Page 86 of Stolen Princess

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FERRIN

Ican’t keep my eyes off her. That’s not new. It’s been this way since I first saw her. If she’s not in front of me, she’s in my head. But right now, I truly can’t keep my eyes off her. She put on her suit after noticing boats a bit closer offshore and has been splashing and playing in the waves, hunting for fish and crabs, and teasing the birds that curiously keep coming near her.

Her mother texted me, and I reminded her that I’m not with her. That’s how I left it, and I haven’t heard from Sven. I have no clue what he knows and what he doesn’t about my involvement. I don’t like it, though. I don’t like pretending I’m not with her. It feels… cowardly.

I’m hoping it gives me the element of surprise on them.

Either way, a fight is coming for us.

“Come on, Ferrin!” she calls to me, waving me toward her with a crook of her finger.

A wry smile hits my lips. My shorts are wet, and I’m caked in sand. My shoulders are also burning a bit, but who cares? Honestly, this is the happiest I can ever remember being. Everything is light and calm. Even the water and the wind are cooperating with that.

“Nah. I’m good. Enjoying the show.” She’s so fucking adorable, I could watch her watch paint dry or cook or read or garden or whatever the fuck else she likes to do.

“You’re lazy. Come play.”

“I’m not really a play sort of chap.”

“Sure you are, but this isn’t psychological warfare or stealing. You can’t tell me that thieving and killing are more fun than playing in the ocean.”

I smile. “Depends on the moment, but the psychological warfare is for sure.”

“So I’ve come to learn. Fine. I’ll come to you.”

“I prefer it when you come on me.”

She walks over to me, looming over me and mercifully blocking the sun from shining right in my face. “My vagina is on a break from you.”

“Aw, darlin’, but she loves how I play with her.” I snap my fingers in an aha way. “See, I do play. And I’m rather good at it.” I bounce my eyebrows suggestively.

She rolls her eyes and wiggles a finger for me to sit back. I drop my hands into the sand behind me and straighten my legs, and she sinks down onto my lap, straddling me.

“Did you ever want to be anything other than a thief?”

“Honestly, I never thought much about it. My father was always in and out of work. He was a day laborer and spent his nights drinking his earnings. My mum cleaned houses when she could get the work and would occasionally waitress to make our rent.”

“You were an only child?”

I nod. “A blessing that was.”

She scoots in on me. “What did you like studying in school?”

“Psychology.”

She smacks my shoulder. “Liar. You did not.”

I chuckle. “No. I didn’t study that. I liked history. And English. I was particularly good at that since it’s my first language.”

“How did you end up in Ireland?”

I brush the wet strands sticking to her face back and brush my finger across the freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. “My mum had a half-sister, and they sent me to live with her. Only she decided she didn’t want me and shoved me off to the church, which also didn’t know what to do with me since I wasn’t an Irish citizen, but I had no one back in America. They put me in the orphanage.”

Her arms drop onto my shoulders, and I grasp her hips, holding her on me and not caring in the slightest that she’s dripping cold water all over me. “Was it awful?”

“Some moments were worse than others.”