“But I want to be King, Papa, just like you.”
Fitz smiled, “Then you will be, and you will be the best King this country has ever seen.”
Emma watched at them both, and her heart soared. Fleur decided to climb onto her father’s lap, too, and soon the children were sharing the space, beaming at their father while they chattered about their day.
Finally Emma said, “Come, children, we’ve taken up enough of your father’s time, and I’m sure Cook has prepared a lovely afternoon meal for us.”
Noah slipped off his father’s knee and said, “Papa, may we celebrate my good grade tonight?”
Fitz kissed his daughter before setting her down and said, “Yes, of course we will. Most certainly. Let’s ask Cook to make a sweet for us, yes?”
He stood up then and walked over to Emma. “Did you think I was going to let you come in here without doing this?” He intertwined the fingers of both hands with hers and kissed her, and for a moment Emma’s knees went weak. Fitz’s kiss, though different, reminded her in every way of Peter. Emma could hear the children giggling.
“Papa lo-oves Mamma,” Noah chanted in a singsong voice.
Indeed he did, and it would seem Anna-Maria loved him right back. More than she could have ever imagined loving another person.
“I am the luckiest woman in the world,” she heard herself say.
. . .
That evening Fitz, Anna-Maria, and the children sat around the dinner table while Fitz told his wife about his day and some of the things he hoped to accomplish in the next few months. There was still much work to be done, but Fitz believed he could make his country a better place for the people who lived there, and he worked hard, often well into the night, to make it happen. “The people of Belgium deserve a solid, prosperous country,” Fitz would often say, “and I will do my best to make sure they have it.”
After dinner they retreated to the family room, where they both watched the children play until bedtime. Emma was nestled in his arms, there was a fire raging in a huge fireplace, and the soundtrack for their evening was the chatter and giggles of their children. No phones, no email interruptions, no traffic noise, no screaming ambulances with their sirens tearing through a peaceful night. It was simply and beautifully quiet. Her life, in this past life, was quite perfect.
“My darling Annie,” Fitz said softly. “I couldn’t be happier than I am right now.”
She looked up at him, and he kissed her, softly at first, then with more urgency. While Emma welcomed the kiss, it also made her realize how much she missed Peter. But she was here now with Fitz, who looked and felt a lot like Peter, and she was grateful for the comfort.
“Time for bed,” Fitz said suddenly, still looking at his wife, a naughty glint in his eyes. When Emma stood, Fitz got up and stood behind her, his hands circling her waist as he kissed the nape of her neck, sending a sweet, sharp tingle right to her core.
“It’s early, I know,” he whispered in her ear, “but I want you alone.” His breath felt hot on her neck, and the tingle turned into a bonfire. In an instant she was wet and hungry for him.
Peter.
The name stepped into her mind, looking for a place to land, but she pushed it aside. Peter had his life now, and this wasn’t her life, it was someone else’s. But it felt real, and Fitz’s hands on her waist felt irresistibly good. She could hardly imagine what they would feel like without several layers of cloth separating them.
“Children!” Fitz commanded, his voice was stern, but his face still held the hint of a smile.
Noah looked downtrodden. “Yes, Father, but I’m not tired.”
“Come on, darlings, listen to your father,” Emma heard herself say, noticing her voice was different. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? She was, indeed, a bit more Anna-Maria this time—or, as Fitz called her, Annie.
The children scurried out the room, down the hall, and upstairs to their room.
“We’ll be there to tuck you in in a few minutes,” Fitz said, and as soon as the children left, he spun her around and kissed her again, slowly and thoroughly, his hands on her waist gripping hard.
“I love you, Annie,” he whispered into her mouth.
“I love you back, my King,” she heard herself say. “So much, you have no idea.”
Fitz kissed her again, and this time, when his tongue pushed inside her mouth, she was both surprised and delighted. He pulled back slowly and said, almost breathlessly: “If we don’t stop this now, I’ll have you without an article of clothing left on your body.”
“Well, it won’t be the first time,” she snickered. Whoa. Where did that come from? Had they? They must have.
Fitz kissed her once more, lightly, took her hand, and they went to find their children and kiss them goodnight.
Once the children were tucked in, Fitz led her back to their bedroom.
“Finally, we are alone, so I might have my wicked way with you,” he said with a twinkle while he closed the door to their room.
Emma’s desire roared to life as he reached for her, grabbed her, and kissed her passionately.
He cupped her face and held her eyes, “I couldn’t imagine my life without you.”
“You’ll never have to,” she said, her voice low. He pressed himself against her, and she could feel his desire pressing through his trousers. His expert hands were on her, meticulously unhooking the many tiny buttons and hooks on her gown. The fabric felt light as the sleeves drifted down her arms, and the dress and its yards of fabric sank into a heap on the floor. Her breasts were pushed up and almost out of the corset, and Fitz’s lips were on her neck and the plumped-up curve of her breast.
“Sometimes when I’m in a meeting with a diplomat or functionary, my thoughts drift to you, and I find myself wildly distracted.”
Her eyelashes fluttered up. She gave him a coquettish smile and said, “I’m sorry to be such a distraction to you, my King.”
He leaned closer to her and said, “You are always a most welcome distraction.”
He licked at her lips, and when she parted them slightly, he swept his tongue inside. She lost herself in his mouth, while he released her from her corset and undergarments. Like her dress, they drifted to the floor, and when she felt her breasts spring free from their cage, her nipples were already hard.
He gazed at her, worshipful, almost devout, with a magnificent promise of pleasure in his eyes. She reached for his shirt and pulled it free. Then in one motion, he tugged his belt loose while she began to open his trousers. His lips trailed from her neck down to her breasts, where his tongue flicked her nipples. Desire shot through her, hard and hot.
He straightened himself and pushed his trousers to the floor. His desire sprang free, straight, thick, and hard, and she was desperate to feel him, on top of her, inside her. Then, because her body begged for him, he lifted her and kissed her while she wrapped her legs around his waist. In one swift motion, he pushed her onto his erection, and she slid over it easily, until its long length was buried inside her. She heard herself moan. The inferno engulfed her, and she used her arms around his neck and her thighs to lift herself enough to move up and down his shaft.
Fitz moaned and kissed her, then lay her on the bed, still inside her, and thrust harder, faster. She felt her own climax spiral until the intensifying heat released all at once. His hands gripped her hips in response, and he drove into her harder, hammering home her pleasure while he watched her writhe in ecstasy.
“My darling, I love you,” he moaned into her ear as she felt him swell, bringing her to the brink of climax again, until his own orgasm exploded, and they shared a moment of blinding ecstasy.
Afterward they lay in each other’s arms, and Emma watched the flames in the fireplace rage as her own passion had a few moments ago.
When Fitz pulled her closer, she kissed him softly, on the lips, while she f
elt another spark of what they’d just shared ignite.
Fitz kissed her back, and she said, “I can’t lose you, my darling.”
Emma’s own words startled her. But she did feel fear, a seed of something dark hovering close. Fear of a threat looming over their entire family.
Fitz looked at her, and she rested a hand on his strong chest.
“Annie, you won’t lose me, I promise you. We are safe here.”
“I overheard something today—the staff talking about the precautions we’re having to take to make sure no one gets in here without first being invited.”
Fitz said, “It is true, my Annie, but it’s also one of the inconveniences of being royalty.”
“We’ve never had to do it before. The threats, Fitz, they frighten me.”
Fitz thought for a moment and then said, “How about this? I will review our security plan with my top advisors tomorrow, and then, if we determine it is necessary to add more men, we will do so right away. But please, darling, don’t worry about it. Maybe you and the children should go to France until the danger is completely quashed.”
Emma propped herself up on her elbows. “No, Fitz, we won’t leave you. We are a family, and we will stick together.” She looked down at him and brushed his tousled hair with the tips of her fingers. “I appreciate that you asked, but we’re not going anywhere. Besides, it will raise concerns if your family leaves, and perhaps give whoever is threatening us satisfaction, and perhaps even encouragement, which I will not do.”
“I adore you, Annie. You are the most beautiful, brave, loving, intelligent woman I have ever met.” Fitz pulled her to him, and she felt his passion stir again as he stroked her still-sensitized skin and pulled her to him to make love with her again.
chapter 8
Emma woke with a start, not sure where she was. Fitz was beside her, sleeping soundly. As she recalled the night before, she felt heat rise to her cheeks. Though she understood where she was and who she was, she was also still enough herself to feel strange and out of place, though thankfully she was “in character” enough to experience and understand the fear Anna-Maria must have felt for her family, as well as the threat to the life she led as Queen of Belgium.
“Good morning, my love,” Fitz said beside her. “I trust you slept well.”
Emma snuggled closer. For a brief moment, the image of Peter drifted in front of her, that morning at his home after they made love for the first time. Quickly, she pulled herself back to the current timeline. “I slept like a baby. How about you?”
“I did too.” He smiled, but the smile did not quite reach his eyes.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“No, nothing,” he said, and then kissed her gently. For the first time, Emma didn’t believe him.
Fitz swung his legs out of bed and started pulling on his trousers. “After church today, let’s take the kids and go for a picnic on the grounds. We haven’t done a family outing in a while.”
It was Sunday, and typically this day offered a slight reprieve from Fitz’s duties, though not often. The past months had been incredibly busy, and then there were the threats.
Emma shoved the thoughts from her mind. She needed to focus on why she was here, and why she’d been drawn to come back to this lifetime. Her cousin was convinced there was more to the story, an element or clue that could affect her present day life. Though Em still wasn’t convinced, she decided to give it one more day to see if she could discover what it was.
After the service, which was held in a small chapel on the grounds because Fitz felt it was not safe for them to go to the cathedral quite yet, they set out for a picnic. The cook had prepared a basket brimming with sandwiches and a variety of sweet breads for the children. The grounds seemed never-ending, and Em wondered how Fitz could possibly secure such a huge property.
She pushed the thought from her mind and continued walking, her skirts swishing through the grass. It was a surprisingly warm fall day, with clear blue skies stretching as far as the eye could see. Emma was still getting used to a world without cars or planes. No buzzing phones, no instant anything. It was wonderfully peaceful.
They walked across a small, narrow, but well-constructed bridge to an open, green area bordered by colorful flowers. Fitz spread out the blanket while the children ran and played across the bridge.
Emma watched them for a moment—and then a premonition stole her breath, and a chilling dread trickled up her spine and almost choked her.
Something was terribly wrong.
chapter 9
Emma woke suddenly and looked around.
She was back in her apartment, back in 2017, and it was dark. She was on the couch, covered with a blanket. No doubt by Peyton. The apartment was still, but the traffic noise and the sounds of voices outside made it clear she was no longer in the 1800s.
“You were out for a long time.” Peyton said, making Emma flinch with surprise.
Her cousin handed her a glass of water, and Emma took a quick sip.
“I-I guess I was. Wh-what time is it?”
“After eleven. You were out for seven hours. But I assume you were there for longer.”
“True, time is different when I’m in past life mode.”
Peyton nodded and sat down, “Want to tell me about it?”
Emma felt cold, but it wasn’t from the apartment. It was a warm summer night. It was the cold trickle of dread she felt while Fitz carried her, only now it seemed even worse. So much worse that she wanted to go back immediately, but then realized another element was stopping her. The truth. She didn’t want to see whatever was awaiting them next.
“It was great. He’s wonderful.” Emma recalled the night of their lovemaking and her cheeks started to burn.
Peyton patted her leg, “I can only imagine. You seemed, eh, caught up.”
The burn quickly heated further, “Oh, God, did I talk through it?”
Peyton laughed, “No, no you didn’t, but I could tell. At one point, you moaned.”
“Great. Then you know I slept with him.”
“But as his wife. Was it easier this time? I mean, to recall your life?”
“It was. I still felt a dual sense of myself. I was me, but I wasn’t, so it was easier, albeit still a little confusing.”
Peyton tilted her head, “How so?”
“I still don’t know what the threat is or was. All I know is Fitz was very concerned about it, concerned enough to keep the children inside the royal compound, and we never even went to a regular church. Everyone had to stay on the property.”
“We could Google it,” her cousin offered.
“I can’t, not yet. I feel like whatever it was, it was horrible.”
“Is that why you came back before you got the whole story?”
Emma nodded and pushed up off the couch to pace around the room.
“I can’t stand knowing something awful happened to them. They were a rare, beautiful, very loving family, and Fitz, was…I can’t even describe what an amazing husband and father he is.”
Emma walked over to the window and looked down at the street, missing her children and Fitz desperately. Then she reminded herself they weren’t her children. Well, they were, but not really.
Hundreds of years ago, a different woman, who happened to look a lot like her, gave birth to them and loved them as she had loved Fitz, but now they were all dead and gone. Her children were nothing more than a memory she’d walked through, a glimpse of a time long past.
Emma steeled herself against the need to close her eyes and let her past life take over again. She needed a break, and she’d learned a long time ago that obsessing about a life already lived wasn’t healthy or productive.
“Em,” Peyton said quietly, “I think it’s important for you to find out the rest of the story.”
“I will
,” Emma promised, “but not tonight. I need to hold onto the image of them—a loving, happy family—for a little while longer.”
chapter 10
It was a sunny summer day in Belgium. Peter was enjoying a morning run, reveling in the feel of his feet hitting the grass, his leg muscles propelling him forward, the cool morning air on his sweaty skin. Part of him, a large part, wished he could keep running, as far away from the mess that was his life as he could get. But life as he once knew it was over.
His mind drifted to Emma, and he fumbled the next steps, almost came to a stumbling halt, but he kept going, pushing himself to cover more ground.
Emma.
Her name echoed through him. He missed her so much. He ached to call her, simply to hear her voice. Even that little bit of comfort would help everything else seem almost bearable.
He circled back around the extensive grounds and across a small, narrow bridge to a grassy area surrounded by flowers—one of his favorite spots. He would often find himself drawn to this place, to spend wonderfully solitary hours thinking about what he wanted to accomplish with his life. He spent hours here reading when he was a boy, and it was always the last place anyone thought to look for him. The bridge, he assumed, was several hundred years old, an example of remarkable craftsmanship that time and the elements hadn’t worn down.
Peter sat on the grass and thought about Emma. He pulled his phone from his pocket and thought about texting her. He started typing a message, but stopped mid-sentence. What was the point? To prolong the poor girl’s pain, and his own? He erased the message and shoved the phone back in his pocket.
Last night he and Alexandra officially announced their engagement, and he’d given her an engagement ring. Not the one belonging to his great, great, great grandmother Anna-Maria, who was married to Fitz, one of the greatest kings and greatest tragedies Belgium had ever known. Giving his Romanian fiancée that ring would have broken his heart yet again. That ring belonged on Emma’s hand.
A Royal Affair Series: Book 1, 2, and 3: A paranormal, time travel, royal romance Page 12