by Geneva Lee
“I was the one who proposed,” Edward pointed out. He’d made a promise when he asked David to marry him. He didn’t take that lightly, but he’d done it when he had no idea about the threat looming over his family. It was possible that whoever was behind the attacks on his brother and father had only been after Alexander. Edward had almost convinced himself as such until Belle had fallen in love with the wrong man. Smith Price, now her husband, had proved his love for her but the secrets he’d revealed had shown that Alexander’s paranoia had been warranted. Most of this had been kept from David. In truth, Edward knew very little. His brother hadn’t been eager to share his information with anyone. Despite everything, Alexander still believed it was his role to martyr himself for the sake of his family. What bits of information Edward was privy to didn’t paint a clear picture. Edward had proposed in good faith and that faith had been slowly stripped away over the last year.
“Yes,” David said, drawing his attention back to him, “and if you’ve changed your mind…”
It took a second for Edward to process what he was saying, but then realization dawned on him. David thought this was about him. How could Edward reassure him otherwise when he couldn’t tell him the truth? Alexander had commanded secrecy, and since he wasn’t sharing news of the investigation with his own wife, he couldn’t breach his trust. “This isn’t about you. Or us. It’s—”
“Then marry me,” David cut him short.
“I will,” he promised, but David shook his head.
“Now.”
“But the wedding and…”
“Everyone will be here for Christmas. Everyone we care about, and if your brother doesn’t have the authority to marry us, no one does. I don’t need a big wedding, I just need you.”
Edward’s heart melted a little at the sincerity shining in his brown eyes. He’d made this man wait for him to be ready for years. “I want to, but there are laws.”
“Sod the laws.”
“I am the Prince of England,” Edward reminded him dryly. If something happened to Alexander, the throne would have to pass to him until Elizabeth came of age. He had to consider his place and responsibility.
“You will always be the Prince of England.” There was an implication in David’s words that Edward didn’t want to consider. “That’s not going to change. If you feel that you can’t be both Prince and my husband, then maybe it would be best if…”
David absently twisted the ring on his finger, and Edward’s heart twisted along with it. Was this really what it would come down to? Choosing between the man he loved and the legacy he’d been born to? It occurred to him that this was how Alexander must have felt when he fell in love with Clara. Although the two had faced scrutiny, scandal, and danger, they’d continued to choose each other. Why couldn’t he do the same?
“Yes,” Edward said.
“Yes?” David repeated questioningly.
“Yes, I will marry you.” Grabbing him by the shirt, Edward drew him roughly to his body. Their mouths crushed together, the air around them charged with an electricity that he’d only felt in his arms. He had shielded himself from it in recent months, trying to keep him safe from unknown enemies by putting distance between them. Now Edward knew he’d only been hurting them by doing that. The love he felt for him transmuted into an intense longing that grew as the kiss deepened. Loosening his grip on him, Edward’s hand slipped lower until he found the hardening bulge through David’s jeans. David moaned against his mouth as he began to stroke through the thick denim.
The two had always given and taken, each a generous lover, but today Edward wanted to erase any doubts. The idea that David had ever questioned his love wrecked him, and he felt compelled to show his love exactly how much he loved him. Breaking away, he met David’s chocolate eyes for a moment before dropping to his knees. Only a selfless act would be enough to show him, even though he took an immense pleasure in performing it. His fingers slid David’s zipper down nimbly, and in one practiced motion, Edward freed his cock from the confines of his shorts. It fell heavy and hot into his hands, and Edward began to caress his length as he brought its broad crown to his lips. His mouth closed over the tip, allowing his tongue to swirl languidly until he swallowed it deeply into his throat. David groaned, his hands fisting in Edwards hair as he continued to suck.
“That feels so fucking good,” David grunted as he began to rock against Edward’s mouth.
They fell into a rhythm and Edward felt his own dick begin to ache. He couldn’t stop himself from shoving his hand down his trousers to stroke it as he continued to pleasure his lover.
“It turns you on to have my cock in your mouth, doesn’t it?” David growled.
Edward nodded, taking David deeper. He responded by thrusting harder, his balls slapping against his chin, as he fucked his throat. Edward felt the first clench of his own balls, even as he nearly gagged on David’s length, and when the first, hot jet shot against his throat, his own release broke free and coated his palm. He licked his shaft as he released him, and David sighed with pleasure.
“My turn?” David asked huskily as he helped Edward to his feet. Edward grinned sheepishly.
“I might have already…” he trailed away as David spotted his sticky hand.
“I don’t mind a challenge,” David promised him before he crushed his lips to his. When he broke away, they were both panting and rock hard. “Maybe we should take this show to the bedroom before Mrs. Watson comes in and has a heart attack, though.”
Edward chuckled at the thought. Balmoral’s housekeeper had been in tenure since he was a boy. She was a grumpy, old hen who complained about everything from her arthritic hip to the quality of the village’s clotted cream. She had welcomed David with open arms, but she was getting up there in years. The two had already decided that all of this Christmas’s house guests needed a gentle reminder not to let her catch them doing anything too shocking. Although it might be easier to lock the fragile Mrs. Watson in her quarters instead of relying on the discretion of any of the couples.
“Lead the way,” Edward encouraged him, and David took his hand.
It was beginning to look a lot like Christmas.
7
In Smith's experience, a phone call from Georgia Kincaid never meant good news. The woman's presence in his life could be most easily described with comparisons to natural disasters. Like hurricanes and tornadoes, she was an inevitability that could not be avoided. No matter how prepared you were.
Smith bypassed valet parking. It was a service he only used in the presence of Belle, whom he wouldn't dare make walk more than a few feet into a building. When he had the option, he generally preferred to keep other hands off the steering wheel of his Bugatti. Even as a grown man, he didn’t like to share his toys. He found a particularly secluded spot marked no parking, pulled in and got out of the car. His mobile would alert him if any wanker tried to tow it. That seemed unlikely given the close quarters of London garages and between his smile and his wallet, he could have a boot taken off in no time.
The Westminster Royal hotel was known for ensuring the privacy of its guests. He paused at the revolving door and nodded in greeting to the bell man as he adjusted his tie. Another married man might think twice about meeting a woman, who wasn’t his wife in a hotel, but if Belle found out that he had done so, her first concern wouldn't be with the fact that he was meeting up with Georgia. She would never suspect an affair. Instead, she'd interrogate him as to what intelligence he'd gathered. In that regard, he had a united front with his wife. He'd kept her in the loop as much as possible once he'd realized she was the first person in his life he could trust. At times, it had been necessary to keep her in the dark, but she'd always understood that. Still, he preferred to not bother her with any information unless it proved to be of vital importance.
The small bar off the hotel's lobby was relatively busy for a weekday afternoon, but with Christmas only a few days away, more people were taking off work to see to their final
holiday shopping. On one hand, this meant their conversation was more likely to be overheard. On the other, it was far more likely that everyone here would be too preoccupied with their own chaotic to-do lists to eavesdrop. He didn't have to look hard once he stepped inside the bar area.
Even with her back turned to him, Georgia stood out in the crowd. Long, black hair swung well past her shoulders and judging from how she flipped it with a toss of her head, she was in the midst of a flirtation. It was the seductive combination of Georgia's looks and her charm that made doors open for her. It was also what had made her a formidable assassin once. Those days were behind her now. Like Smith, she'd chosen to go legit when it became clear that their mutual employer was mixed up in a political game that could destroy them all. Smith had acted based on conscience, but he didn't dare believe that Georgia had acted out of anything other than self-interest. Her beauty may have gotten her behind locked doors, but her survival skills had kept her alive on more than one occasion.
He strode toward her and waited until she finished flirting with the bartender. She paused, winking at Smith so quickly that he almost wondered if he'd imagined it.
“I'm sorry, I have to take this to go,” she told the other man, nearly sounding as if she meant it. Smith knew better. Picking up her rocks glass, she tilted her head to a table in the corner.
“That's lucky,” Smith said dryly. Given how busy the bar was, it couldn't have been chance that secured a perfect location for a clandestine meeting.
“I rely on many things in my life,” Georgia told him. “Luck isn't one of them.”
He gestured for her to step in front of him, never mind the fact that Georgia Kincaid was as far from a lady as a woman got. Chivalry must observed. As she sashayed toward the table on four-inch stiletto heels, he noted her strength and confidence. After the attack that had nearly claimed her life a year ago, he'd wondered if she would change. Some things were different now. She had a new job and respectable connections, and, as far as he knew, she'd given up certain unsavory side employment along with her new life. It didn't feel prudent to ask her. Still, despite the veneer of self-confidence, he knew the truth. Smith had seen the scars. He'd read the medical report. Abortions. Suicide attempts. No one would guess the darkness that shadowed her life by looking at her. Georgia’s past was as big of a contradiction as she was herself. One moment, she was the most commanding presence he'd ever seen and in the next, she was begging to be dominated. In public she ruled, and in private she submitted, and the face she wore, even to those who knew her best, only hid the pain of her past.
She took the seat against the wall. It was a wise choice. She could see everyone in the room that way, he thought, but it left him to take the chair with the partially obscured view. Georgia always had the high ground. She was always protecting herself.
“So, what's going on?” Smith asked as soon as they were seated.
She swirled the amber liquid in the bottom of her glass and shrugged. “Can't an old friend call someone for drinks? It is Christmas time.”
“I had no idea you'd developed a sentimental streak,” he said.
A waiter appeared at the table and took his drink order. Georgia raised an eyebrow as soon as he disappeared. “A club soda? Are you pregnant?”
Annoyance shot through him. She had no way to know what a sensitive subject she'd broached, but he gave her a tight smile. “Everyone changes, I don't need to tell you that.”
In truth, he hadn't discussed his recent sobriety with anyone. Belle had noticed, but kept her mouth shut. During his time employed by Hammond, he'd reached all too often for the bottle. It had been a habit of his father's as well. Now that he was attempting to be a better man, drying up seemed like a good idea. He didn't feel the need to explain this to Georgia, and she didn't press him on it. That was why their relationship worked.
“I've been given a new assignment. One that I think you'll find interesting.” She tapped her fingernail on her own glass.
“I thought you were going professional these days,” he said, tipping his head in thanks as the waiter delivered his club soda. “I’m not on the Crown’s payroll.”
Was this why Alexander had asked him to keep an eye on her? Did he suspect she would share classified intelligence as soon as she saw it? He’d agreed to do so because Alexander had insinuated that it affected the safety of his wife. He, like Belle, wanted to be in the loop. After working for Hammond he understood the importance of knowing gossip before it became fact. Still, he couldn’t stomach being dragged back into the affair. If Georgia was no longer on the right side of the law, he wasn’t certain he wanted to know. It would force him to choose between his longtime allegiance to her and his promise to Alexander.
“I’m still a good girl—for the most part. But given the importance of this topic to the both of us, I felt it understandable to share.”
He froze, his glass midway to his mouth. There was only one shared interest that would send Georgia calling upon him.
“I'm out,” he reminded her. The night that Hammond had died, Smith had gone to kill him himself. Instead, he had walked away after Hammond had delivered a pardon to his adopted son. He had informed Smith that they were all pawns in a much larger game, but since Hammond had been burned, Smith was off the hook. All he had to do to ensure his own safety, and his wife's, was to mind his own business, and he had for the last year. Now both Alexander and Georgia were trying to drag him into the fray once more.
“No one's ever really out,” Georgia murmured.
“I am.” Smith's voice was firm. Getting involved in whatever she was investigating would only lead the wolves back to his door. He’d have to speak with Alexander and make his wishes clear. He respected the man’s compulsion to protect his wife, but now Alexander would have to respect his desire to do the same. He wouldn’t risk Belle to protect Clara.
“You don't care then about the people we lost—about everything we gave up?” she asked. Incredulity was not an emotion that she wore often. It looked as out of place as if she had shown up in a rainbow jumper and pigtails.
“Why are you surprised?” he asked. “I only ever wanted to get out. I wanted my life to be my own. It is now.”
“They tried to kill you and your wife,” she reminded him.
“Hammond tried to kill my wife,” he told her. There have been no more attempts on Belle's life since the last time he spoken with the dead man. That was proof enough to Smith that the threat had died with him. “I'm not interested in revenge.”
“Suit yourself.” She drained the rest of her drink and placed her empty glass back on the table. “I'll continue to look into this.”
She had always had a much stronger need for revenge than Smith but she'd also faced horrors he hadn't. Whatever ghost drove her to pursue revenge were her own to appease. Still he was curious, even if he didn't plan to take action. He had always wondered who was been behind Hammond and his anti-Royal conspiracy. It had been a shock to find out that his ex-employer wasn't the one pulling the strings. The true mastermind had stayed in the shadows, hiding himself so well that this was the first time Georgia had seemed genuinely optimistic in a lead.
He couldn't help but bite. “So, once you have him, will it be the Crown's justice or your own?”
A coy smile snaked across her lips.“I haven't decided yet.”
“You'll get yourself fired.” Or worse, he thought to himself. Then again, there were those in high places who might feel inclined to help her out in a pinch—if for no other reason then to protect their own anonymity. If she ever decided to sing the tragic aria of her past, Smith knew there'd be more than a few well-known names included in that melody. “I pity the man when you find out who he is.”
“Oh, I already know.” She fluttered her lashes, looking anything save innocent.
Leave it to Georgia to drop that bombshell after he'd already sworn his neutrality. Asking for a name couldn't hurt. Could it? The chances that it was anyone Smith knew seemed unli
kely, and given she was half the people he cared about in this world—or even spoke to for that matter—he predicted no feelings of betrayal.
“You're dying to know, aren't you?” she guessed when he remained silent.
“It won't change anything,” he assured her. He'd made his choice. It was up to Alexander and his men now to concern themselves with this matter. So long as Smith and Belle were of no interest, he held none of his own. “It won't matter.”
“Somehow I think it will,” she said.
He took a long sip of his club soda, wishing, not for the first time, that it had a higher alcohol content. Or for that matter, any alcohol content. He kept this thought to himself.
“Who is it?” he asked at last.
“We're waiting for confirmation,” she prefaced.
He shook his head. She was just teasing him now. She’d gotten him to ask and she wanted to enjoy making him wait. Whatever information they had was enough to catch Georgia's interest. He knew she didn't act rashly, which meant the evidence was damning.
“Who?” he repeated, uninterested in continuing her cat and mouse game.
“Some rising star in Parliament,” she said.
“Why would that concern me?” Smith had never been particularly interested in politics. It was a useless fascination that distracted far too many intelligent men. Bureaucracy was a tool for those who preferred red-tape to productivity. “I probably couldn’t name a single member of Parliament.”
“That's what I thought when I first heard,” she said, “but as I learned more about him, I found the connection.”
“What connection?” he asked slowly. She hadn't called him on a whim. That much he knew. If he was sitting here it was because she had information that would catch his attention.
“He recently bought an estate. Seems he's trying to gentrify himself. We've had a few analysts profile him in an effort to see if he's capable of what we think he's capable of. I didn’t need to wait for their reports. I’ve seen him. He is.”