“One of the great pleasures of the most perfect place on earth.”

“You think El Deharia is perfect?”

“Don’t you think the same of your birthplace?”

Not really, she thought. But they came from very different circumstances. “I guess,” she murmured, then felt awkward. “I was a teacher there, too,” she added, to change the subject. “I’ve always loved children.”

“Which makes your employment more enjoyable,” he said. “I would imagine a teacher who dislikes children would have a difficult time.”

Was he being funny? She thought he might be, but wasn’t sure. Did princes have a sense of humor? She’d assumed being royal meant being serious all the time.

“Yes, that was a joke,” he said, proving she was as readable as he said. “You are allowed to laugh in my presence. Although I would suggest you are sure I’m being humorous. To laugh at the wrong time is a grave mistake most people only make once.”

“And we’re back to the head-chopping. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Not many princes in the Midwest?”

“No. Not even rock stars, which in my country are practically the same thing.”

“I have never been fond of leather pants on a man.”

That did make her laugh. “You could be considered fashion forward.”

“Or foolish.”

“You wouldn’t like that,” she said without thinking, then covered her mouth. Oops.

Something flickered in his gaze. He folded his arms. “Perhaps a safer topic would be the three sisters you insisted I adopt.”

“What about them?” Had he changed his mind? She would hold him to his promise, no matter how nervous he made her.

“They will have to change schools. The orphanage is too far away. The American School is closer.”

“Oh. You’re right.” She hadn’t thought that part through. “I’ll get them registered in the morning.” She hesitated. “What do I tell the administrator?”