by T. K. Leigh
She glances over her shoulder, eyes dark with desire. “We don’t want you suffering from a case of blue balls, do we?”
I hastily make my way toward her, only taking the time to discard my jacket before unzipping my pants and thrusting into her.
This isn’t how I saw the start of my day going, but I’d be crazy to complain.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” Richard greets me with a bow the second I sit down at the head of the table in the formal dining room. “Your usual breakfast and coffee?”
“Just coffee for now, Richard.”
I do my best to keep my tone as professional and even as possible, despite the fact I’m struggling to catch my breath after the incredible sex I just had. I can only imagine how flushed my complexion must still be, how mussed up my hair is. But it was completely worth it. Anything to make Nora feel loved is worth it.
“Ms. Tremblay will be joining me shortly.”
“Of course, sir.” He nods, then spins, leaving through the server’s door on the far side of the room.
I grab a copy of the New York Times from the table and unfold it as I glance around. A few members of the household staff are stationed in the corners of the room, as stoic and unmoving as statues, only coming to life when ordered to do so.
“Here you are, sir,” Richard says, placing my coffee mug and saucer in front of me. “Is there anything else I can get for you right now?”
“I’ll wait to order until Ms. Tremblay arrives.”
“Certainly, sir.” He bows and starts to leave.
“And Richard?”
“Yes?”
“Please inform Lieutenant Colonel Bridge to hold off on his morning briefing until Ms. Tremblay is here. Going forward, she’ll need to be a part of them, since my schedule will also affect her.”
He nods. “I’ll make sure he gets the message.”
“Thank you.”
He bows once more, then retreats, leaving me to enjoy the last few moments of calm before the day becomes one engagement after another. As much as I should find some sort of familiarity in being in the same room I’ve begun each of my days while in residence here, it’s lacking. The one thing that does bring me comfort is turning to the New York Times, like I did each morning in New York.
As does the smell of Nora still on my fingers whenever I bring my coffee to my mouth.
While I wait for her to join me, I peruse the various national newspapers I request be delivered every morning. After nearly an hour, I begin to wonder if I should go check on her when the door to the dining room opens. I snap my head in that direction as Richard enters and stops past the entrance, body stiff, as if at attention.
When Nora steps in behind him, all the oxygen is ripped from my lungs, leaving me breathless, thoughtless…mindless. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Grace Kelly herself came back from the dead and just sauntered into my dining room. It’s remarkable how much Nora resembles her, apart from her hair having a bit more strawberry in it than the first American princess had.
She glides into the room, as if she’s walking on air. As if she were made for this life. Even the few other attendants can’t help but stare. I all but forget the manners that have been drilled into me, too stunned by how incredible she looks. It’s not until she’s within a few inches that I remember to stand to greet her. I brush my lips against her cheek, then step back, admiring the green-and-white floral dress that’s slim through the waist, then flares in a style similar to what Grace Kelly once wore. And in typical Grace Kelly style, Nora completed the look with a simple strand of pearls around her neck and one in each ear.
“You look beautiful, Nora. Like a princess.”
“Good.” She laughs nervously. “Because I feel like an imposter.”
I hold her face in my hands, my gaze unwavering. “You’re only an imposter if you let them think you are. And from where I’m standing, you’re the real deal.”
She gives me a smile as I help her into the chair kitty-corner to me. The second we’re seated, Richard approaches.
“What would you like to drink this morning, my lady?”
Obviously taken aback at the way he addressed her, Nora stiffens before recovering, playing the part of my future queen with ease. “Decaf, please. Just a touch of cream and one stevia sweetener, if you have it.”
“Of course, ma’am.” He smiles, then looks toward me. “What would Your Highness like for breakfast this morning?”
I peer at Nora, silently asking her if she has any preference. Her expression is uneasy as she fidgets with her hands in her lap. She seems overwhelmed enough as it is, so I order for us.
“We’ll both have two eggs, over easy, buttered toast, and fruit.”
“Yes, sir.” He bows, then retreats.
“It’s going to take me a bit to get used to all of this,” she comments under her breath once he’s out of ear shot. “I’m used to being able to eat breakfast in just a t-shirt, my hair knotted in a messy bun.”
I fold the newspaper and push it away, grabbing her hand in mine, giving it a squeeze. “And you’re just as gorgeous in a t-shirt.”
“You’re only saying that because I wasn’t wearing any pants in that scenario.”
I pinch my lips into a tight line. “Perhaps.” I waggle my brows as I lean toward her, sliding my hand up her thigh. “But you’re not wearing any pants right now, either.”
She playfully swats me away. “Fiend.”
“Only for you.”
Hearing a throat clear, I look up as Lieutenant Colonel Bridge walks up to the table. I’d love to tell him to wait until we’ve at least eaten, but this morning’s…activities have already put us behind schedule.
“Your Highness.” He bows, then turns toward Nora. “My lady.” He meets my stare once more. “If you’re agreeable, I think it’s best if we go over today’s agenda.”
I nod, gesturing to the chair opposite Nora.
He unbuttons his suit jacket as he sits and sets his tablet on the surface in front of him, but his posture is still straight. “Today is a light day because of the announcement.” He looks at Nora as Richard places her coffee in front of her. “Tomorrow will be rather hectic for you, my lady. Once you’re announced as Prince Gabriel’s fiancée, you’ll be assigned your own private secretary to manage your daily calendar, which will be synched with Prince Gabriel’s. You’ll also have your own PR team to take care of any and all publicity. I’m sure His Highness has already advised you, but going forward, it’s best if you restrict any of your social media time. In fact, your PR team will most likely advise you to close all your current accounts and start new ones, which they will manage on your behalf.”
“But all my profiles are private. Only my friends can see what I post. I—”
“Once His Majesty announces his official approval, there will no longer be anything private about you. The public will want to know everything, and they’ll dig wherever they need in order to get that.”
I can sense Nora’s nerves from a foot away. As if today isn’t stressful enough for her. This is why I’d hoped to have a long engagement. Now we’re essentially cramming for an exam, and Nora will be doing the bulk of the work.
“Don’t worry about any of that,” I tell her, her face already several shades paler than when she walked in here minutes ago. “It’s all going to be okay.”
I want to promise her she’ll get used to it, but I’m not sure anyone ever does, even someone who’s been around this most of his life.
“Why don’t we focus on today?” I suggest to Bridge as Richard approaches with our plates and sets them down in front of us before silently retreating.
“Certainly.” Nathan smiles politely.
The last thing I need is for my personal secretary to overwhelm Nora. I know what it’s like to wake up in a strange bed and be told to dress in a suit for breakfast when I was used to wearing pajamas. Then to walk into a dining room where everyone addressed me so formally, sitting in the very chair Nora
is now as my father’s new private secretary ran us through the agenda for his first public appearance as heir apparent and me as second in line. I remember wanting nothing more than to run away. To disappear. To return to my old life.
I reach under the table, gently squeezing her leg. She shifts her gaze toward me, and I give her a reassuring smile.
“As I mentioned…,” Bridge begins.
We both turn our attention back to him. But I don’t take my hand off Nora’s leg, keeping it there while I eat my breakfast with the other, despite the break in etiquette of only using a fork instead of a fork and a knife.
“The schedule is light today. You’ll arrive at the palace at ten, where you’ll introduce Ms. Tremblay to His Majesty, the king, and Her Majesty, the queen mother. After that, you’ll all go to the royal vault where Ms. Tremblay will select her engagement ring.”
“I already have a ring,” she protests.
“It’s a tradition,” I explain. “Another one of many you’ll learn over the course of the next several weeks, probably years. Wearing a ring from the royal vault is a sign that the monarch approves of the marriage.” I lean toward her, but don’t exactly lower my voice, not caring who can hear. “It’s one of my least favorite traditions. I view it much like I suspect you do. Like you’re marrying the monarchy, not me. Which is why I made sure to propose with a ring I purchased. One that has no ties or connection to the monarchy. Because, at the end of the day, I want you to be my wife, regardless of whether I’m a prince or some schmuck you met in a roadside diner. Okay?”
A smile pulls on her lips, momentarily erasing her nerves. “Okay.”
“Right then,” Nathan says, shooting to his feet in one swift motion. “If you’re finished, I suggest we head to the palace. It wouldn’t be a good first impression for Ms. Tremblay if we were to arrive late on her first day.”
I check my watch. It’s already a little after 9:30.
“Are you ready?” I glance at her plate, noting she’s only had a few bites of toast. “You’ve barely eaten anything.”
“I’ll probably vomit it all up anyway,” she says with a small laugh, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin and placing it beside her plate.
I do the same, then push away from the table, helping Nora to her feet.
“Are you sure? I can have them pack some fruit for you to eat on the drive.”
“I’m sure.” She places her hand on my chest. “I just need to get through this press conference. Then I’ll let you feed me a huge meal of your favorite local foods. Okay?”
“Okay.” I place a kiss on her forehead, then lead her from the dining room and toward a new life she never could have imagined in her wildest dreams.
I hope it doesn’t become a nightmare.
Chapter Eleven
Nora
“Just keep your eyes forward and ignore the circus,” Anderson says, squeezing my hand in the back seat of the SUV as Creed navigates toward the palace.
People line the streets of Montrose, the picturesque capital city of Belmont, hoping to catch a glimpse of the formal announcement today. Or perhaps they’re here to protest the idea of their beloved crown prince marrying an American, some still holding onto hope of a Gabriel-Caroline marriage.
During my snooping this morning, I learned there are some fanatics out there who’ve even given them a couple name — Gabrieline. I try to not allow that inconsequential fact to eat away at me. She was someone Anderson sought comfort in when his life had been turned upside down. I did the same thing after I lost Hunter and Ember. I didn’t realize how passionate some of these people were about their prince. In my eyes, he’s an ordinary man who lives an extraordinary life. To everyone else, he’s their beloved Prince Gabriel. They adore him.
Which will make my job that much harder.
He leans toward me, his fingers lifting the material of my dress above my knee and grazing my skin. “Just think about all the naughty things I’m going to do to you when we get back home,” he whispers, his voice low, dangerous.
It sends a shiver through me, my core clenching. I shift in my seat, squeezing my thighs together as I push down the desire filling me. I don’t know how this man does it. One touch, and all my trepidation disappears. He makes me forget about the world. Forget about everything except us and the love that grows stronger every day.
“Naughty?” I murmur, turning my lips toward his, but remaining out of reach.
His leering stare skates over my body, his pupils dilating. “Very.” He brushes a gentle kiss to my cheek, at odds with the carnal heat in his gaze. He pulls back as the SUV slows outside a pair of wrought-iron gates, an imposing, brick building looming in the distance.
From the research I’ve done, Lamberside Palace is over 500 years old and boasts several hundred rooms. It functions as the primary residence of the monarch, as well as the executive offices of the monarchy and royal household.
Cobblestone lines the vast courtyard leading up to the sprawling estate, two smaller wings jutting out on either side of the main building, each impressive in its own right. I’ve seen large houses before. Hell, Evie’s husband, Julian, is one of the wealthiest men in the United States. Or he would be if he didn’t donate a huge portion of his annual income to charity. But his stately home in Rye, extravagant villa in the Hamptons, and lavish Columbus Circle penthouse pale in comparison.
And this was where Anderson spent the majority of his formative years.
And once his father voluntarily abdicates in a few years, this will be where I live.
Holy fuck.
If I was nervous before, my anxiety about today just increased tenfold. Hell, a thousandfold.
“So… This is where you grew up?” I say as nonchalantly as possible.
Anderson looks at me, then breaks into a throaty laugh. “Not much to write home about, is it?”
“Doesn’t everyone grow up in a building that’s featured on postcards?”
His laughter only increases as he slings an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer and kissing my temple. If I don’t make light of this situation, I’ll lose my mind.
“If you look closely at one of those postcards, perhaps you might see me giving the photographer a show.”
“Is that right?”
“There may have been a few times I invited a few of my mates over and we all decided to go streaking through the gardens and swam in the reflecting pool.”
“Gardens? Reflecting pool? What… No orchestra shell? This really is subpar.”
“Actually, love, there is an orchestra shell on the west side of the palace. Every Friday evening during the summer, the Belmont National Symphony performs. I’ll take you one of these days, if you’d like.”
“Sure…” My voice is distant as I struggle to wrap my head around this being my life from now on.
When Creed pulls the SUV underneath an awning, I glance out the window at a pair of ornate wooden doors, a red carpet lining the short flight of steps into the building.
Butterflies flit in my stomach as a man approaches. He wears black pants and a black, high-necked jacket with various pins and medals on the left side over his chest. It’s reminiscent of the United States Marine Corps dress uniform, apart from being all black. Two men dressed similarly, but with red jackets, approach both passenger doors.
As if rehearsed, our doors open at the same time, the man outside mine bowing. “My lady.” He offers his arm and helps me out of the SUV.
It’s still a shock to hear people address me so formally. Yesterday, I was Ms. Tremblay or ma’am. I suppose that’s what the king’s approval does. I go from being no one to being someone. More specifically, the crown prince’s fiancée.
Anderson approaches and links his fingers with mine, leading me up the stairs and into the palace. Creed and Bridge follow behind as the man in the black uniform walks in front of us, his steps measured and in time.
Before we make it more than a few feet into the grand foyer dripping in gold and crysta
l, a familiar woman wearing a navy blue-and-white striped dress walks toward us, her steps graceful, as is everything about her. I breathe a sigh of relief. Sure, Anderson has a calming effect on me, but it’s comforting to see someone else I knew before all of this.
“Nora,” Esme says, her accent more prominent than her brother’s, since she hasn’t spent as much time living in the States.
“Esme,” I respond, ignoring the glare the man escorting us gives me, probably for addressing her so informally.
She takes me in her arms, kissing both cheeks before whispering into my ear, “Breathe. It’ll all be over soon.” When she pulls back, her eyes lock with mine, making sure I heed her advice.
“Thank you.”
She drops her hold on me and faces Anderson. “And fuck you very much, big brother,” she snips without a care for the decorum of our surroundings. “I have to find out you’re engaged from the bloody pappos?”
Anderson chuckles, wrapping his sister in a brief hug, kissing her cheek. “Sorry, Ezzy. I’d planned on telling you in person.” He shrugs as he releases her. “Things didn’t exactly go as planned yesterday.”
“I’d say.” She crosses her arms over her chest, glancing between Anderson and me before looking over his shoulder. When her gaze lands on Creed, her expression falls slightly.
Most people may not notice it, but I’ve gotten to know Esme fairly well. That, and Anderson mentioned his sister and Creed had a thing before he was inducted into the Royal Guard, forbidding him from having any sort of romantic relationship with a member of the royal family.
“Your Highness,” Creed says, bowing.
She pinches her lips together. “Captain Lawson.”
The way she addresses him obviously stings. Regardless of the passing of ten years since their relationship ended, it’s clear neither has gotten over the other. Perhaps that’s why Esme never married.
“I’m having a thing tonight,” she tells Anderson once she tears her eyes from Creed’s.