“Which is your favorite?”
“I’m not sure.” She pressed a finger to her lips. “The silver one has such delicate engraving, and I love the colors on this enameled one. But I think I like this black one best.” She picked up a shiny black box. She wasn’t even sure what it was made from. Possibly something insubstantial like papier-mâché. It had a delicate painting of a girl standing under a tree that must have been painted with the world’s tiniest brush.
He took it from her, which surprised her. She grew even more surprised when he handed it to the shop owner—who had to be roused from some old books he was sorting through—and paid for it. After the shopkeeper had wrapped it in tissue and deposited it in a tiny brown paper shopping bag, Simon handed it back to her. “For you.”
She blinked. “I didn’t mean for you to buy it.”
“I know. I wanted to.”
“I don’t think a man has ever given me a snuff box before.” She kept her voice hushed, not wanting to convey any impression of romance to the store owner.
“You can’t accuse me of being clichéd, at least.” That infectious smile again. She found her own mouth curving up. Surely there was no harm in the gift. It wasn’t terribly expensive, just a sweet gesture. “I notice you like miniature paintings. I saw several at your flat.” He opened the shop door and they stepped out into the sunlight.
“I do. A perfect world in microcosm. And just for one person at a time to look at and enjoy. Maybe it’s the opposite of my parties where everyone must have a good time all at once.”
“You keep giving me a new perspective on things I take for granted.” He smiled. “Our driver, David, tells me there’s a state park near here. What do you say we take a picnic lunch there?”
“That sounds great.”
It was lucky she agreed because David had already been given orders somehow. The car was piled high with white deli bags and a newly bought cooler containing chilled drinks. She was so used to creating fairy-tale meals for other people that it was rather bizarre to have someone else pulling all the strings. All she had to do was enjoy.
David drove them into the park, past several battlefield sites, to the bank of a winding river. He spread a pretty French provincial patterned cloth—which must have been a rather expensive purchase back in Danes Mill—and unpacked the deli bags filled with gourmet salads.
Ariella settled onto the cloth and Simon poured her a sparkling glass of champagne. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this pampered.” They helped themselves to a warm tortellini salad and a crisp slaw of carrot and beetroot with a sesame seed dressing.
“You deserve it. You’ve been under a lot of pressure lately and it’s time for you to let off some steam.”
She sighed, and they sipped their champagne. Not surprisingly, it was very good. “Is your life like this every day?”
“If only.” That intoxicating smile again. “My life is usually far more prosaic.”
The driver had tactfully vanished, and they were all alone beside the rushing stream. Tiny yellow flowers bloomed along the banks, and the rich mossy smell of the trees and the soil soothed her frazzled nerves. “I used to wish my life would go back to normal, but if this is the new normal, I’m not complaining.” She looked up at him and spoke with sudden conviction. “And I intend to meet both my birth parents.” Her confidence had grown since she met Simon. “It’s too big an opportunity to waste. Sure, I’m scared, but the potential reward is worth the risk.”
“Fantastic. I’m glad you’ve come to that conclusion. I thought you would. Have you managed to make contact with your mother?”
“I wrote to her but I haven’t heard back yet. It’s so odd that I don’t even know what she looks like. All I’ve seen is her high school yearbook photo from the year she got pregnant with me.”
“What did she look like then?”
“Young, sweet, sort of shy. She had a terrible hairstyle. It was the 1980s after all.”
He laughed. “I bet she’s a lot more nervous than you are.”
“She has good reason to be apprehensive. She’s the only one who could be accused of doing anything wrong here. She says she didn’t tell my father about me because she didn’t want to prevent him from going off to college, but surely he could have made his own decisions about how to handle it. After all, if he can manage to become president of the United States, I think he could probably handle supporting a family while taking his classes.”
“You’re right. I’d be devastated if I got a girl pregnant and she didn’t tell me.”
Her eyes widened. Sometimes Simon was shockingly frank. He hadn’t even looked up from his plate, and was busy munching on some arugula. “Is that something you have to worry about a lot? I mean, any child you had would be in line to the throne.”
“Believe me, I’ve heard that over and over again since I was old enough to understand. My grandmother, the queen, would prefer that none of us date at all. If she had her own way we’d all be safely tucked away in arranged marriages by age twenty.”
“Have they tried to pair you up with anyone?”
“Oh, it never stops.” His eyes were smiling. “They’re constantly digging up blushing blue-blood virgins and inviting them to palace tea parties.”
“But so far none of them has piqued your interest.” She nibbled on a crisp green bean.
“Oh, several of them have piqued my interest.” He chuckled. “But not in the way Grandmama was hoping, I’m afraid. And luckily, I haven’t gotten any of them pregnant, either.”
“You’re shocking me.”
“Why? You don’t think a prince has feelings like any other man?”
“Well…” She bit her lip. “Of course I know you do, it’s just…”
“You can’t believe I’m talking about it out loud when I should be much more subtle and surreptitious?” He raised a brow. His dimple was showing. “My family hates how blunt I am. I can’t stand beating around the bush. Heaven knows I do enough of it when I’m out in public, so in private I prefer to speak my mind. Don’t be too shocked.”
“I’ll try not to be.” She smiled. His candor was refreshing. He was so different from what she’d expected. It was disarming and intriguing and she had a hard time maintaining her own cool reserve around him.
“How did we start talking about me? I was asking about your mother. Didn’t you say she lives in Ireland?”
“When she wrote to me there was an address on the inside of the letter. A post office box in Kilkenney, Ireland. She must have rented it so no one would find out where she lived. I haven’t told anyone she wrote to me, except my closest friends. I told her I’d like to meet her and I’m willing to travel to Ireland if she needs me to.”
“How will you do that without taking the international press corps with you?”
“I’m cunning when I need to be.” She smiled mysteriously. “And it’s always a good idea to do some location scouting for a big wedding, or something.”
“Your profession lends itself to international travel. I’m forced by circumstance to do most of my travel in the British Commonwealth.”
“The countries that were in the former empire?”
“Exactly. Lucky thing it was big and had so many interesting countries.” He grinned, looking disarmingly boyish. “How did your mother end up in Ireland, anyway? I thought she was from Montana.”
“I don’t entirely know. I think she met an Irish man after she gave me up for adoption. Hopefully I’ll find out the details once we meet.”
“I’m sure she’s missed you far more than you know.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “I don’t know. She might have other children. She didn’t say. She didn’t mention anything about wanting to meet me.”
“She’s probably nervous that you don’t want to meet her. She did abandon you, after all.”
“I told her in my letter that I have no hard feelings and that I had the best childhood anyone could want. I said it would mean so much to me if I c
ould meet her.”
“Has she responded?”
“Not yet.” A sudden chill made her shiver. She put down her plate. “What if she doesn’t?”
He smiled. “She will. I can feel it.”
“Psychic, are you?” She sipped her champagne. The slight buzz it gave her was soothing, given the tense topic of conversation. “I wish I had your confidence.”
“You do. You just don’t know it yet.” He sipped his champagne. “Let’s see how cold this water is.” He stood and walked to the bank, where the river rushed by only about a foot below. Before she had time to join him, he’d removed his shoes and socks, rolled up the leg of his dark slacks, and slid his feet into the water. “Cold.”
“Is it really? It must be from an underground spring.” The summer afternoon was downright balmy. Her own toes itched to dip into the sparkling depths. She sat on the bank next to him and slipped off her shoes. Her jeans were tight-fitting so she could barely roll them up at all, but she managed to get them above her ankles. Then she dangled her feet down the bank until the water lapped against her toes. “Ooh, that feels good.”
Tentative, she slid her feet beneath the surface. The chill of the water contrasted with the warm throb of intimacy that pulsed between them, helped by the glass of champagne. Her shoulder bumped gently against his, then she felt his arm slide around her waist. It felt as natural as the cool clear water splashing against her ankles.
Now his torso almost touched hers, and they seemed to be growing closer by slow degrees. His rich masculine scent tugged at her senses. She could see the pale stubble on his chin, and the sparkle of light in his eyes—they were hazel up close—and then she couldn’t see at all because her eyes shut and she found herself kissing him.
Four
The daylight dazzled unpleasantly as Simon opened his eyes. He’d had to tug himself away from kissing Ariella, and the taste of her lingered on his tongue, forbidden and delicious. She looked unbearably beautiful, sitting there on the bank, her eyes dark with desire and the forgotten cuffs of her jeans darkening in the water.
“We shouldn’t have done that.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“I beg to differ.” His entire body growled at him to do a lot more with this lovely woman. He let his hand wander into her long, dark hair. “Mostly because I don’t think we had any choice.”
“You always have a choice.” One neat brow lifted slightly. He could feel her shrink back from him.
“Theoretically, I suppose. But some things are just irresistible.” Her raspberry-tinted lips were among those things, and he lowered his lips toward them again. But this time she hesitated. “Simon, I really don’t think this is sensible.”
“Why not?”
“Uh…because your grandmother would be horrified.”
“Nonsense.” He stroked her hair. She stiffened slightly, as if she wanted to resist, but he saw his own desire reflected in her eyes. “I’m sure she’d adore you.” He really didn’t want to think about the queen right now. He didn’t want to think about anyone but Ariella. He could deal with everyone else later.
Ariella shivered slightly, as anticipation rose in the air. If she didn’t want to kiss him she could have leapt to her feet and darted back to the car. But she hadn’t.
He waited for her to come to him, and she did. Her mouth rose to meet his and they sank deep into another sensual kiss. He was almost breathless when they finally broke again.
“Uh-oh.” Her cheeks were flushed. “I couldn’t help that kiss at all.” She’d twisted into his embrace, and her nipples peaked against her T-shirt and the bra underneath it.
“See? Sometimes you just don’t have a choice.”
Desire made his thoughts spin. He certainly hadn’t had enough champagne to feel this tipsy. He stroked the silky skin of her arm, wishing he could bare other parts of her. But he could still resist doing that—for now. “Sometimes you have to give in to forces more powerful than a mere human.”
“You’re not a mere human, you’re a prince.” She winked.
He loved how she seemed totally natural with him, not affected or intimidated at all. “Even royalty are subject to the whims of passion.” He traced her cheekbone with his thumb. “Which can be quite inconvenient at times.”
She glanced about nervously. “I hope there aren’t any photographers hiding in the bushes.”
“I’ve learned to go to places that would never occur to them. Why would a man with a large rural estate go to a popular state park?”
“Because it has this cool stream with yellow wildflowers growing along its banks.” Her slender fingers touched the petals of a flower. How he’d like to feel them running over his skin, or through his hair.
“That is why I come, but they don’t think like that. They expect me to go to expensive restaurants and exclusive gatherings. Of course I do that as well, it’s my job, but I’ve become quite skilled at doing the unexpected when I’m off duty. I always have my driver study natural areas near wherever I’m traveling. A man can withstand a lot more dreary meetings around a conference table if he knows there’s a bracing kayak trip waiting for him at the end of it.”
“Very cunning, and keeps you fit, too.”
“And sane. At least as sane as I’m going to be.” He grinned. He didn’t feel terribly sane right now. He wanted to do all kinds of things that weren’t sensible at all, especially not when you did them with a girl who was already in the public eye and who didn’t fit the queen’s narrow ideas of what constituted a suitable consort.
But no one, including the queen, was going to keep him from bedding the lovely Ariella.
“I’d really better get back to D.C. I have a busy week to plan for.”
Again he felt her pulling away from him. He stood and helped her to his feet. Landing a kiss on Ariella’s lovely mouth was enough excitement for today. Their time together had only confirmed his intuition that she was no ordinary woman. He could pace himself and wait for the right moment to claim his prize.
“I need to do some planning myself. Now that I’m staying in D.C. a while longer I want to make sure I make the most of the opportunity.” They walked back to the pretty clearing where they’d had their picnic. “I’d better think about who I want to wine and dine while I’m here—other than you, of course.”
She bit her lip as they packed the remains of lunch back into the bags. He could see she still felt misgivings about their kiss. It was hard not to come on too strong with her when he wanted to throw her over his shoulder and take her back to his hotel.
Instead he helped her into the car and returned her discreetly to a location two blocks away from her apartment. From there she walked home alone, chin lifted in sweet defiance against anyone who wanted to know her business.
He sank back against the back seat of the car and let out a long breath. Ariella Winthrop. Something about her had grabbed him hard. He tried to distract himself by pulling his phone out of his pocket. He’d had it turned off all day. A message from his younger brother Henry seemed like the perfect diversion, so he punched his number.
“Are you really staying over there for another week?” His brother’s incredulous voice made him smile.
“At least a week and with good reason.”
“Let me guess, the reason has long legs and a toothy American smile.”
Simon reached forward and closed the partition between him and the driver. “There’s nothing toothy about her smile,” he retorted, thinking about her lovely mouth.
“I knew it.”
“You knew nothing of the sort. I’m here to raise public awareness of World Connect. I have big plans. We’re going to hold an outdoor concert here in D.C.”
“Nice. But let me guess—she’s involved somehow.”
“She might be.” Was he really so predictable?
Henry laughed. “Don’t let Grandma find out about it.”
“Why not?” He bristled.
“She’d have a fit about you dating anyone wh
o isn’t marriage material. Remember that last lecture she gave you about it being time to settle down. She’s got your wedding all planned and all you have to do is show up.”
He growled. “I’m not marrying anyone.”
“You’ll have to sooner or later. You’re next, big brother.”
“Why don’t you worry about your own love life, instead of mine? I suppose I’m lucky that the scandalous state of your affairs distracts attention from mine.”
“That’s why I need you to get married and draw the spotlight off me for a while.” Henry had been photographed in compromising situations several times over the last year. “Why can’t you make them all happy so I can keep on having fun?”
“That might actually be possible.” He watched D.C. pass by his window. “I’ve met someone who could well be the one.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Do I joke around?”
“Yes, often.”
“Then you can just assume I’m jesting.”
“An American girl?”
“The president’s newly discovered daughter, Ariella, no less.” He felt a bit sheepish using her media handle to describe her to his own brother. “She’s quite something.”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“I’m afraid it’s gone well beyond thinking.” He smiled as memories of their kiss heated his blood.
“Gran will need sedation. And can you imagine Uncle Derek’s reaction?”
“I’ll try not to.” He shook his head. Their mother’s brother took a keen interest in meddling in their affairs and throwing up obstacles at every turn. “If only he’d been born royal he wouldn’t have to try so hard to be more royal than the rest of us.”
“You do realize you can’t marry an American.”
“Why not? In the old days we nearly always married into royal families from other countries.”
“Exactly. Married into royal families. You need a nice Swedish princess, or one from Monaco or Spain.”
Affairs of State Page 5