Royally Yours

by Liz Johnson

  His lips found hers so quickly she wasn’t sure which of them had moved first.

  He pulled her up to her knees in front of him, his arms slipping around her waist as he kneeled next to her, deepening the kiss. One hand tangled in her hair despite the messy bun she’d piled her locks into, and her fingers gripped the neck of his shirt as she tried to draw him closer.

  Oh yes, he’d missed her.

  “I guess no one needs hot chocolate in here.”

  Eleanor tumbled quite ungracefully back onto her rear as Mrs. Hough spoke from the doorway. An amused smile turned the corners of her lips, and she winked. “Don’t mind me. I’ll bring the thermos in here, instead—seems like it’ll stay plenty warm next to you two.” She was gone as quickly as she’d appeared.

  Liam sat down next to Eleanor, keeping a generous amount of space between them, and chuckled as he reached across the popcorn bowl for her hand. “That wasn’t awkward.”

  “Not at all.” She twined her fingers through his, heart thumping a staccato beat in her chest. From the kiss, or from getting caught? Both, maybe.

  Definitely the kiss.

  “I’ll stay over here.” Liam inhaled deeply.

  She nodded, still slightly out of breath. “Seems wise.” And yet, quite disappointing at the same time. Everything from the last few days bombarded her thoughts, and her nerves reappeared with vengeance. “But we should probably talk.”

  “Yes, talk.” Liam hesitated. “With words.”

  “Yes. With words.” Which seemed to be failing her at the moment.

  Bing Crosby filled the silence with Winter Wonderland. Then they both spoke at once.

  “I’m sorry about—”

  “I should apologize for—”

  Liam held up one hand. “Normally, I’d say ladies first, but I was the jerk.” He traced the knuckle on her hand with his calloused thumb. The gesture brought a rush of comfort flooding her holiday-weary heart, and Eleanor closed her eyes as she let it seep in. Maybe this Christmas wouldn’t be quite as drab as she first feared.

  “I’m sorry I went off the grid. My uncle said you’d tried to schedule a ride, and I wasn’t there.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing his throat. “I took a few days off. Even considered flying home, but apparently our private plane is under maintenance.” He rolled his eyes and offered a sheepish grin. “I’m glad I didn’t.”

  She was glad, too. “I’m sure the fact that you didn’t go home deeply upset Digs, however.”

  “He’s cool. We Skyped on my way over.”

  She snorted at the joke, and Liam shot her a look. “Would you judge me if you knew I was dead serious?”

  “No. It’s sweet.” Seeing that soft side of Liam and remembering the details of their last angry encounter in front of the B&B filled her with fresh regret. “I’m sorry. I pushed you away. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry with you when I found out who you were.”

  He shook his head. “No, I should have told you much sooner. I didn’t expect—” His voice broke off and he took a deep breath. “Well, to be honest, I didn’t expect you.”

  “That might be backward. You knew you were getting assigned to a princess.” Eleanor looked at their entwined fingers. “I certainly didn’t expect Liam Neal.”

  He winced. “Can you stop saying my name like it’s a four-letter word?”

  She tilted her head. “It is, though. Both of them.”

  “Very funny.”

  Her heart swelled at the sarcastic, endearing look in his gaze. “You know, normally this is the part where you’d kiss me.”

  “For someone who isn’t romantic, I had actually already figured that out. But, unfortunately, I agreed to just sit here.” He shrugged his free hand in dramatic helplessness.

  A rush of warmth tightened her stomach and sent butterflies tripping over themselves. “I concur that’s still wise.”

  “Then it’s time for my next surprise.”

  Liam pulled his hand free from Eleanor’s, despite his instincts that demanded he kiss her again, and grabbed the plastic bag from the floor by the tree. His heart still raced in his chest at her nearness, and his nerves hummed with energy, demanding an outlet. With the taste of her berry gloss still on his lips, he quickly began pulling out the eclectic mix of purchases from the sack. Hair ties, glittered clothespins, miniature doll clothes. “I wasn’t sure what you were into as a little girl, so I sort of grabbed a bunch of stuff from the toy store.”

  It’d been the least he could do, after all but yelling at her in the parking lot of the B&B the other night. She’d accepted his apology so quickly, so generously…it seemed too good to be true. In his experience with women, that meant it usually was.

  But Eleanor was different, and he’d cling to that. And make it up to her in the meantime. However, judging by Eleanor’s pitched eyebrows, she hadn’t caught on to his plan yet.

  “What I was into? What on earth are you talking about?”

  He sat back on his heels, gesturing toward the pile on the floor. “Decorating the tree. You know, like you did the tree in your room—with your dad.”

  Recognition lit her eyes, and she sucked in a tight breath. She gingerly picked up a pink rubber hair band and stretched it between her fingers. “Liam…”

  “Nope. No more tears.” Dang it, if he couldn’t stop making this woman cry.

  “They’re happy tears.”

  “Still terrifying.”

  She snort-laughed, and he relaxed. Now it was Christmas. “So, we just…set them on the branches, right?” He clumsily tied a purple band around a branch and winced as several needles wilted to the floor. Oops.

  “Maybe not so tight.” She laughed and looped hers around the branch without wrapping it, then handed him a doll jacket.

  He propped it up on a low hanging branch, two down from a pair of sparkly doll leggings. “This is kind of hilarious.”

  “Me and my dad would laugh for hours. You should have seen the things he’d find in my room for us to use.” Her eyes lit, this time, it seemed, in a manner that was all sweet with no bitter. Finally, a solid memory she could take back to Brightloch with her. Wasn’t that all he wanted?

  He watched the graceful curve of her arm and the slight smile dimpling in her cheek as she continued decorating the tree, and his chest tightened. No, that wasn’t all. But that was all that was meant to be.

  She draped a floral print headband around two branches, then shot him a heartfelt look that almost undid him. “Liam…”

  His heart hiccupped a warning. “Come on, now, I told you no—”

  “Thank you. That’s all.” She widened her eyes to show him the lack of tears. “See? Clear as a bell.”

  “Yet, the ear it fully knows, by the twanging and the clanging, how the danger ebbs and flows.”

  Her tear-free eyes widened in realization. “You know Edgar Allan Poe?”

  He feigned offense. “Hey, I’m the American here. Why is it more shocking that I know ‘The Bells’ than you?”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear and grinned. “Yet, the ear distinctly tells, in the jangling and the wrangling, how the danger sinks and swells.”

  He handed her the last of the doll clothes to set on the tree. “You realize it’s Christmas Eve, and we’re both quoting a poem about danger.”

  “Somewhat fitting, I suppose.” She gestured between the two of them. “You know. Because of this. Us.”

  He stood and pulled her up next to him, his fingers sliding down the back of her sweater-clad arms until he found her hands. “Is there an us?”

  She stepped closer, bundling into his chest. “At this point, I don’t see how there couldn’t be.”

  “But it’s impossible.”

  She nodded against his shirt. “Completely.”

  “And dangerous.”

  “Yes.”

  “Because we’re from two different states.”

  “Countries,” she corrected.

  “You’re making it worse.” H
e squeezed her into a tight hug. Maybe if he just didn’t let go…

  She sighed. “It’s reality.”

  He pulled back slightly. “You’re going to go back, aren’t you?”

  “If I don’t answer, will that fact go away?”

  His heart sank two notches. “It’s reality.”

  She hesitated, then nodded. Two more notches lower. Liam pulled her back in, inhaling her scent. “Then, reality isn’t my favorite at the moment.” But this was. Her. Right here, next to him, and a fireplace, and a lit Christmas tree. Where maybe the magic of the holiday could freeze—

  His cell buzzed from his jeans pocket.

  Figured. He checked the caller ID and groaned. Dad. “Speaking of things that aren’t my favorite.”

  Eleanor eased back and glanced at the lit display. “You should talk to him.”

  “I’ll call him later.” He started to slide the phone back into his pocket.

  “Liam.” Her eyebrows knitted together. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

  There was no way his father was calling with mushy holiday sentiments, but he couldn’t very well hang up on him with Eleanor watching. “You’re right. I’ll be back in a second.” Hopefully nothing happened to Tristan.

  His stomach knotted as he slipped outside onto the front porch of the B&B. This was why he could never make anything work with Eleanor. She’d been right—how would anyone believe he’d changed if he didn’t show them? She was returning to Brightloch, and he had to go back to California and run interference for his sister. His mom might seem content in drowning their dysfunctional family sorrows in gambling and Beverly Hills shopping trips, but Tristan—he couldn’t give up on her yet. If he could get her to see the same light he’d seen last year, only preferably not from the viewpoint of a hospital gurney…

  Like it or not, Tinsel was only a vacation. California was his destiny.

  And yet some fool part of him refused to give up the idea of trying to find a way with Eleanor, even long distance.

  He hunched his shoulders against the December chill, regretting not grabbing his jacket on the way out, and quickly dialed his father’s number. “What’s up?”

  “Well now, Merry Christmas to you too.”

  His voice was all cheer—with a little bit of leftover whiskey. So, Tristan must be okay. Liam cracked his neck to release a bit of the tension that had gathered. “Merry Christmas.” He’d play nice, for Eleanor’s sake.

  “I was calling to see how it was going.” His father slurped from his drink, and Liam wondered what number he was on.

  He sighed impatiently, pacing the dimly lit porch in a vain effort to stay warm—and restrain his words. “How’s what going? My vacation? My job?” Like his dad cared anything about Uncle Albert’s company or Liam’s temporary role there.

  Thankfully, he didn’t know about Liam’s business goals.

  “No, the big plan. You know. Wooing the princess.” Dad laughed, his voice dipping as it did when he’d had too many. And for his dad to have had too many with his years of built-up tolerance, well, that was a lot of drinking. Even for Christmas.

  Liam pinched the bridge of his nose, turning his back to the B&B. “That was your plan, not mine.”

  “It was a good one, though. Don’t tell me you haven’t been working on it.” His words slurred.

  “Oh yeah, you know me. All in a day’s work. Secure a job in a tiny Christmas town, charm the Princess, save the family name.” He rolled his eyes. His father was beyond dense for thinking Liam would do anything that self-serving. If he didn’t end the conversation now, the anger welling inside would overcome any hint of Christmas decorum, and he’d say things he could never take back.

  Not that he would necessarily want to take them back, but Eleanor’s voice rang in his ears. I’d give anything to make Christmas cookies with my dad, just one more time.

  He inhaled deeply, fighting for control. He wanted to tell him off. Tell his dad every single thing he hated about the life he’d created for them, and all the consequences that went with it. But it was Christmas, and one day, his father wouldn’t be there to yell at.

  He wasn’t sure how that made him feel, but it at least made him bite back the rest of the words he wanted to say.

  “Look, I’ve got to go, Dad.” He swallowed hard and tried to keep his tone even. “Tell Mom I said Merry Christmas and I’ll see her after New Year’s, okay?”

  Then he disconnected the call, resisting the urge to chuck his phone into a snow drift.

  Eleanor’s hand slipped off the knob of the partially cracked front door, clutching Liam’s jacket to her chest. When she realized he’d forgotten to take it with him, she’d started to bring it outside to him, but what had he just said? Charm the Princess, save the family name?

  Her mind whirred with possibilities, and she peered through the open slit between the door and the frame as Liam paced the porch. What could that mean? Surely it was a joke.

  But he and his father didn’t have the joking type of relationship, according to Liam—and to tabloids worldwide, for that matter.

  Had she misunderstood? The wind whistled through the trees in the front lawn, and she clung to the hope that he hadn’t said what she’d thought he said. That the wind had stolen or twisted the sentences, and that her ears hadn’t comprehended the real meaning. Because there was no way the same man in the common room, who’d tenderly decorated drooping branches with doll clothes for the sake of reviving her favorite Christmas memories, was a man capable of using her in any way. She knew Miles better than that.

  Liam, she meant. Not Miles.

  She frowned, and the old doubts came rushing back. But he’d lied before, hadn’t he? What if she didn’t know him as well as she thought? Hadn’t he fooled her once?

  Her stomach knotted. No. There had to be an explanation this time.

  She checked the slit in the door again, just in time to see Liam clench his fist and shove his phone back into his pocket.

  She darted away from the door as he turned to come inside, her heart racing as if she were the one who’d done something wrong. She quickly turned, as if she’d come from the common room, and met him with a breathless hello. “How’d it go?” She handed over the jacket, and he smiled his gratitude.

  “Chilly.” His smile turned wry. “Both the conversation, and the wind.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” She held her breath, hoping he’d elaborate, but he didn’t. Disappointment flared.

  He shrugged into his jacket, then pulled her into a hug. “It’s not your fault. If I hadn’t talked to him, I’d probably feel worse.”

  She accepted the embrace, stiffening at first as her doubts cast long shadows. Then she inhaled his now-familiar, spicy masculine scent, and relaxed into the hug. It was Christmas Eve.

  “Do me a favor?” She mumbled into his shoulder.

  “I’m not stringing the rest of that popcorn. That was your commitment.”

  She snorted and pulled back to smile up at him. “Two favors, then.”

  “What’s that?” He cupped her chin and ran a thumb over her jaw.

  “For this evening…can we ignore that pesky reality, and just be Miles and Eleanor?”

  A slow grin took over his features. “As opposed to Liam and the Princess?”

  She nodded, hopeful, rolling in her lower lip. The doubts flickered briefly, like a smoldering fire, but the look in his eyes as he gazed down at her doused the dying embers.

  He pulled her back in tight against him. “Sounds like a perfect Christmas to me.”

  Chapter 12

  The elaborate Christmas parade Uncle Albert described to him last week had not been embellished. It seemed the entire town—and its visiting guests—had turned out to line Main Street in brightly colored ski-jackets and hats, braving the freshly fallen snow by chugging steaming cups of hot chocolate.

  And to think, he could have been in his garage apartment, eating grilled meat off a stick. This holiday was turning out much better th
an he’d initially hoped.

  “Come on.” Liam squeezed Eleanor’s hand and guided her around a table of spiced donuts and apple cider, and through the crowd of cheering townspeople gathered around a snowman building contest.

  “What’s the rush?” Eleanor laughed as he tugged her along, reaching up with one hand to hold her pink hat in place as she nearly collided with a little boy who darted suddenly from behind a snowman. “The parade starts in half an hour!”

  “Exactly. We’ve got to get a good spot.” The short parade would last until mid-afternoon, and that evening, there would be a Christmas Ball in the town square civic center. He’d already asked Eleanor last night, in between gorging on white-chocolate dipped pretzels Mrs. Hough made and laughing late into the evening with a handful of other B&B guests, to be his date. And she’d said yes.

  He wasn’t much of a dancer, but he’d do anything to spend as many moments with Eleanor as possible before going back to California.

  They reached the side of Main Street that butted up to the edge of town and merged into the crowd lining the side of the road. Liam’s excitement waned, and his gaze darted carefully from person to person. He wished he hadn’t scrolled social media before falling asleep last night—a brief news-bite on Twitter had paired him and Eleanor, and he’d bet anything it was from their shared experience at the hospital. He knew it’d been too much to ask of that many nurses to keep such a secret. Begging them to play it cool about a visiting Princess was hard enough—throw in a wealthy heir to a scandalous American fortune and well...This was bound to happen.

  So far, thankfully, the rumor hadn’t seemed to spread to major headlines that people would be likely to see on Christmas morning, but he had to keep an eye on it before it grew too big. If Eleanor knew there were rumblings about them together online, it’d ruin the rest of her time in Tinsel—and with him. He wanted to spare her from it as long as possible. She had finally accepted who he was…a brush with that kind of harsh spotlight would quickly remind her she was better off without him.