Little Bird (Anna Series Book 2)

by Lee Alan

  “Good morning, madam,” Corey said, already awake. She smiled and arched her back, while pushing her arms out across the cream silk sheets of the canopied bed.

  You’re getting married today, by the way, kiddo. The implication lanced through her mind like fire, cutting off the lazy yawn. “Holy fuck, Corey, we need to get up!” She threw the sheets off them both, exposing herself. ”What time is it? Did we oversleep?”

  “Relax, it’s only six AM. The transport isn’t here until three. We have plenty of time.”

  “Plenty of time my ass! Get up!” She nudged him harder than intended.

  His use of the phrase “transport” had also triggered more stress–inducing uncertainty. ”What do you mean by transport?”

  Corey made a locking gesture with his thumb and forefinger over his lips before throwing away the invisible key. Huffing, she decided to switch tactics, and Anna pushed her breasts out toward him before giving her most alluring “come get me” eyes.

  “Please, Mr. Young?” she said, giving them a firm jiggle. Corey’s grin grew at the display.

  “Your evil Devil’s dumplings will not succeed in making me spill my secrets, foul temptress!” he cried, tickling her. “And in His Majesty’s bed! Shame on you, wanton hussy!”

  She screamed with laughter at the unexpected onslaught and threw her head back onto the pillow. “Foul temptress? Devil’s dumplings? How dare you, sir!”

  “Fouler than the foulest hag, madam!” He continued the tickling.

  “Stop it! I’m going to pee the bed!”

  “Never!”

  “Quit!” Her tone became firmer.

  Having the good sense to do just that, Corey let go, leaving her panting with sudden exertion. “I’ve got an early wedding present for you,” he said, the smile returning.

  Anna forgot about the manhandling. “Show me! Please, Corey, pretty please.” The bouncy boobs were back. To her surprise, he placed a newspaper in front of her: the Arizona Herald. After reading the bold headline, her initial disappointment at the sight of such an ordinary item faded. “Fracking case collapses amidst claims of corruption.”

  The more she read, the more elated she felt. Vaudrillion Corporation had withdrawn their application to exploit the Tonto Forest, due to “procedural irregularities.” That was just the official line; the paper went on to lay out the damning case against Peterson and Moyer, referencing her article. The Herald also quoted several extra sources of their own, including the Attorney General’s office. A full investigation was now in progress.

  “You did it, honey! You beat those fucking assholes,” Corey said after she dropped the paper onto the bed in stunned amazement.

  “So, the Tonto National Forest is safe?” she asked.

  “They couldn’t even pick flowers, and it’s all because of you.”

  “Woohoo!” she yelled, bringing his lips to hers.

  As they made love once more in the glorious sunshine, she thought about the gift she’d brought with her: the one that would change both of their lives forever. But however tempted she felt to tell him right then, though, she’d promised herself to wait until the moment of their marriage. I’m going to make you so happy, my man. Just you wait.

  After finishing their unplanned activities, they showered together, and then changed into matching dressing gowns each bearing their own embroidered initials. She noticed with a thrill that her own read AY, rather than AP.

  At eight AM sharp, the real business of the day began with a loud knock on the door.

  “Here we go,” Corey said, taking a deep breath before answering the persistent rapping.

  A man dressed in a red velvet suit with frilled–lace sleeves stood before Corey. Behind him stretched a long line of staff. He remained in the doorway, ignoring the groom. Instead, he gazed intently past Corey’s shoulder toward Anna. After what seemed an age, the stranger waved Corey aside like a bothersome child and strode into the grand apartment with feminine black hair bouncing around his shoulders.

  “My dear, this brute would only allow a mere four hours to complete your transformation!” he declared.

  “Four hours is…” Corey started to object, his cheeks reddening.

  “Shame on you!” the black haired man interrupted him. “What would you know? You’re a man!” he said before turning his attention to Anna.

  “Anna, this is—” Corey started, until the flamboyant man raised a single finger to silence him.

  “My darling, I am Lawrence Mcloughlin, and my quest is to make you a princess,” he said with a bow.

  At a loss for words, she could only manage a simple, “Hello.”

  “Hello, indeed,” he replied with a smile, before placing a finger of contemplation on his chin. He gazed at her with pursed lips.

  After an awkward second, Lawrence clicked his fingers, and the troupe followed him into the room before gathering around Anna. Each member of the team stared at her as one might a challenge. She gave them a self–conscious wave while considering calling Corey for help.

  “My apologies for the abrupt introductions, my dear, but we simply don’t have a second to waste,” Lawrence said before gazing around the room. This brought a frown to his otherwise smooth features. “Where is the head bridesmaid?” he drew the words out in his rich, English accent.

  “Oh, er, Claire is staying in another room,” Corey said, sounding like a naughty school boy. “We’ve not had chance to catch up with her, yet.” A stab of guilt shot through Anna as she realized they’d neglected her friend in all the excitement of the previous day.

  “Well, man, bring her on! For goodness’ sake, this is a wedding, not a shin dig at a barbecue pit!”

  Anna couldn’t help but smirk at her fiancés discomfort when dealing with the overbearing stylist. “I’ll go,” Corey said before scurrying off to fetch Claire and Hermon.

  “Be quick about it!” Lawrence shouted after his retreating billionaire client. “I’ll wager he wanted to keep you in his clutches as long as possible,” Lawrence said. “Men are such pigs!”

  This is going to be a long morning, Anna thought, giving him a wan smile.

  Ten minutes later, Corey returned with an overwhelmed–looking mother and son. Anna managed a passing greeting before they were also whisked away by the makeover team. With that, Lawrence gave the now–sulking groom a lecture about bad luck and then ordered him to prepare elsewhere. Corey stalked off after being allowed to give her only the briefest of parting kisses.

  ***

  Anna didn’t recognize the woman gazing back at her from the regency mirror. Lawrence had said he would transform her into a princess, but now she could see he’d meant it literally. The dress was a vision of ageless, flowing beauty. Cut in a traditional style, the design would’ve been familiar to the original residents of the room she stood in. The neckline was low, giving her cleavage an ample aspect that accentuated the healthy weight she’d put on in recent weeks. For good measure, Lawrence had painted a beauty spot on the left; on the right, he’d placed a small, red heart.

  In addition to the precious stones lining the seams of the stunning dress, the accompanying necklace and earrings were of the finest natural pearl. They glistened against her skin, like the tears of a moon goddess. Small ribbons and gemstones adorned the loose locks of Anna’s hair. The pale foundation applied to her cheeks had been lightly rouged, and her eyelashes were dark, giving her eyes a deep quality, like an ocean in which a man could drown. Her veil shimmered in the light, delicate and ephemeral.

  “What do you think?” Lawrence asked with obvious concern as he inspected his work with the rest of his team. Evidently, he worried more about the standard of his work than insulting the man paying his fee. The following silence made his staff shuffle in anticipation.

  “I don’t look like a princess,” Anna said at last, and Lawrence’s shoulders dropped like a man defeated for the first time, “I look like a queen.”

  Lawrence stared up at her, his green eyes filled with hop
e once more. “Is that good?” he asked, the fussy comic tone gone.

  “Princesses are for kids, but I’m a woman.” She paused as a single tear running down her cheek. “Thank you, Lawrence. Thank you for making me feel special.” Anna could see from the way he dabbed at his eye that she wasn’t the only one touched by the moment.

  “Don’t thank me, thank your fiancé,” he said.

  “He’s a good man,” she agreed while he applied a tissue to her mascara to stop it from running.

  “Trust me, my dear, any man who pays a fee as high as mine really does love his bride.”

  The sound of tiny running feet interrupted them. ”Wowee – Look at you, Anna!” Hermon shouted with excitement. He’d been dressed in a blue drummer boy jacket, inlaid with gold thread and silver, embossed buttons. A little white wig sat above his delighted expression, and his costume left no room for doubt that this was to be a themed wedding. “Look at me, I’m a pirate!”

  Anna laughed, not having the heart to tell the kid that he looked more like a soldier.

  “Shiver me timbers!” she replied, much to his further joy.

  “You look far too elegant for pirate talk,” Lawrence observed.

  Claire followed shortly after Hermon in a gown almost as stunning as the bride’s. Her black curls were hidden under another elaborate wig, and again, her gown looked designed to accentuate her cleavage and hips. Even under the makeup, though, Anna could see that she looked tired and perhaps also angry. She wondered if it’d been too much to ask of her new friend, who was clearly unused to such pampered decadence.

  “You look amazing,” Anna said, hoping to trigger a conversation. She felt terrible for spending so little time with them since their arrival. She’d assumed Claire would understand under the circumstances, but perhaps that’d been a mistake.

  Before Claire could respond, though, another polite knock at the door interrupted her. One of Lawrence’s team members opened it, and a bell boy stood there with his cap removed in a gesture of respect. “Madam, your carriage awaits.”

  Surprised, Anna looked at the oak grandfather clock beside the fireplace. Her tummy flipped to see that it was exactly three PM.

  “Are you ready?” Lawrence asked. She took a deep breath and then nodded.

  Dazzling flower arrangements ran along the corridors of the Nightingale as the entourage passed. She lost count of the different types of species on display: blood–red roses, blue spotted orchids, and white chrysanthemums.

  They approached the entrance to find a golden banner raised before them. It read “Mr. and Mrs. Young.” She’d expected to find the Rolls waiting outside, bedecked for the occasion, but instead, a sleek, open–topped carriage greeted them. A pair of kissing silver doves etched on its side, provided the only decoration upon its mirror–like surface. The driver, dressed as a uniformed servant, waited for his passengers.

  A stunning pure–white stallion stood in front of the carriage. His strong haunches shone in the crisp winter morning. Anna noted with delight that the ribbons woven into his braided mane matched those in her own hair.

  “Woohoo!” Hermon exclaimed. “I’m Lord Hermie of Arizona!” Claire had to restrain her son before he could run through the hotel entrance and to the carriage ahead of the bride. A crowd that’d gathered outside to witness the spectacle laughed to see the boy’s antics.

  Anna stepped through the doorway with as much grace as possible, despite feeling like her legs belonged to someone else. A gasp emerged from the waiting crowd as she emerged and descended the stairs to the street. The driver tipped his hat toward Anna before hopping down from the bench, ready to assist her, Claire, and Hermon into the carriage. Just then, Anna heard hurried footsteps approaching.

  She turned to see the red–jacketed figure of Lawrence hurrying to her side, before thrusting a simple bouquet into Anna’s hands.

  “We nearly forgot!” he said, as if speaking of a crime. “Could you imagine your wedding photos without the bouquet? My reputation would be ruined!”

  Anna rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I don’t care how much he’s paid you—it’s not enough.”

  Lawrence beamed at the high praise.

  Getting in proved a daunting prospect, considering the elaborate dress, but the driver provided a discreet lift into the cushioned interior. The tourists applauded on completion of the tricky move, and more than a few pulled out phones to capture the moment when the mysterious, yet beautiful bride set off on her journey. Claire and Hermon followed her lead shortly after, prompting more than a few comments about how cute he looked.

  Feeling obligated to show her appreciation, Anna waved at the onlookers, who rewarded her with even warmer clapping. Some shouted out words of encouragement while one comic called out, “Don’t do it!” The latter caller received several disapproving looks from the female members of the group as a result.

  With much pomp, the carriage set off with a pleasant clip–clopping. The following journey was much shorter than expected. Instead of heading into the city, they rolled through the Green Park toward the river bank. Soon, they passed under the mighty clock face of Big Ben.

  “Hey, Hermie!” Anna called to the kid, who stared around him in wonder while clutching his mother’s hand.

  “Hey, Anna!” he shouted back.

  “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “That’s Big Ben.” She pointed up at the iconic tower.

  The boy gave a disbelieving snort. “A clock called Ben? No way, that’s silly!” He laughed.

  Not long before, Anna had seen a huge cathedral on their right and wondered if it was their destination. The carriage, however, continued toward a signpost labelled Westminster Pier’

  They approached a section of the river bank where a host of people gathered, and it soon became obvious why, for as the wharf came into view, so did the wedding barge. The contoured white hull of the vessel stood out in stark contrast to the black carriage. A silver bird with outstretched wings sat upon its prow above the name The Royal Swan. A burly line of professional–looking oarsmen in red jackets manned both sides of the boat. The rowing team had raised the oars on the port side to allow access for the shore party to embark.

  “Is that my pirate ship, Momma?” Hermon asked, hopping up and down with excitement. “Is it? Is it? Momma?” He tugged his unresponsive mother’s dress for an answer.

  “It sure is, Captain Hermster!” Anna replied when Claire didn’t.

  Why is she so off? Anna thought, speculating that perhaps Claire had been married before. Is it a jealousy thing? Her growing concern had to wait, though, because the carriage pulled alongside an ornate boarding ramp. A group of wedding guests already mingled on board, sipping champagne and making merry. Like her, they’d dressed in the high fashion of the 18th century.

  After being helped down again, a second retainer in a blue uniform greeted them at the wide ramp.

  “It’s a good thing this baby has a rail, ’cause I’d sink like a brick in this dress!” she said to Claire while they boarded in an attempt to lighten the woman’s mood.

  “Aha.”

  We fly your ass on a free holiday and all I get is “aha,” Anna fumed inside. She suppressed the ugly emotion, though, reminding herself of what a jarring experience this must be for the young mother.

  They’d spent a great deal of time together over the previous month since their first outing, and there was no doubt that she’d developed an affection for the damaged woman, despite her reservations. In truth, she had to admit that Claire and her adorable son had started to fill the void in her life since the death of Julia.

  She had proven to be the kind of friend she’d been looking for since her loss: kind, loyal, and uninterested in her wealth. Even so, she’d learned little about her new companion. Claire had clammed up whenever Anna had asked about her past. One day, at the Estate while Claire had briefly left them alone, Anna had asked Hermon a few discreet questions about his family. After noting his
horrified reaction, though, she’d changed the subject, fearing her friend would take offense at such obvious snooping.

  A cool breeze and the approaching sound of laughter made her focus again. As she did so, the attention of those on the wedding barge switched to her. A polite applause broke out, and ladies she didn’t recognize curtsied while giggling at the novelty of the situation. More than a few gazed at her with envy, while gentlemen seemingly from a bygone age toasted her with crystal glasses. Guessing that they must be some of Corey’s many business friends, she looked for a familiar face, but gave up after a moment, without success.

  Her escort led Anna to the stern, where a heart–shaped throne carved from pure–white wood stood before her. On its surface were hers and Corey’s intertwined married initials. Holy shit. He hasn’t actually made me the Queen of England, has he? she joked to herself.

  She smiled and nodded at the guests, doing her best to get into the moment, despite her crushing nerves. After being seated on the cushioned dais, though, she realized her groom was missing from the happy picture. Anna scanned the surrounding guests for his handsome features before turning to the footmen who’d shadowed her since they’d embarked. “Erm, excuse me, where is Co—Mr. Young?”

  He smiled and gave her a mysterious wink. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Does that mean we’re not getting married on the barge?”

  “No, madam.”

  Holy shit

  A group of overdressed servants unlashed the barge from its mooring and pushed it into the current. A minute later, the rowers lowered their oars into the river and rhythmically propelled them downstream.

  They proceeded with majestic pomp toward Tower Bridge and the intimidating Tower of London. All along the river bank, large crowds began to gather to point at the passing spectacle. The guests continued to mingle as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

  As they glided past the intimidating battlements of the Tower, she noticed an ancient water gate built into it walls. The gloomy portal was bricked shut now, but she realized it must’ve once provided direct access to the river. The barge drew opposite to reveal a name above the disused entrance: Traitor’s Gate.