I gaze into his handsome face. “Actually, I do.”
He tilts his head to one side, studying me. His eyes are the same shade of green as the forest behind him. “If I haven’t thanked you today…thank you. For everything.”
At first my heart swells in my chest at his compliment, but then my brain kicks into gear. Colin is bringing me back to earth, reminding me of our arrangement.
“You’re welcome…I hope everything works out for the best for your family.” I mean what I say, but my heart pinches.
“I do, too.”
—
We land on a tiny airstrip on an island a few hundred miles off the coast of England, then deplane and get in an antique black car that reminds me of the ones in old Indiana Jones movies.
Drops of rain dot the windshield as we are driven down narrow, winding roads. A town sits at the top of the hill, surrounded by fog, and at the center of it all a castle with turrets.
“To make up for the weather, our accommodations are fit for a queen”—Colin gives me a sideways look—“or a princess.”
“You mean”—my head whips back to the castle, then to Colin—“you own that?”
“The Sinclairs do.”
“Wow.” My chin dips a little while his eyes dance with amusement, but underneath that…I can see his vulnerability. “And we’re staying there?”
“Yes.”
I glance at the castle again, it’s looming larger and larger the closer we get to town. “Is there a dungeon?”
“Not anymore.”
“A moat?”
“Not anymore.”
I give him a look. “Are you sure this is a real castle?”
He smiles, leaning over me to look out my window. “Fairly certain.”
The gates to the castle open and we drive under a scary-looking portcullis. “I see you didn’t get rid of that death contraption.”
“We’re not keen on leaving everything about the twelfth century behind.”
I blink at him. “It was built in the eleven hundreds?”
“A great deal of it was, but no worries, it’s been modernized.”
“Oh,” I say faintly.
The car stops in front of huge columns that flank triple-hung doors. Beaumont has traveled with us and opens my door. “Your Highness.”
I wait for Colin to get out first. He would proceed me, I think. Gah. I have no idea.
“He means you, love,” Colin whispers in my ear.
Chuckling nervously, I shiver. “Right. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m here to guide you every step of the way.” He puts his hand on my thigh, the heat seeping through the dressy slacks I’d changed into before we left. “Whatever you need, I will provide.”
My mouth goes dry at the underlying sexual promise that seems to resonate with his words.
“Anything at all?” I can’t help but ask.
He leans in closer, his lips brushing my ear. “Absolutely.”
I close my eyes, enjoying his nearness and the flirting.
“My wife shall want for nothing while we’re married.”
And that snaps me right out of it. My eyes open and I sit up.
Just a contract.
Just an arrangement.
“May I be of assistance?” Beaumont holds out his hand and I grab on to it like a lifeline.
“Yes. I…needed my purse.” Quickly, I seize my purse from the floor and yank it onto my shoulder. “Lead the way.”
He helps me out of the car. “That I cannot do.”
“Beaumont can’t proceed you, darling.”
My cheeks flush. “I knew that. Sorta.”
“If you are worried about safety, our security detail always arrives first. No visit is coordinated without them.”
“Spontaneity is a no, then?” I ask as we walk up the first few steps. A line of people in starched uniforms are lined up by the doors.
“Only in public.”
I glance at Colin. Why is he being this way? Is he trying to take advantage of the situation? Am I convenient for him?
I give myself a mental shake. That’s not Colin. He wouldn’t take advantage of me, and, while he might flirt, it doesn’t make him a bad guy.
I blow out a frustrated breath, wishing I could freely talk with him.
“Beaumont, would you give us some privacy?” Colin suddenly asks, taking me by the arm and preventing me from going any farther.
“I’ll instruct staff that you are to be greeted later today.” Beaumont bows his head.
“Thank you.” Colin pulls me in the opposite direction of the front door, then takes a right. “There’s another entrance.”
“Are you a mind reader, too?”
“It’s obvious that you’re upset.” He pushes open a door and we step inside. My eyes take a couple of seconds to adjust to the darkness.
“Where are we going?”
“My rooms.”
I follow him up a flight of stone stairs that curve around and around. We go down hallways, turning left and right, until I’m not sure which way we’re going. One thing that is sure, I have no idea how to get back.
Colin stops. “Here we are.” He opens another door. “After you.”
I walk inside a cavernous room, my footsteps echoing off the stone floor. There are large Oriental-looking rugs scattered around as well as a fireplace as wide as my bedroom. Chairs flank it, along with a round table. The setup vaguely reminds me of his office back home.
“Tell me what’s bothering you?” he commands, shutting the door behind him.
“Nothing.”
“Della.”
I roll my eyes and huff. “Fine. I don’t understand why you’re being all flirty with me. We agreed to a marriage in name only and I’m confused when you act like you want more.”
“What if I changed my mind?” he asks.
“What if I think it’s a bad idea?”
He tilts his head to one side, a smile playing on his lips. “Do you?”
I fully intend to say yes, it’s a very bad idea, but my lips are frozen shut.
“Let me ask you this—if we did not have this arrangement and were just another married couple on our honeymoon, would you change your mind?”
“We’re not just another married couple, though,” I say softly.
He closes his eyes for a minute. “No, we are not. Well, please take all the time you need to freshen up and rest. I have business matters to attend to.”
“You’re leaving me now?”
“Unless you have other plans for me?” he says, like he’s giving me another chance to change my mind.
I shake my head.
“See you at dinner,” he says and leaves me standing in the middle of the room.
Alone.
“Welcome to day one of your fake honeymoon,” I tell myself.
Chapter 9
Colin
Instead of attending to pressing business matter like I told Della, I Skype my boys. I know they can get my mind off anything.
Their cheerful faces fill up the screen of my laptop and make me grin.
Mission accomplished.
“Good morning.”
“It’s so early,” Pierce complains.
“Go back to bed.”
Aiden rolls his eyes. “We’re in bed, silly.”
“Are you in my bed or over at Della’s?” I ask. They like to sleep in my room while I’m away, something that I discovered on my third trip when I came home early.
“Della’s. Tressie, I mean, Grandma, said we could stay here forever.”
Grandma? “What about when I get back? Forever is a mighty long time.”
Aiden cocks his head to one side, giving me a quizzical look. “Aren’t you going to live here, too?”
Honestly, I have no idea since Della and I haven’t discussed it further. “I like our house, don’t you?”
They look at each other, then at me, before Aiden speaks first. “We like both, but we really, really like Gr
andma’s house when you and Della are gone.”
“When Della and I come home, you’ll come home, too?”
Pierce shakes his head. “I’m staying with Della.”
I clutch at my heart. “I can’t believe you’re choosing a girl over me.”
He gives me a lopsided grin. “She’s not a girl; she’s Della. She’s like a mommy.”
I want to point out to them that Della is not their mom, but what would that accomplish? Besides, when things are sorted, it’s not like we will never see Della and Tressie again. They will still be part of our family, just like before.
“I’ll be sure to tell her.”
“Grandma says we need to tell you bye because growing boys need to eat breakfast before preaching and married couples need to go to bed after flying.”
That’s one way of putting it. “What do my growing boys think of that?”
“I think you’re getting a bad deal,” Pierce says gravely. “Adults are supposed to be able to stay up late.”
I bite back a laugh. “I agree. Okay, I’ll let the two of you go so Grandma Tressie doesn’t scold me.”
After we finish saying our goodbyes and a couple rounds of I love you’s, I end our Skype call and close my laptop.
So much for that diversion.
Slumping down in my chair, I scrub my hand over my face. The only pressing business I have is to answer the bloody email from Prime Minister Davies concerning my nuptials.
The announcement from that twat, Brooks Walker, went viral in a matter of hours. Although, I suppose I can forgive him since he was very complimentary of Della.
How he got the information is anyone’s guess since everyone in attendance agreed not to post anything on social media. I didn’t see anyone taking pictures with their phone except—
Char…her blasted cake post on Instagram.
“Fuck,” I mutter. If the press can’t find out about us through their own means, we sure as hell will spill our guts for them. Grabbing my phone, I ring her up.
“Charlotte,” I all but bark.
“I know. I know. I didn’t think,” she says, her nose all stuffy. “I’m so sorry, Colin. Please forgive me.”
The sound of tears in her voice combined with her apology takes the anger out of me.
“I know you didn’t and I know you were excited, but darling, we cannot let everyone into our lives. At least not yet.”
“I know,” she wails, sounding so miserable that I feel like a complete knobhead for calling her in the first place. “I have so many things to say and share, and now I get to do it publicly. Or at least I thought I could.”
“Honestly, it’s not your fault. Once again Brooks Walker is putting us in the news.”
“He did it?” she asks, curiosity making her voice rise. “I had no clue he follows me on Insta.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t sound so excited,” I say wryly.
“I know, but I do admire him. He’s broken away from his family to start a career that—”
“He is a parasite who is determined to hurt our family. Mr. Walker doesn’t know us, yet he judges us and outs us at every turn,” I say flatly. “Make your account private and block him.”
“I don’t want to make it private again,” she all but whispers. “I promise not to share anything else.”
Technically, I don’t have the right to order her about, but it’s for her own good. She’s been too damn sheltered to deal with the likes of Walker. My fault, yes, but how else could I protect her or Imogen? “I only ask this because I love you and don’t want to see you hurt over what he twists to his advantage.”
“He hasn’t actually twisted anything. Nothing he’s written is untrue,” she points out.
“Then respect my privacy and your siblings’ privacy as well by keeping our lives out of social media.”
“Okay,” she says softly. “I’m really sorry, Colin.”
“Don’t apologize, Char. You had only good intentions.”
“Tell Della I said hi.”
“I will.” She ends our call before I can say anything further. I don’t blame her, not really. None of this is any of our faults. Our parents were the ones responsible for their behavior and their parents before them. “Will this nightmare ever end?”
“Bad business?” Della asks from the open doorway.
My pulse kicks up at the sight of her. She’s wearing a purple sweater that clings to every curve and a pair of jeans that hug her hips. Her hair is twisted into an updo that looks classy and sexy.
I can go with honesty, or I can lie and continue to put distance between us.
“Boys want to live with you. Char’s Instagram post about our wedding went viral thanks to Walker Media.”
Distance is overrated.
Her eyes soften as she moves closer to me. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to talk to them?”
She’s so close that my arms actually ache to hold her, pull her down into my lap where I can hold her close, and breathe her in while breathing out my problems. Then I could tease her a little, kiss her neck, fill my hands with her breasts and—
Keep on topic.
“We can worry about it later,” I assure her.
“Should I be worried about Charlotte?”
Damn. She knows me too well. “I did not yell at her.”
“But you were a beast about it.” It’s not a question.
“Only for a second or two. Char was so upset that I couldn’t continue.”
“That’s because you’re really a sweetheart.”
“You’ve been shown the library, haven’t you?” I ask with a laugh.
She grins, then sits down on the desk in front of me. “Guilty. I’m pretty sure I could forgive anyone for anything as long as they had a two-story library.”
“Note to self: in the future, have all arguments in the library.”
“We don’t argue and then shut the other one out. It’s not us.”
She’s right. It’s not us. “You’re also in love with my library. Always have been.”
“It’s the second reason why I agreed to marry you.” She taps my knee with her bare foot.
I capture her foot with my hands and start to rub the arch. She all but moans her appreciation, then tries to snatch her foot away.
My grip tightens. “Relax.”
“What are you doing?” she asks, but I notice she doesn’t try to pull away again.
“Giving my wife a foot rub. She’s on her feet all the time, you know.”
With a little blush, she cocks her head to one side. “Are you trying to flirt with me?”
“Would you like it if I were?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes, I am doing my damnedest to flirt with my wife.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh.”
“I take it you didn’t expect me to answer honestly.”
She shakes her head. “Not about this.”
“Give me your other foot,” I command.
She props her foot on my knee and I begin to rub her feet simultaneously. “I like the way you flirt.”
“I am quite talented with my hands.”
“So modest,” she chides.
“Sinclairs have no use for modesty.”
“Lord. You are a handful.” She rolls her eyes and I’m so thrilled to see it that I lean forward and grab her hips, bringing her to the edge of my desk.
“I like my hands full of you.” I slide my hands up her calves, kneading them as I go and wishing like hell it was warm enough for her to be wearing a skirt. “How does this feel?”
“Better than anything.”
My hands go higher, to her thighs. “Better than this?”
Her eyes glaze over and her mouth parts. “Why are you doing this?”
“For the very same reason you’re letting me.”
“I’m nervous,” she admits, her tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip. “What if…what if we can’t go back to the way things were?”
Letting
go of her thighs, I stand between her legs and frame her face with my hands. “I don’t want them to.”
“This is only temporary.”
“Only if you want temporary,” I hear myself say.
Her chin tips up. “I want you.”
My entire body goes hard, especially my cock. “On this desk?”
“I prefer the library—saw a rug in front of a fireplace with my name on it.”
With a smile, I dip my head and barely touch her lips with mine. “Is that a fantasy you have?”
She nods. “One of many.”
“With me.”
“You are so cocky.”
I grind my hips against her. “All because of you.”
Her lashes flutter as she nips at me. “You don’t think we’re—?”
“Stop thinking, love.” I cover her mouth and sweep my tongue inside, tasting and exploring every inch. She’s like honey and mint as her tongue boldly strokes against mine. Her hands are on my arms, fingernails digging into the material of my shirt.
She whimpers when I pull away. “Why are you stopping?”
“Because I’d rather not fuck my wife on a desk—at least not the first time.”
Her mouth rounds into a perfect O that sends a jolt of lust coursing through me. “What about my fantasy?”
“That I’ll give you.”
She grabs my shirt, pulling me back to her and kissing me hard.
A throat clears.
I don’t give a damn who it is because nothing is more important than my wife at this moment.
“Your Highness,” Beaumont says loudly. “We have visitors.”
Della stops kissing me first, her eyes round and her cheeks flushed. “Please tell me they’re not in the room with us,” she whispers.
I look over her head. Prime Minister Davies and another member of Parliament stand beside Beaumont.
“I wish I could.”
“It’ll be okay. It’s not like you were kissing your mistress or something,” she teases, but I cannot for the life of me crack a smile. “Tell me what to do.”
“This is exactly what we’ve come to expect from the Sinclairs,” the prim woman standing by Davies sniffs.
Leaning into her, I brush my mouth against her ear. I might not be their king but I am a crown prince on his fucking honeymoon and I’ll take my time acknowledging them.
“No matter what is said—stay,” I murmur.
Royal Scandal Page 8