A Royal Affair Series: Book 1, 2, and 3: A paranormal, time travel, royal romance

by Christina George

  Evil.

  He sighed and closed his eyes, focusing on Emmeline, though he tried not to think about her. Because what was the point? Now he couldn’t help himself. He was going to see her again, which was enough to lift his heart from the darkness surrounding it for weeks now. He had ached for her unremittingly, and now...

  Peter drifted off to sleep, still holding onto memories of his beloved Emma. A little while later, when he felt her get into bed with him, he kissed her and whispered in her ear, “I’ve missed you so.”

  Peter felt her body, clad in something silky and, no doubt sexy. He eased the strap off her shoulder and cupped her breast, playing with her nipple. He was so hard it was almost painful to wait to enter her, but he took his time, licking and sucking on her nipple until he heard her moan.

  “Emmeline, I love you.”

  “My darling, it’s me.” The voice catapulted him out of his dream. It wasn’t Emma. It was Alexandra.

  He shoved her away and jumped out of bed like it was on fire.

  Alexandra sprawled back on the bed, half naked, her expression a thin, conniving imitation of sultry. “Let’s finish this,” she purred.

  The moment he realized he’d been dreaming and was touching Alex and not Emma, desire was replaced by horror. This woman had not only allowed it to happen, she’d done it as part of a calculated campaign to make sure her claim on him was irrefutable.

  “How dare you sneak into my room? Even half asleep I found your wiles and manipulation disgusting.” He tried to keep his voice even, but he was enraged and beyond caring about decorum. “Get out.”

  Alexandra propped herself up on his pillow, her dark hair spread out like a fan. “Don’t you think it’s time to consummate this engagement? It’s not hard to tell when a man’s interested.”

  Peter needed a robe. Reaching over to the chair, he yanked it on, pulling the sash tight. “We shall never consummate anything, Alex, ever. Do I make myself clear?”

  Alex sat up straighter, her breasts perfect and bare.

  “Please cover up,” Peter said, throwing her a blanket.

  “No, I shall not. You are my fiancé, and you and I are going to spend our lives together. Do you honestly expect me to remain in a sexless marriage with someone who clearly despises me??”

  At least she wasn’t totally oblivious to what he felt. “Feel free to take a lover.”

  Alexandra narrowed her eyes, “And who will you take? That sorry excuse for a female, Emma?”

  “I would never treat her that way.”

  “Fuck her!” Alex yelled, swinging her legs over the bed and standing to face him.

  “Get. Out,” Peter said again, holding his bedroom door open this time.

  Alex slipped into her silken robe, making a production out of every move and leaving it undone. She flung her hair over her shoulder and then looked directly at him. There it was again, the darkness he’d seen earlier in the office. The look, both evil and menacing.

  “You’re going to regret this,” she said in a strangely different voice. Before Peter could answer, she stalked out of the room and slammed the door.

  chapter 6

  Even though it had been less than a week, Emma knew working for Walter Waldstat was going to be the best job she ever had. Waldstat was a genius when it came to technology, and his tech firm was the star of Silicon Valley.

  He relocated his family to New York this week, in preparation for the company going public. He was also a breath of fresh air for Emma, who was used to working insane hours or being yanked into a client’s personal drama, such as when one celebrity client discovered a picture taken at a less than flattering angle and called her in full meltdown at two a.m.

  Walter did none of those things. He never called her before nine a.m. or after five. He had a wife, a son, and another child on the way. He was clear about his personal priorities, too, and Emma loved it, because it allowed her to have her own priorities. Which mostly consisted of getting home at a reasonable hour or being able to get to spin class after work. In short, the job was exactly what she needed to keep her busy and keep her mind off the events of the past. And Peter.

  When Emma walked into the lobby of the freshly-minted Waldstat Enterprises building on Madison Avenue, the lobby was already teeming with people and she could feel the electric excitement of the company getting ready to go public.

  While she rode the luxurious elevator up to the twenty-second floor, Emma once again thanked her lucky stars—and Peter—for this dream job, complete with excellent pay and no drama.

  “Emma,” Walter said as she stepped off the elevator. “Good morning.”

  “Mr. Waldstat, hello.”

  He shook his head and said, “I’ve told you before: Call me Walter.” From out of the corner of her eye, she could see a young boy, probably about three or so, racing toward them.

  “Daddy!” he yelled, his arms outstretched as he galloped toward them, and he leapt at Walter, who scooped him up.

  “Hello, Matthew.” Mr.—Walter—grinned and kissed the boy on the top of his head.

  “Matthew, I’d like you to meet Emma. Emma, this is my son Matthew.”

  Emma held out a hand and smiled at the adorable munchkin, knowing she was good with kids, or at least she had been with the celebrity kids she’d encountered.

  Matthew had been brought up to take a person’s hand when offered, and he gave her a small shake.

  “Hello, Emma,” he said, then rounded on his father. “Momma said we can go to the zoo later. Can you come?”

  Walter set the boy down. “Of course! I promised you I wouldn’t miss your first trip to the zoo. Now go find your mother, and I’ll see you later today, okay?”

  The boy toddled off down the hall, and Walter returned his attention to Emma.

  “Emma, I’d like you to take a meeting with a few tech reporters later today. They want to know more about our public offering and what’s coming up for us in terms of new product. I’ve ordered a hotel suite at Loews Regency on Park Avenue, and I’ll email you the details momentarily.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better if they come here so I can show them the offices?”

  Walter shrugged and headed for his office. “Maybe,” he said over his shoulder. “Invite them over after the meeting if they’d like. See you later.”

  Emma wondered for a moment about the meeting, then brushed it off and hurried to her office to start her day.

  chapter 7

  Loews Regency on Park Avenue was arguably one of the nicest hotels she’d ever seen, and she’d visited a number of stunning places. Though since she was usually there to solve a celebrity drama or life-altering dilemma (according to whoever she was working for), she rarely had time to enjoy her surroundings. She took the elevator to the top floor and stepped off to see an enormous door. She walked up and knocked, and when it opened, she got the shock of her life.

  Peter.

  “Please don’t be upset,” he said as he stood there looking delicious and handsome. And he was smiling. That beautiful, inviting smile she loved so much. The smile she dreamed about…the smile that slid like a hot knife right into her unprotected heart.

  She stood rooted in the doorway, unable to move as he walked toward her, until finally she wobbled a step or two back when he reached out to her.

  “Please, Emmeline. Please come inside.” She let him take her hand while she felt her breasts tighten, her lady parts tremble, and her head spin when he touched her.

  Dizzy and breathless, she managed to stammer, “W-what…what…are…y-you…d-doing…here?”

  Peter pulled her farther into the room and closed the door behind her.

  “Would you like to sit down?” he asked, still holding her hand. She pulled it back and felt a flare of disappointment pierce her heart when he let her go.

  “No,” she began firmly
, grabbing for shreds of her composure. “I want to know what you are doing here. Walter said I was to meet…” then she realized the press meeting was nothing more than a setup.

  “Don’t be upset with Walter. He wanted to help me because he knows I need to see you, and this was the only way I could think of doing it without causing you more grief if the media finds out.”

  Emma could feel her hands trembling. She hadn’t expected to be in the same room with Peter ever again, let alone being in a room with him and no one else. A room that no doubt had a playground-sized bed.

  She forced the thought from her mind. This wasn’t happening. She needed to leave, and fast, before her hormones took over to do her thinking for her.

  “I need to leave,” she said, and pivoted toward the door.

  As she did, Peter said, “Astrid told me.”

  Emma spun back to him. “Told you what?”

  “About your gift, Emma. That’s why I need to see you. I want to ask you if it’s true, if you believe it’s really true that we were Fitz and Anna-Maria.” He paced away, toward a floor-to-ceiling vista of Park Avenue and the New York skyline, jamming his fingers through his hair.

  “I’ve tried to reconcile it,” he said, still with his back to her, and Emma set down her purse and briefcase in the foyer and walked farther into the room.

  “I tried to understand how it could happen, but the picture of you and me—of us, hundreds of years ago…and now this impossible connection I feel to you. It’s…” Peter continued to stare out the long stretch of windows running the length of one side of the room.

  “It does seem impossible, I know,” Emma said softly. Why the hell would Astrid tell him? she thought. What purpose does it serve for him to know?

  “So it’s true?” He spun back around, looking at her with eyes that begged for the truth.

  Emma sucked in a deep breath and moved closer to him, even though she knew it was dangerous. Being near Peter overwhelmed her heart and her body.

  “I do have the gift of seeing past lives, though sometimes it can be a curse.”

  Peter closed the distance between them and took her hands. “And you can see into another person’s past life.”

  “Not always, but yes, occasionally I can. However, I try not to allow myself to open up when the information tries to present itself most of the time, because it’s distracting and not always helpful.”

  Peter pulled her over to sit on the couch and sat down next to her. “Tell me,” he said softly.

  And she did. She was reluctant at first, but she told him about discovering the gift when she was a child, about how her mother’s own vision took her away from her and her father, and why Emma never welcomed, and rarely accepted, her insights.

  “Then tell me,” he began tentatively, “when did you first know about us?”

  Emma bit her bottom lip. Truth time, she thought. His expression, even his body language, begged her to tell him, to help him understand what they had inadvertently become a part of. But, aside from Peyton, she had never discussed her gift, or its ramifications, with anyone—ever.

  People usually had strong convictions about gifts like hers, and if they were inclined to believe and were at all interested in the subject, they usually wanted to know more for their own selfish reasons, like where their dead uncle had hidden his millions or the winning lottery numbers.

  “I…I knew at the party we went to, the charity event. Which is why I passed out.”

  She heard Peter suck in a breath. “But you said nothing.”

  Emma flung her hands in the air. “Peter, what was I supposed to say? Oh, hey, so while we were dancing, I was transported back to 1867, and you and I were the King and Queen of Belgium, and we were madly in love?”

  Peter nodded. “I get it. Not easy, and I probably would have decided you were either playing games or slightly mad.”

  “See? Now that’s exactly what I mean. People don’t simply nod and accept this kind of information and say, ‘Oh, yeah, I get it.’ Because most of them don’t. At the time I didn’t understand what I was seeing, so I just buried it and tried to forget about it. But your aura, the soul light that surrounds you, was demanding my attention within seconds after you walked into Grandfather’s bookstore.”

  Peter frowned.

  Emma leaned closer and took his hand. “Everyone has a light around them, an aura many call it, yours was—is—white and bright.”

  “Emma, do you sincerely believe it’s true, that we were Fitz and Anna-Maria in a past life?”

  Emma sucked in another long, deep breath and hesitated before she responded. Finally she said, “I do.”

  “I can’t describe it, Emma, but I feel like I know, like I knew when Astrid told me—”

  “It’s impossible to describe, I understand,” she began, interrupting him. “Like knowledge you never knew you had, but when you hear it, it reaffirms something you never knew existed.”

  Peter stood up and started pacing again. “Yes,” he said firmly. “And, to be candid with you, it’s the most profoundly odd thing I’ve ever thought. Past lives aren’t a subject I ever considered. I mean, it seemed like…”

  “A ridiculous, fanciful notion,” she finished for him.

  He shot an apologetic look at her, but she waved away his concern. “It’s fine. I get it. When I first went back in time, when we were dancing, I didn’t believe it either.”

  “Didn’t you already know? I mean, some of this? Since you can see past lives?”

  “You mean didn’t I know about my own past lives? No, I never wanted to. Because for most of my life, I didn’t feel like it served any purpose for me to know. But now…” She stopped speaking as images of Anna-Maria begging her husband’s captors to release him popped into her mind, and she felt it again: Anna Maria’s anguish at losing the man she loved so dearly.

  Emma stood up and blindly headed for the door, trying to collect herself, but it was too late. Tears were streaming down her face.

  “Emma.” In a few long strides, Peter was at her side and pulling her into his arms. “Tell me.” He said it so sweeetly, it broke her heart.

  “I was there when Fitz was taken and the children…and Anna-Maria. It was so traumatic for them, the pain of watching it happen was just—” tears poured out of her now, and Peter pulled her closer.

  “I don’t know why,” she sobbed. “I don’t know why I’m being shown these images if I can’t change anything.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I feel like I need to change the past, to fix this somehow, but I wouldn’t know where to begin. I mean, Fitz was taken, but no one knew where. Most believed he was murdered, but I know with utmost certainty that he wasn’t killed, that he lived, probably for many years, imprisoned.”

  Peter, still holding onto her, leaned back to look into her face. “But that’s impossible. I mean, they searched for him for years, and there was no trail. In fact, his body was found…”

  “Burned and unrecognizable,” Emma finished for him, “in an age when no one knew how to identify burned bodies. His captors presented a charred body, and everyone assumed it was their King.”

  Peter almost stumbled back. “Emma, do you know what this means?”

  She nodded, having found her emotional footing again. “Yes. It means your King probably died of old age or a broken heart, like Anna-Maria.”

  He shook his head, backing away. “Oh, God.”

  Emma slumped, feeling defeated. “This is why it’s so hard. I mean, I have these visions that almost force themselves on me, and yet all I can do is watch helplessly while people suffer.”

  Peter walked back to the window and said, “And we are being forced apart again.” His voice was edged with anger and pain, and Emma knew it was time for him to know the full story.

  She began carefully. “Peter, you should k
now that people often come back in other lifetimes to either finish the work they started or to keep doing the work they did in a past life. Which is why you’ll often see caregivers and doctors who have a long history of helping people. It’s sort of in their spiritual DNA, if it makes sense.”

  She paused before she continued. This wasn’t going to be easy for him to hear.

  “The same is true for a person who has carried on a vendetta or other task their soul feels the need to continue or perpetuate.”

  Peter spun around. “Emma, what are you saying?”

  Emma licked her lips and tried to think of the best way to tell him, “When I was back in time, I was Anna-Maria. I was there, watching, while Fitz was taken by men. They all wore masks, but one of the men, the leader, his mask fell off so I could see his face. More than that, I could see his soul. And I’ve seen him again in this life.”

  Peter looked at her, unable to speak, “Wait. What?”

  “It was Alexandra.” Emma watched while Peter’s face sparked with something, something she knew meant he already suspected on some level.

  “My God,” he let out a breath. “You mean she was, in the past, one of the men who kidnapped Fitz and took over Belgium?”

  Emma said, “Yes. The kidnapping gang’s leader.”

  “The other day,” he ran a hand over his jaw, “I saw something in her eyes, something pure evil, but I wrote it off as her being a raving narcissist. But now…”

  “Eyes are windows to the soul,” Emma said softly.

  “Alexandra…” his voice trailed off.

  “And now she’s going to win again,” Emma said, her own words stabbing her heart.

  Peter stepped over to her and took her into his arms. “No,” he said firmly before kissing her.

  And there it was again, the treacherous feeling that they were meant to be together.

  chapter 8