treasure of greenery amidst the noisy city.’” Yes, that introductory sentence sounded pretty good, so she typed it into her phone.

      But where was Jack? She peered around guiltily at being so caught up in her work. Had he twisted his ankle? “Jack?” she called, descending several steps. He stood below her, huffing and puffing.

      “Stopped to take a drink.” He limped up the rest of the stairs.

      “Hey, you’re gasping. Are you okay?”

      “Fine,” he gritted out, bending over to rest his hands on his knees and sucking air at a pretty good pace.

      Lily looked around, wondering what she should do if he keeled over. They were alone at the highest point of the park and she couldn’t exactly toss him over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “Do you need an inhaler?”

      He shook his head. At least he wasn’t asthmatic. She could see herself calling the Parisian version of 911 and trying to ask for emergency medical help to come to some park with the word butts in the name.

      He straightened, his face flushed with exertion and probably embarrassment, too. He pulled a bottle of water from his small backpack and sipped slowly.

      She pulled out her own water and pretended they had stopped for a water break. Once he wiped his mouth and met her glance, she shook her head. “Too many cigarettes will kill your endurance.”

      He gave a dry laugh that turned into a cough at the end. “I am not a smoker, Lily. I am probably the only man in France who doesn’t smoke.”

      She had to agree with him there. The tobacco-free movement was about as welcome as a barge of plague rats floating down the Seine. “Well, you’ve got that going for you.”

      “But not much else, eh?” His color seemed to be returning to normal. He spread his arms wide. “Ah, the perfect specimen of French manhood. I cannot even climb a hill without gasping like an old man with emphysema.”

      “Have you been sick?”

      Jack sighed. “Unfortunately, but I was hoping I was better.”

      “Maybe you’re pushing it a bit to come to the hilliest point in Paris, don’t you think?”

      He grimaced. “You are right. I should have known better.”

      “What are you getting over, if you don’t mind my asking?” She hoped it was nothing awful like cancer or something serious like that.

      The first glimmer of humor returned to his brown eyes. “Dysentery.”

      “Dysentery?” she blurted. She found herself unconsciously stepping back from him, trying to remember if they had shared any food or drink. “How in the world do you get dysentery these days? I thought the tap water smelled a bit funny but I thought it was okay to drink.” Was that why everyone carried bottles of expensive spring water? Why didn’t Sarah mention this to her before she left? Don’t drink the water! Wasn’t that usually the last advice people shouted out the windows of their cars as they dropped you off at the airport for a journey to a foreign country?

      “No, I did not get dysentery in France.” He rubbed his cheek as if his beard itched. “I caught it in Myanmar.”

      “Myanmar? Why on earth would you go there?” She’d never heard anything good about that place nowadays, ever since they stopped calling СКАЧАТЬ