by Erin McRae
“I thought we should talk about it sooner rather than later,” he said. “Surely it’s better for both of us if it’s not a black box.”
Her mother’s — and Priya’s — opinions on the matter came back to her. They weren’t wrong, but knowing that didn’t make this moment feel any easier. She nodded in vague agreement that yes, they should probably talk about this.
“Please,” he said. “Don’t be offended, but you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
Amelia’s cheeks burned, and she resisted the overwhelming urge to cover them with her hands. She made some sort of noise that Arthur was decent enough to take as a yes.
“May I ask why?”
She side-eyed him. “I think that’s fairly clear,” she said. “Logistically, I mean. I am because I am.”
“Amelia,” he said.
“Arthur.”
“If heirs were not a necessity I wouldn’t worry about it, but I also wouldn’t be marrying you. And while there are many ways we could enjoy each other — or not, as you prefer — heirs are a necessity. I should really ask…is sex, that kind of sex, something that interests you?” he asked hesitantly. “I just —”
“…should stop talking?” Amelia offered.
“I just want to know anything that might make this easier for you. Or better. Or more enjoyable.”
“Or you could keep talking,” Amelia threw herself down onto one of his couches. If they were going to have this conversation, she would at least slouch for it.
The cushion dipped slightly as he perched carefully next to her.
“How would you like me to ask this question?” Arthur asked gently.
“Like we’re equals,” Amelia said, staring at one of Imogene’s photographs instead of looking at Arthur. “Like I’m not some poor stunted girl you have to make sure doesn’t panic because you need babies. Maybe you’re a terrible lay. Maybe you have freaky kinks. Maybe you can’t get it up. I have no idea why you and Imogene never had children.”
“We kept putting it off.” Arthur’s tone was perfectly easy, as if he had terrible conversations like this every day. Perhaps he was trying to be kind to himself as much as her. “Our lives had so many external interruptions. We wanted some time for just us, and we kept wanting it, until we didn’t have it anymore.”
“Oh.” What else could Amelia say to that?
“So no, as far as I’m aware, I have no problems in that regard.” There was a smirk in his voice now that made Amelia’s cheeks burn again, but she wanted to laugh, too. How could he be so wonderful about driving her mad and putting her at her ease at the same time? Especially when he didn't even have feelings for her.
“All right,” Amelia said, now willing to rise to the challenge. “Keep telling me about yourself. Because I — perhaps foolishly — wasn’t planning on having this conversation tonight. But if we’re going to, you might offer me something other than the vague sensation that I’m pathetic.”
“Well,” Arthur said blandly, although his cheek twitched and Amelia thought he was trying to hide a smile. The situation was funny, if mortifying. “Once I got tied to the bed with one of my ties.”
The image that presented was so absurd Amelia laughed before she could stop herself. She clapped her hand over her mouth in horror.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. I didn’t mean —”
Arthur, though, was chuckling. “No, by all means.” He leaned back against the other end of the sofa, one long arm stretched out across the back. “Whatever you’re imagining, the reality was just as absurd.”
Amelia let her hand fall from her mouth. Impolite as her outburst had been, the last of the awkwardness between them seemed to have been dispelled. That — combined with Arthur’s easy, open, posture — made her feel bold again. Perhaps this time she could face the consequences of that.
“When did you lose your virginity?” she asked.
Arthur didn’t blink at the question. “I was eighteen, maybe nineteen. It was my first year of university. With Imogene, if you can believe it.”
“That’s incredibly romantic and not at all a promising sign,” Amelia said.
Arthur gave her a baffled look.
“Everything in the papers just been lies, hasn’t it? You have no idea what you’re doing.”
Arthur rubbed his hands over face. Amelia was glad there were aspects of this conversation that made him uncomfortable too.
“Imogene and I were together a long time. And yes, there have been lovers since. Not as many as the papers think but more than any of our parents would likely approve.”
“Helen?” Amelia pulled absently on a loose thread from a pillow.
“Helen is a complicated case. Did she tell you?”
“No. She was lovely to me. Lady Olivia told me. Helen was suitably mortified.”
Arthur frowned. “That certainly clarifies a number of my friendships.”
“Why didn’t you decide to marry one of them? Surely a real friend is preferable to a stranger.”
“You’re hardly a stranger anymore,” Arthur said fondly.
Amelia felt her breath catch, but she forced herself to ignore it. “I was three months ago. Some of those women you’ve known for years.”
Arthur reached out a hand and, when Amelia didn’t pull away, traced his fingers along the lines of her palm. “Most of them didn’t want it. Some of them aren’t suited for it. The few that do and are — aren’t the right fit for me. They know it, and I know it. You get to be a very good judge of people in a life like mine.”
“So why me?” Amelia asked. She tried not to stare at their hands as he pushed his fingers through hers. There was something obscene about it and highly arousing.
“Why not you?” Arthur asked. “You keep showing up. You talk to me like I’m a person. Like you said, you get scared and you keep going. It’s a very small thing, but it’s also everything.”
“Was it easier with Imogene?” Amelia realized with a jolt that she was quite possibly the only person in the country, maybe in the world, who could ask Arthur such terrible questions and expect to receive answers. But even if he weren’t the Prince of Wales — even if they’d been the most ordinary of couples — she would still want to know. She wanted to know everything about him.
“Yes and no,” Arthur replied after taking a moment to think. “We had more history. But it was like the military when I was a child. I knew what was coming for both of us. Mostly, it really was a long time ago. I do miss her, some days very badly. But that doesn’t mean I can’t move on or care for other people deeply as well.”
Amelia smiled weakly. He was so politic. Perhaps, in time, she would learn from him. “I’m sure Charlie has told you, or the people you had look into my background and eligibility. Maybe my mother was kind enough to volunteer this information,” she said. “But I had a boyfriend. A serious one, for what I thought was a long time.”
Arthur nodded. While he almost certainly knew that Gary had existed, Amelia appreciated that he was letting her tell the story. “So it’s not that I didn’t have opportunities. And I did things. I’m not a complete innocent. But we tried, a few times, and it wasn’t good at all and didn’t exactly work.” Amelia sighed. “He was a jerk about it and he dumped me right before Christmas. Because of that. I think. And then I met you.”
“Sometimes that happens,” Arthur said thoughtfully. “It could be that you weren’t comfortable. Or a medical issue. That’s quite common.”
Amelia blinked at him. On one level, she was impressed that he knew something about the lives of women. On another, she was far from interested in having her own experiences mansplained to her. “I know. I even went to the doctor. But it’s just…” she shrugged. “One of those things. Congrats on being the lucky winner.” She trusted Arthur with many things, but she still worried he would be angry at her lack of full disclosure on this particular point.
“We’ll figure it out when it’s time to figure it out,” Arthur said easily. “Thank you fo
r telling me.”
“I…you’re welcome?” Amelia was relieved he wasn’t angry, but she also hadn’t expected him to be so easy and lovely.
Arthur laughed. He really was astonishingly handsome when he laughed; the fine wrinkles at the corner of his eyes deepened, his teeth showed, and something almost carefree suffused his face. Amelia wanted to imagine a life where she could always make Arthur laugh like that, but it was too unlikely. She had a job here, and it was not to make him fall in love with her. Over time he would necessarily ignore her in favor of other interests and duties. The prospect of her own heartbreak, if she got too attached to his smile, was something she would have to come to terms with.
“So,” Amelia said, ready to turn the conversation — and her thoughts — to other subjects. “You got tied to the bed with one of your neckties?”
Amelia smiled when Arthur laughed again. “I’m rather sure you don’t want the details of that.”
“Probably not. But making you squirm is entertaining.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes at her. “Charlie warned me I might be getting in over my head with you.”
“I have two older brothers. I’m not completely helpless.” She said it to remind Arthur as much as herself.
“No,” Arthur said, his smile fading. “No you are not.” He leaned down, his arm braced on the back of the couch, and kissed her.
Amelia was glad her earlier confession hadn’t made him retreat. For a moment they stayed there, eyes closed, breathing softly. Arthur’s lips were gentle and warm. She could hear the rustle of his suit jacket as he brought his other hand up to cup her cheek.
“You feel like the movies,” she whispered.
He deepened the kiss, sliding the hand on her cheek up into her hair, surely destroying whatever was left of her curls from this morning. She sighed in the quiet, and he took the opportunity presented, touching his tongue to hers tentatively before his grip tightened in her hair and the kiss turned forceful.
She slid a hand under his jacket, eager to feel the muscles of his shoulders shift as they kissed. With an astonishingly clever movement and without breaking the kiss, Arthur took the hint and shrugged off the jacket.
Then he wrapped an arm around her waist and scooped her upright. Amelia fell against his chest and curled her hands in his shirt. The warmth of his body bled through the fabric. She wanted more of it and knew this was her time to take the initiative.
She swung a knee over his legs to straddle his lap. She realized too late that the position made her dress ride up her thighs more than she intended, but she was here now and could feel Arthur’s hardness pressed against her.
His pupils were so wide, his eyes were nearly black. Color was high on his cheekbones.
“Are you all right?” Arthur asked. His voice was breathless.
She gaped at him. “How do I look?” She shifted her hips against him to make her point.
He gave a breathless, gasping, chuckle. He lifted a hand and ran it through her hair, his fingertips lingering on the side of her neck. “I want to hear you say it.”
“I’m perfect,” she said, and it was true. “With you, I’m perfect.”
Chapter 13
PINING FOR HER PRINCE
24 March
Year 21 of King Henry XII
I didn’t go to bed with Arthur. I think I could have, if I’d wanted to. I did want to. But he’s too much a gentleman and while I was bold, I wasn’t bold enough. Despite that, it felt like it would have been easy, and I’m not sure I can trust anything in this process that feels that way.
At some future date — I don’t even know when the wedding will be! — I’ll go back to being a princess living in a palace. But for now, I’ve been released on my own recognizance. God, it’s good to be home in my own flat, with my own bed, and no staff about constantly. Except, of course, for the security desk the Palace set up outside in the hall.
*
“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Priya complained.
She and Amelia were in the tiny sitting room of their flat, wearing pajamas, and curled up under a fuzzy blanket Priya had dragged out from her room. It might have been nearly April, but the nights were still cold.
“I thought about it,” Amelia said. “But I couldn’t tell anyone. I’m honestly surprised Arthur didn’t take my mobile when he gave me the rings.”
“Okay.” Priya flapped her hand and reached toward their coffee table to pour herself more vodka. “Time for terrible questions.”
“I am afraid,” Amelia said, holding out her own glass for Priya to refill.
“Drink more!” Priya insisted.
“I’m drinking, I’m drinking!”
Priya tucked her legs more snugly under herself. “Question number one, have you banged him yet?”
Amelia put her hands over her face and moaned. Since she was still holding her glass as she did so, her drink sloshed onto her lap. She swore.
“See, I don’t know if that’s a yes or a no,” Priya said.
“Nooooo,” Amelia moaned.
“Amelia.” Priya disapproved. “You spent a week with him and still didn’t get into bed with him?”
“It wasn’t a whole week,” she said defensively.
“Do you not want to bang him?” Priya sounded concerned. “Because if you don’t, that’s okay, but maybe you should have considered a different career path?”
“Why is everyone so understanding and so infuriating?” Amelia was starting to notice a pattern. Everyone kept pretending both that she had choices she didn’t and that she didn’t have the choices she did.
“That sounds intriguing. You should tell me more about that.”
“So last night, we….” Amelia wasn’t sure how to put it.
“Fooled around?” Priya offered. “Did some heavy snogging?”
“What decade are you from? No. We kissed. Or. Well. We made out? I guess? For a long time. And, I was on his lap. And I could feel his —”
“— Dick? Prick? Cock?”
“Priya?”
“Yes?”
“You are the worst human being.”
“I’m really not, but do go on. If you want advice, you’ve got to learn how to say these things.”
“Fine,” Amelia snapped. She was relieved to have someone to talk to, but also mortified. “He was either really big, or really hard, because oh my God,” Amelia finished in a rush and downed her drink.
Priya refilled her glass. “Which one of those scenarios is supposed to be the problem again?”
“I don’t even know what to do.”
“Yes you do,” Priya said. “It’s not like you and Gary were celibate, and it’s not like you hated it all. This also isn’t one hundred percent your job.”
Amelia sighed. “I know. You’re right. But I’m twenty-two and incredibly inexperienced. He’s thirty-nine and was married. And he’s had a lot of affairs.”
“Did he tell you how many?”
Amelia smiled with the memory of the conversation. “He said less than the papers had reported, but more than anyone’s parents would approve of.”
“Quite the diplomat you’ve snagged then,” Priya observed.
“I should hope; he is going to be the King of England!” Amelia took a sip of her drink. “I made him promise not to sleep with anyone else. For now, at least. No pressure, or anything!”
Priya frowned.
“What’s that face?”
“For someone who keeps saying she’s scared and doesn’t know what she’s doing, that’s awfully strategic of you.”
“Wrong choice?” she asked, uncertain.
Priya shook her head. “Probably right choice. At least he’ll be desperate.”
“Wow, thank you for that staggering vote of confidence.”
“I talk you up, and you’re not going to believe me. Plus, every fairytale life needs realism, don’t you think? You’ve signed up for a job, Amelia. No matter how fit your prince is. And since it’s a job,
yours is mostly to lie there.”
“Not helping!”
“Then why are you doing this?” Priya set down her drink. “When it seems actually romantic, you get scared. When it seems like your dutiful destiny, you get scared. If there’s no version of this mess you like, and you’re too timid to talk about it, I don’t understand.”
“You and I talking about it now,” Amelia said meekly.
“Barely.”
“And he and I actually had a really nice conversation about it,” she confessed. “Even if it made me blush scarlet. He told me he got tied up with one of his ties once.”
Priya snapped her fingers and pointed at Amelia. “Now that is something we can work with.”
Amelia gave a little shrug. “He didn’t seem particularly enthused by the experience.”
“No, but talking is the first step. And that he shared something silly and maybe even mildly embarrassing with you, that’s good. He’s not expecting you to be perfect. He doesn’t seem like he’s even expecting himself to be perfect. Now, being nervous about the next step is totally normal, but believe me, that is a feeling that passes once you actually do something.”
Amelia narrowed her eyes.
“Look.” Priya leaned forward earnestly. “I was really afraid of sex until I wasn’t. Both the act and everyone's expectations of me regarding it. Boys, friends, my mother, aunties —”
“Always the dread aunties,” Amelia said.
“You don't even know; I undersell it.” Priya took a gulp of her drink. “But yes, sex is a big deal, but it’s also totally not a big deal. Your prince is either going to deal with you as little as possible outside of getting you pregnant, or he’s going to spend all the time in the world making his precious prize exactly what he needs her to be. Neither of those sound like terrible options. But I sort of hate you, because I wouldn’t be able to stand either of them.”
“Why not?”
Priya shrugged. “No internal sense of discipline? No tolerance for rules I don’t personally see the point of? Who knows. Doesn’t matter. Not my life.”