by Sofia Daniel
He curled his fingers into my hair and let out a happy sigh. “You’re almost like your old self.”
I smiled back. “Thanks to you. Who knows what might have happened if you hadn’t found me in time?”
“It doesn’t bear thinking about.” His hand stilled. “Carbuncle is out there somewhere. If he has any sense, he would leave the country, but I think he might return to Mercia.”
The lining of my stomach rumbled with dread. “Would he be that stupid?”
“He’s that greedy,” replied Blake. “If Paul Underwood placed an idea in his head that you’re worth a million in ransom, he might seek you out and try again.” He reached down and intertwined his fingers with mine. “Each of us has classes with you. We’ll make sure you’re never alone.”
I nodded, caught in his hard gaze. The leather seat beneath me creaked, the sound adding to my trepidation.
“No more sneaking off to be on your own.”
My throat dried, and I gulped. “I-I’ll be careful.”
“At night, you’ll sleep in Edward’s room. He’s the only one of us with a double bed.”
“Y-yes.” My chest tightened at the thought of Mr. Carbuncle lurking in the grounds, waiting for the right time to catch me unawares. Blake must have been thinking the same as his eyes turned bright, and he swept a shaking hand across his forehead. My chest tightened, and my stomach twisted into several noisy knots.
His brows drew together. “You’re hungry.”
I placed my hand on my stomach. “But I ate breakfast.”
“Not enough, clearly.” Blake told the driver to take the next exit out of the freeway and head toward Lake Wessex. “The servants always pack a little hamper when I return to school. We can find a quiet spot and eat there.”
Lake Wessex turned out to be a huge body of water surrounding a small island with castle ruins. Brown, marbled ducks swam in the water among black swans with red bills. A group of men swam in the distance, their wet heads glistening in the sunlight. Blake explained this was also a natural swimming pool.
We sat beneath a weeping willow on a woolen picnic blanket with a red tartan pattern interlaced with green and blue, which Blake explained came from his father’s ancestors, the Simpson clan in Scotland.
“This used to be one of my favorite spots when I was younger.” A wistful smile touched his lips, and his eyes unfocused. “It would be just Father and me. He would row me to that island and tell me stories of the adventures he had with his chums while at Mercia Academy.”
I leaned into his shoulder and raised our laced hands, enjoying how the sun streamed dappled light onto our skin. “Was he there at the same time as Edward’s dad?”
“Father was five years older than the duke.” He beckoned over a thin boy about our age, dressed in green fishing waders that stretched up to his chest and rubber boots that reached his thighs. “By then, he was already in Elder House so didn’t mix with many of the lower year pupils.”
The boy rushed over and stood by the edge of the blanket, bouncing on the balls of his feet and making his rubber boots squeak. Blake reached into the inside pocket of his navy jacket, pulled out his wallet, and extracted a twenty-pound note. The boy gave him a jaunty salute and scurried away.
Pushing aside thoughts of how it must feel to see his step-grandmother each time he used money, I asked, “What are you doing?”
Blake drew back and grinned. “Taking you to Penda Castle, of course.”
I glanced across the lake at the ruins and sucked on the right side of my lip. “Isn’t that a special place for you and your dad?”
Blake stood and held out his hand. With eyes that shone with sincerity and seemed to stare into my soul, he said, “This is the first time I’ve been here since before Mercia Academy, actually.” I took it, and he pulled me up. Nurse Priya’s dressings were so tight, the movement hardly hurt. “Lake Wessex reminds me of empty promises and lost hope. Father should have been able to move on from Mother’s betrayal, but he spiraled into despair, and despite numerous interventions, he succumbed to his demons. Whenever I think of this place, it makes me sad. But now I’d like to make some happy memories.”
A flock of butterflies fluttered their wings. Something in the tone of his voice told me that he intended for us to be together for a very long time, if not forever. The intensity of his chocolate-brown gaze made my heart quicken, and I turned to the water and watched it ripple over the reflection of the ruins.
Forever was a long time, but after spending days alone with Blake and finally getting to see the real person beneath the mask of humor and flirtation, I found someone I could trust with my heart.
The boy pushed a rowboat around the lake’s perimeter and waved us over.
Blake took my hand and led me out from under the willow tree, across a short lawn and to the bank of the lake.
My throat dried. I’d never been in a rowboat before, but Blake was a member of the academy’s boat club and had occasionally mentioned wanting to follow his father’s footsteps and row for Balliol College in Oxford.
As we reached the boat, I asked, “Have you ever had to worry about kidnapping threats?”
“I have.” He stopped a few feet away from the boat and cupped the right side of my face in his hand. “But when the reporters told me you’d been taken, it was the most frightening time of my life.”
“I’m sorry for not listening to you,” I whispered.
He smoothed the hair off my left temple and tucked it behind my ear. “How were you to know that going to a party in London would result in an abduction?”
My throat thickened, and I swallowed hard. “I should have been more suspicious. This new version of Charlotte is even worse than ever.”
“She was always nasty,” he replied. “When the tabloids published photos of Mother and the prince while she was still married, she was the first to rally the others to call her a trollop.”
The sun disappeared behind a thick cloud, and a cool breeze blew through the cashmere sweaters Blake had lent me for the journey back to the academy. Based on what I had seen of Charlotte in my first term, I would never have guessed that there had been an acrimonious history between her and Blake. “What made her change her attitude?”
“Edward and Henry being on my side, and Mother becoming the Duchess of Surrey by marriage.” He continued stroking my hair. “But I never forgot the trouble she started for me.”
My lips curved into a half smile, and I placed my hand over his heart. Its slow, steady rhythm quickened. “Is that why you had her suck you off in exchange for getting closer to Henry?”
“Henry would never have been interested in someone so simple-minded. And yes, I wanted her to feel a little of how she and her friends had made me feel during one of the worst times of my life.”
I squeezed his hand. “It can’t be easy seeing your Mother displayed in the paper like that.”
“She was the least of my worries. It was father who kept me up at night.”
Something in the background disturbed a flock of ducks, which took flight with noisy quacks. I spotted them flying away in the corner of my eye and turned my gaze back to Blake. Pained lines etched the skin around his eyes, making my heart twist in empathy. “You couldn’t sleep because of his drinking?”
He dipped his head. “Not knowing where he was or what he was doing. Strange phone calls late at night, saying goodbye and thanking me for being a good son.” A tiny shudder shook his shoulders. “It was terrifying. Mother had washed her hands of him after the divorce because of his violent rages, so he only had me.”
I gulped. “That’s why she knew so much about bruises?”
“That’s part of it. Yes.”
I bit down on my lip, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, I asked, “Is she still being—”
“It’s not something I can handle right now.” Blake blurted the words so quickly, they took a moment for my brain to parse. “I can’t persuade her to leave. She loves the attention of
being married into the royal family, and nothing will make her let go of that.”
“My mom’s like that with Rudolph, I think.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“She hasn’t replied to any of my messages since I left the country.”
He stilled, and his gaze dropped to the side, as though he didn’t know where to look. I couldn’t blame him. At least his mother hadn’t shoved him out of the palace to cozy up with the prince. And she’d sort of stood by him during the scandals, even if her methods of support had been twisted and sick. Mom had just ghosted me, and if I hadn’t had so much shit to deal with at the academy, I might have succumbed to the loss.
“I’m… sorry.” He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and gave me a gentle hug. “Did she do the same the last time she married?”
My eyes fluttered closed, and I lost my self in his cedar scent. “No, but that guy was a corporate real estate investor and didn’t have the fame or vast fortune of Rudolph Trommel.” I shook my head. If Mom wanted to upgrade her life and leave her daughter behind, there was little I could do to change that. “It hurts less each day. Knowing that you and Edward are here for me is enough to negate the effect she’s had on my life.”
“And Henry,” he added in an admonishing tone.
We continued across the lawn and to the lake, where the boy waited for us with an impatient frown. Blake helped me onto the plank at the pointed end of the rowboat, which acted as a seat. Then he took off his jacket, got onto the boat, and the boy pushed it into the water until it was waist deep.
As Blake rowed, he said, “Henry was devastated when Edward told us you were the leak. Last term, he thought you’d settled your differences. It was a huge blow to him to discover you hadn’t forgiven him.”
I pursed my lips and gazed at his shoulder muscles rippling under his fitted sweatshirt. Right now, Henry was the biggest mystery of the trio. Sometimes the most loving and the one I felt the deepest connection with, and other times, a dismissive lout only interested in sex. “We couldn’t agree over getting him to clear my name.”
“He had his reasons. If you give him a chance, he’ll explain himself.”
I shrugged.
Without missing a stroke, Blake fixed me with a hard stare. “Just promise me that you’ll stay with one of us at all times, even if it’s Henry.”
I nodded. “Even if it’s Henry.”
He continued rowing across the lake until we reached the little island. Up close, the ruins were more intricate than from the other end of the bank. Instead of an empty, stone shell, there were room partitions, indoor arches, and even a staircase that protruded out from the internal walls.
Blake helped me out of the boat, stepped off, and placed a hesitant hand on my waist. His gaze wavered from my eyes to my lips, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. It was as though he wanted to kiss me but was afraid I would reject him.
His hand dropped from my waist and wrapped around his chest. “You were right.” He gulped. “I did it on purpose.”
“What?” I stared into his lowered eyelids.
“Didn’t convince you hard enough not to call the police.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It was selfish. Edward had told us both to back off and give you space, and I was sick of all the dance lessons with Yelverton and her friend acting as chaperones. I wanted you to come back the next day and the day after that to talk about the kidnappers.”
I blinked a few times. Blake hadn’t told me anything new, but I hadn’t expected he had wanted us to become closer. “You didn’t guess I would call the police, then?”
“I didn’t think you would be so decisive, no.” He held his body stiff like a person waiting for the blow to strike.
My heart melted. After that extraordinary rescue and the loving care he’d administered over the past days, how could he doubt that I would forgive him? When his eyes flickered to mine, realization slotted into place. Our past, the pranks he had committed against me, were holding him back. Or rather, the guilt he carried for having hurt me so much.
I placed a hand at the juncture of his shoulder and neck. “What you did for me these past few days makes up for everything.”
He glanced away. “It wasn’t anything special.”
I held his head between both hands and turned it toward me, so we stared into each others’ eyes. “Listen. No one has ever risked their neck for me the way you did. They could have had knives or guns or another accomplice in a different room, but you rescued me anyway. You weren’t satisfied with the police’s progress and went looking for me on your own. None of the reporters did that. It was you. So if I say I forgive you for those pranks, I forgive you.”
He stepped into my space and pressed his lips onto mine with the gentlest of kisses.
“Swear to me you won’t put yourself in danger again,” he whispered against my lips.
“I swear it.”
Chapter 20
Blake and I spent the rest of the afternoon at Lake Wessex. By the time we returned to Elder House, the pain medication, combined with the exhaustion of the day, weighed my limbs and caused my eyes to fall closed. He walked me straight to the room I shared with Rita, opened the door, settled me onto the edge of my mattress, and unfastened one of the Louis Vuitton cases piled at the foot of the bed.
“I’ll pack your things,” he said.
Rita turned around from her desk, took one look at my bruises, and her face dropped. Her fountain pen fell from her loose fingers and rolled across the floor.
With trembling lips, she asked, “W-where have you been? And who did this to you?” Her gaze darted from me to Blake, and then back to me. “W-was it one of them?”
I shook my head. “I went down to London, and got caught in an ambush.” My insides cringed with shame. I hadn’t told Rita because she would have begged me not to go and told me that revenge on Charlotte wouldn’t be worth the risk of her retribution. “Mr. Carbuncle did this with the help of Charlotte’s brother. Blake came to my rescue.”
She clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. “That’s… Did you call the police?”
“They know about it.” I didn’t want to mention that the Saturday Correspondent had made the call so as not to alert Blake that Rita knew about my involvement with them. I trusted him with my life but didn’t trust him with Rita. “Mr. Carbuncle escaped. He’s out there, somewhere, and I’m moving in with Edward.”
She pulled on her long braid but didn’t reply. I wanted to ask her how she hadn’t heard anything of the articles in the paper written about Paul Underwood’s arrest, but it likely had something to do with the amount of time she spent with her friend in Hawthorn House, who I was beginning to suspect was now her boyfriend.
Blake helped me up to the top floor, where Edward had left his room unlocked. I expect he had already texted ahead about our sleeping arrangements or the three of them had discussed it in the palace on Sunday when Nurse Priya had come to change my dressings. I changed into my nightclothes, settled myself into Edward’s bed, and held Blake’s hand.
“Thanks for a great day.”
He kissed my knuckles. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
I tucked my arm under Edward’s crisp, cotton sheets. Blake stood and pulled off his jacket. “What are you doing?”
“You don’t think I’m going to leave you here on your own, do you? This bed is big enough for four. He paused. As long as everyone snuggles close, and the fourth is as small as you.”
My lips quirked into a smile, and I scooted back to make space for Blake.
I awoke the next morning in Edward’s bed, curled around Blake with my head on his bare chest. My leg brushed over the thick erection encased in his silk pajama bottoms, and a low, sensual moan rumbled in his chest. Edward molded his front to my back and slung an arm around my waist. His fingers skimmed the patch of skin between the bandages encasing my torso and the hem of my panties, spreading warmth between my legs. Every muscle of my abdomen relaxed under his
touch, and I let out a sigh of contentment. This was the first night I had slept without the sleeping pills, and it was thanks to their presence.
I lifted my head and peered out at the space beyond Blake, half expecting to find a larger body wrapped around him, but there was no sign of Henry. Instead, orange streams of sunlight shone through the chink in the curtain and highlighted his empty spot.
A pang of regret struck my heart and filled my chest with a dull ache. This entire arrangement had started with Henry. Without that time alone in that dingy room, I would never have gotten to know Henry without Edward’s hostility getting in the way or without my mixed feelings about Blake’s involvement in Charlotte’s pranks.
Last night, I had fallen asleep minutes after settling onto Blake’s chest, and I hadn’t noticed Edward’s arrival. Had Henry also entered the room? After I had told him to go to hell the day we visited his parents, he probably didn’t think he would be welcome.
After giving me a gentle, morning kiss, Blake went downstairs to get dressed, while Edward offered me the first use of his bathroom. I stood in front of his mirror and scowled at my swollen face. Green now edged the bruises instead of the usual purple-black. Underneath the bandages, the bruises were still a livid purple. Even the passage of time and Mrs. Simpson-West’s bruise salves couldn’t work miracles.
Edward stepped into the bathroom, froze, and hissed like an angry cat. He fisted his hand over the towel around his waist and breathed hard.
I grimaced at the fading, hand-shaped bruises on my breasts. “You should have seen them a few days ago.”
“I’ll kill him,” he said in a voice as cold as the eyes roving my tapestry of scabs and bruises.
“Not if I get to him first.” He opened his mouth to protest, but I spoke first. “But I’ll be with one of you and not on my own.”
“Yes, you will,” he said with a bite in his voice. He raised his gaze, revealing a face etched with worry. “How on earth are you coping with the pain?”