Royal Love

by Cristiane Serruya

  Viewing the packed room, Siobhan swallowed hard, but tilted her chin.

  “Didn’t their mothers tell them it’s impolite to stare?” she hissed behind teeth arranged into a fixed smile.

  One of those who was staring, with a phony smile of her own, was heading straight for her and Angus. She looked familiar, but Siobhan couldn’t think of where she might’ve seen her before.

  “Angus, darling. How lovely to see you again,” she said, giving him air-kisses on each cheek. The woman then turned to Siobhan and feigning ignorance, said, “My dear, you seem to have forgotten the drink.”

  Siobhan looked at her blankly, not comprehending.

  “Aren’t you the waitress? While you fetch Angus’s drink, I’d like a Fiji on ice.”

  Now she remembered. The bitch from the wedding party where she’d met Angus and was sent home early because of her.

  Angus wasn’t falling for Abigail’s act, and didn’t appreciate the insult. “How strange. You must be the only person in all of Lekten who doesn’t recognize my fiancée. Did you spend the weekend in a cave?”

  Siobhan resisted the temptation of a smile at her lover’s rescue.

  “This? The server girl is your fiancée? Surely, you jest.” Abigail Forsythe waved her hand in front of her mouth as she executed a fake and dismissive laugh. “You’re too much, Angus.”

  “And you’re not enough, Abigail. How shallow and cruel of you to insult me and my fiancée in my own home.”

  Siobhan stepped up on her toes and whispered to Angus. “If this is my future home, do the same conditions apply as in the country house, as in, anything I need or want, I just have to say it?”

  “Yes, of course,” he whispered back.

  Siobhan looked up at the tall blonde woman and smiled as she said, “Mrs. Forsythe, you’ve embarrassed yourself, ruined your own life, and your verbal abuse reveals your petty nature and personal unhappiness. But I won’t ask you to remove yourself from my sight, as you did to me at your wedding. Instead, I’m going to allow you to stay in my home and observe how truly happy a couple can be together.” She inched closer to Angus and put her arm around him with a natural smile appearing on her face as he welcomed her moving closer to him. “You sacrificed love and happiness for status and power. I’m living proof that you could’ve had it all.”

  Abigail was flustered beyond the point of being able to respond. Her face paled and her hands trembled with outrage and humiliation—and it was dispensed by a mere server girl. She couldn’t have been more mortified.

  “You…bitch!” she finally said when she regained her ability to speak.

  “Okay. Now I want you out of my sight.”

  Angus looked over at a palace guard, made eye contact, and jerked his head toward Abigail, then looked toward a nearby set of doors.

  The guard came over at once and discreetly escorted Abigail Forsythe toward an exit.

  Siobhan turned to Angus and started to explain. “I’m sorry, but you don’t know what that woman—”

  “Shhh. This is your house. No apology is necessary. I’m well aware of what a small-minded shrew she is. Besides, I enjoyed seeing someone finally put her in her place.”

  “She belongs in a kennel. I merely exposed her to a slice of reality.”

  “Probably her first time.”

  “Angus?”

  “Yes, Angel?”

  “I’d like to invite someone to this lunch. May I?”

  “It was supposed to be a surprise, but Jaxon is already En route, aboard one of my helicopters this time—a little surprise for him as well.”

  Siobhan reached up and kissed him, delighted. “Thank you! But that’s not who I had in mind.” She reached for his hand and led him back the way they had come when they’d entered the palace.

  Four guards quickly moved to accompany them as Siobhan led Angus outside where the crowd outside cheered as soon as they saw her. Siobhan scanned the smiling faces in the front row and saw a teen girl looking at her with dreams in her eyes and a smile on her face.

  Siobhan turned to the nearest guard and she pointed at the girl, “Would you ask her if she’ll speak to me?”

  Angus was curious, but said nothing as the guard walked the girl over to Siobhan.

  “Hi. My name is Siobhan. What’s your name?”

  “Elise, milady.”

  “Would you do me the honor of being my guest for dinner?”

  Elise was shocked with surprise, and then immediately thought of her modest farm-worker attire and looked down at her clothing in dismay and fear.

  “I…I couldn’t possibly…”

  “I think we can provide you with appropriate attire. Can’t we, Angus?”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” No one had ever thought to do such a thing. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? The press was going to eat this up like dessert when they found out, and the people would love Siobhan even more for it.

  As the three of them turned to head inside, the crowd cheered again, and Angus pulled out his phone to inform his aide of their needs.

  When Elise was escorted away to acquire suitable clothing, Angus rested a hand at Siobhan’s spine and said, “Shall we get back to the introductions?” and guided her around to meet more dignitaries and VIPs inside the palace. Many of the guests spoke English, and a few had a strong enough grasp of the language for a relaxing conversation.

  Siobhan realized if she intended to fit in, she needed to acquire a working knowledge of whatever language they spoke as quickly as possible.

  Back inside the palace among the elite, Siobhan felt like a butterfly stabbed by a display pin, while she struggled to voice friendly words of greeting and behave as though she hadn’t just evicted an esteemed guest, and invited a commoner to take her place at the table.

  “I have to learn Lektenstatenian fast,” she informed Angus in a lull between the excruciatingly polite and stuttered conversations, making him laugh again.

  As his face shed all of its cool reserve, she was spellbound by the change in him and her luminous green eyes locked to him.

  “We speak both French and Alemannic German,” he said.

  “And I don’t speak either. Since you’re obviously not always going to be around to act as my interpreter, do you know anyone who would be willing to teach me?”

  “Hmm...I’ll find someone to teach you a little Lektenstatenian.” Angus looked down at her in appreciation.

  “Ahem. Your Majesty. A moment, if you please?”

  Angus turned to see his aide-de-camp, Ewan Courtland, at his elbow, his carefully combed hair shining against the brightness of the lights. “Yes?”

  Ewan looked at Siobhan. “Perhaps this conversation would be best served out of the public eye.”

  Angus was surprised, but did not show it, his hand on Siobhan’s lower back. The mere touch of her calmed him, the drain of the party starting to wear on his nerves and his patience. A break was what he needed. “Lead the way.”

  Ewan gave a little nod and soon they were in a small sitting room not far from the ballroom itself. “I wish to offer my services to your fiancée, Your Majesty.”

  “Angus?” Siobhan asked.

  “Siobhan, this is Ewan Courtland. He can teach you all you wish to learn about our culture. I believe it would benefit you to allow him to do so.”

  “It would be an honor, Ms. Faulkner,” Ewan said as his shrewd eyes assessed Siobhan coolly. “I will only require a month—well, two, perhaps.”

  Angus watched as Siobhan gave Ewan a blatant stare in return, chuckling as he caressed Siobhan’s back through her dress.

  “Easy now,” he said in a low voice. “He will act as drill sergeant but he will not be out to do you any harm.”

  Siobhan huffed, but didn’t say anything as Ewan told her he would meet with her in her sitting room at nine o’clock for breakfast, departing shortly afterward and leaving the door ajar.

  “Will people wonder what the three of us were doing in here?”

  A
ngus chuckled and spun her around, not caring who was watching. “I don’t share,” he growled, lowering his head until their lips brushed. “Especially not you.”

  Her lips parted in anticipation but he forced himself to straighten, knowing if he started now, he would be unable to stop.

  Siobhan stifled a yawn and he could see how tired she was. “I think I need a nap, if you don’t mind. I feel like my feet are dragging.”

  “Go on. Get some—”

  “Your Majesty,” Kerr interrupted him. “Lunch is served.”

  23

  They followed Catriona through the long, dark hallways of the palace and through a brightly lit landing before they arrived at the dining room, a massive stone space decorated with ancient suits of armor and medieval tapestries, enormous chandeliers lowered over a table that stretched farther than any table Siobhan had ever seen.

  It could seat fifty or sixty easily, in the high-backed mahogany chairs that sat heavy and imposing. It was a room designed to overwhelm, and it did.

  She stopped just inside the door.

  Angus instantly squeezed his fingers on her elbow, understanding her.

  “She chose this room for a reason,” he whispered, so softly she barely heard him. “To intimidate. Don’t allow it.”

  She smiled and stiffened her shoulders, not caring a bit about what he saw—caring only that her discomfort was invisible to Catriona. Softly, she whispered to him, “I don’t intimidate easily.”

  The Dowager Princess’s gaze was unwavering as she indicated Siobhan’s place settings on the other side of the table. “Please sit.”

  There was no request in the words, only command. Nothing approximating politeness. Despite a keen desire to ignore it and leave to wherever her rooms were, Siobhan approached her place and a footman pulled the chair out for her.

  2:00 p.m.

  His mother despises me. There was no other accounting for her placement at the dining table. Siobhan peeked between the gold candelabras unfortunately placed and the garish to where Angus sat.

  At her right side, sat a laconic old man, who had been introduced as a distant cousin, spooning the strange white broth into his mouth as if his last meal had been a long time ago. At her other side, sat a matron who didn’t speak a word of English. Siobhan asked a footman to have someone invite the matron to sit in Abigail’s empty seat, explaining that her personal guest would be arriving soon to sit beside her.

  On the opposite end of the enormous, rectangular table, Caroline Marine, seated at Angus’s right, regaled those around her with talk of her most recent trip to Japan, in a loud enough voice—and in English—to reach Siobhan’s ears. Colorful tales that illustrated her vastly different life experience and international adventures that Siobhan obviously did not have.

  Sensing motion to her left, she turned and saw the humble teen from the crowd transformed in a young beauty who looked every bit as though she belonged in a palace. They’d not only found her an exquisite dress, but managed to do her hair and make-up as well.

  “Elise,” Siobhan said with a big smile. “Thank you again for joining me.”

  Elise curtsied like a pro and took her seat, seemingly not at all intimidated by the settings. Nor was she impressed or by bothered by Caroline Marine who was drawing the attention of all those near her, including Angus.

  Siobhan stole a sideways glance at him at the right moment when Caroline, gesticulating wildly as she spoke, earned a deep, rumbling laugh from Angus and those seated around her.

  Siobhan had never been one to charm others easily. Not the way the stunning creature held those around her enraptured. Angus nodded at something the woman was saying and then, whatever his return reply, he earned a pretty blush…and a husky laugh better suited to a wicked widow.

  Gritting her teeth, Siobhan dipped her spoon into her bowl a little too forcibly.

  The clanging on the fine china, the clear broth spilling over the edge and splattering the table, and the spoon falling to the floor, earned Siobhan a few looks.

  Bloody hell. Siobhan’s skin pricked but she tipped her chin up and the curious onlookers returned to their discourse and meals.

  All except for one.

  From her seat at Angus’s left side, Catriona gave her a disgusted shake of her head before she, thankfully, shifted her miserable attention over to a lord beside her.

  Siobhan made to retrieve her spoon but a footman was already tidying her place and replacing her spoon.

  Bereft, she picked up the new spoon with fingers that trembled.

  A quiet cough brought her head up.

  Using the silver brocade napkin in his fingers, Angus dabbed at the corners of his mouth, his lips moving.

  Siobhan blinked slowly as the candles’ glow sent shadows dancing on the harsh, angular planes of his face.

  “Smile,” he was soundlessly commanding, angling his head ever so slightly.

  Siobhan followed that gesture to Caroline Marine and frowned at him. What?

  “It’s you who are my fiancée.” Angus articulated each word, slow, mute, and yet precisely. “It’s you I have chosen.”

  As he had intended, a smile opened on her face.

  Purple-clad liveried footmen chose this moment to take away the soup bowls and replace them with silver platters of roast fowls, stewed peas, and French peas.

  Siobhan murmured her thanks, but she as she started to reach for her silverware, the delicious smell hit her nose, and though it smelled good, she began to feel nauseous.

  She peeked over at Angus. Silent, he now contemplated the contents of his wine glass, while the effervescent Caroline Marine chatted with his mother.

  She took a sip of her water and reclined back in her chair, breathing through her mouth. To no avail. Darn.

  She looked to one side and the other, desperate for an excuse to flee the room but found none as everyone proceeded to cut and eat the fowl.

  She was going to be sick right then and there, on her first formal lunch as Angus’s fiancée, in front of all his family.

  Angus pinched the bridge of his nose discreetly to ward off an oncoming headache. He detested the unending parties his mother stubbornly surprised him with. Hopefully, now that he was going to have a wife, he wouldn’t have to endure them anymore.

  He smiled at something inane Caroline said to him and picked up his wine glass, drinking from it to avoid engaging in another conversation with the vapid blonde.

  He sneaked a peek at Siobhan in-between the candelabra and flower arrangements. Something about her being here in his home felt so right.

  Taking a sip of his wine, Angus frowned when he saw Siobhan’s face pale.

  When she turned positively green and put a napkin over her mouth, he shoved back his chair and stood up. The room fell silent as he strode to Siobhan’s side.

  “Angus Augustus Lenox-Braxton,” disapproval slid in Catriona’s voice.

  Fighting the dizzying pull of her nausea, Siobhan raised her gaze as he gently pulled her chair back and took her out of it.

  “We are tired, Mother. You will have to excuse us.”

  Siobhan sent a prayer skyward as Angus put an arm around her waist, stabilizing her as he guided her away.

  Passing by Elise, Siobhan said, “I’m sorry. I’ll make up for this.”

  “You already did, Miss!” The answer and the smile on the younger girl told Siobhan she didn’t have to worry.

  Angus ignored the hushed whispers and left the room, motioning to Fiona and Kerr to follow them.

  Outside the dining room, he said to Kerr, “Please, bring tea for Ms. Faulkner and coffee for me in her rooms.”

  And then he picked up Siobhan in his arms and strolled to the staircase with Fiona rushing behind to match her cousin’s strides

  “Angus. Put me down,” she whispered, mortified at the surprised glances from the footmen.

  “Indulge me,” he said in an amused voice.

  She wished she could leave crumbs behind because she was surely
going to lose herself in that maze.

  She had to ask—she simply had to. “Does your mother visit often?” Goodness, I certainly hope we are not all going to be sharing the same roof.

  Her eyes were wide and her voice threadbare. His dragon mother had that effect on all. She always had.

  “No, she bases herself in London these days and makes occasional visits.”

  He turned right on the first floor, into a corridor papered with golden silk, and she counted at least ten doors before he stopped in front of double doors at the end of the corridor.

  Fiona opened one of the doors and Angus entered a large sitting room and turned left, into an even larger room.

  Siobhan had never seen such a huge bedroom; it could swallow Jaxon’s house whole. She blinked when she saw a staircase at the foot of the four-poster gigantic bed and then realized she would have to use it if she was to get on—or out of—the bed without Angus’s help, it was so tall.

  “Well, Caroline Marine is a lesson in torture,” Fiona said, as she sat in an armchair near the bed.

  Angus snorted as he put Siobhan on the bed.

  “How could you stand listening to her? Did she ever stop to take a breath?” Fiona repeated incredulously. “The woman went on for at least an hour—”

  “An hour and thirteen minutes,” Angus muttered as he propped pillows under Siobhan’s back and moved to the armchair beside Fiona’s. “I was counting the minutes on the ormolu clock.”

  A giggle exploded from Siobhan, that mirth-filled sound bouncing off the walls of the cavernous room.

  Away from her intimidating mother, Fiona was a different girl, vivacious with sparkling eyes and a ready smile. It was nice to feel an immediate kinship with the other woman.

  Angus enjoyed watching Siobhan and Fiona talking and laughing. And it was a great distraction for when she wasn’t feeling well, which the presence of his mother and her venom wasn’t helping with at all.

  Kerr entered the room bringing the requested tea and coffee, served them, and, after asking if they needed anything else, left. So did Fiona.