The Anti-Cinderella Conquers the World

by Tawdra Kandle

  Laughing softly, I hitched myself higher and twined my legs around his hips, wriggling when he palmed my ass with an intimate squeeze.

  “I’m ready to worship yours right back. Take me to bed, Nicky. Love me.”

  His head bowed to trail hot kisses down the column of my throat.

  “Always.”

  “So what did you do with your weekend on your own?” Nicky brushed his fingertips over my upper arm, making me shiver. I was wrapped in his embrace as we lay together in our bed, the lights low. I was more relaxed than I’d been in a week.

  “Mmmmmm.” I snuggled closer, burrowing into my husband’s broad, muscled chest. “Well, at first, I was going to hang out with Daisy, but Harold said she was away, at a house party or something. So I sat around sulking for a little bit, had a pity party for a table of one . . . then I talked to my mom. I ended up going over to Tottenham and working in the garden’s office.”

  When Nicky’s forehead creased, I added in explanation, “I couldn’t work in the garden itself on Friday, because they had a guest group in, and they weren’t expecting me. I would’ve been a distraction. Instead, Petey and I holed up at his desk and put together the plan for spring. I helped him assemble the purchase orders for all of the supplies we’ll need, and we even filled out the calendar, setting up when we’re going to integrate the new groups. I was extremely productive.”

  “So it sounds.” He shifted, rolling to his side and propping his head on his elbow as he gazed down at me. “I’m sorry that Daisy wasn’t around, and I’m sorry that you had to have your pity party alone.” Bending over my face, he kissed my lips. “And I’m very sorry that we quarreled before I left. I didn’t mean to be so . . . high-handed with you, sweetheart. The truth is that I wasn’t happy about having to go to Winchester at the last minute. I was still disgruntled about the way things went in Scotland. And unfortunately, you bore the brunt of my frustration. That wasn’t right.”

  “Thank you for all that . . . and I appreciate it. You weren’t the only one in the wrong, though. I got my feelings hurt because you didn’t tell me about the security issues in Scotland. And then I was disappointed about us missing our weekend away. Turns out that even though I wasn’t enthusiastic about moving, I’m excited to see the estate.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, because I called Cousin Anders, and he’s agreed to host us next weekend. I cleared our calendars, and we’ll leave on Friday morning.”

  I gave a little squeal of delight. “Really? And you promise nothing’s going to pop up at the last minute to stop us from going?”

  “Kyra, I can’t absolutely promise that, because things happen. But inasmuch as it’s within my power, nothing will stop us. Does that sound reasonable?” Nicky brushed my hair away from my face.

  “More than.” Turning my head, I pressed my lips to his pec, earning a grunt of appreciation. “I can’t wait. While I was doing the planning with Petey, I had all these ideas for the gardens at our new house. I hadn’t realized before how much I’m going enjoy having my space—my own land.” I flicked at the flat disc of his nipple, smiling at his answering swift inhale. “Our own land, I mean.”

  “It’ll be wonderful to have our own little oasis of peace within all of this . . . turmoil and craziness.” Nicky combed his fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp and making me almost purr with pleasure.

  Even so, I didn’t miss what he’d said or the tightening of his voice, or the tell-tale tic in his cheek.

  “There’s turmoil?” I kept my own tone calm and teasing. “Do you mean me?”

  “Never.” He tugged me closer to him. “You’re part of my peace. I can’t have serenity or joy without you. No, I just mean . . . the outside. The expectations and the demands of the family and the world. It’s exhausting, and I feel like I need a place where we can be us. Where we don’t have to worry about anything else but each other.”

  “That is a sentiment I can get behind,” I said with feeling. “I can become one of those eccentric women who wears cotton dresses and sneakers and funny straw hats. I’ll get pleasingly plump, and when people come to visit us, I’ll serve tea in our garden and tell them more than they ever wanted to know about experimental farming techniques.”

  Nicky chuckled. “I guess that means I’ll be your doddering husband in a cardigan and spectacles. I’ll always have a pipe with me, too, and everyone who visits us will leave saying what a devoted and yet odd couple we are.”

  “What about our oodles of children?” I countered. “Where will they be?”

  “Hmmmmm.” He shifted and braced himself over me, his hands spread and resting against the mattress on either side of my ribs, the skin on his forearms warm against the sides of my breasts. “I suppose they’ll be running around, getting into trouble and giving us something to talk about at night.”

  “Oh, because by then, that’s all we’ll be doing at night? Talking?” Insinuating my hand between us, I reached down until my fingers closed around something interesting.

  Nicky groaned as his eyes slid shut. “God, no. My Ky, as long as there’s life in this body and breath in my lungs, I can promise you that I’ll want to do much more than talk every night. Even our oodles of children won’t be able to stop me from that. I promise you this.”

  “But maybe we should take advantage of this time before the cherished offspring make their appearance,” I suggested, stroking him languidly. “I mean, if you wanted.”

  Nicky lowered his body onto mine, and desire flared in my blood, making me go liquid in all the right places. His lips traveled up the column of my throat to murmur in my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

  “Kyra, when it comes to you, I will always want.”

  I HAD A FULL DAY of royal engagements on Monday, which meant that I didn’t have to be up early and running out the door to get to Honey Bee. That gave me time to do something I rarely did: I cooked breakfast for my husband.

  “For someone who swears she’s a nightmare in the kitchen, you make the best waffles I’ve ever eaten.” Nicky drizzled maple syrup—that I had ordered directly from my favorite maple outlet in Maine—over the golden-brown deliciousness.

  “I do breakfast well,” I admitted, setting down a plate of bacon on the table. “At least, I do American breakfast well. I don’t know if I’m able to tackle bangers and mash or whatever it is that you all call breakfast food over here.”

  “That’s quite all right, because bangers and mash doesn’t happen to be one of my favorites.”

  “Excellent. Then I’m totally your girl.” I sat down across from Nicky and beamed at him. “Just remember that my breakfast cooking is an occasional treat rather than a daily affair. And also remember that it’s more likely to happen on a morning after I’ve been spoiled with multiple orgasms the night before.”

  “Duly noted, darling.” Carefully placing his fork on the edge of his plate, he reached for his mug of coffee, another Americanism I’d implemented in my breakfast menu. “Of course, that prompts one to ask if the breakfast cooking might become more of regular thing if the orgasms were given every single night?”

  I shook my head. “Sorry, no. There’s no direct correlation. It’s just a fact that I’m more likely to treat you if I’ve been treated, too.”

  “Hmm. Good to know.” He leaned over the table to cup my cheek. “But you should know, Ky, that giving you orgasms is neither spoiling you nor giving you a treat. Giving you pleasure is an entirely selfish indulgence on my part.”

  I grinned, my face heating a bit. “That’s also good to know. Comments like that might get you breakfast more often.”

  “All part of my wicked plans for you, my love.” Nicky winked at me. “So . . . remind me what’s on your agenda today.”

  “I’m representing Her Majesty at a luncheon honoring a retired police officers’ society in London. And then later this afternoon, I’m opening a playground in Southall, before coming back here quickly to change, and then I’m going with you to a receptio
n for the opening of the new Oscar Wilde exhibit.” I sighed and dropped my head back dramatically. “Exhausting. Oh, and if I have a little bit of a lull between lunch and the playground, I might see if I can sweet-talk Harold into an impromptu side trip through Shepherd’s Bush. There’s a community garden there, and the organizers would like to work with our model in Tottenham to implement some of what we’ve done.”

  Nicky pushed back a little way from the table, the smile fading from his face. “Kyra, I forgot to tell you something. I meant to mention it last night, but it just completely left my mind.”

  Trepidation at his expression made my stomach drop, and I carefully set down my fork, suddenly finding my appetite gone. “What?”

  “Harold’s . . . not here. He’s been giving a temporary transfer—”

  “What do you mean, not here?” My voice rose several octaves. “What happened to him? Why was he transferred?”

  “Listen to what I’m saying, Ky. He wasn’t transferred, really—he was temporarily moved, because he requested additional training.” Nicky shrugged. “It’s not that unusual for our security officers to need some updates to the education they received at the start. It’s like professional development in a way, I guess. Harold was about due, and it worked out for him to go now.”

  “Why didn’t he tell me?” I was still smarting over the loneliness I’d felt this weekend, and often, Harold felt like one of the few ports in the storm of my life. Losing him was inducing panic. My heart was pounding, and I felt as though I might cry.

  “He didn’t know, darling. The opening came up very last-minute, and he left after his shift on Saturday. I’m sure he would’ve happily told you all about this, if he’d had the chance.” Nicky squeezed my hand. “But he’ll be back. I promise.”

  “What if he isn’t? What if the stupid powers that be in the Palace decide to assign him to someone else because I like him, and they don’t want me to be entirely comfortable in anything?” I heard the ridiculousness of my own words and cringed a little. “Okay, that sounds a little too paranoid even for me. But you know what I mean. They could always decide they want him elsewhere, once he’s all trained up again.”

  “They won’t,” Nicky promised. “One of the reasons he’s receiving the training is to ensure that he can stay with us. Don’t worry.”

  “Hmph.” I still wasn’t convinced. “So, who’s filling in for him while he’s in training?”

  “A security officer called Simon West. He comes highly recommended. I haven’t met him yet, but he’ll be with you today, while Naughton goes with me.”

  Harold had been Nicky’s policeman before we’d announced our engagement, and it had been at our request that he continued to protect us whenever we were together, on joint engagements or simply traveling for pleasure. But Hugh Naughton was the officer who covered Nicky when he and I had separate obligations. He was a decent enough man, and I liked him; he just wasn’t as familiar as Harold was.

  And now I’d have to get used to someone completely different.

  “Here I thought this was going to be a better week,” I muttered darkly. “But apparently not.”

  “Kyra, be reasonable.” Nicky fastened me with a stern eye. “You know this wasn’t something done to inconvenience or upset you. Just roll with it. Be kind to Mr. West. Remember that he’s coming into a new situation, too. You have the opportunity to be the gracious duchess who makes his job easier, not harder.”

  “Fine.” I waved my hand. “I’ll do my best. But I refuse to like him like I do Harold.”

  “No one would expect it of you, love.” Nicky stood up and collected both his empty plate and mine. “And just to show what an enlightened husband I am, I’ll do the breakfast dishes so that you can get ready for your luncheon. Before you go, I’ll introduce you to Simon.”

  “I can’t wait.” Sarcasm dripped from the words, but before Nicky could scold, I stuck out my tongue at him and headed upstairs to begin the transformation from Kyra, regular girl, to Kyra, Duchess of Kendal.

  “His Royal Highness said something about stopping by a garden after the luncheon, ma’am. Would you like me to see if I can arrange a visit there while you’re at the lunch? I can get in touch with the staff and also get clearance from the palace.”

  Simon West glanced at me in the car’s rearview mirror. Since we were going on an official engagement, I was sitting in the backseat of the black sedan, and my new protection detail sat shotgun with the car’s driver.

  “No, thanks, that’s all right.” My words were clipped, mostly polite but bordering on off-putting. I wasn’t in the mood to be chatty. Nicky had performed the introductions between my new security officer and me before we’d left the cottage, and Mr. West had seemed all right . . . but he wasn’t Harold. Maybe it was unfair of me to hold that against him, but at the moment, I was feeling a little entitled to being less than charitable.

  “Really, ma’am, it wouldn’t be a problem. I can take care of it in a matter of minutes while you’re eating.”

  “No.” I put more emphasis on the syllable this time, and belatedly added, “Thank you.”

  He didn’t respond, but I saw his jaw tighten slightly, and I felt just the tiniest bit guilty about being difficult. Not bad enough to relent and be pleasant, mind you, but enough that I didn’t glare at him in the mirror anymore.

  The car remained silent for the rest of the trip to the hotel where the luncheon was being held. As we approached the curb where I’d alight, Simon turned to face me.

  “Once the car stops, I’ll come around to open your door. Then I’ll walk a pace behind you into the hotel. Once you’ve been greeted by the officials and are escorted to your seat at the table, I’ll be standing alongside the wall, watching the entrances and exits to the room. If you need anything or feel uncomfortable about anyone, you’ve only to glance my way, and I’ll take care of it.”

  One part of me appreciated him being clear about what to expect, but another part resented that he was treating me as though this were my first day on the job as a royal. I’d handled this type of engagement before. I knew what I was doing. Mostly.

  “This isn’t exactly my first rodeo,” I replied tersely. “I’m aware of how things are done. I know how to follow protocol.”

  “You’ve never done it as the duchess I’m protecting,” he shot back, and the assertiveness in his tone took me aback. I wished I had my mother-in-law’s ability to level a person with a single raised eyebrow or the Queen’s talent for quelling impudence with a mere glance. Instead, I was at risk of sputtering my shock and looking ridiculous.

  “I wasn’t aware that each security officer had his own way of doing things,” I replied stiffly. “But by all means, let’s do it your way.”

  The car slid to a halt at that moment, and Simon jumped out, probably as much to avoid arguing with me as anything else. I did my standard moment of prep for these engagements: deep breath. Relax the shoulders. Smile on my face before the door opened. Knees together as I stepped out of the car. And . . . go.

  The noise was always startling. I was constantly surprised at how loud people could be, particularly the media in their attempts to catch my attention. It was a constant struggle to maintain my focus, to concentrate on where I was going and how fast I could get there without launching into an out-and-out sprint.

  I’d gotten better about being aware of the people around me as I walked from the car to the entrance of wherever I was going. I’d found that often, there were children waiting to get a glimpse of us, and I liked to stop and acknowledge them, if I could. Now, I glanced to my left and noticed a small black-haired girl with huge blue eyes, clutching a handful of flowers as her gaze tracked me.

  Impulsively, I veered toward her, dropping down to my haunches in front of the crowd and beaming at the child.

  “Hello! Aren’t you lovely? What are you doing on this beautiful day?”

  Immediately, her plump cheeks dimpled. “Waiting to see you. My mummy is inside with my gran
dpa, but I wasn’t old enough to go, so my auntie brought me down here to see you as you walked in.” She thrust the flowers at me. “Here. I picked these from our garden. I saw on the television that you like to grow things.”

  “I do, indeed.” I accepted her gift. “What’s your name?”

  “Victoria,” she announced. “After the queen from a long time ago. Not the queen now.”

  I laughed. “That’s exactly right. Queen Victoria was our present queen’s great-great grandmother. But it’s a perfect name, and you wear it well.” I patted her silky hair. “I think I had better scoot inside, or they’ll all be cross with me for making them late. Thank you for my pretty flowers.”

  As I rose to stand again, the young woman standing behind Victoria reached out a hand toward me. “Thank you so much, Your Royal Highness. She was so disappointed about not being able to see you when she knew my dad and sister were going. She’ll remember this forever.”

  “Thank you for bringing her. It’s always a pleasure to meet the children.” I nodded, smiling, and began making my way back to the intended path.

  I was a few steps from the doorway, almost beyond the reach of the cameras, when I was aware that Simon had come behind me. I slowed my steps, thinking he wanted to tell me something before I went in.

  But instead, he nearly growled. “Ma’am, stepping away from our planned route makes life very difficult for your security.”

  I stopped walking, shocked. “I don’t know what you mean. I always pause to speak to children. And I’m not the only one—that’s something all of the Royal Family tends to do from time to time. There was nothing wrong with it.”

  “When we’ve discussed what you’ll be doing, and then you change your mind on the fly, you’re opening yourself to . . . unsafe possibilities.” He spoke with barely restrained irritation.

  “That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.” I reached for the door in front of me. “And I’m not going to stand out here and talk to you about it anymore. If you have a problem with how I do things, you can take it up with the palace staff. Or with my husband. Or with me, at a time that isn’t now.”