I have no idea why the Crown Princess insisted on that twerp accompanying us. After he got Alec talking on the way to greet the King, I found him obnoxiously friendly. I didn’t really want him to overhear what I had to say to the princess. I had no doubt he was the type to entertain women who came to his bed with exaggerated stories. Stories about a certain prince who lacked his own sexual prowess and didn’t even want to bed his own wife.

I look back at him from where he follows closely behind us, hoping my glare would give him the hint to back up a few paces. Apparently he is obtuse as well as insolent, as he refuses to separate from us by more than a yard. Princess Saoirse, however, does not miss my displeased expression.

“Don’t mind Gilroy,” she says with that honey coated voice. Everything about her reminds me of honey actually. Her eyes, her skin, her smell. In the sunlight, I can even see a distinctly golden undertone to her black hair. Even I must admit, she is as beautiful as the stories say, but that doesn’t mean she is beautiful on the inside. I am still mulling over my opinion of her. Despite the sour taste left in my mouth by her kingdom’s reception of me, she has been nothing but cordial to me since our meeting. Nothing at all like what my brother described.

Perhaps it is her all-smiles father who is to blame for the unceremonious reception. Although the King was pleasant to talk to, he seemed a bit dim witted. I have yet to decide whether he passed that trait on to his daughter.

“He is my most trusted confidant and would never repeat anything he accidentally overheard,” she says gesturing to her advisor, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I grunt incredulously, but I am in no mood to argue with her. “Very well.”

“What did you wish to discuss with me, My Prince?” she asks sweetly.

“I will speak quite candidly, Princess, for, as your husband, I believe there ought to be no secrets between us,” I preface.

The princess looks at me with this sort of dazed look, before responding, very slowly, “Ok.” Good Aed, just how slow is this girl that she is already appears lost by my simple deviation from normal conversation?

I am not one to adjust my manner of speech to a dim audience, so I forge on with my original plan. “I have no intention of forcing you into any wifely duties at this current time.”

“At this current time?” she repeats as a question like the slow-witted fool she is. Strike four.

“Yes,” I sigh. “It is my wish only to secure the royal line, but I have no interest in being your bedfellow.”

“Thank Aed,” the princess breathes.

My eyes snap to her and all at once it seems like a sort of mask has fallen. Where once there was a calm, demure lady, now I see a relaxed, almost unnaturally confident woman. Her honey sweet smile is twisted into a sly smirk and her stance is wider, her steps more purposeful.

“I was so worried you would want something more than a marriage of state,” she sighs happily.

I furrow my brows at her words, confused by the abrupt change in her mannerisms.

“I guess you won’t object to us keeping separate bedchambers after we are married?” she half asks, half states.

“No,” I answer carefully. “I am not l opposed to the idea. It is my understanding that many ladies prefer to keep their privacy.”

The princess snorts in a most undignified way. “Right, my privacy,” she says in a mocking tone. Although I fail to understand anything untoward in what I said.

“I also am led to believe that it is not uncommon for women to not enjoy the acts of procreation.” She snorts again, though I have no idea why, so I forge on, ignoring her inappropriate behavior. “For this reason I do not expect or wish for you to keep my bed every night. We are no better than strangers to each other and should feel no obligation towards one another.”

“I couldn’t agree more, My Prince.” She beams at me with obvious relief. It seems she really is as uninterested in romance as my brother suspected. Well, I am very glad we spoke of this matter early. Now I do not need to worry about trying to like her, as she clearly does not expect me to woo her.

However, I freeze at her next words. “Now that we have agreed we mean nothing to each other, I would like to clear the air, in the spirit of honesty and transparency, by stating that I will take no offense at any mistresses you may wish to take on, My Prince.”

“I beg your pardon?” I can’t help but blurt out.

“You know, other women to keep you satisfied in my absence,” she clarifies, unnecessarily. I understood her perfectly the first time, I just couldn’t believe she said it. “I’m not the jealous type, so you don’t need to worry about hurting my feelings.” I can only blink rapidly at her audacity. “What about you, My Prince? Are you the jealous type?” Her smile is smooth and open, but her words are poison.

“I fear there may be some misunderstanding, Princess,” I say carefully. My tone must still come out harsher than I intended, because my betrothed stops in the path, her smile slipping away.

“I hope that is not the case,” she replies.

“I do not wish to share your bed, because I do not know you, not because I have any desire to be an unfaithful husband. If we should happen to grow closer, which I highly doubt, perhaps my feelings on the matter will change. However, in the meantime I promise complete fidelity to you. I am not one of those boorish men who must sate myself on prostitutes and whores.”

Princess Saoirse’s lips twist downward into an expression of distinct displeasure, although, for the life of me, I cannot understand why. What woman would want her husband to be unfaithful? Strike five.

“Don’t deprive yourself for my sake,” she mutters.

“I feel no deprivation, as I feel no desire,” I clarify honestly.

“How very reassuring,” she says sardonically. This must be the bitchiness my brother warned me about. Strike six.

One chance left. Thus far I have found Princess Saoirse vulgar, undignified, and two-faced. With no redeeming qualities beyond her beauty, I have little interest in forming any sort of relationship with the woman, but perhaps a change of topic may yield more fruitful insight into her intellect. I am a man of my word and will still give her the benefit of the doubt up to seven times.

“Now that we have cleared the air, perhaps we can become better acquainted. What does Your Highness enjoy doing in your spare time?”

The glare I receive from the princess is so venomous, I almost believe for a moment I’ve said something offensive, but as I carefully review my words, I conclude they reflect perfect gentlemanly behavior, as always.

“You do not wish to know, and I have zero intention of telling you. Thank you for the stroll, Prince Fionn. It was so very enlightening. I shall retire now before supper.”

Before giving me a chance to respond, Princess Saoirse storms off back towards the castle. Her scrawny advisor follows after her, leaving me alone in the gardens.

Strike seven.