The Heir's Secret Child: A Royal Scandal
Voices rose and fell around them—vendors calling, women laughing, children darting in and out of gaps like small, determined birds.
“Not that one,” Elizabeth muttered, eyeing a basket of tomatoes. “They’re soft.”
Catherine leaned in, fingers brushing the fruit. “These are better,” she said, selecting a few firmer ones and passing them to the seller.
A man with a tray of sweet buns walked past, the scent of honey and cinnamon trailing behind him. Catherine’s stomach twisted with sudden craving.
Elizabeth noticed. “Oh no,” she said, laughing. “Now, we have to get it.”