Nine
Crap. I cover my mouth with my hand and freeze.
“You’re certain?” the woman asks.
“Yes. My father has no control over this suite. My men scour it daily for enchantments and bugs, and they haven’t found anything in years.”
“Still,” the woman says as her footsteps cross the room. “Someone might see us through the window.” Her voice sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. I’ve overheard so many ladies of the court since I arrived here. It could be any one of them.
“I doubt it. We’re very high up. And if someone does see us, so what? I’m the prince, and I have the right to speak to whomever I please.”
My imagination jumps immediately to the worst conclusion. Anger heats my veins at the thought of Roarke cheating on me. Why else would he be meeting a woman privately in his suite? A wo
