Reluctantly, Nicky nodded. “Yes, I remember that. And I know you’re amazingly healthy, and I know the doctor told us everything looks wonderful with the baby.” He, too, glanced around. “But I can’t help worrying. If anything goes wrong over the next few days, I’ll never forgive myself for putting you both at risk.”
I pasted a smile on my face. “And if you don’t stop agonizing over this, I’m going to lose my mind, and then, my friend, you’ll understand the true meaning of regret. Are we clear?”
He winced and paled slightly. “Yes. Okay. Fine. I’ll back off. But you have to promise—”
“Nicky, I have promised and promised. If I feel the slightest bit queasy, the tiniest morsel of discomfort or even a hint of mental anguish, I’ll give you the high sign, and you can gallop to my rescue. But until then, zip it, buddy.”
“Consider me zipped.” He pinched his lips together and stared down at his feet, crossed at the ankle. For about ten seconds, I felt a little bit guilty, but only for that long.
With a contented sigh, I sat back and resumed reading my notes on the various visits and appearances we would be making in Wales. I hadn’t been exaggerating; this trip had been a tough sell to the Palace and to our security team. But it was something I’d really wanted to do. First of all, I hadn’t been to Wales yet, and I was excited about seeing this part of Britain. Second, Nicky and I had received an extraordinary amount of support for our work from the people of Wales. It had been in the wake of the bombing that the manager of an experimental, sustainable farm in Monmouthshire had written to us, inviting both Nicky and me to visit.
Once I’d read the letter, I’d begun researching the area, and I’d found that in southeastern Wales, there was a large and enthusiastic audience for creative food sourcing and agricultural sustainability. I’d approached our staff to request that they look into planning a brief trip for us, but I was summarily dismissed, reminded that until the eco-terrorists were found, we were supposed to stick close to London.
However, I didn’t give up that easily. After discussing it with Nicky, I had approached the Queen about the trip to Wales, pointing out that while it made perfect sense that we weren’t going to Canada, Wales was only a few hours away and easily managed. I had found a few other visit requests from other entities in the same area—schools, playgrounds and a senior center—to round out our itinerary so that the trip didn’t come across as simply another platform where Nicky and I could promote our own agenda.
Her Majesty had listened to me patiently. We had just let her know the week before that she was going to become a great-grandmother again, and I’d realized that information would probably play a role in her final decision.
“We did decide that you and Nicholas would stay closer to home until the threat of this terrorism group was eliminated,” the Queen had remarked. Her voice was even, and her expression was placid. My heart dropped; this sounded like the prelude to a refusal.
Before I could begin to protest, though, she went on.
“However, you do make a good case. Wales is not much further afield than staying in England would be. The trip would be fairly simple, and security easily managed, I would think.” She’d tapped her finger against the arm of her chair. “If I agree, it will be contingent on our protection officers giving their approval, as well.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I’d waited, half holding my breath.
The monarch had regarded me silently, her lips pressed together, her fingers twisting the worn engagement ring on her left hand.
Finally, she’d sighed. “I think it would be entirely appropriate for you and Nicky to make this trip. But you’ll have to take the train, in which case I’d prefer you make use of the Royal Coach. Also, while you are in Wales, I think it best if you stay in a royal residence, as well. It will be easier to manage security. The Prince of Wales would be happy to allow to use Llwynywemod, I believe. That’s his cottage in Wales. It would be private, easily secured and pleasant for you both.”
After that, with the Queen’s blessing, it hadn’t been such a difficult job to convince Scotland Yard that a jaunt to Wales would be a good idea. As a matter of fact, I’d almost thought at times that perhaps Commander Pratt was slightly pleased by the plan, and it hadn’t escaped me that maybe this was a test—not for Nicky and me, certainly, but to see whether or not the eco-terrorists would act again if Nicky and I dared to venture further afield.
It was probably stating the case too strongly to suggest that we were being used as bait, but even if we were like worms on a hook, I wasn’t going to complain. I was restless and ready to be back in the swing of things, pulling my weight for the royal calendar. And I was delighted at the thought of visiting Wales.
While Nicky had agreed to the trip, he was slightly less enthusiastic. He’d proved to be a much more apprehensive father-to-be than I’d expected, and every grunt or wince from me signaled panic for him.
Honestly, at nearly four months along, pregnancy had been a breeze so far. Oh, sure, I’d been exhausted to the point of crying many days. And speaking of crying, I’d done a lot of that, too, as my emotions were completely out of whack. But beyond the occasional tear, I’d loved the feeling of contentment that filled me most of the time, and telling my family and Nicky’s had been so much fun. This baby would be the first grandchild on both sides, and everyone was ecstatic.
The official announcement hadn’t been made yet, and to my surprise, it seemed that no one in the press had guessed our secret. For once, they weren’t shouting questions about baby bumps every time I went out. Of course, I wasn’t quite so visible lately, either, since our schedules had been curtailed.
At Honey Bee, I had noticed that several of my co-workers watched me speculatively, but no one had said anything to my face. As a courtesy, I planned to let Serena know right before we made the public announcement.
But that was several weeks away. For now, I planned to focus on enjoying my first trip to Wales.
I slid a sideways glance at my husband, who was reading something on his phone, his face serious. A surge of love that was mixed with a not insubstantial bit of want filled me. Another of the side effects of pregnancy, I’d discovered, was that I was in the mood for love just about all of the time.
“What is it?” Nicky spoke without looking up at me, and it dawned on me that his feelings might have been a bit hurt by my harsh words of a few moments ago.
“Nothing.” I shifted in my seat so that I was leaning a little closer to him, and with one finger, I began stroking his forearm where it rested on the glossy wooden armrest. Back and forth, back and forth, with a light and lazy touch.
He ignored me for a few moments, and then I saw his lips twitch.
“How much longer do you think we have until we arrive?” I whispered, flickering my eyes to the other side of the car, where the rest of the Palace staff sat, removed from us. Since this was a longer trip than usual, with overnight stays and multiple commitments, Lady Marjorie, who had been my mentor prior to my marriage, was here to help. Simon, Harold and Hugh Naughton were here for security, and a couple of other retainers had joined us to handle schedules and anything else that might come up.
Nicky turned his free arm to check his watch. “Probably another hour and a half, I think. Why?”
I made a big show of yawning, covering my mouth and stretching my arms. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m feeling slightly tired and thought I might make use of the bedroom in this car.”
“Oh. Good idea.” Nicky nodded. “Have a nice sleep. I’ll make sure I’ll wake you in time to freshen up and change before our arrival.”
“I was thinking maybe you’d join me,” I murmured, leaning even closer. “You seem like you might be tired, too.”
“Not really, I’m just . . .” His voice trailed off as he caught my meaning. “Really, Ky? Now? On the Royal Coach?”
I grinned at him, my eyes issuing a challenge. “Oh, yes, Nicky. Now. On the Royal Coach. Think of all the rocking and rolling of
the train . . . and that big, comfortable-looking bed back there.”
I sensed him wavering, but still, he looked over at the secretaries who were traveling with us. “What about—them?”
“Oh, they’re not invited.” I shook my head, and Nicky rolled his eyes, snickering.
“I would think not. I meant, what will they think?”
“They’ll think that we’re still newlyweds and that the Duchess is a little bit of a sex fiend, but what do we care about that? They’re not going to blab about it to anyone. And who knows, maybe they’ll simply assume we wanted a rest before the start of this trip.”
For the space of a few beats, Nicky was silent. Then his lips curled up, and he nodded. “All right, but let’s not be obvious. You go back, and after a few minutes, I’ll tell them that I’m going to check on you, make sure you don’t need anything.”
I smirked at my husband’s covert plans. “Sure, sweetie. Whatever you say. They’ll never suspect a thing if we do it that way—you’re totally right.”
Before he could second-guess himself (and me), I rose to my feet and rolled my shoulders, yawning again. In a voice designed to carry, I said, “I’m a bit tired. Think I’ll go doze until it’s time to get ready.”
“Good idea, darling.” Nicky patted my arm as I passed. “I’ll let you know when you should begin getting ready for the train station.”
I treated him to a brief smile and then, holding onto the back of the seats, I made my way into the bedroom.
This room was designed to offer Her Majesty maximum comfort and luxury when she made extended trips by train. I knew that her most frequent destination was Balmoral, in Scotland, and I thought that it must have been a cozy and perfect way to get to the northern country.
I hadn’t become completely accustomed yet to the swaying and jolting of the train, and in my current condition, I’d noticed that I was more susceptible to dizziness. For safety’s sake, then, I sank down onto the bed to slip off my shoes and jeans, sighing in relief as I eased them off. I was still wearing regular clothes, but pants of all kinds were beginning to become slightly uncomfortable. I thought it was a good thing that we were making an announcement soon. With spring on the way, I wasn’t going to be to hide anything beneath bulky coats and sweaters.
I’d just dropped my panties onto the floor with the rest of my clothes and slid beneath the cool sheets when the bedroom door opened. Nicky, his face tinged with pink, stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
I propped myself up on my elbows, offering him what I hoped was a seductive smile. “Hiya, big boy. Thanks for joining me in my boudoir.”
He shot me a mock glare, but I didn’t miss the grin on his face. “Do you know how mortifying that was? I probably looked ridiculous, explaining to the group from the Palace that I wanted to come and make sure that you had everything you needed in here. They didn’t believe me. I’m sure of it. They knew exactly what we’re up to.”
I giggled. “Nicky, first of all, why did you even say anything to them? We don’t owe them explanations. We’re married. They work for us—well, for Her Majesty, rather—not the other way around. And second, who cares if they know? I’d think they’d find it good news that the Duke and Duchess still want to get it on nearly a year after their wedding.”
He shook his head, but at the same time, he toed off his shoes. “But we’re going to have to face them afterwards. Won’t you be embarrassed?”
“Not one single bit.” I beamed. “None of their business what we get up to in here. For all they know, you’re helping me prepare for the trip.” I paused. “You know . . .boning up on all the details.”
Nicky groaned. “Ky, you’re not helping.”
“No?” I folded down the sheets and patted the space next to me in the bed. “Come here, and I promise I’ll do my best to be more helpful.”
When he didn’t move right away, I let the sheet covering me slip down a little, exposing my breasts, which had swelled fuller in the early months of my pregnancy. It was my favorite part so far about being pregnant.
And I was pretty sure it was Nicky’s favorite part so far, too. His eyes darkened as he took me in, and the tip of his tongue darted out to run over his lips. I knew I had him now. I only had to reel him in.
Keeping my hooded gaze trained on him, I lifted one hand to cup the heaviness of my breast, sighing. And then I circled the wide nipple with my thumb, shivering as it went hard and began to ache with pleasure.
My husband shed the rest of his clothes with alacrity, and there was no doubt as to his interest. Crawling up the mattress to me, he gently knocked my hand out of the way.
“Let me do that,” he rasped.
I acquiesced, lowering myself back to the mattress. Nicky’s large hand followed, palming me as he stared in fascination at the reaction of my nipple to the touch of his fingers. He gave it a pinch that was just the right kind of rough, and I hissed out my approval, my eyes closing as I arched my back, hungry for more.
When his mouth closed over the throbbing peak, I cried out, and Nicky laid a soft hand over my mouth.
“Shhh,” he reminded me. “Voices carry, remember? I still need to be able to look those people in the eye in an hour.”
I reached down between us and stroked his stiff sex. “Oh, really?” I was breathless. “Let’s see how quiet you can be when someone’s hand is in a particularly sensitive place.”
The sound Nicky made was strangled, but it was admirably restrained. He grinned down at me. “Years of training, sweetheart.” He bent his head to cover my lips, kissing away any smart comment I might have made in response.
His lips trailed down my neck to return to my breasts, even as his fingers wandered lowered. He smiled against my skin at finding me eager and ready for him.
“Why is it that with each day that goes by, I only want you more?” Nuzzling me, he glanced up into my face. “There never seems to be enough time or enough . . . of this.” His fingers slide over my slick flesh, making me gasp and buck against his hand. “The moment we’re finished, I find myself craving you all over again.”
“I feel the same way,” I murmured. “I think that’s love, sweetheart. It’s because we were made for each other. We’re two halves of a whole . . . in the best way possible.”
Nicky raised himself over me, nudging my legs apart wider, his eyes steady on mine as he slid home, joining our bodies on a wave of pure rapture. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough with need.
“And now we’re complete. Whole.”
As the train rocked over the landscape of England into Wales, we were just that—whole. Complete. Satisfied, for now.
Although maybe not as quiet as some of us could have been . . . but that was all right. In the end, it was Nicky’s moan that reverberated against the walls, which gave me something to giggle about for the rest of the afternoon.
And even though he promised revenge, I wasn’t worried. After all, his kind of revenge was the sweetest form of torture.
“Princess Ky! Over here, please.”
My eyes slid to Nicky’s, the smile on my face growing wider. He’d teased me before our marriage that even though we’d been given the titles of Duke and Duchess, the people would still call me Princess Ky. It wasn’t at all correct, since I hadn’t been born a princess and would never become one; the closest title I technically bore would have been Princess Nicholas, had the Queen not bestowed the dukedom of Kendal on us, making my official name Kyra, Duchess of Kendal.
However, we’d both been pleasantly surprised that following the wedding, the press and the people we’d met had called me by my proper title of Duchess. It was only here in Wales that we were hearing Princess Ky used frequently for the first time.
I moved over to that side of the crowd, greeting the schoolchildren who were waiting so patiently. Many of them were clutching handfuls of flowers, and I made sure to accept each one and thank the giver. When my arms were full, Lady Marjorie, who here was serving as my de facto lady-
in-waiting, discreetly took the flowers from me. They’d be removed to the residence where we were staying, and the nicest bunches would be quietly donated to a local children’s hospital.
It was our second full day here in Wales. We’d been greeted warmly at the train station when we’d arrived, and our hours since had been filled with visits to a couple of farms, to playgrounds, parks and a couple of organizations that helped to feed the hungry. We were now on our way into a school that offered innovative early education to children from low-income families.
We were running late, as we’d been scheduled to be inside ten minutes ago. But the crowds outside the school had been waiting since early morning to see us, and neither Nicky nor I were going to disappoint them.
I was working one side of the road while Nicky shook hands on the other. Harold and Lady Marjorie hovered at either of my elbows, neither of them moving from my side. Thus far on the trip, our protection officers had been vigilant, and as far as I knew, no threats had been received. Nicky and I were both thoroughly enjoying ourselves; we’d discovered that we loved this particular part of Great Britain, from the wild countryside to the warmth of the people.
“Princess Ky.” A small hand tugged at my skirt, and I looked down to see wide blue eyes gazing up at me imploringly. Without hesitating, I dropped to my knees, taking the little girl’s hand.
“Hello! What’s your name, darling?”
“Gwyneth.” She had an adorable lisp, and I smiled.
“What a pretty name for a pretty girl. Are you . . .” I cast my eyes up, pretending to consider. “Let’s see, four years old?”
The Anti-Cinderella Conquers the World Page 18