The Controversial Princess

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  “Thank you.”

  Josh makes no big deal of it and turns Stan, before kicking him into a trot, and quickly breaking into a full-on canter. And I stand there, watching in awe as he rides away like the pro he is, his strong legs keeping his body out of the saddle with ease.

  “Ma’am?” Damon nudges me from my daydream and I sigh, wandering to the Land Rover as I remove my hat.

  “I’m sorry, Damon.” I know he’ll have been on the edge of losing it while I was enjoying my trot through the countryside. I like romantic Josh.

  “All is well, ma’am. Let’s not make a big deal of it.”

  I laugh on the inside, but I choose not to mention the epic speed at which he appeared over the horizon of the field, like he could have been in pursuit of my kidnapper. I know he was probably sweating while he couldn’t get hold of me. If the King found out Damon had allowed me out in the fields alone, his job would be on the line. The fact that I wasn’t alone would not make a teeny tiny bit of difference. In fact, the matter would be a whole lot worse.

  I’M FULL OF DREAD WHEN Damon pulls up at the stables, especially when I see Kim and Felix step out of a shiny Mercedes, both looking stiff and stony. “I’m in trouble,” I mumble, unclipping my belt.

  “I’ll take care of this.” Damon takes my hat from my lap.

  “Can’t you take care of them?” I ask, giving him pleading eyes. “Please?”

  He laughs softly, the fine lines around his eyes deepening, and then his face is deadly serious. “No.” His answer is abrupt and flat as he gets out of the Land Rover.

  “Great.” I wouldn’t usually wait for Damon to open the car door for me when here, but it buys me a few more seconds to mount my defense. “Thanks.” Stepping out, I straighten my shoulders, all confident . . . but I still have no words in my defense.

  “Your Highness.” Felix nods as I approach, as formal as ever, grimacing at a small mark on his Italian loafers.

  “Felix.” I greet him before nodding at Kim, tilting my head in question. I get discreetly widening eyes in return, but she doesn’t say a thing. I sigh. “Whatever could be so urgent that you needed to come to the stables? I was rather enjoying a long overdue hack.”

  Felix clears his throat. “There’s a matter of concern, ma’am.”

  “There is?” I ask, bracing myself.

  “About Gerry Rush, ma’am.”

  The banker. “What about him?” I try to sound nonchalant, but my stomach sinks and I swallow, betraying my forced front. I was assured those pictures were intercepted; I don’t know how and I tend not to ask.

  “Mr. Rush has been trying to make contact with you, ma’am.”

  “Pardon?”

  “He would like to see you.”

  Needless to say, that isn’t going to happen. “Whatever for?”

  “It would seem he’s been bewitched, ma’am.”

  I laugh. “After one night?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s utterly ridiculous.”

  They look at each other out of the corner of their eyes, as if it is I who is the ridiculous one. “Ma’am,” Felix pushes on, “we have blocked his attempts to reach you, of course. But it seems he won’t heed our warning. Mr. Rush is married, as you know.” Felix cocks a sarcastic eyebrow. I don’t appreciate it, and my deep breath of impatience tells him so. “It goes without saying that we need to contain this. Rest assured, there won’t be an issue if we handle it swiftly and diligently.”

  “Handle it swiftly and diligently, then,” I retort, far shorter than I should. They are only trying to avoid me getting caught in a potential scandal. “Thank you. Both of you.” I unbutton my gilet, feeling a little hot, and shrug it off before pulling my hair from its ponytail. But my motions slow as it occurs to me to wonder, again, why they’re here at the stables telling me all this.

  “There is one other small matter, ma’am,” Felix goes on before I get the opportunity to ask.

  “What?” I sound as cautious as I feel.

  “We need to discuss how we’re handling this situation.”

  “We do?” That’s not normal. The communications team do what they do, and I’m rarely consulted in the methods they adopt to clean up my mess, whether I want them cleaning up that mess or not.

  “Yes, ma’am. It appears Mr. Rush has been enjoying some extracurricular activity.” Something in the way that Felix speaks tells me that I am not the extracurricular activity he’s referring to.

  “But not from me?”

  Felix hands me a file, and I open it to find some photographs. “What is this?” I ask, flicking through, trying to make something out in the darkened shots.

  Kim reaches forward and takes a photo, turning it the right way up. I still at the sight of what is all of a sudden a perfectly clear image. Too clear. “That, ma’am, is Gerry Rush in the throes of passion.”

  Yes, isn’t it just. His face is strained, his body rigid, as he holds on to a woman’s hips who’s bent over a chair. My heart jumps too many beats as I pull the picture closer, trying to make out the woman’s face.

  “It’s a prostitute, ma’am,” Kim tells me matter-of-factly, and I look at her, unable to be relieved that it isn’t me. She steps back, as if nervous.

  “What?” I drop the file, retracting my hands to my chest. “A hooker? When was this?” I suddenly want a shower.

  “A few weeks ago, ma’am. We thought you should know in case—”

  “In case what? I choose to see him again?” I laugh, thinking these two should know me better. “I can assure you, that is not going to happen.” I look at the pictures on a grimace as Kim gathers them up. “Not after I saw the picture of him with his wife, and especially not now.”

  “Just needed to be sure,” Kim says, tucking them away.

  I don’t understand. Gerry Rush is a respected man, with kids and a gleaming reputation. If he doesn’t back off and stop trying to reach me, I just know those pictures will make it onto the desk of some editor at some tabloid in London. He will be ruined. Where’s his sense? Then again, he took me back to his hotel room and has been trying to contact me. Clearly he has no sense. I know better than to ask how Felix got hold of those photographs. That won’t be information I will be privileged with. A hooker?

  My lip curls. “Do whatever it takes to get rid of him,” I order, swinging around and marching away, shuddering as I go. The dirty, rotten womanizer. A hooker. So much for clean-cut image. He wants to see me? Bewitched? The nerve.

  My thoughts trail off and my pace slows as I catch sight of Stan trotting up the lane with Josh, both of them a little out of breath. All agitation eating me alive melts away at the sight of Josh’s smile when he spots me. When he slows to a walk, I give him wide eyes, discreetly flicking my head in an indication that he should be wary of the people in close proximity.

  “Your Highness,” he greets me rather formally, yet those words and his accent, in his voice, still caress my tingling skin.

  “Mr. Jameson.” I nod as he passes, heading straight for the stable block.

  I let Felix and Kim pull away before I wander in after Josh to help him strip Stan down of his saddlery. He is nearly done by the time I make it to him. “He’s worked up a good sweat,” I say as I take a brush to Stan’s coat.

  “He’s had an awesome time, haven’t ya, boy?” Josh lightly smacks his neck. “Are you okay? You look . . . stressed.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “So your people were here for their health, were they? Because they didn’t look like the riding type.”

  “Small matter now dealt with.”

  “A matter like you and I could be?” he asks casually, clearly reading between the lines and getting the gist of my small matter.

  Shame eats me from the inside out, remorse and guilt, too. Why do I care what Josh thinks of my exploits? He is hardly Mr. Straight-laced himself, dating woman after woman and getting bored. Besides, it’s not like I knew Gerry Rush and his wife were trying to reconcile, or that
he dabbled in hookers. I shudder at the thought again. “It was a family matter,” I lie, if hesitantly, earning a quick flick of Josh’s eyes to mine. I look away, feeling my cheeks heat with guilt. “Did you enjoy your hack?”

  “I did. Thanks for lending me your horse.” He smiles, looping Stan’s tack over his shoulder.

  “Anytime.” I shrug nonchalantly, although I don’t feel very nonchalant. Not at all. Damn it, I like him. Josh Jameson brings a smile to my face, calm into my world. Few people in my orbit elicit such reactions. Inside, I wish he could turn up at the stables every morning and make each day wonderful.

  His phone rings and he pulls it out. He definitely deflates a little. “Yeah?” He starts to pace the stables, scuffing his boots as he goes, kicking up the hay. “Sure. Give me five.” He cuts the call and holds up his phone. “My driver’s here.” He looks at his watch and laughs a little. “Early.”

  I force back my disappointment. “It was nice to see you.”

  He seems amused as he returns his eyes to me. “Nice to see me?”

  I shrug. “Well, it was.”

  “Nice?” He paces forward, and I step back until I collide with a pile of hay and tumble to my back on a yelp. Josh is on me like a wolf, pinning me down by my wrists above my head. “Nice?” he asks again, pushing a lock of hair from my face with his nose. I try to catch my breath, loving the hardness of his physique pushing me into the softness of the hay. Before I can even think to find another word to replace the one that clearly displeases him, he attacks my mouth with a profound, familiar force, exploring deeply with his tongue. I wonder whether his suspicions regarding my matter has him all green-eyed and he’s marking his territory. I have a sneaky suspicion I’m right.

  His power and passion steal my breath, and I don’t get it back once he has ripped his lips from mine. “Nice,” he pants, rolling his groin into me.

  My back arches, pushing my breasts into his chest. “I’d give you another word,” I breathe, “but I’m rather blank at the moment.”

  “Let’s see if we can wake up that mind, then,” he muses, securing both of my wrists in one grasp and reaching for the hem of my roll-neck sweater. As soon as his skin skims mine, my mind does wake up, providing me with many words, most of them ones of a pleading nature.

  “Josh.” I’m unsure whether I’m begging him to stop, or encouraging him on. Anyone could catch us.

  My sweater is yanked up, my bra down, and he’s on my breasts in the blink of an eye, swirling that god-loving tongue around and around, wide and firm. Then his teeth sink into my hard nipple and I buck, tinkering on that dangerous edge between pleasure and pain. He hums, he moans, he growls. “Shit, you are so fucking delicious.”

  “Your Highness.” Damon’s voice calling me doesn’t penetrate the haze of pleasure holding me captive, doesn’t have me darting up in a panic or fighting Josh off me. I’m lost.

  “Fuckin’ hell,” Josh mumbles around my flesh, kissing the tip of my nipple before pulling the cups of my bra into place and my sweater down. “Playtime is over.”

  I pout, falling into instant mourning for my loss.

  “Ma’am?” Damon sounds slightly concerned, and without Josh’s tongue distracting me, I suddenly appreciate how close he is.

  “Quick, up you get.” Josh hauls me up from the hay and brushes me down before turning me by the shoulders and pushing me toward the stable door. “I’ll hang back.”

  I gather myself and straighten my shoulders, aware of the many people floating around the stables. For a moment there, I completely forgot myself. I need to find some control.

  I steal one last glimpse of Josh as I leave, wishing I could bottle the smile he gives me and store it forever. I’m desperate to ask him when I’ll see him again, but my pride, as well as a sliver of sensibility, won’t allow it. “See you.”

  “See you,” he mimics, his smile now thoughtful.

  I round the corner, working hard to wipe the permanent grin from my face and the goosebumps from my tingling skin.

  “There you are,” Damon mutters, clearly fed up with my disappearing acts today. “Time to get back.”

  “Back to my prison? Oh joy.”

  He gives me a funny look, stopping me in my tracks to the car.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Damon takes up his professional pose, the one where he stands with his joined hands behind his back and his chin lifted slightly.

  “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Have fun in the stables?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I head to the car, pushing a blush back from my cheeks.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Yes?”

  “You have hay in your hair,” he says, opening the door for me.

  I reach up and brush at my free locks, the blush now unavoidable. “Damn it,” I curse, catching Damon’s wry smile.

  “Fun?” he asks again.

  “Oh, behave,” I breathe, slipping into the back seat, not at all worried. I don’t only trust Damon with my life, I trust him with my secrets. And Josh Jameson is one gigantic secret.

  As we pull out of the stables, I see a Range Rover heading toward us, every window blacked out. I fall back in my seat and twiddle my fingers in my lap, trying not to let my mind venture to silly places. Places I am not allowed to be, and usually would have no interest in staying. But Josh is broaching my walls. And I cannot allow him that level access to my heart. Because it could easily be broken when he’s wrenched away.

  THE NEXT DAY AT THE stables is not nearly as wonderful. I saddle up Spearmint, distracted, I ride him, distracted, and I clean his tack, distracted. The whole time I’m there, I hope for a surprise visitor. He doesn’t come, and I leave the royal stables feeling despondent.

  As we pull up at Kellington, my phone rings and my eyes roll. “Mother,” I say as I step out of my car, thanking Damon with a nod. My coat is pulled from my shoulders by Olive as I stand in the entrance hall and listen to my mother deliver a point-by-point rundown of the afternoon tea at Claringdon Palace, held in honor of Helen. “Sorry I missed it,” I lie, handing Olive my bag on a smile. The prime examples of English ladies all in one room is my idea of hell—all swooning over pretty little cakes, Earl Grey tea being sipped through pursed lips from fancy china, and over-the-top fussing of my over-indulgent sister-in-law. No thank you.

  “I hear you spent rather a long time at the stables with that new horse of yours,” Mother says very casually, and I tense a little, stalling on any reply. She heard? From whom? “I had tea with Sabina yesterday evening.”

  My tense body softens, relieved. “Just getting to know him.” I roll my eyes at Damon when he smirks a little, clearly grasping the direction of conversation.

  “She said he shows smashing potential.”

  “He does.”

  “Now, onto another matter. I wanted to speak with you before Kim brings it up.”

  “What’s that?” I ask, just as Kim appears from the corridor that leads to my staff offices. She has her bulging diary in her arms and a pen in her mouth as she talks on her mobile.

  “Your father has been requested to unveil a new monument in his honor in Madrid.”

  I sag, knowing what is coming. “That’s lovely.” This tribute has been in the making for years, Spain’s display of union with England through the marriage of my mother to the King.

  “Rather unfair that my husband gets paid homage in my motherland, and I get nothing, don’t you think?” She chuckles, and I smile, knowing she could not care less. “Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. He’s unable to attend the unveiling as it collides with an existing royal engagement. Spain can’t change the date due to a public holiday, and your father can’t withdraw from his commitment. So it has been decided that you should represent him.”

  I groan under my breath, wandering through to the lounge with Kim following me. “What about you, Mother?”

  “I will be with your father in the British Virgin
Islands.”

  “And John?” I fall to the couch and give Kim eyes to suggest she should help me out. She shrugs, because when my staff receive instructions from the top, they obey.

  “He’s scaling back his royal duties, what with Helen’s condition,” Mother says.

  Condition? She’s pregnant, for goodness sake. “Eddie?” I put forward my last card, with no hope of it being played.

  “Adeline, darling, Edward has been serving the country for months. It would be unfair for us to expect him to fulfil royal engagements so soon after his return.”

  And then there’s me, with nothing better to do than smile, look pretty, and gush about my family to all who will listen. I have one use. Obey when ordered. “When is it?”

  “Kim has the details.”

  I scowl at Kim for no other reason than I need someone to note my displeasure. “I’ll be sure to talk to her.”

  “Good evening, dear.”

  “Good evening, Mother.” I hang up and hang my head. “So I am going to Madrid.”

  “It’s one week, Adeline. Look at it as a holiday.”

  “A holiday?” I laugh as Olive slides a tray of tea onto the table before me. “Thank you, Olive. I’ll serve,” I say, sitting forward and pouring myself a cup, as well as Kim. I push it across the table to her. “You and I both know there will be no chance of a holiday. Besides,” I grumble, “royals are only allowed to sun themselves in England, which, of course, limits their exposure to the sun a great deal. When am I to leave?”

  “Next month. I’ll collate your itinerary.” Kim makes a few notes in her diary. “The gallery opening this Friday.”

  “What about it?”

  “Your outfit.”

  “I haven’t thought about it.”

  “No need to. Victoria Beckham’s people are sending over her new collection.”

  I smile. Well, that’s made Friday more appealing. “Fabulous. When are they arriving?”

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  “Great.” I clap my hands, my mood lifting. “Is that all?”

  “For now.” She stands and gathers her things. “You’re in residence this evening?”