by Geneva Lee
Turning, I strode from the room, pausing to issue one final command. “Take her phone.”
I hadn’t turned away from my darkness. I’d turned it to fuel, but now it overwhelmed me. Instead of continuing to my office, I sought my wife. Standing by the side of our bed, I studied my wife as she slept, her lips parted and her body curled on its side.
What toll was this taking on her? I saw the stress and frustration I felt reflected in her. There was only one way for both of us to escape.
Moving into the bed next to her, I ran a finger down her spine. Then I pressed my lips to her neck, stealing her from her dreams.
“X?” she murmured.
“I need you, Poppet.” It was hard to control how much. It tore at me, clawing to be released.
Her hand found the one skimming over her breast and she clutched it to her chest. “I need you, too.” She paused and I felt it aching in her touch. “But are you still angry?”
“Yes.” I wouldn’t lie. It would undermine the life we were building.
“Don’t ask me,” she begged.
I understood. It was my limit. I’d set it, but now I was forcing her to be the one to respect it. She wouldn’t be able to if I asked. She would submit without fear.
But I couldn’t take that risk.
I relinquished her hand and slipped from the bed, determined to let go of the fury controlling me.
“Find your way back to me,” she called after me.
I told her I would try.
Outside the door I leaned against the wall, already feeling more empowered. It had been the right choice and the hardest, but wasn’t that the way of it? My eyes landed on the door across the hall. If it was Clara’s nap time, it would be Elizabeth’s.
Peeking my head inside, I startled Penny who was devouring a romance novel.
“Sir?” she whispered.
“I wanted to hold my daughter.” I didn’t owe her an explanation, and she didn’t ask for more. She took her leave, telling me to find her later. Going to the crib, I realized Elizabeth needed a new bed. She wasn’t a baby anymore. A bittersweet sadness filled me. I had so much of her life to look forward to, but it was passing too quickly.
How much longer would I be able to hold her in my arms? How much longer would she climb into my lap or reach for my hand?
I lifted her and her body flailed, instantly calming when I cradled her to me. Carrying her to a chair, I sat and rocked her slowly.
I’d always questioned if I could make a bit of difference in the world. She was my answer. There had been a time when I’d thought I could never love. Clara had proven me wrong, and then she’d given me this beautiful gift of pure love.
I had no idea how long I sat there. My time with her would never be long enough. When she finally stirred, a tiny hand, warm from sleep, pressed to my cheek.
“Daddy,” she blubbered before burrowing her head against my chest, frustrated to be neither awake nor asleep.
“Wake up, beautiful girl, the world is waiting for you,” I called.
She peeked up at me and giggled. The sound of it supplanted the last anger inside me. There was no room for it when I was filled with this much love.
We found Penny in the parlour, and the two went off to find a snack.
Returning to my bedroom, I knocked gently, not wanting to wake Clara if she was still resting. She opened the door a moment later.
“There you are,” she murmured. Moving to the side she opened the door to our room and my eyes fell on the rope she’d placed carefully at the foot of the bed. “Let’s forget for a moment together.”
Chapter 23
Clara
Mistakes became insanity when you kept making the same ones. After the initial shock had worn off and Anders stayed out of the spotlight, interest died down enough that Alexander convinced him to come to us. We waited for a midweek afternoon to bring him when tourists were at the lowest numbers and most Londoners were at work.
None of the precaution mattered, judging from the scowl Anders wore as he waltzed into the ambassador’s entrance. I’d gone down to meet him, Alexander refusing flatly to come along. I’d planned to go outside but thought better of it when I saw the mass of people pressing the barricades outside the gates. So much for the best laid plans.
“Are you the welcoming committee?” he asked, the scowl transitioning to a smile. It was the kind of greeting most women fantasized about. Certainly, most women would find Anders drool-worthy, especially now in his black jeans and leather jacket. If he’d wanted to play down the situation, he shouldn’t have dressed as the Royal black sheep.
“I have Georgia guarding Sarah in her room,” I informed him in a clipped, professional tone. “Edward and Alexander are waiting in his office.”
“And they sent you?” This time he didn’t sound as happy about it.
I hated that it came to this—constantly reinforcing a sense of distance between us. I genuinely liked Anders but I would never feel that way about him.
“I offered.” I had been the one to convince all parties to agree to this meeting.
“So this bitch sister of his…”
I cleared my throat.
“So this bitch sister of ours,” he corrected himself. It wasn’t what I’d meant, but it would do. “Will she be there?”
“No,” I said resolutely. Sarah was still in the Belgian Suite. We’d probably have to burn it with fire to make it hospitable after she finally vacated it, but we’d all agreed that including her was a very, bad idea. “She’s preparing to move out.”
“Didn’t she just move in?” He tilted his head like he was trying to shake loose enough brain power to understand how this family worked.
“And it’s going so well.” I reached for the door leading into the North Wing, but he jumped in front of me to hold it open. I pressed my lips into a thin smile. “Thank you.”
“So what are we going to talk about? Do I have to learn Royal protocol or some shit?” He raked a hand through his mess of blond hair.
It was moments like that which reminded me he was Alexander’s brother. Neither of them could see the similarities they shared. Because the one they both had in problematic quantities was stubbornness.
“Options.” I kept my answers simple and to the point not wanting to give him more to work with. He’d spun an entire imagined romance out of a few conversations.
“Is this how it’s going to be?” Anders asked in a soft voice, stopping in the hall and forcing me to do the same. “Edward will act like we can all be one big happy family and Alexander will treat me like something stuck to the bottom of his shoe?”
He paced closer and paused, lowering his voice. “And you acting like a robot because you can’t admit the truth?”
“What truth? Anders, I can’t tell you how you feel but I can tell you how I feel.”
“Then admit it. Admit you feel something.” His hand reached out to brush my shoulder, but I pivoted away from him.
“I care about you as a friend.” How did we keep finding our way back here?
“Because he has you confused. You’re so caught up in pleasing him that you don’t know what’s real,” he said harshly.
“I have no problem with reality. We’re intimately acquainted. While you were holed up drinking whiskey in SoHo, I was here coming up with a strategy to help you as was Alexander.” I kept my voice low. We were only a few steps from Alexander’s office now and I wasn’t sure if he could hear us.
Anders showed no interest in self-preservation. “Am I supposed to be grateful? He dragged me into this.”
“Neither of you are to blame for your DNA,” I stopped him. “There’s only one person alive that you can pin that on, so go talk to her if you want to yell at someone.”
“Don’t drag my mother into this,” he warned me. “She raised me.”
“With Albert’s financial help.” I held up my palm before he could blow his top at this perceived snub. “I don’t think you owe any of us anything.
We only want to help you adjust.”
“To what?” Anders laughed at me and I felt the familiar urge to slap him. It was a sensation his brother had inspired more than few times as well. “Nothing’s going to change for me. I’m just the latest in whatever cock-and bull scandal your lot is handling this week.”
“You’re wrong.” I shook my head, feeling slightly sad for him but mostly annoyed. I’d once thought the press would have no interest in me either. Even during Alexander and I’s brief periods apart, they’d hounded me and dissected my every movement.
Once a Royal, forever a Royal.
“I’m afraid my wife is right,” Alexander called from the doorway. I didn’t miss how much emphasis he placed on ‘my wife.’
“Boys let’s behave,” I suggested as I passed them both and stepped through the door.
They followed me sullenly through the door, taking opposites chairs from one another and then studiously avoiding looking in the other’s direction. This was going to be one long meeting.
“I ordered tea,” Edward said brightly. “I wasn’t sure how you take it, so they brought up the lot.” He held out a cup and saucer to Anders who leaned over to take them with some hesitation.
“I’m not particular. We didn’t have anything fancy growing up.” Anders didn’t add anything to the black tea.
Edward’s smile grew forced as he added milk and sugar to his.
“You could have had fancy tea with the money our father sent,” Alexander said. He’d spread himself in his chair, taking up all available space as if to send the message that the chair also belonged to him. I was going to have to step in if they started marking their territories in more alarming fashions.
“Is this how it’s going to be?” I asked, unwilling to play this game with them. “We agreed to meet and decide what to do together. Anders, we aren’t going to tell you how to handle this, but we are going to offer advice and resources if you’ll take them—and you’re a wanker if you don’t. Alexander, we’re all aware of your standing in this room, in this family, and in this country, so stop posturing. Edward, I’ll take some tea.”
He poured me some out of a second pot made with an herbal blend, his lips twitching at the tongue lashing I’d just given his brothers.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully passing it to me after adding extra sugar, “I’m not the youngest anymore.”
I raised an eyebrow, bringing the tea cup to my lips. “No, you aren’t.”
“But he’s hardly the baby of the family.”
“I’m not what?” Anders seemed to be tracking the conversation’s turns with difficulty.
“You’ll get used to them. They pretty much speak their own language,” Alexander said. “I suppose I’ll get my own tea.”
“Have you forgotten how?” Edward asked and Anders smirked.
“See?” I placed my cup in its saucer and returned it to the coffee table. “You three are already acting like family—ganging up on one another and competing.”
“It must warm the heart,” Alexander said.
“Now that we’ve gotten the pleasantries out of the way, let’s discuss what’s going on,” I advised.
“Alexander only pretends to be in charge,” Edward muttered to Anders.
“Enough,” I warned him. “We’ve prepared a press release.”
“You mean I don’t have to sit through another press conference? Brilliant.”
“We’ve had enough of those for a while,” Alexander agreed.
We had been hosting them with an alarming frequency. If we could avoid another, since the others had ended in near disaster, it would be for the best.
“What are you going to say? How are we going to cover this up?” Anders drained his cup and waited.
I looked to the others, wondering if it was better coming from me or one of them. “We don’t want to deny it.”
“What do you mean? Look, the tea is lovely but I don’t want any of this life.”
“We know,” Alexander said with astonishing sincerity. “I wouldn’t either if I was you.”
“You don’t know the first thing about being me,” Anders said coolly.
“I know that you’ve broken ribs four times, that when you crashed your first car it nearly cost your mother her house. I know that you fell in love with a girl who ran off with your best mate. I know more than you think.” Alexander leaned forward and picked up the milk. “I know things you don’t. That car? Our father took care of that. Just like he took care of it when you were nearly expelled from secondary school.”
“What is this?” Anders hissed. “You wanted me to come here so you could prove I’m in debt to you?”
“If I know all of that and it wasn’t hard to confirm these matters once we knew your name; the press will know it eventually, too. They won’t let this go. The media isn’t in the business of turning a blind eye to a juicy bit of news—and you have their mouths watering.”
“What he said,” Edward added.
“Then what?” Anders slumped in his seat.
“We issue a press release that confirms the story with enough details that there’s less incentive to go digging for more.”
“We beat them to the story,” I explained.
“Whose genius idea is this?”
“Ours,” Alexander said.
“You’ve been meeting and discussing how to handle my life without me?” Anders asked. He actually sounded a bit hurt.
“We did try to call,” I said flatly.
“They won’t go away if they know.”
“No, it will probably get worse,” I admitted, frowning when his eyes darted to the door like he was contemplating making a break for it. “For a while. They will lose interest.”
“Bollocks,” Anders said. “They haven’t lost interest in any of you. They’re still debating your wedding”—he pointed to Edward—“and analyzing every breach of protocol that Clara makes, and we all know what they think of Alexander.”
“Do enlighten me,” Alexander said.
“You’re paranoid, delusional, seeing threats where there’s only smoke,” he said directly to Alexander. It was less a quote than an accusation.
“There’s rarely smoke without a fire. Lesson one.”
“All those threats are real.” I took a deep breath. He hadn’t reacted well to our suggestion of the press release. He was going to like the next bit even less. “Which is why we need to increase your security.”
“Increase?” Anders echoed. “I have security?”
“It obviously won’t affect you much,” Alexander said dryly.
“I can handle myself,” he said.
“My jaw remembers that,” Alexander said, “but you’re not up against a barroom brawl.”
“What am I up against? Is that Jacobson rubbish true?”
Somehow I knew he wouldn’t believe anything Alexander had to say, so I answered. “Every word of it.”
“Fuck.” For the first time, we’d made a dent.
“Why?”
“That’s a long story,” Alexander warned him. “I’m happy to tell you about it, but there are other matters to consider.”
“Security guards and press releases aren’t enough?”
Alexander peered at me, letting me take the lead. The next bit was my idea, and one the others weren’t sold on. “We want to bring in a handler.”
“A body guard? You said that already.”
“More like a publicist,” I said slowly. “Someone who focuses on crisis management and will know the right thing to say when you’re cornered.”
“A publicist? The track has those,” he started.
“It needs to be someone we know and trust,” Edward broke in.
Anders narrowed his eyes but he didn’t argue. “Who?”
* * *
I was exhausted—physically and emotionally—by the time the meeting ended. Edward walked Anders out this time. The two seemed to be warming to each other. Alexander and Anders? They were still as t
epid as ice.
“That went well,” Alexander said and I glared at him. “I meant that.”
“What meeting were you at?” We were dragging Anders into our family kicking and screaming because we were out of choices. I didn’t flatter myself that he’d listened to us out of anything other than self-interest—and it had taken him long enough to locate that part of himself.
“He listened.” Alexander held out both his hands and pulled me from the chair. “I think that’s the most we can hope for at this point.”
“I suppose.”
“You look tired.” My husband pulled me against him—or as close as he could get me these days. His hands closed over the round obstacle between us.
“One month to go,” I reminded him.
“Have I thanked you?” he said suddenly.
I cocked my head, looking into his brilliant blue eyes. “For?”
“Having my baby,” he murmured. “
“There wasn’t a lot of choice in the matter,” I teased, overcome by the cocktail of emotions this dredged up. “When you shag as much as we do, it’s bound to happen.”
“That isn’t the point. You’re still doing all the work of bringing our child into the world. I wanted to thank you for that, and in that spirit…” He laced his fingers through mine and pulled me toward the hall.
“What are you up to?” I asked as he led me toward the lift.
“I wanted to show how much I appreciated it.”
We stepped inside the lift and I hooked an arm around his neck, craning my face to his. “I’m listening. What do you have in mind?”
“I wonder what’s on your mind.” His mouth skimmed over mine.
“I am basically a walking mass of hormones,” I informed him.
“Is that so?” He swallowed, pressing the pad of his thumb to my lower lip.
I nipped it with my teeth. “It is.”
“That is a shame.” He tore himself away as the lift doors slid open.
“Not the reaction a girl wants to hear,” I muttered, skulking behind him.
“I have something to show you,” he said and before I could process what was happening, he’d backed me against the wall. His mouth trailed down my neck pausing to pay homage to my collarbone. “But after…”