Something in the Heir (It's Reigning Men, #1)

by Jenny Gardiner

  Adrian was too busy gaping at the explosion of pink enveloping him from all corners of the room to reply immediately. Large, pink pipe cleaner flowers, fluffy fuchsia stuffed animals (including a monkey, hippo and platypus), a fuzzy pink telephone even, all competed to distract him from the rest of the world. It was as if the bright color had vomited all over the room in an act of cheery vengeance.

  “Let me guess,” he said drily. “You like the color pink?”

  “Ya think? Truthfully, when I was a girl my grandmother decided I liked the color pink and so it became my de facto color. I’m relatively neutral for it, when it gets right down to it. But what could I do? I didn’t want to make my grammy feel badly so I just let her do it. And now that she’s gone—” Emma’s voice faltered. “It would be like getting rid of a piece of her to change it at all.”

  Adrian had been preparing to repudiate the characterization she’d wrongfully lumped on him, but now that she seemed so sad about her grandmother, how could he even go there? Instead he got up and went over to her and reached out to pull her into a warm hug. Until she pushed him away with both hands.

  He squinted his eyes at her. “What was that all about?”

  Her eyes tracked him from his ankles to his chest and back again. “Do you really need to ask that? The only thing between you and me is a flimsy bit of eight hundred thread-count cotton. Not gonna happen. I promised myself: no more men.” She shook her head vigorously.

  Adrian grimaced, his lips pursed together in frustration. What was with this woman and her ridiculous resolution? Just because there were some bad apples out there didn’t mean he was going to follow suit. Although if he were to be honest with himself, if he thought his mother was outraged by his failure to fall into line over Serena, she’d be downright apoplectic to consider him having any sort of relationship with a commoner from across the drink. There was unreasonable and then there was unreasonable. So maybe Emma wasn’t so off-base after all. While it would be easy to answer those throbbing impulses (and one look down would indicate that adjective wasn’t much of an exaggeration), a moment’s pleasure could lead to a lifetime of Emma hating his guts, and he wasn’t interested in making enemies with her now that they’d become friends. He’d just have to befriend a cold shower.

  “Look, Emma, I can’t exactly hide my feelings toward you.’ He looked downward with a sheepish grin. “That happens when you’re only wearing bedclothes. And by that I literally mean the clothes for the bed. But I respect you too much to work my wiles on you. And believe me, my wiles are pretty workable. I suspect we both know we’d have a hard time making a go of it, regardless. Just too many complications.”

  Emma snorted. “I’ll say.”

  “Believe me, I have enough I’m trying to figure out right now. It would be unfair to both of us for me to throw ‘us’ into the mix. I’m still trying to figure out how I’m going to kill my mother’s current plan for my life destruction.”

  They both laughed at his exaggeration, even though they knew it would destroy the life he’d choose if his mother forced him into a marriage with Serena.

  “Friends?” Adrian asked her, his outstretched hand a gesture of solidarity.

  “Friends,” she said, shaking his hand. “Now, let’s get you set up in this bed so that we can catch some shut-eye.”

  Although she knew shut-eye was far less likely to occur now. She’d be sleeping with one eye open the whole time, worried she’d have to fend off his advances once his own resolve dissolved.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Darcy traced his footsteps repeatedly in front of the hostess station at the intimate Italian bistro Caroline had directed him to. He feared he would soon wear a pathway into the tile floor if the woman didn’t get a move on. Clearly she was avoiding public exposure, sending him here, as quiet and secluded as the restaurant seemed. He could barely tell another patron was even dining at the place.

  He was about to abandon his cause when he saw the door open and he thought perhaps he heard a choir of angels break into a harmonious song of praise. Either that or he’d lost his head momentarily. Which was more than likely the case, because before him stood a much sexier version of the redhead he sort of half-noticed at the reception. She must have cleaned up well or something, because he sure didn’t remember her that well. But this woman in front of him, well, she was smokin’ hot, with her flame-red hair licking a trail past her shoulders and smoldering green eyes that had captured and held his gaze.

  He wiped his sweaty palms on his pant legs and quickly extended his hand toward her.

  “Darcy,” he said with a sly grin. “I think we’ve met.”

  “Ah, yes,” Caroline said. “Darcy with the hyphenated name. How do you do, yet again?”

  “I do just fine, now that you’ve arrived,” he said, that adorable accent of his nearly causing Caroline to betray her exterior coolness. Soon enough he’d know it was just a ruse and she’d be all over him like a down comforter on a freshly made bed. But until then, she could play it cool.

  “I’ve made your day then?” Normally she’d be thrilled if she’d made a handsome man’s day, but for some reason she really wanted to pluck his last nerve, just for fun.

  Darcy nodded. “Well, I can’t quite proceed with the plan without you, can I?”

  “In that case perhaps you should cut to the chase.”

  He shook his head. No way was he going to get in and out that fast with this one. He wanted to take his good old time, savor the moment. “What say we enjoy a nice meal together, break some bread, share some fine wine while we talk this through?”

  “You had me at fine wine,” she said with a wink. No point in him knowing she’d have even stuck around for a cheap bowl of pasta.

  ~*~

  “So,” Darcy began, raising his glass after they placed their orders and their drinks had arrived. “Here’s to a long and fruitful partnership.”

  “I think I’d best be a bit wary of your intentions, Mr. Darcy Hyphenated,” Caroline said. “I wasn’t operating under the assumption anything long or fruitful was before us. I thought it was merely going to be a quickie relationship.” She arched her brow suggestively.

  He laughed. “It may well be a quickie, given our time constraints. But perhaps we can extend the pleasure a bit longer, if the need calls for it.”

  “And what, might I ask, is this need, exactly?”

  “My need is pure and simple: protect the prince, at all costs.”

  “Oooh, you remind me of Kevin Costner in The Bodyguard, getting all manly and protective like that.” She licked her lips suggestively.

  “Laugh all you want but it’s the truth. Adrian is like a brother to me, and I’m his right-hand man. Which means I will do what I need to ensure that he is safe and happy.”

  “Wow, I wish I had someone hanging around whose sole job it was to make me happy,” Caroline said. “So then, who’s in charge of making you happy?”

  Darcy sat up taller for a second while he pondered that question. “Come to think of it, I don’t believe there is someone out there who’s taken on that project. Except maybe me mum.”

  “And yet you’ll drop everything to protect this Adrian guy?”

  “‘This Adrian guy’ is the heir apparent to an entire nation! Of course I’d protect him. Our country needs him!”

  “Okay, okay, don’t get so defensive!” She held up her hands in surrender. “I was just trying to get a reaction out of you anyway!”

  “Mission accomplished,” he muttered under his breath. “Let’s dispense with formalities and cut to the chase. Enough of this chitchat. I think we should go down there to check up on them. Him. Whatever.”

  “And do what? Say ‘we don’t trust you children to handle your own affairs, so let the grown-ups take over?’” she said. “They’re adults, Darcy. I think they can handle themselves!”

  “You would think that,” he said. “But you don’t realize, Adrian has never been on his own before. He’s gullible.”
>
  “Gullible? Are you implying he’s gullible to the manipulations of my untrustworthy friend? That’s absolutely ridiculous! She was a Girl Scout, for goodness’ sake. She’s no doubt taken him under her wing to save him. She’s probably working on her rescue badge, as we speak. Gullible my ass!”

  Darcy held his own hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, then. Don’t go getting your knickers in a twist, sweetheart. Let’s try a different tack. Maybe they’re both in over their heads. Maybe they need some outside guidance.”

  “A) I’ll disregard the pejorative sweetheart comment, and B) honestly, I couldn’t disagree more. He needed to get away — you said so yourself! — and quite frankly, Emma could use the diversion,” she said. “She’s a great gal, but she’s sorta lonely. She really could use some, uh, entertainment. A male diversion. A boy-toy.”

  “What the bloody hell do you mean, a boy-toy?”

  “You know, a little fun distraction. A little tête-à-tête if you will.”

  “Are you mad, woman? This is the future king of Monaforte you’re talking about!”

  “Do you mean to suggest by the way you phrased that that your boy doesn’t get a little on the side every now and again?”

  “Well, yes, but,” he stammered. “Er, that’s, well, that’s different!”

  “Different because it’s on his terms, not hers?”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “And different because he’s vulnerable to gold-digging women.”

  “Oh, puh-lease,” she said, banging her fist on the table. “Don’t even go there. Emma is a self-sufficient woman. She doesn’t need some wealthy pretty-boy Euro-trash princeling to sweep her off her feet. That is so not my friend.”

  “Euro-trash? Euro-trash?” Darcy’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. “Are you aware that you just insulted a man whose lineage dates back to medieval Europe? Euro-trash, indeed. As if!”

  “Well, I can promise you that Emma’s doesn’t even date back to the Mayflower. Might not even pre-date the Tournament of Roses, I don’t know. I’m sure she’s not of pure lineage. But that doesn’t mean she’s not good enough for your homeboy. She’s a great catch!”

  “First of all, I hope that your homegirl is not currently sinking her claws into Adrian. And second of all, it would be entirely a moot point anyway, because the whole reason Adrian’s flown the coop is due to the fact that his mother is breathing down his neck to accede to an arranged marriage.”

  Caroline grabbed the wine and filled both glasses as the waitress placed their entrees before them. They waited for the waitress to grate parmigiano onto their pasta before continuing.

  “Arranged marriage? They sure do hearken back to the Middle Ages in that family, don’t they? Is that how it’s done when you’re royal? Someone else tells you who you’re going to be stuck with for the rest of your life? And then what do you do — you just have discreet affairs on each other because neither of you wanted to be wed in the first place, it’s just a marriage of convenience, like you had to merge two empires together and, oh well, tough luck?! It’s all very Henry the Eighth to me.”

  Darcy set his fork down to clap his hands. “I’m impressed. You were able to speak non-stop for several minutes while inhaling pasta, seemingly without taking a breath.”

  “Years of experience,” she said. “But back to this marriage thing. If you’re all about taking care of your bro, then why aren’t you putting an end to this delusional ploy of his mother’s? Can’t you stop it? It’s so old school to force a marriage. Didn’t she get the memo, it’s the new millennium?”

  “Yes, well, the queen is decidedly ‘old school,’ in that case. But it’s not because it’s a merger of any sort of world powers. Rather it’s her dearest friend’s daughter. And she is of a certain lineage, which I don’t doubt appeals to the queen’s sense of propriety.”

  “Chick sounds like a control freak to me,” Caroline said with a half laugh, taking a swig of her wine.

  “She’s not, normally. Really, she’s a lovely woman. She’s just got her head set on this, and I suppose her friend’s daughter is keen to marry Adrian as well. After all, he’ll be king someday, and who wouldn’t want to become a princess?”

  Caroline nearly spluttered her wine. “I’m sorry, but where I come from, these are truly foreign concepts. Something straight out of a Disney movie. ‘Who wouldn’t want to be a princess’ is right up there with ‘Who wants to be a millionaire?.’ But now that I say it like that, I guess either of them wouldn’t be so bad, would they?”

  “My point precisely!” Darcy said, banging his fist on the table a little too loudly. Good thing no one seemed to patronize the restaurant, empty as it appeared to be. “Who’s to say Emma isn’t going to get all swoony and weak at the knees, fantasizing about a lifetime with a prince who sweeps her off her feet?”

  Caroline shook her head vigorously. “Oh, no, no, no. See, you don’t know Emma. That would be a deal-breaker for her. For one thing, she is so over men. The last thing she’d be after is a relationship with someone who is so off-limits it’s not even worth starting anything. It’s bad enough starting out one in which you might hold hope for a future, only to have it implode on you — and trust me, she’s been through that ringer plenty. But it’s a whole ’nother thing to enter into something with a guy like your friend, who’s either only after one thing with a woman, or who’s ultimately stuck with her because his mother says so.”

  “Fine, so let’s say you’re right about this in theory. But you have these two young adults, both reasonably good-looking. Both with time on their hands. One in active defiance of his elders, the other just doesn’t give a whit one way or another,” he said, launching into his theoretical nonsense. “So what exactly do you think they’re up to? How would they fill the time?”

  “Knowing Emma, I’d say they’re either watching classic television shows on cable, or she’s teaching Adrian how to quilt. In between whipping up a few decent cocktails. She’s good with a shaker, but not as good as me.”

  Darcy sighed. “I don’t know. The longer he’s gone, the more leery I’m getting with Adrian being out of my realm like this, and I simply can’t fathom that this won’t descend into hanky panky.”

  Caroline burst out laughing. “Hanky panky! Are you for real? Just say it, say the real thing. Say ‘I’m worried they’re going to fornicate!’”

  “Fornicate? Who uses words like that?”

  She slapped her knee. “I do crack myself up sometimes. I assumed that’s the sort of word you’d use if you had to go all technical on it. I have enough faith that my friend is doing no such thing that I’m willing to prove it.”

  “Prove it? Do you have some sort of sex-cam set up on her person? Or have you already set a private eye on her with listening devices and cameras?”

  ”I don’t need anything so high-tech, honey,” she said. “I know my girl, and I know she’s got too much restraint for a fly-by-night hook-up, even if he is such a ‘royal’ catch.”

  “Then let’s put your money where your mouth is,” Darcy said. “Take me down there so I can see for myself. As it is, it’s going to get harder and harder for me to defend this escape plan of Adrian’s, so at least if I know everything is fine it’ll be easier to be on board with it.”

  “It’s a deal,” she said. “You’ll see. That Adrian guy would be lucky to end up with Emma. But Emma’s sworn off men, so there’s nothing to worry about it. Of that I am most certain. Shake on it?”

  “Shake indeed. And let’s get an early start in the morning. The sooner the better.”

  ~*~

  Darcy had just returned to the hotel when his — make that Adrian’s — text alert dinged. He pulled out the phone and read the imploring message from the queen.

  “Adrian, my mother’s instincts are telling me you’re very much not sick. I do not know what you are up to, but I expect you to return my phone calls. You might be an adult, but I am still your mother.”

  Darcy sighed. He really didn’
t want to pull out the big guns, but maybe Caroline was right. Maybe he did need to intervene on his friend’s behalf. Besides, Darcy was rather enjoying his little engagements with the queen. Never could he address her so candidly as he could while pretending to be her son. It was a fun little challenge, circumventing a lifetime of protocol. Maybe he could be considered for an Academy Award when this was all done.

  “Contrary to popular opinion, I have far more on my plate than to be at your perpetual beck and call, mother dearest.”

  “Mother dearest? Since when do you disrespect me?”

  “I wasn’t disrespecting you, just driving home the point. I’m a grown man now. Please respect that I am my own person.”

  “Of course I respect that,” she typed. “But you need to understand that as the ruling monarch, I need to run a tight ship. I need to know everything that is happening, where and with whom. It’s my job to be on top of every microscopic detail.”

  “Actually, Mother, that’s why you have staff. They’re there to do those things. It’s why you have Lady Sarah at your disposal. There are people you pay good money to take care of the minute details of your life on your behalf.”

  “But it’s not the same, Adrian. You’re my firstborn son. You’re my heir.”

  “Look, Mother, of course I’m your heir. But I’m also your son. And I just need some space,” Darcy typed into Adrian’s phone. “Please, I beg of you, just give me a few days to clear my head a bit.”

  He waited a few minutes until her reply dinged through.

  “And then you’ll agree to Serena without any more argument?” the queen asked.

  “I won’t make any promises about anything right now, Mother. I’ve already told you that.”

  “But what about this childish nonsense, wanting to get away from me so much that you’ll not communicate with me? You’re a grown man. Act like one!”

  “Firstly, I am communicating with you. Just not in the manner in which you demand of me. Secondly, most grown men have the opportunity to make their own decisions. You make it abundantly clear that I certainly don’t,” Darcy typed. This was getting easier by the text message. He’d practically say the same thing to his own mother. Well, maybe not precisely. But if he could give a voice to his friend when his friend most needed it, what was the harm?