by T. K. Leigh
“What? No associating with commoners?”
“No selfies.”
“You’re joking. That’s actually a rule?”
“‘Fraid so.”
“What’s the reason behind it?”
“I ask myself that regarding a lot of these rules. Some I can understand. For example, once my father became king, I was no longer able to travel with him. I couldn’t even ride in the same car.”
“Is that because of what happened to your uncle and cousins?”
“Actually, no. That’s been a rule as long as I can remember. The heir apparent can never travel with the monarch. Once we arrived at our final destination, we could be together, but we couldn’t fly on the same plane or anything like that.”
“I can kind of understand that. Must make planning a vacation a nightmare, though,” I add in jest as the SUV pulls off a quaint road and comes to a stop in front of a gate.
A man dressed in a dark suit steps out of the guardhouse, bowing toward the back seat where he must know Anderson sits, despite all the windows being tinted black. Then the gate opens and Creed maneuvers the SUV up a winding drive shaded by mature trees.
I gawk at my surroundings. “Is this Wintervale?”
Flowers and perfectly manicured grass line the long driveway, everything full of color and well maintained. I can’t remember the last time I’ve lived somewhere with grass. It’s one of those things you take for granted until you move somewhere like Manhattan and have to go to Central Park to enjoy it.
“It’s the residence of the heir apparent. Well, technically, it’s supposed to be the heir apparent’s residence upon his marriage, but I kind of broke the rules on that front.”
“How so?”
“Most members of the royal family are married before they’re thirty. It’s…encouraged in order to produce an heir.”
“And a spare. Don’t forget the spare.”
“Never.” He winks. “But after I lost Kendall…” He smiles sadly.
I squeeze his hand, knowing all too well how he feels. It doesn’t matter how many years have passed. Like Hunter, Kendall was Anderson’s first love. And was also someone who wasn’t supposed to die young. Whereas I lost Hunter in a car accident, he watched Kendall collapse during a volleyball tournament, then spent months blaming himself after learning she had an undiagnosed heart condition that caused her to have a heart attack and die before her thirtieth birthday. At least I was able to mourn Hunter in private. Anderson wasn’t. Instead, he was forced to say goodbye to the woman he hoped to marry while the paparazzi attempted to cash in on his grief.
“My father ‘gifted’ it to me,” he continues. “Hoped it would remind me of my place in this world.”
“Did it?”
“At first, I decided the best thing was to focus on my role as heir and future monarch. When I received an invitation to speak at the opening of a volleyball training center in Long Island that was named for her, I returned to the U.S. for the first time since her death. And that was where I was diagnosed with MS. I thought it was heat stroke or the stress of being surrounded by memories of Kendall. Even told Creed that was the reason I’d fainted.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“It wasn’t. So instead of hopping on a plane to Los Angeles, where I’d planned to spend a few weeks before returning home, I decided to drive.” He leans toward me, brushing his lips against mine. “And one fateful day, I glanced up from my coffee in a loud, greasy diner in Chicago and saw this woman meditating.”
I laugh under my breath. “Not the most conducive spot to clear your mind.”
“True. But I knew I had to find out more about her. And I can’t tell you how grateful I am for every day I get to know you.”
He presses a chaste kiss to my lips as the car slows to a stop, then gestures out the window toward a palatial brick building that looks like it belongs on the set of a period romance. “Welcome to Wintervale, Nora.”
Blinking, I slowly slide out of the car after a valet opens my door and drink it all in. Vines snake around the façade of the massive three-story building. Not in an overgrown manner, but in a way that adds a historic feel to this impressive estate. I want to pinch myself. This can’t be real. Can it? A year ago, my divorce had just been finalized and I was unsure what my future held.
Never could I have imagined I’d be engaged to a prince. That I’d be the future queen consort of a European country. It feels like I’m living a fairy tale. Like I’m the unnamed narrator in Rebecca seeing Manderley for the first time.
Just like she’d encountered a rude awakening once she was thrust into a life she never imagined, I know I’ll face the same. For now, I want to bask in this brief slice of happiness. Of the sun warming my skin. The birds chirping. The fresh air surrounding me.
The feeling of hope.
“What do you think?”
“It’s nice.” I shrug, feigning indifference. “I’ve seen bigger. I mean, the fountain is a bit unimpressive.” I nod toward a gorgeous three-tiered fountain in the center of the circular drive.
Anderson slings an arm over my shoulders, kissing my cheek. “Well, for you, my beautiful Nora, I’ll have an even bigger one put in. Now, come on. I have plans for you.” He waggles his brows.
“Plans?”
When his eyes darken, a thrill shoots through me. “Oh yes. Big plans. And they involve me, you, a bed, and absolutely no distractions.”
I tilt my head back and relish in the warmth of his lips on mine. “I like the sound of that.”
Chapter Six
Anderson
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Nora’s eyes as wide as they are now. She’s always had a sort of doe-eyed appearance, her face reminding me of the way many animators seem to draw princesses. Soft features. Pouty lips. Bright eyes.
But as I introduce Nora to her new home, I’m confident they’re about to pop out of her head. Between the spacious library, private yoga studio I had designed, and lush gardens where Nora plans to spend a great deal of time meditating, she’s on cloud nine.
It takes longer than I’d anticipated to show her around the grounds and introduce her to the staff. Or maybe it feels that way because I’m desperate to be alone with her after having to share her for the past few hours. I’m done sharing. And when we finally make it to the bedroom, I’m rather short with Richard, my personal butler, dismissing him with an order that I’m not to be disturbed for the rest of the day.
Once we’re alone, Nora gives me a coy look. “Does everyone here always do whatever you tell them?”
“If they want to keep their job, they do,” I answer, although that’s not entirely true. Half the time, I’m the one being told what to do, not the other way around.
Hips swaying, she saunters up to me, her gaze darkening. In a heartbeat, I forget everything else, my body buzzing to life. My pulse increases, a dizzying sensation consuming me, my fingers aching to reach out and touch every inch of her.
“And what about me?” She curves toward me, wrapping her hand around my tie, urging my mouth closer to hers. But there’s still too much space between us.
I want to consume her, devour her, lose myself in her to the point where I’ll no longer be able to tell where I end and she begins, our souls intertwined for all eternity, nothing about to come between us.
“What about you?”
“Do I have to do everything you tell me to?” Her tone is husky.
“Do you want to?” I chase after her kiss, but she remains out of reach, my desperation for her growing with every pounding heartbeat.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
She brings her mouth to within a whisper of mine. “On what my punishment will be if I disobey.”
Growling, I dig my fingers into her hair, my hold on her resolute. I crush my lips against hers, coaxing her mouth open. When my tongue sweeps against hers, she whimpers, our kiss wild and filled with lust. Teeth clashing. Hands roaming. Bodies wanting. This is
exactly what I need today. This connection. This addiction. This love.
Gripping her hips, I move her backward across the room and toward the bed. I don’t break our connection. I can’t. She’s my one source of sustenance. My lifeline. Without the elixir in her kiss, I’d perish and die.
When the back of her legs hit the bed, I scoop her up and gently toss her onto the mattress. Her eyes narrow hungrily, watching my every move as I shrug off my jacket and drop it onto the floor, my tie quickly joining it. I crawl up her body and cover her mouth once more, pulsing against her as she wraps her legs around my waist.
“Do you feel what you do to me?” I ask through my heavy breathing. “How much I need you?”
“I do,” she pants, threading her fingers into my hair.
I snake down her frame, my hands exploring this body I know so intimately.
“You should feel how much I need you.”
“I plan on it.” I pause and lift my eyes to hers, the awe and wonder of minutes ago replaced with a burning desire. “Actually, I’d rather taste how much you need me. Would you like that?”
“God yes,” she moans as I wrap my mouth around her nipple through her dress, the material a rather unwelcome barrier. “I need that so much right now.”
I continue down her body, trailing soft kisses along the way. When I settle between her legs, I pause to admire her ragged breathing, her chest heaving. I push the skirt of her dress up around her waist and reveal a sexy pair of pink panties.
“I don’t recognize these,” I comment, grazing my thumb over the lace material.
“They’re new.”
“Is that right?”
Chewing on her lower lip, she nods. “You should see what else I got.”
“I can’t bloody wait. For now, I’d love nothing more than to rip these damn knickers off you.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” She lifts her hips in invitation.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties, fumbling to rid her of them as quickly as possible. Once I toss them aside, I return to her, stealing a glance at her expression. Lips parted. Eyes closed. Expression flushed. I’m not even touching her yet, but that doesn’t matter. The promise of what’s to come is enough to ignite the flames within.
Gripping her thighs, I spread them apart, pressing my mouth against her, my tongue circling her clit. A moan slips from her throat as she throbs against me, urging me to go faster, deeper, harder.
“God, I love you,” she exhales, digging her nails into my scalp.
I continue worshiping her, nudging a finger inside. She thrusts harder against me, her breathing growing more uneven, muscles tightening around me. I push another finger inside her, stretching and massaging.
I’m so focused on her, on making her feel good, I barely register when a knock rips through the space. It’s not until Nora hoists herself up onto her elbows and stares at the door I realize we’re being interrupted.
“Anders, I think—”
“Ignore it.” My hand on her chest, I push her back against the mattress.
I return to her, tuning out everything else, thrusting my two fingers back inside her before adding a third. She succumbs to me again, her moans and whimpers growing closer together as she fights her impending orgasm. I suck her clit harder, my motions more frenzied. Then there’s another knock, which only serves to aggravate me even more. This never happened back in New York.
“Anders…” Nora attempts to pull away from me again.
And again, I refuse to let her, placing my hand on her stomach, pinning her to the bed. “Ignore it,” I tell her, this time louder. More demanding. More desperate.
I continue plunging my fingers inside her, no longer sure if I’m doing this for her or for me. I know what’s waiting on the other side of the door. I need this one slice of normalcy before being sucked back into my reality.
When the knock sounds again, this time more incessant, I jump from the bed, growling out of frustration. I toss a blanket over Nora before storming toward the door and yanking it open only enough for Nathan to see my face.
“Will you bugger off?” I seethe, lip curled. “I left explicit instructions I was not to be disturbed, so what is so bloody important that I can’t be left alone for one goddamn minute?”
His expression remains even, not so much as a flinch in response to my outburst. He bows his head, as if he’d interrupted my morning coffee, not me on the brink of making love to my fiancée.
“His Majesty has requested your presence at Lamberside. Immediately.”
My jaw ticks, hand clenching into a fist as I fight against a tremor.
“Captain Lawson is waiting with the car, sir.”
I have an overwhelming urge to tell Bridge I’m not going. Perhaps if I were still a defiant teenager and college student, I might. But in a few years, I’ll be king. I need to start acting like it.
“Fine,” I huff, not hiding my irritation. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be right down.”
“Of course.” With another bow, he spins, striding purposefully down the hallway.
I close the door behind him, staring at it for several long seconds, cursing under my breath.
“You have to go,” Nora comments. It’s neither a question nor a statement, but some ambivalent remark in between.
I exhale as I slowly face her. “I’m sorry, love.” I walk to the bed and lower myself onto the corner. “Trust me when I say going to the palace is the absolute last thing I want to do today. I’d much rather spend it in bed with you.”
Raising herself to sitting, she bends toward me. “I’ll take a rain check.”
When her lips graze mine, a current runs through me. Which only increases my frustration.
“This isn’t how I pictured your first day here. I thought I’d have time to ease you into things.”
“I think we both saw this going differently.” She gives me a pointed look. “But it’s important you go address our…situation.” Her expression turns playful. “You can’t tell the king to… What was it you said? Bugger off?”
With a slight chuckle, I bury my head into her neck and inhale her scent. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I meet her gaze. “It’s a gorgeous day, so relax. Lounge by the pool. Meditate in the gardens. Whatever you’d like. Try not to fall asleep, or you’ll never get used to the time difference. If you need anything, let Richard, the butler, know. Food. Supplies. Anything. They’ll get it for you. And when I come back…” I waggle my brows, hovering over her once more, my lips skimming hers, “I plan to pick up right where we left off.” I run my hand up her leg, squeezing her thigh.
“Well then,” she begins in a breathy voice, “don’t be gone long.”
After treating her to one last kiss, I stand, grabbing my tie and jacket off the floor. I pull it on, making quick work of redoing my tie, something I can do blindfolded at this point.
As I reach the door, I pause, glancing over my shoulder at her. “I love you.”
She smiles that smile that both broke my heart and put it all back together when I first saw her. “And I love you.”
I hold her gaze for a beat, then walk out of my private quarters and toward the uncertainty of my future.
Chapter Seven
Anderson
The halls of the palace are silent as I follow my father’s principal private secretary, Colonel Frederick Winters, toward wherever I’m to speak with him. I’d expected him to lead me toward the private residence, thinking this a personal matter between father and son.
I should have known better. After all, as people have reminded me most of my life, there are no personal matters anymore. All personal matters are also matters of the state, considering I’ll one day be the sovereign.
We finally come to a stop outside a heavy, wooden door leading to the conference room in the monarch’s executive suite. Colonel Winters knocks once, then opens the door.
“His Royal Highness Prince Gabriel,” he announces, then steps aside to
allow me to walk into the room.
I wasn’t sure what would await me, but as I glance around the large conference table to see not only my father, but also my grandmother, the queen mother, as well as the head of the royal household, Dalton Peel, I know this is a bigger deal than I’d anticipated.
“Your Majesty,” I say to my father with a bow, then offer my grandmother the same courtesy, even if it’s not technically required. She was once queen. Even though her husband, my grandfather, passed away years ago and the requirement to bow ended with him, it’s still protocol to show her the respect she deserves after her years of service to the country.
“Take a seat, Gabriel.” My father gestures to the chair at the opposite end of the table from where he, my grandmother, and Dalton sit.
I almost want to remain standing just to maintain some semblance of control in this conversation. I know better than that, though. I’ve been trained better than that. If my father sits, everyone else should, as well. If he stands, everyone must follow. At least in more formal meetings, which I’m quickly realizing this is.
I unbutton my suit jacket as I lower myself to the chair, keeping my back straight. “I apologize for the fact you found out about the engagement this way. If you’ll look at your calendar for tomorrow, you’ll see I’d requested to speak to you. I’d planned to ask for your approval to marry Ms. Tremblay then. I fully intended to follow protocol.”
He studies me, seeming to assess my words for a prolonged moment. His dark hair sports a bit more gray than the last time I saw him, but the combination of his stoic features and tall frame gives him an intimidating presence. There used to be a time I saw the man who gave me life whenever I looked at him.
It didn’t take long for that to change.
The minute he walked down the aisle of the National Cathedral and was anointed with holy water in our most hallowed of ceremonies, his family was no longer his priority. His country was. The monarchy was. Since then, every single one of his decisions has been focused on what’s best for the monarchy.