“Advance reconnaissance is standard protocol when a member of the royal family is traveling abroad. But I can assure you, we managed to do so without alerting the press.”
There was little doubt about that. Not only because Clayton was arguably one of the best in the world when it came to protection detail, but because Henry hadn’t seen a single mention of his trip to the United States in any of the rags that devoted half their pages to the minute details of his life.
“Good,” he said. “Let’s keep it that way.” Leaning back in his seat, Henry crossed one leg over the other, ankle to knee. That wasn’t so bad, he thought. In fact, Clayton had actually taken the news much better than he’d expected.
“Keeping your movements out of the press is always a priority, sir, as is maintaining a safe perimeter.” A muscle in Clayton’s jaw ticked, and all at once Henry knew the relief he’d felt was premature. “Both of which require the resources of my full team.”
Henry stared out the window of the plane, watching the lush Georgia landscape pass by as they made their way to the private hangar. While it was true that other trips had resulted in run-ins with aggressive paparazzi or a few over-eager fans operating under the mistaken impression that they were contestants on some royal version of The Bachelor, that wouldn’t be the case this weekend. Not if they followed the plan he had in mind.
“Clayton, one of my best mates from uni is getting married this weekend. I don’t want to draw attention away from the happy couple. As it is, I’m sure the bride’s family feels as though their lovely town is being invaded.”
The plane rolled to a stop, and both men unbuckled their seat belts.
“Thanks to your efforts the press is unaware of this trip,” Henry said as they stood. “And aside from the bride and groom, none of the other guests will even know who I am.”
“You’re not exactly an unknown, sir. Your face is on the cover of half the magazines in Europe.”
“Maybe so, but as Prince Henry. Dressed like this”—he glanced down at his faded jeans and button-down shirt—“I’m just your average Hank.” He cracked a lopsided grin as he pulled a rolled-up University of Georgia cap out of the back pocket of his jeans and tugged it low over his head.
“What about Her Majesty?”
And there it was, the fear that outweighed all the others. While to Henry his grandmother was the woman who kept a stash of butterscotch candies for him in her desk drawer—never mind that for several years now he’d have preferred the “scotch” of a different variety she kept in the cabinet behind her—to the rest of the world she was Queen Eleanor, the woman who had ruled their kingdom with a sharp eye and a tight grip for nearly fifty years. She was loved by her subjects, but those who sat across from her knew better than to be fooled by the sweet granny exterior. She could be hell on wheels when she wanted to, a fact Clayton knew all too well. But Henry had anticipated the inevitable and was ready with his reply.
“What the queen doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Or any of us,” he added with a laugh. “I mean, there’s always the possibility of a beheading, but that would be extreme even for her.”
The attempt at levity was lost on Clayton. “I could never lie to her Majesty,” he said with a straight face.
Henry matched his serious tone. “Nor would I ask you to. But as long as everything goes smoothly, there’s no reason for my grandmother to be told that the trip was anything but typical.”
“And if there are any glitches?”
“Then I will take full responsibility.” Clayton might have been the queen’s favorite when it came to matters of security, but Henry was her favorite when it came to most everything else. As long as he didn’t create an incident worthy of being splashed across the tabloids, he’d eventually have Grandmum grinning in spite of herself. Of course she’d give it to him with both barrels first, then blame him for adding a few more gray hairs to her royal coif, but eventually she’d come around.
Prince Edgar would be on his side as well. Over the years his father had done his best to let Henry have as many “normal” experiences as possible. He’d even gone so far as to convince the queen to break tradition by allowing Henry to attend a university outside of their borders. Instead he’d sent his son to England, a country where they were far too busy tracking the every move of their own royalty to pay him too much notice. The result was a university experience most like any other bloke as long as you didn’t count the undercover agents—but even they went to great lengths to go unnoticed. Surely a man who’d wanted his son to experience university without a cumbersome crown wouldn’t begrudge him a weekend without one as well?
Clayton ran a quick hand over his gray crew cut. It was a gesture Henry had come to know well over the years, one that meant he was recalculating. Mission accomplished.
“Don’t worry so much.” Henry clapped a hand on Clayton’s shoulder. “Everything will be fine. I just want a normal American experience, and to do that I need to keep as low a profile as possible.”
The stairs of the plane unfolded to reveal a black stretch limo with tinted windows waiting alongside a caravan of black SUVs. “Fuck,” Henry mumbled. All that was missing was the royal crest and a few billowing flags.
“My apologies, sir,” Clayton said dryly. “I wasn’t aware we were going for low profile this weekend.” He gave the cuffs of his shirt a sharp tug beneath the sleeves of his dark suit.
Henry nodded. “No, my bad. I should have said something sooner.” He trotted down the stairs of the plane to greet the members of his detail. One by one he shook their hands with Clayton one step behind him the entire time.
“I’ll wait for you in the car,” he told him once they’d reached the end of the line. With that, Henry made his way across the tarmac, bypassing the stretch limo and climbing into one of the SUVs instead. He watched as Clayton updated his team on the change of plans, noting the frown that knit his brow when he saw Henry waiting in the front seat.
When the briefing was complete, Clayton joined him. He didn’t say a word about the seating arrangements as he climbed into the car and started the engine. In fact, he didn’t say a word about anything. Not that he usually had much to say when he was behind the wheel, or really ever for that matter. But for some reason the deafening quiet felt uncomfortable. Maybe it was being in the front seat, or maybe it was knowing that Clayton was grinding his molars as he drove. For whatever the reason, the silence that stretched out between them made the trip seem twice as long.
Forty-five minutes later they reached the small town where Matthew Miller would be the next of Henry’s friends to take a bride. While in theory Henry was quite chuffed for him, their union was just one more reminder of the ticking clock. As the eventual heir to his country’s throne, marriage was a foregone conclusion. But despite the not-so-subtle reminders from his grandmother about wanting great-grandchildren before she was too old and senile to know who they were, a royal wedding was nowhere on the horizon. His father was young and in excellent health, which meant Henry had plenty of time to enjoy the spoils of youth before settling down under the weight of the crown. And while it was inevitable that day would eventually come, it was still a long way off and, for now at least, Henry had no desire to do anything but enjoy life.
He waited until Clayton had turned onto the main street, then told him to stop the car.
Clayton pulled over and put the SUV in park. “Is everything all right?” Concern was etched in the hard lines of his face. “Should I notify medical?” The small microphone he wore at his wrist was in front of his mouth before Henry even had a chance to reply.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Just thought you could drop me off here. That way I can do a bit of sightseeing while you trade this in for something a little . . . less.”
“Sir, I—”
Henry tilted his head to the side.
“Hank.”
Henry smiled, but the brief sense of triumph faded as Clayton continued.
“I’m not comforta
ble with you wandering the streets without protection. Maybe if you’d allowed the entire team to accompany us, if I could have done a proper sweep of the area, set up a perimeter . . .”
“Clayton, relax. We’re in the middle of nowhere in a town that according to the sign we just passed has a population of less than three thousand.” He looked out the window at the cobblestone street that led two blocks to the center of town. “I’ll just take a look around and meet you later.”
“But sir.” Clayton paused at the sight of Henry’s raised brow. “I mean Hank, you don’t even know the location of the house I rented.”
“That’s the other thing. I don’t want to be staying at some fortified mansion on the outskirts of town.”
Clayton’s grip on the wheel tightened. “The location we secured was chosen for—”
“For a prince,” Henry said, finishing his thought. “But I’m simply another member of the wedding party, remember? It’s bad enough I missed the bachelor party in Vegas, I’m not missing out on everything here as well. We’re staying at a local bed and breakfast.”
The last line was said with resolute conviction, his tone making it clear that the discussion was over. Standard protocol was one thing, but Henry was still the prince after all, and in the end his commands were to be followed. It wasn’t a card he played often, but if push came to shove, he would.
“A bed and breakfast, sir?” Clayton looked as though he’d swallowed something foul.
“Quite a charming place from the looks of the web site.” Hank opened the door. “Both rooms are under your name.” He smirked. “Hope you don’t mind I used your credit card?”
“Sir—”
Hank flashed the grin he knew never failed to get him out of trouble. Or into panties, for that matter. “Meet you there in an hour.” He shut the door of the SUV, effectively ending the conversation, then turned to face the small town that would offer him anonymity for the next three days. With his hands on his hips, he drew a deep breath. For the next three days, he wouldn’t be His Royal Highness Prince Henry William Arthur George, third in line for the throne of a European nation best known as the playground of the rich and famous. He was simply Hank Green, just another wedding guest without a care in the world.
Chapter Two
Cassie poured the last of the batter into the tin, then swapped the tray for the one that had just finished baking. Over the course of the afternoon she’d made nearly three hundred miniature cupcakes. She’d covered the basics with chocolate fudge and Madagascar vanilla, but had also made a few batches of red velvet and lemon chiffon to shake things up a bit. It was overkill for a rehearsal dinner that would seat no more than fifty people, but Cassie wanted everything to be perfect for her older brother’s big weekend. And besides, who wouldn’t want an extra treat to take back to their hotel room?
“Smells great,” Sue said, peeking her head over Cassie’s shoulder.
“Help yourself.” Cassie smiled. “There’s certainly plenty to spare. I tend to over bake.” Even if she hadn’t, Cassie would have been more than happy to share a dessert or two with the woman who’d graciously agreed to sublet her bakery for the weekend.
Sue reached for one of the cupcakes from an earlier batch and pulled back the paper wrapper. She took a bite and made a sound of pure bliss. “Lordy,” she said with her mouth still full of red velvet cake. “These are amazing.”
A sense of pride welled up inside her as Cassie stood a bit taller. “Really?” A compliment from someone with as many years of experience as Sue meant a lot to a newbie like her.
“Absolutely.” Sue nodded. “The mini chocolate chips are a nice touch. Any chance I can hire you?”
Cassie laughed. “Would be one heck of a commute.” The drive from Chicago to the outskirts of Atlanta hadn’t been too terrible, but certainly not an option when it came to daily employment. Besides, Cassie had a shop of her own, or at least she would in a matter of weeks. Ten to be exact. That realization was still hard to fathom at times, despite the fact that every passing day brought it one step closer to becoming a reality.
“Well, if you ever change your mind,” Sue said, popping the last crumb into her mouth, “consider it a standing invitation.”
“Thanks, and thanks again for letting me use your kitchen.” For the next two days Sue’s Sweets & Treats was Cassie’s home away from home. Or in this case, bakery. Set in a remodeled general store in the center of town, Sue’s bakery looked as though it had been plucked straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Known statewide for its award-winning moonshine cake, the charming bakery had everything Cassie could ask for, all wrapped up in a red gingham bow. It was warm and homey, the sort of place you’d come for pecan pie on a Thursday afternoon or coffee and biscuits after church on a Sunday, and it was the perfect place to bake rehearsal dinner treats. Of course, the miniature cupcakes were just the beginning. Tomorrow would be spent making the groom’s cake her brother had requested—devil’s food layered with chocolate ganache and topped with hand-dipped chocolate strawberries—then decorating the three layers of almond flavored wedding cake that were currently cooling on wire racks.
Sue waved her hand through the air. “Pish-posh, happy to help out. Any woman willing to spend her entire weekend away baking for a family member is my kind of gal.” She opened the bottom drawer of the small desk she kept in the back corner of the room and pulled out her purse. “Plus, it forced me to take a few days off. First vacation I’ll have had in years.”
It was only two days. That was hardly a vacation. Still, Cassie could imagine herself keeping the exact same schedule. It was how she’d approached nearly everything in her life. She’d become a CPA at only twenty-two thanks to AP credits and an aggressive schedule that allowed her to graduate with a combined bachelor’s and master’s degree. After that it was on to one of the city’s top accounting firms where she burned the midnight oil at least six days a week. And while quitting her job to pursue her dream of becoming a pastry chef was the single best decision she’d ever made, it had done nothing to balance work and leisure. Between classes and test batches and apprenticeships, she still spent more time with inanimate objects than actual human beings, but at least she was happy. Relatively. There was still the matter of her re- virginization, but that was a topic for another day.
“Big plans?” she asked, the lift in her voice expressing her hope that Sue had packed plenty of adventure into those forty-eight hours.
“If by that you mean a weekend at home with my feet up and nothing but wine, takeout food, and mindless TV, then absolutely.” She laughed as she slung her purse strap over her shoulder. “Weekends are the busiest time, taking one off means a lot of lost revenue. Just wait till your shop opens, you’ll never want to switch that sign to closed.” She started for the back door. “Oh, speaking of, will you double-check I remembered to turn the sign over out front?”
“Sure thing.” Cassie put the last two trays of cupcakes into the commercial-grade oven, then wiped her hands on a towel and headed to the retail area of the bakery. She was pushing through the swinging stainless steel door when she heard the front door’s telltale chime.
“Oh hey,” she said, startled by the man in the University of Georgia baseball cap. “Um, we’re actually closed.” She would have thought the empty display cases would have been his first clue, but he didn’t seem to notice. Instead his eyes were glued to the crumpled map he held in his hands.
“Sorry to bother, luv,” he said in an accent that was far from Southern. It was unlike any Cassie had ever heard before, part British and part something she couldn’t quite place. “I’ve circled the same four blocks at least a dozen times but no matter which way I turn, I seem to end up right back here.”
He lifted his head and when his gaze met hers, he smiled. Shy and sexy all at once, Cassie knew without question it was the sort of smile that meant nothing but trouble. The kind that got him whatever he wanted. The kind that was absolutely irresistible. “Might you have
a look?”
Oh, she was having a look all right. Although to be fair, it was more like a shameless gawk. The man standing in front of Cassie had warm brown eyes that seemed to actually sparkle when he smiled, like he was straight out of some Disney animation. From the bit curling around the band of the baseball cap, she could see that his hair was what some would call “dirty blond.” She’d always envied people with that hair color. In her opinion it was the genetic jackpot, nature’s very own version of highlights. He was tall, at least half a foot taller than her, and while he was lean there was an undeniable bulge of a bicep pushing against the sleeve of his shirt. There was an undeniable bulge a bit lower as well, but Cassie did her best to keep her hungry gaze above the waist of the faded jeans that were definitely doing crazy things to her tired and overstressed brain. How else could she explain the sudden urge she had to let her fingers trace the sizable ridge outlined against the worn denim?
“Want a peek?”
Cassie blinked hard. “What?”
“At the map.” He held out the crinkled paper.
“Oh yeah, sure.”
He handed her the map, but Cassie was so dazed and confused, it took her a moment to even realize she was looking at it upside down. Smooth Cass, real smooth. As casually as possible, she turned it right-side up, stealing a glance at the handsome stranger as she did. Mercifully, he seemed unaware of her map faux pas. He was far too busy rattling on about having forgotten his “mobile” and “How did we ever survived without GPS?” and “Was it always this humid in the South?” to take much notice of her flustered state. She used the short reprieve to compose herself, but it was difficult with all that perfection in such close proximity. Seriously, how could someone be that good looking? And as if that wasn’t enough, he had the whole sexy accent thing going for him. Even mundane words sounded like something any girl would want whispered in her ear.
Icing on the Cake (Wild Wedding Series Book 2) Page 2