Royal Duties--Book One

by Nikki Steele

  Baxter gave a bark, leaping from the car. He trotted daintily toward the shopfronts and then paused to look back at us both.

  Richards and I both turned to each other and grinned. “I guess that’s decided then.”

  * * *

  It seemed that small, arrogant dogs were standard fare in Dior. The shopkeepers didn’t blink an eye when Baxter scurried through the front door, sniffing the assistant’s legs and then snuffling his way toward what looked like a dog cushion and water bowl in one corner.

  “Miss Wilmont?” the attendant asked. We were the only ones in the store.

  “How do you know my name?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Mr Grenouille phoned ahead, he said you might be coming. The store has a line of credit open for you—please feel free to choose anything you wish from the shelves.”

  My goodness. There was a difference between window shopping and knowing you could actually afford what you were trying on. Everything was more real—the velvety touch of silk on skin, the cinch of the waist, even the attention of the attendant. The store even had an onsite tailor! I’d never felt so alive. So... decadent.

  Baxter, for his part, seemed bored by the whole process. “What do you think?” I asked him, emerging from a change room in a stunning emerald green dress to swirl like a princess.

  His head rolled lazily toward me. He gave a bored yip.

  “You’re right. Too flashy.” I disappeared back into the change room to try the next one on. This dress had folds of red satin that draped all the way to the floor and a high slit up one side. I stepped out of the change room to look at myself in the full length mirror. It would be a beautiful dress if I had a movie star figure, but... something just didn’t sit right when I wore it. I looked over to Baxter and swear I caught him rolling his eyes.

  “Fine,” I muttered to myself. “I’ll try on the last one.”

  The last in my selection was a classic little black dress. Unmistakable Dior, it had a V neckline, wide sleeves that hung off the shoulders and an elegant rose design sewn subtly into the full skirt. The dress was gorgeous, hugging my curves in all the right places, with just the right amount of cleavage. I stepped out of the change room, looking to Baxter. “So help me Baxter, if you roll your eyes one more time...”

  Whether he reacted to his name, or just the tone of my voice, Baxter sat up, tongue lolling, and trotted toward me. It was all the incentive I needed.

  “I’ll take it,” I announced to the storekeeper.

  She nodded approvingly. “Now what about shoes? And accessories?”

  Chapter Five

  The limousine reappeared at six, after dropping me home with enough time to shower and do my hair. I’d styled it into a wave to suit the new dress, with black Dior heels and a vintage black freshwater pearl necklace to complete my outfit.

  I felt like a million dollars, but I was still nervous as hell when Xander’s shadow crossed the frosted glass panel of my front door. Three short knocks sounded and Baxter sprinted toward it, barking like crazy.

  I peeked through a lounge room curtain and caught my breath. He was wearing a tuxedo, the outfit on him so perfect it made me want to swoon. What was I doing going on a date with someone so handsome and charming?

  Should I make him wait? I thought suddenly. I didn’t want him to think I’d been hovering by the door waiting for him, did I? It didn’t feel like something I should do, but weren’t girls on dates with sexy guys supposed to play it cool?

  Wait... was I thinking of this as an actual date now?

  Baxter barked again, running from the door back to me impatiently, giving my location away. Well said—waiting was for women who played games, not me.

  I opened the door to find Xander poised to knock again. He blinked, hand raised, and then blinked once more, mouth falling slowly open.

  “Well?” I asked, dropping a curtsy. “Do you like?”

  “Sacre bleu,” he breathed. “Kate, you look... beautiful.”

  I blushed furiously as Xander took a hand and raised it to his lips. “Richards had said, but still-”

  Baxter took it upon himself to ruin the scene, racing between my legs to bark excitedly at Xander. He zipped down the driveway and then sat eagerly by the car. Xander chuckled politely as my mouth dropped open, horrified. “Baxter!”

  Baxter cocked his head, whining, as Xander strode to pick the little fuzzball up. He ruffled the disgruntled puppy’s head. “Sorry little fellow, not this time.”

  Baxter’s ears drooped.

  “But!” Xander continued, “I do have a present for you.” He looked to me. “He is allowed to eat bones, isn’t he?”

  Baxter’s ears pricked up at the word and I nodded, holding my upper arms. He was so good with that dog!

  Xander opened the trunk of the car to pull out a huge present wrapped in gift wrap. It had cute little bones all over it. “The gift-wrap is edible,” he whispered in an aside.

  “That’s a... bone?” I asked incredulously. “What from? A mammoth?”

  Xander shrugged as the dog started scrabbling to get at the gift in his other hand. “What can I say? I like the little guy.”

  I frowned, marveling at the instant bond these two seemed to share. “Maybe you and Baxter would like to go off and have dinner together?”

  He laughed. “I’d much prefer your company. But I couldn’t have him lonely while you were gone.”

  * * *

  Conversation in the limousine came easily, jumping from Baxter to shopping to nursing to America as we sipped champagne. I asked Xander about his country, too.

  “Alonia?” he asked. “It’s a principality between the borders of Switzerland and Germany. Not very big, but beautiful.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.” Nice one Kate. Way to insult the hot sexy guy taking you to dinner.

  He chuckled. “I like that you speak your mind. It’s refreshing.” He paused, considering. “Let me see, what can I tell you? It’s ruled by a Queen—Maria. She’s a good ruler, if a bit overbearing sometimes. Smart too—saved us from a war with a neighboring principality many years ago with some very quick thinking,” he said.

  “Our main export is jewelry. We have several mines in the Alpine regions of the country, but nowadays we tend to cut and craft rather than merely sell the raw stone.”

  “Like how Switzerland sells watches?” I asked. “I read somewhere that they figured out natural resources always run out, but skilled labor never will.”

  “Exactly!” Xander said as we pulled into the curb, leaping out to open my door. “Here we are.” He extended his arm. “Madam?” I took it, feeling like a princess as I exited the limousine.

  We stood in front of a small restaurant with a red awning and tinted windows. A sign above the door read Le Jardin. “Where are we?”

  “The best restaurant in the city,” said Xander matter of factly.

  A maître d' led us to our table. I couldn’t stop gaping.

  It was a restaurant to match the dress—so stylish and beautiful that I felt a renewed gratitude to Xander for his forethought in sending me shopping this afternoon. I had nothing at home that would have suited something like this.

  The room had an almost fairy tale air to it—columns covered in vines rose at regular intervals around the outside, and across the roof, so thick you couldn’t see the ceiling, cherry blossom and ivy crawled hand in hand; beautiful sprays of flowers falling like nature’s chandeliers at random intervals around the room.

  We were the only people in the restaurant. I turned to Xander suspiciously. “You... didn’t book this place out, did you?”

  He winked at me. “It was the only way I could get a table.”

  “Who do you think you are, the king of England?”

  He shot me a cheeky smile.

  Who was this man? This tall handsome stranger that had appeared in my life in the most horrible of circumstances, but now sent me shopping for Dior and booked out restaurants so expensive I shouldn’t be allowed throug
h the door?

  Xander ordered us both wine.

  “Alright, out with it. Who are you really?”

  He looked at me, a puzzled frown crossing his face. “Xander Grenouille, I would never lie to you, I swear.”

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s not what I mean and you know it. What do you do in Alonia?”

  He shrugged, an impish grin on his face. “I know this is going to annoy you, but not much, truthfully.”

  I almost groaned. “You’re right—that did annoy me. How can you afford all of this? Are you famous? Are you in banking?” I had a horrified thought. “Is it drug money?”

  Xander smiled. “I can assure you, it would be literally impossible for me to do something illegal in Alonia, even if I tried. And my profession is certainly nowhere near as interesting, or important, as your own. You save lives every day! I do little in comparison.”

  He reached toward me, taking my hand. A pleasant shiver ran up my arm. “But to answer your question, I work in politics, nothing more. The job allows me to travel, and gives me some measure of disposable income.”

  “Like an ambassador?” I asked.

  His shoulders gave a small shrug. “A little different, but something like that I guess.”

  A sommelier arrived with a dusty bottle of red wine in one hand and a small white cloth on the other arm. He presented the bottle to Xander, uncorked it at his nod, then poured a sample into a glass. Xander raised the velvety liquid to his nose. He nodded, saying something to the sommelier in French, and the wine steward began to pour for us both.

  “You said before you spoke French,” I commented.

  Xander nodded. “That, and English of course, and German too. Living between so many borders, you kind of have to if you want to talk to the neighbors.”

  Another waiter appeared, this one with two menus. They were both in French too. “May I order for you?” Xander asked.

  I nodded gratefully. “Don’t think that gets you off the hook though—I still want a lot more information about Alonia and what you do there.”

  Xander scanned the menu quickly, then rattled off several things in quick, fluent French. The waiter nodded, then asked a question.

  Xander looked at me. “Do you like the wine?”

  I took a sip from the delicate glass in front of me. My goodness. The wine had a rich, slightly earthy taste to it, very easy to drink, with a creamy caramel aftertaste. “It’s delicious. What is it?”

  Xander thanked the waiter, and he walked away. “A 1947 Petrus, very nice, an excellent year.”

  “Do you drink a lot of wine as an ambassador?”

  Xander looked slightly uncomfortable. “Like I said, I’m not really an ambassador, although that is a part of the job. But when I travel I do tend to get wined and dined, yes.”

  “So what do you do, exactly?”

  He shrugged. “What do politicians normally do? Try and help the people where I can, I guess.”

  I laughed. I seemed to do a lot of that around Xander. “Doesn’t sound like any politician I know.”

  “I’m doing my best to change that image,” he said wryly. “How about yourself? What do you do as a nurse on a day to day basis? From watching Grey’s Anatomy, I assume it involves a lot of making out with hot doctors?”

  I blushed the color of my wine, and so the conversation began. Xander was funny, and charming, and teasing in equal measure; a delight to dine with, and, it turned out, he had excellent choice in food.

  We had fresh native lobster to start. It was poached in langoustine bisque, which turned out to be the most delicate of creamy seafood broths. The lobster was followed by hand rolled pappardelle pasta in a truffle and parmesan sauce, and the most delicious duck I had ever tasted, pan seared in a pecan nut, pear and ginger reduction.

  I was full to bursting when a whole slow cooked shoulder of lamb emerged. “I thought we’d just had the main course!” I protested.

  “You have to try it, it comes highly recommended. The meat is imported from the Pyrenees, rubbed with herbs and then slow cooked for 12 hours.”

  I sniffed at it as the tray was placed on the table before us, and suddenly I wasn’t so full after all. The aroma was amazing, my mouth literally salivating in anticipation. “I guess I could have one or two mouthfuls.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, there was nothing left at all on the plate between us. Truthfully, the main course had been finished for some time—so tasty that the first and second courses had slowed us only slightly.

  We were now on our second bottle of a wine that tasted like I shouldn’t ask its price, and deep in a conversation I was no longer paying attention to—I’d moved to Xander’s side to show him puppy photos of Baxter, and his hand had slid to cover mine, and now I was babbling about the stupid things Baxter did on a regular basis while inside I did cartwheels.

  “You should see some of the things Baxter digs up! I swear, that dog has an unhealthy obsession with getting dirty.”

  Had his hand touched mine accidentally? But he wasn’t pulling away!

  “My backyard looks like a warzone—there are holes all over it.”

  But, this date had been all about making up for Baxter, hadn’t it? Someone like Xander couldn’t possibly be interested in someone like me, could he?

  “This one time, Baxter literally dug up a pipe. I wondered why the fur on his face was all muddy, then walked out into the back yard to see a small river flowing freely into the neighbor’s yard..”

  How did I feel about that? I mean, people like that didn’t even notice people like-

  Xander leaned across, very gently, and kissed me. And suddenly all thought ceased, and my mind was still.

  He pulled back. How did I feel about that? How did the moon feel as it floated over the earth, or a cloud as it tumbled through the heavens?

  The look on his face was as dazed as I felt. “My apologies,” he said. “I... I don’t know what came over me.”

  I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to, in case this was all a dream and I woke up.

  “Kate?”

  I let out my breath, discovering with delight that this dream was, in fact, real. And then I leaned in, eyes closed, and kissed him back.

  Chapter Six

  We tumbled into his bedroom—the limousine a wild ride of kisses and fumbling and a much needed privacy screen for poor Richards, who sat shaking his head with a smile as we drove.

  My hands slipped under his shirt as we fell onto the bed. His stomach above me was like a washboard—hard, with no give, though it flexed as we kissed. We ground ourselves against each other. I pushed the shirt up. Our lips parted only long enough for the material to slip between them.

  Fingers running up his broad chest, I kissed him again, nails digging into his skin as they rounded onto his back. I felt a hand on my hips, undoing the thin black belt there. The buckle caught and he pulled away from me, sitting above. I saw a swimmer’s body ripple as two hands seized either side of the leather and with a mighty heave, wrench it apart. The buckle snapped. “That’s better,” he growled.

  He was a work of magnificence—a Swedish model, a Greek god; tanned skin and perfect body that was now reaching down to grasp either side of the collar of my dress too.

  “Oh no you don’t!” I said with alarm, trying to wiggle backward. “Do you know how much this cost?”

  His hands didn’t let go. His piercing blue eyes fixed mine. “I do,” he said. Then his shoulder muscles flexed again, and the dress ripped like paper. “And I don’t care. I’ll buy you a thousand of these tomorrow. Tonight, I’m interested in what’s underneath.”

  The want I felt radiating off Xander sent shivers down my spine. I scrabbled for his belt desperately, panties damp at the thought of what might be inside.

  The belt slipped free. I unzipped the pants. “Roll over,” I said, frustrated. “I need to get these off.”

  He shook his head, pinning me with his hand as he used the other to push the pants down himself.
“You can just stay right where you are. I’m enjoying the view.”

  I looked down at my body. My dress billowed out on either side of me, my arms still in the middle but the front now ripped clean in two—a cape for a heroine about to be ravished. I was so turned on, my chest was heaving. Glimpses of black bra rose and fell quickly. “Xander-”

  I gasped as he entered, panties pushed to one side. I hadn’t seen him, not there, but he was big. He filled me completely as his length slid deep.

  His hips pulled him back out, a loss that made me want to moan, and then pushed him inside once more. I groaned, each slide a tiny piece of heaven; every one of my senses stimulated. Millions of nerves between my legs began firing pleasure at my brain over and over again.

  I’d never been taken so suddenly before. It was... hot. He began to move faster, his motions urgent, his lips seeking mine, his tongue sliding into my mouth.

  It had happened so fast—one minute we’d been drinking, and then we’d been kissing, and then he’d been ripping my clothes off and I could feel how hard I made him inside me. So hard, and uncontrolled—like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

  I bit his bottom lip, pulling it, then ran my nails down his back. The motion made him groan. His efforts doubled, causing my pleasure to double too. Things were moving really quickly, and that was fine, because all I could think of was that sudden blinding explosion I knew was just around the corner, and I needed him to experience it with me more than anything else in this world.

  I began to gasp as he lifted his shoulders off me, seeking leverage. The thrusts became harder, more forceful, driving him deep into me. Shudders ran up my skin with each motion. My hands grasped buttocks like rocks and squeezed. I almost came right there and then. I began pulling him into me, urging him faster, harder, until the entire bed was rocking, and the walls were shaking, and I was crying out at the feelings he was generating.

  He began to gasp too. Then I felt him swell inside me. With every bit of strength I had left, I squeezed my hips as tight as I could.