This time Ben was already there, waiting for her. He was frowning at his phone when she arrived. He quickly put it away and shot to his feet. She liked that he stood up when she entered the room. It was old-fashioned and quite sweet.
‘Hi.’ He came forward. For a second she thought he was going to shake her hand again, but after a second of hesitation, he kissed her cheek. She caught his woodland and summer scent again. The butterflies intensified. So maybe she wasn’t as immune to him as she’d hoped.
He pulled her chair out for her. ‘It’s good to see you again,’ he said.
‘You too.’ She genuinely meant it.
The waiter appeared once Ben had sat back down. You had to hand it to places like this, the service was impeccable. She was handed a menu. She looked down at it, not sure what she wanted.
‘My sister tells me their Caesar salad is very good,’ said Benedict. His expression suggested he would rather starve.
‘I’m not really a salad person,’ Kumari said, without thinking.
He looked up. His eyes sparkled. ‘Oh yes? What sort of a person are you, then?’
She met his eyes. ‘I’ll have the lamb.’ She closed her menu and lifted her chin, challenging him to judge her.
He grinned. ‘I can’t stand salad,’ he said. His eyes didn’t leave hers.
‘Me neither.’
For a moment he didn’t say anything, but held her gaze. Kumari’s heartbeat suddenly seemed louder. Her breath felt short. Was it hot in here?
‘I think,’ he said, ‘I’ll have the steak.’ He clapped his menu shut, which seemed to summon the waiter, who took their orders.
‘The last girl I went out with didn’t eat real food. It was all leafy bits.’
‘I see. That must have been awkward, what with you not liking salad.’
‘It was. But I thought that as a doctor . . .’
She laughed. ‘I do advise people to eat a healthy, balanced diet. Unfortunately, I’m not great at taking my own advice.’
He looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘OK. I have a question for you – roast potatoes or Yorkshire pudding?’
‘Yorkshire pudding,’ she said immediately. ‘Although, don’t tell my mum, but I prefer the ones cooked from frozen.’
He nodded. ‘Interesting.’
‘My turn,’ she said. ‘Cream tea – cream first or jam first?’
‘Ah, that’s easy. It depends where I’m having the cream tea. In Cornwall, jam first. Although, in fairness, I rarely get to do my own these days. Every event that’s had them has it already prepared. Usually with tiny, tiny scones.’ He indicated the size.
‘That’s a disappointing size of scone,’ she said.
They smiled at each other. His smile seemed to connect straight to her solar plexus. She felt light-headed from it. Lucy was right. She liked him more than she cared to admit. That wasn’t a good thing, because this was just a dalliance to him. She didn’t have time to be someone’s plaything. But she caught his sparkling eyes and realised a part of her didn’t really care.
Conversation flowed easily. Every so often she would look at him and notice something she’d not seen before. The way his eyes creased when he smiled. The line of his jaw. The way he put his head back when he laughed. The little details that made him a real person, rather than the oft-photographed prince she’d thought she knew.
While they were waiting for their coffee he said, ‘Have you got any space in your paper diary to see me again?’
‘Let me see.’ She unhooked her bag from her chair and fished out her small diary. He scooted his chair over so that he was next to her and pulled out his phone. She noticed that he’d set the display to be large.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘How are you fixed for next week?’
He peered at the diary in her hands. ‘Hang on a second. Damned analogue things . . .’ He put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a pair of glasses. He put them on and looked at her diary again.
Kumari stared. She had not expected glasses. Somehow it transformed his face, making him less playboy prince and far more like the champion of the weak that she had glimpsed before. It was, she realised, unbelievably sexy. She reached up and touched his cheek.
He switched his attention from her diary to her face. His eyes looked even bluer up close. His lips curved into a small smile. She couldn’t look away from it.
‘That’s what it took?’ he said. ‘I was trying so hard to impress you and all I had to do was put on glasses?’
What would it be like to kiss him? She muttered, ‘I have hidden shallows.’
He moved infinitesimally closer. ‘I like hidden shallows.’ He moved closer still and she closed the gap between them.
It was a hesitant kiss at first. A press of lips. Exploring. His fingertips grazed her neck. His thumb traced the line of her jaw. All hesitation vanished and he shifted position to get closer. Diary forgotten, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
When they drew apart his glasses were askew. She bit her lip and righted them.
It was a few seconds before either of them spoke. Finally, Ben said, ‘Would you . . . like to go somewhere else?’ His lips grazed hers again and something in her melted.
She nodded. ‘Yes.’
As soon as she had her coat on, he took her hand and led her out of a side door, so that they didn’t pass the other diners. There was a car waiting outside. They tumbled into the back.
‘Where to, sir?’ said the driver.
‘Cottington House, please. Let them know I’m coming over to use the bar.’ Ben fumbled with a panel of buttons and the glass partition between them and the driver darkened. He turned back to her. ‘Now then,’ he said. ‘Where were we?’
‘Comparing diaries.’
‘Ah yes.’ He leant across and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back. As the London street lights swept past, they snogged like teenagers.
Cottington House turned out to be a club that was hidden behind high walls and a secure gate.
‘This is where my cousins hang out if they’re staying down in London,’ Ben said. ‘I don’t think any of them are around at the moment, but you never know.’
The car pulled up at the front. Ben got out and offered his hand to help Kumari from the car. They entered a large hall with an enormous staircase. She tried not to gawp at the size of the place. Ben said hello to the butler who had opened the door, then led her up the wide stairs.
They ended up in a bar. At least, it had a barman and an array of drinks. It was in an anteroom that led into a grand ballroom. They were the only guests there.
While Ben ordered drinks, Kumari stepped into the ballroom. It was incredible. The high ceilings, the mirrors, the chandeliers. Kumari forgot her manners and stared. How was it possible for places like this to still exist?
‘Kumari?’
She turned, suddenly overwhelmed by what was happening. ‘Ben, this is . . . I can’t.’ She shook her head. She was wearing her best dress and she felt so scruffy.
Ben stepped up to her. ‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,’ he said cautiously. ‘It’s just a place where we can have some privacy. I’m not going to jump you.’
‘It’s not that. It’s just . . . you’re a prince. I’m just me. I’m really, really not suitable for you.’
‘Really?’ He touched a lock of hair by her cheek and gently tucked it behind her ear. ‘Why don’t you let me be the judge of what’s suitable for me. All that matters right now, is whether you feel that I’m suitable for you.’
She stared at him. He was so close and he smelt so good. All she wanted to do was to kiss him again. But she hesitated.
A frown creased Ben’s forehead. ‘I should have eased you in gently. I’m sorry. I forget that this place can be a bit of a shock if you’re not used to it.’
‘A bit.’
He nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’ He took a step back. ‘You see, the thing is, I really, really like you. I haven�
��t felt like this about anyone in . . . well, ever.’ He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. ‘I don’t get to do weeks of flirting. With my schedule and yours . . . it could be weeks before I get to see you again.’ His frown deepened. ‘And I’ve completely forgotten where I was going with this speech. You see the effect you have on me, Kumari? I’m a fairly competent man but you turn me into a gibbering wreck.’
Kumari sank down onto one of the gold-and-red sofas that lined the walls of the ballroom. For a fleeting second she wondered if she was allowed to sit on it before she remembered she wasn’t in a National Trust house, she was in Ben’s club.
‘I don’t know what to say.’ She had some sympathy with the gibbering wreck thing. She hadn’t exactly been thinking straight either.
Ben knelt on the floor in front of her. ‘OK. Let’s clear one thing up. Is it me? Or is it . . .’ He waved an arm. ‘This stuff ?’
‘Oh, it’s not you,’ she said. ‘I like you.’
‘So it’s the whole prince thing.’
She nodded. ‘It’s a lot to . . . take in.’
‘How about if we went somewhere where we could be just us? Somewhere where I’m not a prince and you’re not a doctor.’
She thought about it. She did like him. He was gorgeous and charming and kissing him made her knees melt. ‘OK,’ she said.
‘A weekend away maybe?’
‘I’d like that.’ Although, where would they go? There wasn’t a place in the country where he wouldn’t be recognised.
‘Excellent. Let’s try that thing where we look at our diaries and work out when we can meet again.’
‘This time we’ll actually get to look at diaries, yes?’ she said.
‘Well . . .’ His face was suddenly serious. ‘I will have to put my glasses on again. Are you sure you can handle it?’
She laughed and gave him a gentle shove. He laughed too, his big, hearty, comforting laugh. And everything felt right again.
*
‘So where are you going?’ Lucy sat at the end of Kumari’s bed eating peanut butter out of a jar and watching her throw things into a bag.
‘Namibia.’ Kumari pulled out a long-sleeved cotton blouse that her mother had brought back from Sri Lanka. She waved it at Lucy. ‘Too twee?’
‘No, it looks nice on you,’ said Lucy. ‘Namibia? Is that even safe?’
Kumari threw the blouse in. ‘Apparently. They had a poaching problem, but that’s under control now . . . according to the Internet,’ she said. She pulled a face at the pile of clothes. ‘I feel underprepared. And I hate being underprepared.’
Lucy nodded and popped some peanut butter into her mouth. ‘Control freak,’ she mumbled.
‘Stop eating in my bedroom.’
Lucy rolled her eyes, got off the bed and went as far as the door. She leant against the door frame. ‘It’s also a little romantic, don’t you think? He’s whisking you away for a surprise holiday.’
Kumari carefully folded her quick-drying trousers. ‘It’s only five days. And he said we’d be camping.’ She dropped the trousers into her bag. ‘You know what? I can’t handle it. I need more information.’ She pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket. Ben had given her a mobile number. He had told her to be careful that it didn’t fall into the wrong hands – a hotline to a prince was a valuable thing, so she’d jokingly put it in her phone as Speccy4eyes. She knew better than to call him. He had explained that the phone lived with his assistant whenever he was out on official duties, but that he checked his messages. She knew when he was in transit, because he texted her back immediately. Sometimes, if they both had some time, they’d speak on the phone.
She wrote; Not good with surprises. Need more clues. K.
‘Is he coming to pick you up?’ Lucy asked. ‘Can I meet him?’
He was sending a car to pick her up. Kumari, who had been brought up to watch her pennies, rarely even took a taxi when there was public transport available. She really wished that she could tell Lucy what was going on, but it was all too new and too precious to share at the moment.
‘No,’ she said. ‘You can’t meet him.’
‘Aww.’ Lucy stuck another spoonful of peanut butter into her mouth. ‘Can you at least show me a photo?’
There were hundreds of photos all over the Internet. Kumari grinned to herself. Lucy had a collection of photos on her board of hotness in the kitchen.
‘What? What’s that smile for?’
‘Nothing.’ Her phone buzzed. Ben had replied to her text. His message simply said, Bring safari clothes, and had a URL.
‘What kind of a clue is that?’ She clicked on the URL and a site showing a beautiful camp opened up. ‘Wow.’ She turned the phone to show Lucy.
Lucy did a slow motion double-take. ‘He’s taking you to a fancy safari camp in Africa?’
‘Looks like it . . .’ She stared at the text.
‘Hang on. Hang on. This mystery guy takes you first to an eye-wateringly expensive cocktail bar. Then to dinner at the swankiest restaurant I’ve ever heard of and now he’s taking you to Africa?’ She stepped into the room.
Kumari glanced at the jar of peanut butter in her hand. Lucy stepped out, put the jar on the floor outside the room and came back in. She put her hands on her hips. ‘Kumari, I’m not being weird, but who is this guy?’
‘He’s . . . a guy. I mean, he’s got a lot of money, but otherwise just a guy.’
Lucy gave her a suspicious glare. ‘If he’s that rich we can google him.’ She pulled out her phone. ‘Come on. Spill. What’s his name?’
‘Ben.’
‘You’ll have to do better than that. What’s his full name?’
Kumari shook her head.
‘Seriously? Did he make you sign a confidentiality agreement or something . . . he did, didn’t he? Oh my God, you’re going out with a real life Christian Grey.’
Kumari started to laugh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
Lucy grinned too. ‘Maybe he’s not taking you to Africa at all. It’s an elaborate ruse to get you into his private sex dungeon.’
‘No! He’s not like that at all. Honestly. And he didn’t get me to sign anything. He just asked nicely.’
‘Seriously though, Kumari.’ Lucy came and sat at the end of her bed again. ‘How will I know you’re OK? All this secrecy is worrying me. You’ve got to admit it’s weird.’ She was no longer smiling and looked genuinely worried.
Kumari sat down next to her. ‘I’ll be fine, Lucy. He’s a good guy. He’s just a bit wary of publicity.’
‘But if he takes you out of the country and you get kidnapped, or he dumps you and leaves you out there or whatever, how will I even know where you are?’
‘Lucy. I spent the last year in a medical facility in Lesotho.’
‘And I spent every evening dreading what was going to be on the news. I had to friend your mum on Facebook, just so that I could message her to check you were OK.’
Kumari hadn’t known that. She knew that Lucy and her Amma were in touch, but she hadn’t appreciated that Lucy was so much a part of the invisible web that surrounded her. She had assumed that she’d dropped out of Lucy’s thoughts while she was abroad. Guiltily, she realised that Lucy had all but dropped out of hers.
‘Tell you what. I’ll forward you the URL for the safari place, so that you have their contact details and I’ll message you when I message my mum to say I’ve arrived safely. Would that help?’
Lucy nodded. ‘It would.’ But she didn’t look convinced. Kumari sighed. ‘Lucy, I wish I could tell you more. All I know is that if I’m with him, I’ll probably be safer than I’ve ever been before.’ Which was true. Ben was never without security. They were discreet, letting him have the illusion of normality, but they were always there. ‘Can you trust me on that?’
Lucy nodded again. On impulse, Kumari gave her a hug. ‘Thanks for looking out for me.’
‘Pshaw. You’d do the same for me.’ Lucy squeezed her back
. ‘And I’m still half convinced you’re dating Christian Grey.’
Later on, Kumari texted Ben. My friend thinks all the secrecy is because you’re taking me to a secret sex dungeon.
She got a reply back within minutes. Damn. Why didn’t I think of that? Must try harder.
Chapter 6
The Aurora Post
Is the prince missing his days in the army?
Prince Benedict was seen deep in conversation with the manufacturers of high-octane motorbikes at the exclusive Salon Privé – the premier occasion for those coveting super-luxury motor vehicles. The prince, who left active service in the army three years ago, is said to be missing the adrenaline rush of being in a war zone and might be looking to capture that feeling through a powerful motor vehicle.
On page 8 we talk to a psychology expert who explains the link between the prince’s reputed hard partying and trauma experienced by serving in the army.
Kumari got out of the car and stretched. They had been travelling for hours, first a charter plane, then the Humvee. It was early morning now and the sun was rising. She breathed in the smell of parched earth and woodsmoke, and for a second she was back in the medical camp. Except this was a different world entirely.
‘Lesotho was a bit tricky to organise,’ said Ben. He looked delicious in lightweight cargo trousers and a shirt. The minute they left the car, he had put on a pair of wraparound sunglasses. ‘So I figured Namibia was a good compromise.’
She didn’t know what to say. ‘Thank you,’ seemed like the most appropriate response.
He took her hand and led her towards an open-sided building where a waiter placed a jug of iced water on a table. Ben seemed to know where he was going.
‘You’ve been here before,’ she said.
‘A couple of times. I like the fact that you can unplug completely.’ He held her chair for her. ‘And I figured you’d seen the worst of human misery in Lesotho, but there are also beautiful places like this with all this natural wonder. It’s such a huge and varied continent . . . I thought it might be nice to see that side of things.’
Christmas at the Palace Page 5