The Prince: The Young Royals 1

by S. A. Gordon

  “N-nothing,” she stammered. “What do you mean?”

  David exhaled loudly. “Alix, it’s the middle of the night here—I presumed something terrible had happened for you to be calling me at this time.”

  “Something terrible has happened!” she said, still wailing.

  “All right, darling,” David said, starting to suspect that his sister was exaggerating. If it wasn’t about 6 a.m. in London he’d think she was drunk, the way she was carrying on. But although his sister was many things, a morning drunkard she was not. “Why don’t you tell me what the problem is?”

  “The—the papers!” she cried.

  “Mmm?” He tapped his foot, trying to be patient.

  “They have a story!”

  “What about, love?” He could hear her sniffing. “Is Rita with you?”

  “No!” she said forcefully. “It’s too early to wake her.”

  “But not too early for me?” he said, trying to inject some levity into a situation which—now that he knew their father was all right—seemed far less grave than before.

  “Oh, shut up.” She blew her nose.

  “Alix, tell me what the matter is,” David said in the tone of an adult addressing a small child.

  “There’s a story—” She blew her nose again. “About me and—and …” She started to hiccup. “And Jack.”

  David breathed in sharply. “Oh.”

  “And that foul Simon is in it.”

  “Simon, your former PPO?”

  “Yes. The one I had a fling with.”

  “Alix, darling, you really do have a type.”

  “Shut up!”

  “All right. Come on, tell me—what does the story say?”

  “It says that Jack and I are sleeping together, and that I used to sleep with Simon, and that I’m an irresponsible slut who doesn’t deserve to rule.” Her hiccups turned into sobs.

  “Sh-shhh, lovely one. Just try to calm down.”

  “That’s easy for you to say! You fuck models and no one says anything about your fitness to rule!”

  David winced, even though she couldn’t see it. “Ouch,” he said. “But a fair point. Alexandra, please just try to calm yourself. There is nothing—absolutely nothing—that we can’t work through together. We have faced the very worst thing we’ll ever have to face and we’re still here.”

  A strangled cry sounded down the phone. “But you’re not here, David!”

  “I know, darling, I know. And I’m sorry. But, tell me: are you more upset about them saying you’re not fit to rule or about the fact that your love life is in the papers?”

  “Wh-why do you ask?”

  “Because you need to know which is more important to you.”

  “Can’t it be both?”

  He smiled into the phone. “Sure,” he said. “But ideally we should just tackle one thing at a time—so I’m trying to help you prioritize.”

  Alix said nothing but blew her nose loudly.

  “How important is Jack to you?”

  He heard his sister sigh.

  “I think …” She stopped.

  “Yes?”

  “I kind of love him, Day.”

  “Kind of or you do love him?”

  She sighed, more heavily this time. “I do love him. But we haven’t really … established ourselves, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do.” David paused while he thought. “Now, listen to me—you can’t pay any attention to anyone talking about your fitness to rule. You are beyond fit, all right? You have trained your whole life for this, you are poised, you are accomplished, you understand what is involved.”

  “Thank you,” she mumbled.

  “As you pointed out, nothing like that has been said about me, regardless of where I am in the line of succession. The press are just trotting out a tired old sexist line and it’s ridiculous.”

  “Gee, Mummy really did read you the feminist riot act, didn’t she?”

  “Actually, I read it myself,” he said, a little snippily. “You and Rita weren’t paying attention, that’s all. But it’s beside the point. You have to ignore this. Instruct Papa’s press officer to ignore it too. Your love life is your business—at least, until you become Queen. Then the rules change and it’s the Commonwealth’s business. But, for now, you don’t owe anyone an explanation. You may want to find out if Jack needs anything, though.”

  “I know,” she said quietly. “He’ll be my next call.”

  “He should have been your first call, Alix,” David said firmly. “If you love him, if you want to be in a relationship with him, you have to put him before anyone else. At least, as I said, until you’re the Queen. Then he gets equal billing with your subjects.” He tried to keep his tone light but wasn’t sure if it worked.

  “Right now, though, he’s in a lot more jeopardy than you,” David continued. “He could lose his job.”

  “I know that!” Alix said indignantly.

  “Do you?” David said, not unkindly. “Darling, you also need to call Oliver.”

  “What?” David heard sniffling. “Why?”

  “I am very sure that you received the same lecture about the ‘family story’ as I did.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes. This doesn’t fit with the story that Oliver—and Beverly, for that matter—have been spinning for the last few months. You have to call them. But most of all you need to all Jack. Immediately.”

  “But I want to keep talking to you,” she said plaintively. “You won’t judge me like Oliver and Beverly will.”

  “Hang up,” David commanded. “Or I will.”

  He heard a dramatic sigh.

  “All right.” She sniffed once. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. And send me updates. But maybe not for a few hours.”

  “Okay. I love you.”

  “I love you too. Now, good night.”

  His sister laughed once and then ended the call. David sighed and looked around the suite. He wouldn’t sleep again now. Time to see what was on television and await his sister’s next phone call. He knew she wouldn’t hold off for a few hours as he’d requested. She’d probably call again very soon. So he’d just sit on that couch, put up his feet and try to find an old movie to watch. And he’d do it alone.

  He glanced at his phone. It was 1.30 a.m.—not the time to call Caitlin. But how he wished it was. They had had a wonderful night. He hadn’t kissed her goodbye—he’d respected the fact that she wasn’t available to him. He had also respected the fact that another kiss would signal to her that he wanted to pursue their attachment. Which he did. But now, hearing his sister’s distress that she had exposed her lover to public scrutiny—to stories in the press, and to the condemnation of her and their father’s private secretaries—he wondered if he was prepared to do that to Caitlin. Would she be prepared to do that to herself? These were questions he didn’t even know if he had a right to contemplate. He might have felt attached to her but they weren’t in a relationship; for all he knew, they never would be. But shouldn’t he think about these things before becoming involved with someone? Wasn’t that the right thing to do, so he didn’t ask the other person to do all the thinking about it?

  Suddenly David felt tired again. Tired with it all—the things he had to worry about, the responsibilities he felt on behalf of his family. He didn’t want his life any other way—he didn’t know anything else, for one thing—but sometimes he just wanted a break. That was the most tiring thing: knowing that there was never going to be a break. Apart from those hours with Caitlin—then he had felt freed, somehow, from everything. He’d felt light. He’d felt young. He realized that he hadn’t felt young in years. Not since his mother had died. They’d all had to grow up then. Margaret had missed more of her youth than the rest of them, but they’d all felt the loss. Caitlin managed to give him some of that feeling back: that his life had possibilities; that there were things he could achieve; that it was all his to direct. And she gave him another feeling that h
e’d never had: that he could do all of that with someone else. That he could do it with her.

  Now he just had to find a way to make it happen.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Caitlin got ready for work the next morning in a haze of something that was probably just a mad crush but it felt more serious than that when she scalded herself in the shower, dropped her bowl of muesli on the floor and didn’t even hear Lisa when she wished her a good morning. She felt goofy—and it wasn’t a sensation she was used to. But it was one she wanted to keep from her roommate. Regardless of who David was, whatever was happening between them—and it did feel like it was still happening—was something to be kept between them. Especially because, as far as Lisa knew, Caitlin was still seeing Liam. And that was as much as Liam knew too.

  “So, are you going out tonight?” Lisa said, biting an apple.

  “Huh?” Caitlin said dreamily.

  “Geez, what is with you today?” Lisa said crankily and Caitlin immediately tried to snap to attention.

  “Sorry—I think I drank too much last night,” she said, taking a big spoonful of muesli.

  “I’ll say. I asked you if you’re going out tonight.”

  “No. Uh, Liam’s out of town.”

  “I know.” Lisa took another bite and chewed as she talked. “I just thought you may want to head out without him.”

  “Oh. No.” Caitlin turned away so Lisa’s couldn’t see her inflamed cheeks. “I was out last night. That was enough.”

  “Oh, yeah. Your middle-school best friend.”

  Was it Caitlin’s imagination or did Lisa sound skeptical?

  “Uh-huh,” Caitlin said, pushing her spoon through her muesli.

  “Well, if you change your mind about tonight, I’m going to that new club in Chelsea—the one that Marco talked about.”

  “Oh, yes, Marco—how is he?”

  Lisa shrugged. “He’s fine. He’s good in bed. That’s all I need to know.” She grinned as she chewed.

  “Good for you.” Caitlin smiled benignly.

  “Mind if I have a shower?” Lisa said, tossing the apple core into the trashcan.

  “All yours. I’ve already had mine.”

  Caitlin watched with relief as her roommate marched down the hall.

  *

  Caitlin gave up trying to read the New York Times and fossicked through the pile of magazines next to the sofa. Working in fashion magazines had lessened their appeal somewhat, but she still loved magazines generally—she’d just switched to reading home interiors magazines, not at all sure where the interest had come from nor what she was meant to do with everything she learned reading them, given that she had neither country estate nor brownstone to furnish.

  Her cell phone rang just as she reached a feature about French provincial outdoor settings. She frowned at the display, which showed that the number was blocked. She never liked answering blocked numbers. But David had had one the last time he had called.

  “Hello,” she said tentatively.

  “It’s David,” said her caller.

  “Oh,” Caitlin said, her face relaxing. “Hi.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “Huh?”

  She thought she heard him laugh. “What are you doing?”

  “Oh. I’m reading magazines.”

  “What about?”

  “Home furnishings.”

  He chuckled. “Is that right?”

  “So we’re doing small talk then?”

  She could almost hear him smile.

  “Touché, Ms Meadows,” he said. “All right, I’ll eliminate small talk and state the purpose of my call. Would you like to have dinner tonight?”

  Caitlin felt as though her heart had stopped and she started coughing.

  “Are you all right?” David said worriedly.

  “S-sure,” she spluttered. “Um, yes, dinner would be nice.”

  “Nice?”

  “Great. In fact.” She put her hand on her chest just to check that something was beating there.

  “Wonderful.”

  “But … I can’t.”

  Caitlin heard him sniff. “Why not?”

  “We talked about this, David. Because of Liam.”

  Now David snorted. “Caity, you’re going to break up with him.”

  “How can you be so sure?” she said, feeling feisty.

  “Because you want to be with me.”

  Caitlin gasped. “You can’t say that.”

  “Why not?” He sounded bemused.

  “Because you just don’t get to say that.”

  Silence greeted her. Then she heard him breathe in.

  “All right. Let’s scale this back to dinner. And your boyfriend is out of town, you and I are friends, and this will be all perfectly innocent. I don’t have much more time in this city, so I’d like to see you again before I return home.”

  “When will that be?”

  “Hard to say. We need to make the most of the time we have.”

  “David!”

  He laughed. “Have dinner with me.”

  She pretended to sigh.

  “Don’t you think twice in two nights is a bit much?”

  “A bit much for whom? You? It’s certainly not a bit much for me,” he said, almost growling.

  Caitlin felt her cheeks go hot.

  “Okay,” she said. “Where?”

  “Why don’t you come to the hotel?” he said—a little too quickly, she thought.

  “Oh, so you can invite me up?” she said.

  “No,” he said firmly. “Because it’s easier for Mick and Stan. They don’t have to learn a new venue.”

  Caitlin was silent.

  “I’m not suggesting dinner in my suite—just in the restaurant downstairs.”

  “And you won’t try anything?”

  “Caitlin, the fact that you’re even saying that would take the fun out of any attempt I may make. What’s the point of trying to seduce someone if she’s busy telling you that she’s aware that you may try to seduce her?”

  “It’s just …”

  “What?”

  “I’ve seen you in action, remember,” she said tentatively, not wanting to upset him but also not wanting him to turn out to be just another cad.

  “What do you mean?”

  “At the bar, where I first saw you.”

  “Oh.” He paused. “That was different. She was different.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that was something casual. I don’t think you’re casual.”

  “But that’s probably what you told her,” Caitlin said softly.

  “I didn’t, as a matter of fact, but if we’re going to start judging each other’s romantic activities …”

  “Don’t,” Caitlin said sharply.

  “Fine,” David said, and she could hear amusement in his voice. “It’s a bit early for us to be having a fight, don’t you think?”

  “Are we fighting?” She smiled into the phone.

  “It sounds like it.”

  “Oh. Well, I guess we both just have opinions.”

  “I guess we do … So—dinner?”

  Caitlin sighed dramatically. “All right,” she said in a singsong voice.

  “I can tell that I’m twisting your arm.”

  “Consider it twisted.”

  “I shall. Eight o’clock? I’d invite you to come up to my room first but I fear what your reaction will be.”

  “That’s all right. I’ll meet you in the restaurant. It’s that hotel you told me the other night?”

  “The same.”

  “Great.” She stopped, not knowing what she should say next.

  “I’m looking forward to seeing you,” David said softly, smoothly.

  “Good,” Caitlin said, and was rewarded with David’s laughter.

  “Ciao,” he said.

  “Bye,” she said and hung up. She couldn’t help but do a little jig on the spot.

  *

  Caitlin swallowed nervously as she
sat at the bar, waiting for Liam to arrive. It was the same bar where she’d first seen David—where the photographer had found him. It seemed appropriate somehow, even though there was nothing firm between her and David, and she didn’t know if there ever would be. She just knew that she couldn’t keep seeing Liam when she really didn’t care about him all that much. Or as much as she should. He was a great guy—he was sweet to her, he was attentive, he was interested in her life—but he didn’t make her feel anything at all. Her blood didn’t race. Her groin didn’t tingle. And, yes, she had to admit that David did that to her. One fleeting touch of his hand—one blink of his long-lashed eyes—and she wanted to melt into a puddle before him. She was fairly sure he knew he had that effect on her—she was fairly sure he knew he had that effect on a lot of women, young and old—but it hadn’t been until last night that she’d realized she had that effect on him too.

  As he had been helping her to her seat at dinner, standing behind her, she’d turned to thank him and her cheek had brushed his hand just as he lifted it. She’d felt a jolt, and he had inhaled loudly and then held that breath, staring down at her. He’d let the breath out slowly, judderingly, as he kept staring. And he’d smiled as he walked to the other side of the table and sat himself down.

  Her mouth had been open when he’d caught her gaze.

  “Oh, you felt that too, did you?” he said.

  She’d closed her mouth, aware she looked like an idiot, and nodded. “I did.”

  He had smiled mysteriously and picked up the menu, and neither of them had mentioned it again. But she’d caught him looking at her—really looking at her—with the sort of longing that can only exist for an object of lust who is also the subject of great affection. He hadn’t looked at her like she was just any girl whom he might fancy—he had stared at her, as if she was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. But it hadn’t made her uncomfortable—not like it had in the past. She’d felt somehow like it was not just right but her due. And she, of course, had stared at him the same way.

  The whole night had felt fraught with something unnameable but real. They had spent dinner talking about all manner of things, both trivial and significant. They had laughed, they had felt easy with each other. Four hours passed without them even noticing and then they realized that the only reason the restaurant was still open was that David was who he was and they would have kept it open until morning if he’d wanted that. David had looked over at Mick and Stan, faithfully sitting a couple of tables over, giving their boss the wind-up motion, and he’d laughed at them, then turned to Caitlin. The question had been in his eyes—the question about whether or not they should continue the evening upstairs—but he hadn’t asked it. And she had been glad, because she honestly thought she would have said yes to him. She just didn’t want to be separated from him; she didn’t want to not feel that calm and desired around someone; didn’t want to not feel how much she desired him when he was in her presence. She hardly dared believe that he felt the same way, but he must—how could he not? If it was just her concocting something then clearly he’d have tired of it before now. If all he wanted was sex, he could get that anywhere—and from anyone. Caitlin was quite sure that most married women would forego their husbands for a handsome prince. The only person Caitlin had to forego was Liam. Not that David had asked her to. Not that he would ever ask her to. But she wanted to. And she was going to.