by T. K. Leigh
How do I even respond? And what’s her reason for telling me all of this? In the hopes I’ll walk away? I’m not sure what’s more shocking — the words she says or the tone in which she utters them, as if reporting on the latest polo match, not telling her grandson’s fiancée to more or less take a hike.
“Rest assured, you will still be provided for. Upon a positive paternity test, of course.”
“Paternity test?” I repeat, unsure I heard her correctly.
“The royal family takes its obligations seriously. As long as the child is, in fact, Gabriel’s, we will ensure you’re both taken care of for the rest of your lives.” She narrows her gaze. “Unless you’d prefer to explore…other options.”
My jaw drops, her suggestion churning my stomach. I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, Anderson told me his father’s head of household did the same thing. It still stings to think this woman would propose it, and to her own flesh and blood.
Then again, these people don’t have children because they want to share their love with another human. They do so out of duty, to continue the monarchy.
Nothing more.
“There is no other option,” I say coldly.
“Very well. We just need to confirm paternity before we discuss any sort of financial arrangement.”
“That’s not what I meant.” My voice comes out hard and biting, not a hint of hesitation.
Placing my hands on the table, I slowly rise to my feet. I’m about to break every etiquette rule in the book, but that’s the last thing on my mind right now. My chest tightens as disgust bubbles in my stomach, spreading through my veins.
“Under no circumstances will I agree to your little…proposition. You don’t want to hear this, but I love Anderson. And he loves me. Our love isn’t a burden. It’s a goddamn blessing.”
Her eyes widen, confirming my suspicion that she’s not used to people standing up to her.
“You know what’s funny?” I straighten, crossing my arms over my chest. Judging by the look of horror on her face, it’s not proper etiquette to stand in such a way in the presence of royalty. “Like all little girls, I once dreamed I’d meet a prince and be a princess. Whenever I caught glimpses of them on TV, I actually envied the royal family. I actually envied you. I remember seeing clips of you with your children. Thought you were the type of mother I wish I had. Lord knows, mine left a lot to be desired. But now…” I shake my head and look away, collecting my thoughts. Then I turn my icy gaze on hers. “I don’t envy you. I pity you. I may not have been surrounded by much love growing up, but I didn’t give up on finding love. Instead, I fought to find it. Fought for Anderson. I have since I met him.” With each word I speak, my passion and determination mounts. “And I will continue to do so every day of my goddamn life. So, with all due respect, you can take your proposal and shove it up your ass.”
I whirl around, storming off, my heart pounding so furiously I’m confident it’s about to burst through the walls of my chest. I clench and unclench my fists, grinding my teeth…hard.
As I approach the gated arch at the entrance to the rose garden, I stop and turn to face Queen Veronica once more, her eyes still wide in utter dismay.
With a trite smile, I curtsey, my motions more pronounced than necessary. “Your Majesty.” I hold my position for a beat, finding pleasure in her shellshocked expression. Then I continue out of the garden, my entire body vibrating with fury.
And perhaps a hint of regret.
As I stomp toward the palace, my chief protection officer, Lieutenant O’Kelly, appears out of nowhere. If I were in a better mood, I’d ask if they’re all wizards, like in Harry Potter, and have learned how to apparate.
“If I do say so, ma’am,” he begins once we’re a safe distance away, “that was a bloody brilliant show.”
I laugh under my breath, adrenaline still pumping through me. I can’t believe I just told Anderson’s grandmother, the queen mother, to shove it up her ass. It’s completely out of character for me. Then again, all bets are off when it comes to Anderson.
When we approach the doors to the palace, Lieutenant O’Kelly touches my shoulder, and I stop. He narrows his eyes on me.
“I hope you’re prepared, though.”
“For what?”
“You just made an enemy out of the queen mother. Rest assured, she’s not going to make your life all that easy going forward.”
Great.
Chapter Fifteen
Anderson
I can barely keep my eyes open as Creed drives along the road leading to my estate. I’d forgotten how draining days like today can be. A ribbon-cutting ceremony. A speech at a charity where my father’s a patron. Then heading to the palace for a meeting with my father and some ambassador before being rushed fifty miles in the opposite direction to attend the memorial service of one of our country’s last surviving WWII veterans.
As much as I’d hoped to ease back into things, the royal household had different plans. Sadly, this referendum has more support than it ever has in the past, and part of it has to do with my MS diagnosis. I never considered the possible consequences of going public with my diagnosis this past winter. Either did my father when he encouraged me to do so. Perhaps we should have because, not even a week later, a well-known group of anti-royalists started collecting signatures in order to bring the referendum to a vote, using my diagnosis as proof that the monarchy isn’t as strong as it once was. So the more I show I’m willing and capable of fulfilling all the duties of king, the more confident voters will be in my abilities, the less likely they’ll vote in favor of turning the monarch into a purely ceremonial position.
But after a week of constant appearances and meetings, not to mention preparing for a wedding in seven weeks, I’m drained. Every night I’ve come home and barely made it to bed before collapsing, I tell myself the next day will be better. That it won’t be so exhausting once I’m back in the swing of things. That I’ve simply been away from all of this for too long.
But it hasn’t gotten better yet.
Worse, I’ve hardly seen Nora, apart from a few minutes every morning for breakfast when our private secretaries run through our busy schedules for the day, which haven’t intersected for a single joint public appearance. By the time I get home late at night, she’s already asleep.
“We’re here, sir.” Creed’s voice cuts through my thoughts as the car comes to a stop in front of my residence.
“Thanks, Creed,” I respond, my exhaustion evident.
He jumps out and runs to open my door. I step down from the SUV, but when my feet hit the pavement, my legs give out beneath me. Creed reacts quickly, wrapping an arm around my waist and keeping me upright.
“You okay, mate?” he asks in concern, switching from my chief protection officer to my closest friend.
“I’m fine.” I attempt to push away from him, not wanting to make a big deal of it. “My leg must have fallen asleep on the drive home.”
He loosens his hold, yet doesn’t let go. “Are you sure?”
I shrug him off, taking a few cautious steps. Once I’m confident my legs won’t fail me again, I continue toward the house, hiding any hint of uncertainty in my expression.
Lately, I’ve seemed to have had quite a few flareups. After the first dizzy spell, I told myself it was nothing, that people get dizzy when moving quickly all the time. That the soreness in my muscles wasn’t connected to my MS. But with each muscle spasm and dizzy spell, the lies I tell myself are becoming harder and harder to believe.
“Yes, I’m sure. Good night, Creed.”
I expect to hear his typical “Your Highness”, but it never comes, making me slow my steps and glance back.
He looks around to make sure no one’s nearby to witness him break protocol, then jogs up the steps toward me, his gaze narrowed.
“Do you think this is the best course of action, Anders? You’ve only been back a week and are already exhausted.”
“I told you. It—”
“I know. I know. It’s important for people to think you’re capable of carrying out the responsibilities of king when the time comes.” He licks his lips, hesitant. “But if you keep going like this, you won’t be able to. Perhaps you should reconsider infusion therapy. Your current course of treatment doesn’t seem to be working. Or, at the very least, go see a doctor who’s not being paid by the royal household.”
“The palace neurologist is one of the top people in his field.”
“On paper, that may be true. But as your chief protection officer, it’s my job to protect you from all threats, including from within.” He leans toward me. “Including yourself, Anders. If the palace neurologist signed off on this schedule, which your private secretary claims he did, then he’s not the right person to be in charge of your care. Even I’m bushed, and I’m not fighting MS. You are. You need to acknowledge that fact before it’s too late.”
He allows his words to sink in for a beat. “Your Highness.” After a quick bow, he retreats down the steps and ducks inside the SUV.
On a long exhale, I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose. I know he’s right. Know I can’t possibly keep this up. But I still struggle with a certain level of denial. Just like when I was first diagnosed, I don’t want to admit it’s because of my MS. Want to believe it’s something else. Anything else.
Don’t want to believe I’m getting worse.
Sensing Creed’s gaze still focused on me through the darkened windows of the idling SUV, I turn and trudge the rest of the way up the front steps, a butler greeting me the instant I walk inside the estate.
“Your Highness.” He bows. “Can I get you anything before you retire for the evening?”
“No. Thank you.”
“Of course.” He stands to the side, posture rigid, as he’d been trained.
My hip muscles still unusually stiff, I do my best to hide any limp as I make my way up the grand staircase. Once I reach the east wing where the private quarters are located, I slowly open the door to the bedroom, hoping it doesn’t creak and wake up Nora.
My grandmother tried to insist I move her into the guest quarters at the palace to remove any appearance of impropriety, since we’re not yet married. I adamantly refused. I barely see her as it is. If she didn’t live here, I’d probably never see her. I won’t isolate her further from me, which is exactly what my grandmother wants.
As I slip inside the room, I expect to see that Nora’s fallen asleep reading a book, as she’s prone to do. To my surprise, when I look at the bed, a soft glow from the side table the only light, her eyes meet mine.
“Hey,” she says sweetly.
With that one word, all my troubles melt away. The day is nothing more than a distant memory, her soft voice and kind smile a reminder of what I want to come home to every day for the rest of my life.
“Hey,” I reply, dragging my body toward her as I tug off my tie and drop my suit jacket onto the floor. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I kick off my shoes and crawl on top of her, taking the book from her hands. “Rebecca?”
She shrugs. “Seemed like a good idea earlier.” Her expression falls. “Now it’s hitting a bit too close to home.”
“How so?”
“A nobody falls in love with a somebody, who then takes her to be lady of his English estate where she’s made to feel inadequate at every turn.”
I place the book on the nightstand and lower my lips toward hers. “You are not inadequate. How can you be when you saved my life? When you continue to save my life every damn day?”
She moans as I coax her mouth open, desperate for a taste of her. Her fingers scrape against my scalp as her tongue glides against mine, awakening a stirring sensation low in my belly. As I run my hand up her frame and over the swell of her breasts, her nipples straining against the thin material of her tank top, she tightens her grip on me, trying to pull my body even further into hers. But it’s still not enough. For either of us. Still doesn’t satisfy our unquenchable thirst.
“I need you,” she whimpers when I tear my lips from hers, peppering kisses along her jawline and neck. Knowing how much it sets her off, I clamp my teeth onto her earlobe, circling my tongue around the sensitive flesh.
“And I need you, gorgeous. You have no idea how bloody much I need you.”
“Then have me.”
“I plan on it.” I return to her lips, kissing her once more before pulling back. “Just give me ten minutes to clean up. Okay?”
She smiles and nods. “Okay.”
“Okay.” I leave her with one more kiss, then take my time to stand. Once I’m confident I won’t lose my footing, I rush toward the bathroom.
“Anderson?” she says as I’m about to close the door.
“Yes?” I meet her seductive gaze.
“Don’t shave. I miss the feel of your scruff between my legs.”
“Yes, my lady,” I say with an exaggerated bow.
Not wanting to keep her waiting any longer than necessary, I take one of the quickest showers of my life. After today, I need this connection, need to lose myself in Nora. As long as we’re able to leave the outside world behind, even for a few moments every night, I’m confident we’ll survive this tumultuous world.
Once I’ve washed away the day, I dry off, not bothering to dress in anything more than a pair of boxer briefs. I don’t plan on wearing them long anyway.
“Okay, gorgeous,” I say upon walking out of the bathroom, a wall of steam following me. “I’m all clean and…” I trail off as my gaze falls on her. Her chest rises and falls in an even pattern, lips slightly parted, eyes closed in peaceful slumber.
On light feet, I head to her and take the book out of her hands once more, placing it on the nightstand. I bend toward her, kissing her forehead.
“I love you,” I whisper.
After I turn off the lamp, I walk to the other side of the bed and climb in. I set my alarm for thirty minutes earlier than usual in the hopes of taking care of her tomorrow morning instead. I nuzzle close to her, inhaling a deep breath, her comforting aroma carrying me to sleep.
It feels like only a second passes before my alarm buzzes, rousing me. Keeping my eyes closed, I turn it off and reach for Nora. When I don’t feel her, I open my eyes to find an empty bed, even at six in the morning.
I toss the duvet off me and stand, wrapping a robe around me. When I step into the hall, one of the members of my staff greets me, waiting to cater to my every need.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” the woman says with a curtsey.
“Did Ms. Tremblay already go down to breakfast?”
“Actually, she left for London early this morning.”
“London?” I shake my head, wondering why I wasn’t made aware of this.
“It was a last-minute trip. The designer Her Majesty wants for her wedding dress had availability to squeeze her in today.”
“Oh.” I swallow past the lump in my throat, hating she’s in London without me. I promised I’d take her one day.
Yet another broken promise.
I debate canceling my engagements scheduled over the next several days to surprise her with a romantic weekend away. She’s only been here a little more than a week, yet I can’t help but feel like I’m losing her. Like there’s a divide between us when we were once strong and impenetrable.
But when I glance at the copy of the local newspaper left on a silver tray outside my door, the headline reporting the referendum still has strong support, despite the announcement of my engagement, I’m reminded of my obligations to the Crown.
Nora will have to wait.
Chapter Sixteen
Nora
“Are you feeling okay, love?”
I look up from the fruit I’d requested for breakfast. I thought it would be the easiest on my stomach, but nothing seems appetizing right now.
“Just morning sickness.” I give Anderson a smile, not wanting to ruin the few minutes we have together before we each have to go o
ur separate ways for the day.
“I’m sorry.”
I swallow hard, pushing down the acid rising in my throat at the mere thought of eating anything. Sliding the bowl away, I opt for a small bite of my dry toast instead.
“It’ll pass,” I tell him in the hopes it eases his worry. He has enough to concern himself with lately.
Anderson has spent every day of the past three weeks attending meetings, galas, public events, all to prove to the nation that his MS won’t limit his ability to lead when the time comes… If the time comes. There’s still a possibility this referendum will pass.
By the time he gets home after working for sometimes sixteen hours, I’m usually asleep or, if I do manage to stay awake in order to have a few minutes with him, he’s exhausted with only enough energy to shrug out of his clothes before collapsing into bed.
We’ve barely spent more than an hour together lately, outside of sleeping in the same bed. I can’t help but wonder if it has something to do with my impromptu afternoon tea with his grandmother the day after our engagement was made official.
Despite the palace PR team trying to arrange a few public appearances where Anderson and I are seen together, something more important always comes up, causing me to go pick out floral arrangements alone. Or taste cakes alone. Or pretty much do everything alone.
“Are you sure that’s all?” Anderson asks after I attempt to swallow down some toast, fighting my body to do so. “That there’s not something else bothering you?”