Titus rested his head on his desk. “What’s left?” he asked, heaving a powerful sigh and sending his papers fluttering.
“That’s everything,” Valerie said, setting down a tea tray at Titus’ elbow. She poured milk into a cup and added a large dab of honey before pouring the tea, English Breakfast. “Did you want a scone or a muffin, my Prince?”
“Scone.” Titus lifted his head. “Wasn’t there that thing for the Prince of –”
“It would be best to leave that until tomorrow.” Valerie deftly buttered a scone and set it on a plate in front of Titus. “You might make a mistake if you try to do it so late.”
Titus rubbed his forehead. “You’re right, as usual. I’ll do it first thing in the morning. I haven’t got any appointments before ten, right? That should be enough time.”
Valerie nodded and tucked a blanket around her Prince’s shoulders while he sipped his tea, strong and hot, the way he liked it. Suddenly, he grabbed her arms and pulled them around himself. She stumbled, her face pressed into his hair.
“I’m glad I chose you,” Titus said, his lips at her wrists. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Valerie said, thinking of Sunday mornings a small child on the beach, ticking away their days together. She laid a kiss on Titus’ cheek. “I’m glad you chose me, too,” she whispered.