The Throne

by Samantha Whiskey

  He turned his gaze on me, his eyes intense. “Then you need to make them. I know what it’s like to want someone you can’t have, and I watched your brother struggle with his decision. If you want to know my opinion—it’s none of the women on this wall. It’s the one you choose or no one. Your brother stopped the wheel from turning. You need to break it.”

  “No pressure.”

  The music from the classical quartet surrounded me as I walked into the botanical gardens, the glass walls and ceiling providing the perfect acoustics. Before me was a rainbow of color as the women stood talking to each other and sipping champagne.

  I’d never been scared shitless of a rainbow before.

  “Where do we start?” I asked Oliver.

  “You start wherever you’d like. I’ll be over here watching from a safe distance.”

  I turned and glared at him slowly. “You’re going to leave me to these blood-thirsty debutantes?”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “Your Highness, I said I’d take a bullet for you. I never said anything about title-hungry aristocrats and their mamas.”

  “Their mamas?” Holy shit. He was right. Near almost every woman was her mother.

  Tonight had just gone from hellish to the stuff of nightmares.

  With deliberate steps, I made my way down the staircase, forcing a smile when I wanted to run. One by one, they noticed me, all turning with wide eyes and flirtatious smiles. I’d always been a hunter, relentless in pursuit of the woman I wanted for the evening.

  Tonight, I was definitely the prey.

  As a member of our staff walked by, I took a glass of champagne from his tray and nodded my thanks. Before the much-needed alcohol could reach my lips, the stem was plucked from my fingers by a very graceful hand.

  “Nope. Sober,” Charlotte whispered in my ear from right behind me.

  “Torture wasn’t a part of our deal,” I reminded her.

  She slipped a glass of water into my hand and sipped the champagne she’d stolen. “Relax. Just think of this as a well-dressed speed dating, and have fun. Your future wife is in this room.”

  I looked from the crowd of expectant women back to the only one I wanted.

  “Yes, she is.”

  Our eyes locked and my blood heated to a simmer. The woman could turn me on with just a stare, let alone the strapless black dress she wore.

  Glancing at her neck, I saw the pulse flutter in her throat before she took another sip of champagne, this one noticeably bigger.

  “Well, let’s get on with it. I fully expect you to have this field narrowed by half by tomorrow.”

  I looked back at all the ravenous debutantes and their over-eager mamas, spying mine across the room.

  She didn’t look stressed, or even mildly interested as she spoke to Charlotte’s mother, the Duchess of Corbin. They’d been friends longer than we’d been alive.

  Before I could even attempt to make my way over to greet her, the first debutante was all but thrust into my face by her mom.

  “Introduce yourself!” Her mother hissed, then flashed me a smile.

  Yeah, you’re definitely not going to be my mother-in-law.

  The girl was young, maybe twenty, with giant brown eyes and blonde hair. She looked utterly terrified.

  “Your Royal Highness, I’m Katherine. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said, dipping into a curtsy.

  “Katherine.” I executed a quick bow.

  Charlotte leaned in but stayed too far away for me to catch the scent of her perfume.

  “Katherine is one of the Sutherfields, who come from Redshire. Her father is—”

  “The Duke of Redshire,” I answered, giving Charlotte a thankful smile.

  “Which makes her one of the highest-ranking nobility here,” her mother, the Duchess prompted. “Present company excepted.”

  Charlotte nodded her head gracefully, accepting the woman’s acknowledgment. While her father was also a Duke, he owned far more land, and his family had held their title for centuries longer.

  Katherine would be a socially-smart match. If she didn’t look like she’d been dragged here kicking and screaming. Unwilling women weren’t my thing.

  “It was lovely to meet you,” I said, excusing us for the next eligible bachelorette.

  “I’m impressed,” Charlotte said as we crossed the garden.

  “Just because I drink, and party and man-whore around doesn’t mean I didn’t have to sit through the same exact genealogy classes Xander did.”

  “Noted,” she said with a smile. “Now let’s go find you a bride.”

  Three hours later, I was ready to shoot myself in the foot if it meant Oliver would get me out of there.

  Charlotte

  My pumps clicked against the cold marble floor as I searched the castle for Jameson.

  I was shocked he wasn’t in bed—the first place I checked. The kitchen staff hadn’t seen him, either. And when I’d searched for a good thirty minutes with no luck, I once again questioned why I was bothering helping him in the first place.

  Because no one else is.

  Because he’s one of your best friends.

  Because he’s…Jaime.

  I stopped mid-search, took a deep breath, and cooled the irritation bubbling in my blood. A lifetime of being a Duchess had the calming breaths come naturally, and normally I never struggled to maintain my composure. Unless I was within ten feet of Jameson Wyndham. No one else could rile me more, and I both loved and hated him for it.

  Resuming the search, I paused outside the palace’s recreation hall. Loud huffs and deep, growly grunts sounded from behind the glass double doors that led into the room. I slipped the iPad under my arm and pushed through.

  Immediately I was hit with the smell of him—clean, crisp soap and sweat and one hundred percent Jaime.

  Another exerted breath had me turning past the row of treadmills and around the corner toward the weight station.

  I stopped short, a tiny gasp on my lips.

  Jameson faced the floor to ceiling mirror, his broad, sculpted chest bare, his black exercise shorts hanging low on his defined hips. Sweat beaded and rolled in scattered trails down his smooth skin, and my mouth was suddenly desperate for a drink.

  The thick weights in his hands were by far larger than anything I could even think of lifting, but he kept on curling them, one at a time, over and over again, those breathy growls keening from his lips with every perfect curl.

  Something churned within me. Something hot and hungry and almost sad. A deep shiver worked its way up my core and tickled my spine, and it was the last involuntary reaction I could allow.

  I remembered my irritation from earlier, and focused on that sensation—used it to erase the pulsing desire that threatened to cripple me with each pump of his massive arms.

  “I can’t believe I had to track you down to the gymnasium.” I’d aimed for irritated and landed somewhere closer to breathless. Wonderful.

  Jameson carefully set the weights on the steel rack before turning toward me. He chuckled, grabbed a small white cotton towel from the bench next to him, and walked steadily past me to another machine.

  “I have back to back meetings after lunch, Charlie,” he said, and I bristled at the pet name he used only to get under my skin. “I have to find some time for myself now that my life has been decided for me.”

  “Poor little Crown Prince,” I said, and even I hated the whine in my voice, but it was better than the alternative—a tone that would be much closer to vulnerable. “He can’t flit about and do whatever he pleases anymore…oh, wait,” I said, tilting my head, my brown curls falling over my shoulder. “You’re to be King. You can do what you want; you just have to maintain business while you do it.”

  Jameson whistled, cocking an eyebrow at me as he sat down in the contraption next to me—a machine that required him to press his feet against a large board, a ton of weights on the other side, and pump it with his legs…in and out…in and out…goo
d lord his calves were glorious.

  I blinked several times, reminding myself the reason I’d tracked him down in the first place. I shifted the iPad before me, swiping on the screen. “After you eliminated twenty of the prospects last night, I took the liberty of researching the remaining girls for you.”

  Another press of those perfectly muscled legs, the motion forcing his entire body to flex. Good God, the man was sculpted from modeling clay the Greeks must’ve used. The breath in my lungs felt tight, hot, as if I were the one exercising and he the one blubbering on like an imbecile.

  Why? Why did he have to be half-naked?

  He was hard enough to handle when fully clothed. Not that I was thinking about him totally naked. Not that I’d ever thought that…alone, at night…

  “How friendly of you.” He grunted out the words, never ceasing in his damned meticulous work of those muscles.

  “If you had a particular favorite in mind I could start there,” I said, keeping my eyes trained on the iPad screen where I had the files on the girls pulled up.

  He stopped, spun his legs around, and stood up. After he was silent for too many breaths too long, I finally glanced up from the screen. He stood so close the heat from his body coiled around my skin, and I had to arch my neck to meet his eyes as he towered over me. Something swirled in those deep eyes...mischief like I’d always known, but something more.

  “Do you?” I asked, cursing myself for my lack of umph. I cleared my throat and straightened my shoulders, trying to pretend like he was any other royal. “Was there anyone that stood out to you last night?”

  The cocky smile I’d seen a thousand times slipped over his full lips. “Sure.” He walked past me, scooped up the towel again, and wiped the sweat off his face.

  “And?” I asked. “What was her name?” He moved the towel down his chest, blotting up the beads there, and I quickly forced my eyes to the screen. “Lady Katherine, perhaps? She was lovely. A bit timid for your taste, I think, but quite proper.”

  “Charlie,” he groaned, and I snapped my eyes to him.

  “Don’t—”

  He raised his hands in defense, cutting off my pleas for him to drop the nickname. He had no idea how much it irked me and called to me at the same time. Once I’d taken a breath, he reached those hands upward, stretching them up and behind his back. The motion not only put his incredible V-lines on display, but it made his shorts slip a tad lower, and my eyes zeroed in on the small tips of green I saw inked on his skin.

  I drew closer without even realizing it, desperate to see the rest of the design. “What is that?” The question blurted from my lips.

  Jameson dropped his stretch and glanced downward as he shifted the shorts up so the tips of green disappeared.

  I blinked out of my momentary lapse in judgment and took two decidedly steps backward. Jameson cocked an eyebrow at me.

  “I’d love to tell you,” he said. “But that would mean I’d have to get naked. I’m all for that, but it’s only fair if you’re naked too.”

  Heat swept over my skin, but I kept my eyes ice-cold. “Always a price.” I rolled my eyes, ignoring the hunger deep in my soul.

  I was promised to Xander when I was thirteen, and while we’d agreed to dating other people until the time came, there was never a chance in hell I’d let someone into my bed. I couldn’t…but it didn’t mean I wasn’t aching for a connection now. Jameson’s light teasing may be nothing but that…his jokes…but to me…it was something I both desperately needed and never had been allowed to have. A taste of desire, a flash of forbidden.

  “Look,” he said, his tone much more serious than I’d ever heard it before. “I can’t think about the candidates right now. Like I said, I have back to back meetings, and parliament is up my ass after what Xander did—”

  “You have to think about the candidates right now,” I cut him off. “Parliament and their grumbling aren’t going anywhere. Neither are your other duties as the future king. But these girls won’t be eligible forever.”

  He rubbed his palms over his face before raking his fingers through his hair. It ruffled it even more, and I couldn’t help but love how much the disheveled look separated him from his twin brother. Not only that, but there were other subtleties I’d mastered over the years, little mannerisms that were solely one twin’s or the other that helped me tell them apart. Of course, there had always been something about Jaime—a sense of awareness that rippled over my skin when he was near. I chalked it up to irritation more than half of the time.

  “Would that be so bad?” He snapped. “If Xander can abdicate the throne, shouldn’t I be able to refuse a wedding?”

  “It’s not the way the laws work, Jameson.” I forced my tone to stay soft. “A king needs his queen. It’s stable, solid, and it’s been the tradition since this country was formed. Xander understood it—”

  “I’m not him!” Jameson snapped, and I jolted from the strength in his voice. He let out a deep breath, calming the tension I could see coiling all his tight muscles. “I wasn’t trained for this, Charlie. I was trained to be the spare. My only purpose in life was to simply exist in case Xander didn’t.”

  I took a step closer to him, gently pressing my fingers against the warm skin of the hand he had curled into a fist at his side. “I know, Jaime. I know.” Another long breath flew past his lips, and my heart ached for the entire situation. For him having this thrown at him. And for me, who had my one life’s purpose ripped from underneath me.

  I wasn’t sad about what had happened, not at all. I loved Xander like a brother, and he deserved Willa, but now…I didn’t have a clue who I was or what I was supposed to do. Except this. “That’s why I’m here. To help you. I want to…” My breath caught in my throat as he unclenched the fist I’d smoothed my fingers over. He traced his calloused fingertips under mine, the gentle touch swallowing the words I’d been about to say.

  “I don’t care what Xander did. He’s my brother, my twin, my best friend. I can accept this role, and hell, maybe I’ll even be a good king with your help…but I can’t be forced to love someone I don’t.”

  “I understand. I understand that better than anyone—”

  “You loved Xander,” he cut me off.

  “As a brother.” I dropped my hand and took a step back. His hand hovered there like he was waiting for me to come back to him. “I never had a choice, Jameson. I was told to love him since I was thirteen—”

  “I remember.”

  “And I know this situation isn’t ideal. It’s not the endless party you had planned for your life, but you’re a Wyndham. You can be an amazing king. You just have to want it bad enough.”

  “It’s not the king part I take issue with. It’s that I have to marry a stranger.”

  My eyes dropped, not wanting him to see how much I hated it, too. It wasn’t fair, the law. That’s why Xander literally had to run from it. Jameson deserved time. Time to adjust to the new role he was thrust into. “Parliament is outdated,” I admitted, not taking my eyes off his left hip where I’d only caught a glimpse of the tattoo that rested there. The curiosity was killing me, but I focused on the situation at hand. “They need an upgrade into the modern world.” I drew my gaze up to his, swallowing hard to find his attention solely on me. “Maybe you’ll be the king to do that.” I sighed. “I wish you had time, Jameson. Time to switch your playboy lifestyle to the married-man-mindset. But you don’t have it. What you do have? Something I never had?” I tilted my head, almost envying him. “Is a choice.”

  He huffed, and I recoiled from the harsh sound. Anger sizzled over the magnetic draw I’d had toward him, and I flipped the iPad over to show him the screen. His eyes scanned the file names, all sorted by title and name of each remaining prospect.

  “Not much of a choice,” he finally said.

  I sighed, shoving the iPad at his broad chest. He caught it between his hands before it dropped. I spun on my heels, swallowing back the bite of tears stinging my eyes.

&n
bsp; I pushed open the door, Jameson following my hurried steps. I didn’t bother looking over my shoulder; I could feel him there like the sun on my back.

  “It’s more than I had,” I said and left him standing there alone…and wished like hell it didn’t have to hurt so much.

  Jameson

  I straightened my tie and thought about taming my hair into a semblance of order for all of about two seconds before I walked away from the mirror. I was who I was, and everyone was just going to have to deal with it.

  I could rule this Kingdom. I could take meetings with Parliament. I could form laws, handle matters of state, and even charm a foreign dignitary or two. Hell, I could stop screwing every woman on the planet...except Charlotte—that was a given in my future.

  But I couldn’t be Xander.

  Oliver walked behind me as we headed toward the conference room where Damian McAllister waited. Our Prime Minister looked more like a model than a politician, but he was brilliant, determined, and quite the opponent. Xander had won him over, but now it was my turn, and Damian made no secret that he didn’t approve of me.

  “Jaime?” Sophie’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

  “What’s going on?” I asked her as she walked out of the sitting room, her brows creased.

  Her eyes flickered to Oliver and back to me.

  “I have some scheduling questions. There are a few charities that I champion, and Xander had agreed to put in a few appearances for me, and well…” She forced a shaky smile.

  I crossed the distance between us and lightly grasped her shoulders. Sophie was petite but packed a powerhouse of a heart. She chaired the Wyndham Foundation and so many charities that I lost count, and I honestly had no idea how the hell she managed it all. Every single charitable dollar—and there were millions—that our family gave went through the Foundation, and somehow Sophie managed to keep it all straight and send the money where it was most needed.

  “Sophie, just get with my secretary and tell her that you have carte blanche on my schedule. I will be wherever you need me to be.”