realized. Emotion raced through him.
“No. Just my integrity, it seems,” Jarek responded. “Tell me, is your low opinion simply because I did not meet you in Morocco?”
“No,” she admitted. When her hair fell in a curtain over his son’s shoulder and neck, she automatically brushed it back. “I tend not to trust people who keep secrets. It comes with the job.”
“And you believe I have a secret.”
“No, Your Majesty. I believe you have many secrets.”
“You’re wrong.” Jarek gave into his urge and captured several strands of hair from her shoulder. He rubbed them between his forefinger and thumb, enjoying its cool, silky texture. “You see it’s not what I am hiding. It’s what I am protecting.”
He glanced down at his son. “Although it seems I haven’t done a good job with that, either.”
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