Capture Me (Royals Saga: Smith and Belle Book 3)

by Geneva Lee

  His words ripped through me, coiling around my limbs and constricting for a split second before the pleasure filtering into my veins flooded through me. I threw my head back, bucking hard against the incredible pressure building, and screamed his name. My fingers clawed at his shoulders, seeking leverage, as the world shook around me. Or maybe I was the one shaking. It was impossible to tell. Smith took over, thrusting violently inside me until I felt the warmth of his climax.

  When I finally dropped limply against him, he kissed me until the aftershocks of my orgasm had faded. “I could watch you all day.”

  Neither of us moved. We just lingered in the moment, still joined as one.

  “I’m looking forward to seeing you come every day for the rest of my life,” he said with a smirk.

  I kissed it off his face, already feeling a familiar stirring in my belly. “We should have put that in the vows.”

  “An oversight,” he agreed. “You’ll just have to take my word for it. Will you?”

  “I will,” I whispered.

  Smith’s mouth found mine, our bodies already moving in unison as we sealed our promises to one another.

  Chapter 23

  Belle's voice carried through the corridors as she shifted from humming to singing. She was back in the kitchen after a disastrous attempt to whip up a post-coital Christmas pudding late last night. I made a mental note to hire a professional chef before she burned down our house.

  I thought I would never hear that sound again. Happiness. Walking to the kitchen, I paused in the doorway to admire her as she stirred a bowl full of questionable contents. No doubt I would be forced to eat that later, but for now the sight made me smile. If I’d been told yesterday I would be standing here now, I wouldn’t have believed it. Maybe there was something to the idea of Christmas miracles.

  The peaceful scene was interrupted by the vibration of my mobile. There was no one who had a reason to call me on Christmas Day, save for the woman standing a few meters from me. Whatever business had to be attended to I didn't want her to overhear. Not while her joy was still based in the fragile hope that better times were in store.

  Striding back toward the study, I checked the screen. A surge of adrenaline rolled through me as I read the name flashing up at me.

  This wasn't going to be a Happy Christmas call.

  “I assume you aren't calling with best wishes,” I said as soon as I accepted it.

  “Unfortunately not.” Alexander's tone was clipped. Neither of us wanted to be on the phone today, especially not with each other, which meant he must have really bad news.

  “Whatever it is can wait,” I stopped him. “You should be with your family.”

  “Believe me, I will be. But you're wrong. This can’t wait. I just received word that Hammond’s appeals have been granted.”

  My hand tightened over the mobile, afraid it would slip to the ground. It was taking a considerable amount of restraint not to throw the fucking thing across the room. What happened to the good old days when you could throw your enemies in the Tower of London? It certainly seemed that the tourist attraction might have a much better use. But this wasn't a laughing matter. This was life and death. “What happens now?”

  “The House of Commons will commission a council to vote on the charge of treason. It’s likely they’ll overturn it, based on my impressions of the House ringleader. Apparently MP Jacobson doesn’t find the evidence compelling.”

  “Jacobson?” I repeated.

  “Do you know him?” Alexander’s surprise was evident.

  “He’s Belle’s neighbor. We went hunting.”

  “Maybe it’s time you had another friendly jaunt with him,” he suggested dryly.

  There wasn’t time for that. Jacobson hadn’t been shy about his anti-Royalist sentiment. It didn’t shock me to learn he wanted to see the whole case dismissed. I could try to change his mind, but experience had shown me that men with power weren’t always malleable to outside opinions. I couldn’t risk Hammond returning to his home and his sources. Even with an armed guard and surveillance, his connections could be enough to get his dirty work carried out.

  “When are they releasing him?”

  “They already did, Smith,” he said in a measured tone. There was a long pause. “He was released into protective custody under Parliament’s orders. I can't touch him. More than a few voices are disputing the treason charge. They aren’t even treating him as if he's under house arrest. My sources tell me he left his cell without so much as an ankle bracelet.”

  Both of us were waiting for the other to respond. One of us had to have a plan of action. But I wasn’t going to drag Alexander into mine. If he had one of his own, it was clear he shared the same sentiment.

  It had only been a few days since I’d received a very different call. I’d celebrated the news of Hammond’s arrest, only to have my heart ripped out. Sitting on the other side—knowing he was free—didn’t grieve me. I’d been prepared to take charge of the situation before his arrest and I was still prepared to do so now.

  Belle’s gentle voice rose into a trilling soprano, loud enough that I could hear her all the way from the kitchen. The calm determination I’d felt morphed into a consuming obsession. Hammond had been released and the woman I loved, the woman he tried to have killed, was singing carols over the hob. Maybe my vendetta was as misplaced as her domesticity, but I wasn’t going to wait to find out.

  Darkness swirled around me, threatening to overcome me. It would always be that way. My life—my mistakes—were a storm waiting for the perfect conditions, and now they were here. The past had caught me in its cyclone and it would destroy everything in its path.

  There might be time to get a security detail for her. But she would resent it. I resented it for her.

  "Are you there?" Alexander's voice drew me back to the mobile.

  "Sorry," I said, my mind still absent.

  "I'm sending over one of my men."

  "I hope you won't be offended if I refuse."

  "I trust him with my life."

  "You haven't always judged correctly on that front." The joke came out flat, because there was too much truth to it.

  "I trust him with my daughter's life," Alexander said in a soft voice.

  It was supposed to mean something, but I didn't have a child. That possibility had been stolen from me along with everything else. But I understood the value he placed on his wife and child. “I don’t want her to know. It’s Christmas.”

  “I understand.”

  Considering the secrets he’d kept from his own wife during the course of this investigation, I knew he empathized with my position.

  “He’ll be there soon, and I promise she won’t think a thing of it.”

  At least there was no way he could deliver worse news. I hung up the call and wandered toward the kitchen. Belle had thrown on one of my undershirts. Her nipples poked through the thin fabric as she skated around the kitchen, gathering ingredients and grabbing spoons. She glanced up, a huge smile splitting across her face. It lit up the room.

  All I wanted was to see that smile every day. I would have to settle for knowing that she was smiling, even if I couldn’t be there to give her a reason to. I’d do whatever I had to in order to make that happen.

  "Are you ready to taste test?"

  "Sounds like a dangerous job." I wouldn't tell her, I decided as I grabbed a stool and took my place at the kitchen island. It was Christmas, and all I wanted was to see her happy today. I couldn't take it from her so quickly after she'd finally found it.

  "This time I'm using a recipe from my secret arsenal."

  "You have an arsenal of recipes?" I asked as incredulously as possible.

  "Well, I have a friend who is a professional chef. She emailed me this and said it was foolproof. I’m not certain I believe her. It’s a funny color.” She waved her spatula as she spoke, showering me with batter and immediately dissolved into a fit of laughter as I wiped a spot off my nose.

&n
bsp; "You missed some." She drew her thumb over my cheek, but before she could move away, I hooked an arm around her waist, drawing her between my legs.

  "You have some on your face," I told her, trailing my lips down her jaw.

  "I do, huh?" she asked breathlessly.

  "Lots."

  "You better clean me up." She wiggled her eyebrows saucily.

  "My job is to get you dirty."

  "If you insist.” There was nothing innocent about the way she said it, but I knew differently. She was pure and true. I wouldn't allow anything to happen to her.

  “Will that keep?” I asked her, emotion growing thick on my tongue.

  “It should.”

  I doubted that, but I wouldn’t be here to eat it. In a few hours’ time, when it was ready to come out of the stove, she wouldn’t care if it had turned out or not. By then she would know I was gone.

  It was selfish to stay here with her now, but I needed to soak her in. There was no point in committing each part of her to memory. She was already there. I could close my eyes and summon her in my thoughts, each inch of her carved forever into my soul. Right now I needed to feel her.

  The delicacy of her wrist in my hand.

  How right it was when I had my arms around her waist.

  The warmth of her slender body.

  I needed to experience her one last time.

  I searched for a way to tell her how I felt. I love you wasn’t enough to convey how I felt about her. She had challenged me to be more than I thought I was capable of being. The change had been gradual, my sense of purpose evolving along with our relationship. Now I was inexorably bound to both. I couldn’t walk away from my duty any more than I could stop loving her.

  I’d promised her forever, but I’d lied. A future together was never mine to give her. I could only give her my love and the possibility of a life lived without danger. Removing Hammond was the first step in achieving that.

  Removing myself was the second.

  Dying for her seemed like a pretty good way to go in the grand scale of things. But that didn’t make it any easier to walk away now.

  “Uh-oh.” She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “You’re thinking.”

  “That’s a crime, huh?” I swatted her on the ass playfully, trying to draw her attention away from my momentary lapse.

  “With you it can be. Care to share, Price?”

  “I was thinking about how much I loved you,” I admitted.

  “And?” she pushed.

  “That was the general thesis. I love you. I worship you. Wondering how I can worship you more.” All of it was true. I was just leaving bits out. Someday I wanted her to look back and remember my words, not my distance. If I only had an hour to give her, I needed it to last a lifetime.

  “I have a few ideas.” Her fingers slipped past my waistband to fondle my stiffening dick. Her hands were cold and I was hot, and everything about the moment—the love and the grief, the gift and the sacrifice—made me want to mold her body against mine. She tipped her face to mine, her eyes shining with hunger. As I stared into them, I wondered how much time I’d wasted on twisted scenarios when all I’d ever needed was her. She was my home. I’d fought that. I’d tried to contain her and my feelings with restraints and dominance, but the truth was that when I was inside her, she was my undoing. I’d spent so long trying to capture her in every way that I’d failed to see how she had captured me.

  “Take me.” The request fell sweetly from her lips.

  “Forever, beautiful.” My mouth angled over hers, and we collided, our bodies fighting to be closer together, as if we both sensed the inevitable. Each kiss was a tiny rebellion—each touch a moment of immortality. As I slipped inside her, rooted possessively to her center, she released a breathless battle cry, calling me to war.

  Chapter 24

  Christmas afternoon brought not only a renewed sense of peace but also Edward and his friend to the door. Smith answered, obstructing my view of our visitors. When he stepped aside, I gawked at the unfamiliar man at Edward’s side. Maybe the holiday wasn’t going to stay serene after all. But since I’d recently learned to wholeheartedly subscribe to the “guilty until proven innocent” philosophy, I opted to drag Edward into the house without accusation.

  I peeked over his shoulder at the red-wrapped package. “Is that for me?”

  “Of course not,” he said, his mouth curving at my pretend dismay. “I brought this for Smith.”

  “Cad,” I accused him. Reaching around his waist, I snatched the present from him.

  “It’s nothing spectacular. Considering I’d pretty much given you up for dead until a few days ago, I didn’t do a lot of shopping.”

  I wagged a finger at him. “I fully expect that when I do die, you will bring presents to my grave, so don’t make that mistake again.”

  “Like a shrine?” He shook his head, laughing. “Have you met Alexander’s buddy, Brexton Miles?”

  Brexton hadn’t moved from the window. His hands were shoved in his pockets. He had a nonchalant air to him I didn’t quite buy. It was pretty apparent that he was uncomfortable being here, which led to the obvious question: why had Edward brought him? And not David?

  But even though I wasn’t in the market I wasn’t oblivious to Brexton’s well-chiseled physique or the handsome face put on display by his shortly clipped hair. If I recalled correctly he had been in Afghanistan with Alexander, which made him a military man. So why was he here with Edward now?

  My stomach rolled over. I had been gone for a long time. Edward had been reluctant to set a date and although his fiancé had scored minor victories on that matter, I’d suspected he was dragging his feet. Now my best friend was here with another man—a really, really hot man. I needed to get Edward alone for a major interrogation, but that was going to be easier said than done.

  “I think so,” I said hesitantly. “You were at the engagement party.”

  “And the wedding,” Brexton called over, “but I don’t think we officially met. I noticed you, of course.”

  There was a casual arrogance in his words that might have appealed to me before I met Smith. Now I could only hope it didn’t appeal to Edward.

  “Quiet neighborhood,” Brexton remarked to Smith, turning his attention back to the street outside our home.

  Smith abandoned his coffee and joined him, and soon the two of them were absorbed in small talk. Grabbing Edward’s arms, I hauled him into the kitchen.

  “It’s not that kind of present,” he teased. “You can open it in front of your husband. Of course, I suppose I owe you a really embarrassing hen party gift.”

  “I didn’t have a hen party.” I dropped the package on the counter and rounded on him.

  “I wasn’t the one who ran off and got married in New York without telling anyone.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I can throw you one now.”

  “I don’t care about the hen party. I want to know what you’re doing at my house on Christmas day—”

  “Now I can’t visit my best friend on Christmas?” He crossed his arms and glared at me over the rim of his glasses.

  “You didn’t let me finish,” I snapped. He was not going to change the subject. “Why are you at my house with another man?”

  His eyebrows knitted together as if he was having trouble processing my question. I could practically see the realization dawning on him. I wasn’t asking him, I was accusing him.

  “It’s not like that, and I’m going to give you a pass for being paranoid because people have been trying to kill you lately.” Judging from the flatness of his voice, he wasn’t teasing me now.

  “Then what is going on? What would you think if Smith showed up at your house with another hot blonde?”

  “I’d wonder why Smith was at my house at all.” Edward grabbed me by the shoulders and leaned down so that we were eye level. “David went to visit family for Christmas. His grandmother isn’t all that keen on me.”

  “Homophobe,” I m
uttered, instantly angry on his behalf.

  “Actually, it's because she’s Scottish. She wouldn’t care if he was shagging half of Manchester United, but she doesn’t want him marrying into the English royal family.”

  My own husband’s Scottish heritage accounted for a similar sentiment. Thankfully he’d gotten over it quickly. The tension between them was bad enough. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t be in the same house as both of them.

  “And Brexton?” I prompted. “It’s all well and good that David can’t be here, but does he know—”

  “That I’m spending the holidays with Alexander’s army buddy, who is also a well-documented womanizer?” Edward pushed his glasses up, shooting me an incredulous look in the process. “He got the memo.”

  Taking a deep breath, I realized I was faced with two options. “I guess I can keep grilling you or I could open my present.”

  “Presents always win.” He picked it up and shoved it into my hands.

  Inside the small box was a petite coin purse emblazoned with the word “Mrs.”

  “Is this your blessing?” I asked, blinking rapidly in a failing attempt to keep tears at bay.

  “I saw it and I thought of you, so I guess I must be used to the idea.” He brushed his thumb over my cheek. “You’re turning into a romantic on me.”

  “I have something in my eye.” Turning away, I tucked it back in the box. There were no words to express what his acceptance meant to me, so instead I whirled around and launched myself into his arms.

  Edward caught me. Hugging me tightly, he whispered, “Please give me a heads up in the future.”

  “I don’t plan to get married again.” There was no possibility of it actually. Smith was it. I’d mated for life. If we could survive the last few months, we could get through anything.

  “So be it, but there’s nothing else you want to tell me…” he prompted.

  I dropped my head to the side and stared at him.

  “What do Americans call them? Shotgun weddings? Am I going to be an uncle again?”