The Princess Royal (Royal Romances Book 2)

by Molly Jameson

“Not really. When I read ‘international playboy’ I thought you were more of a James Bond sort.”

  “I’ve got plenty of birds like me as I am!”

  “Super. You ought to go find them now.” She said. “I don’t want this to drag on, Magnus. Please.”

  “I’ll not be tossed over by some bitch in a crown.”

  “It’s a tiara. Pink diamonds from the Argyle mines of Australia.” A voice came from the French windows. “If you don’t wish to be tossed over by the bitch in the crown, how about at the hands of a commoner? I’ve no qualms that a bit of defenestration might set you up nicely. Teach you manners.” Phillip said, brushing his hands together.

  “Easy, mate.” Magnus said, putting up his hands. “We were having words is all. Liz gets a mite uppity when she’s on her drink.”

  “Right then.” Phillip shucked off his bespoke jacket and set about unfastening his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves. “Here, Liz.” He said. “Hold these. They were grandfather’s and I’d hate to get blood in the engraving.”

  Magnus darted back to the ballroom. Lizzy put a hand over her mouth to cover her laugh.

  “He’s not going to stop running till he gets to Hampstead, Phillip. What’s got into you?”

  “I didn’t like how he spoke to you.” He said.

  “I thought you were going to slap him with your glove and ask him if he prefers pistols or swords.”

  “Nothing wrong with a duel. Completely effective way of settling differences.”

  “Yeah, it proves who’s right and who’s dead.”

  “You never have to have the same argument twice that way. It’s efficient.” He said. “On a more serious note—“

  “More serious than death?”

  “Yes. Was Magnus often that way with you?”

  “Which way?”

  “A complete arse.”

  “Ah, no he was quite a lark at first. I went round with him to spite Father, you know. He wanted me to go out with that beastly Latvian prince.”

  “So you taught your dad a lesson by making an even worse choice for yourself?”

  “I thought it would be all roulette and topless beaches.” She shrugged.

  “I’m fairly certain you’re not allowed to shrug in a tiara. The royal bones interred at Westminster just rolled over.”

  “I’ve given them quite the workout I imagine.” She said. “By the fourth or fifth time he tried to get me to try something he’d seen in a porno I was finished with him.”

  “He sounds a right bastard. Wish I had hung him up by the ankles.”

  “Thank you, Phillip. I’d have been fine on my own but it was nice of you just the same.”

  “That isn’t how you persuade a man to donate to your cause. You’re supposed to flutter your lace fan and say you nearly fainted and thank him for coming to your rescue.”

  “Right. Silly me. I don’t seem to have a lace fan about me. I do have lace knickers on. I suppose I could wave them.” She said and he grinned.

  It was the first time she’d seen him smile all night, which wasn’t surprising since his fiancée had jilted him. He had a nice smile, she thought, really nice. Somehow, she wished she could have five minutes in a room with Amanda his former bride-elect. Five minutes in a room with no security cameras.

  “I’d rather get out of here,” Lizzy said.

  “Would you like some company?”

  “Yes. Maybe cheer us both a bit. I’ve finished with Magnus and you recently dodged an unfortunate marriage. Want to go have a tattoo?”

  “That’s actually the first time anyone’s ever asked me.” He said. “I reckon at school they thought I was too straight.”

  “So do you want to?”

  “Emphatically yes.”

  “Let’s go then.”

  “This sounds the most fun I’ve even thought of having in a while.”

  “I can be relied upon for fun. Most of my mistakes are a delight at the time,” Lizzy said.

  “My mistakes are drab and I’m sick of thinking of them. I’d rather make one of yours for a change.”

  “Take me to my place so I can change. It’ll take me five minutes. Ten at the most with this corsetry on.” She said.

  “Where do you live?”

  “Oh, okay. You don’t know? Pop round to the back at Kensington Palace.”

  Phillip dropped her off and said he would wait in the car.

  “It’s not as though it’s a sacred space. It’s just my house. I bet yours is bigger.”

  “It is bigger, but not nearly so grand. It’s new.”

  “So it’s got better heating, I suppose, and the plumbing lacks that quaint rattle when you flush.”

  “We do have whisper silent flushing. You should visit sometime.”

  “Come inside!”

  “I’ll wait here.” He said and she bounded into the house as quickly as a woman encumbered with that dress could bound.

  Chapter Two

  She was back quicker than he had thought possible. It was quite the opposite of a Disney film. This princess came out looking decidedly like a tourist, or at least a Sloane with enough money to dress in tatters intentionally. She wore a pair of cut-off denims and a bright top with a ratty cardigan, her face bare and her long dark hair pulled back.

  “I’d have been quicker but one of my grips stuck and I thought I’d pull myself bald. The press would be thrilled at that.” She said, scooting into his black car.

  Phillip finished rolling up his sleeves and looked at her.

  “Uh oh. Rolling those up. Are you planning to defenestrate me then?” She asked.

  “Not at all. Thought I was a bit formal for a tattoo shop.”

  “What do you think you’ll have?”

  “I’ve never had one.”

  “Surely you’ve thought about it. Here, this was my first one.”

  Lizzy thrust her right wrist at his face so he could see the tiny horseshoe inked there in black.

  “I got that when Pemmy passed away.” She said, surprised at the emotion in her voice ten years on.

  “That’s a nice one.” He said.

  “Father took away my driver for that. Said I’d no business defacing the property of our great country. Evidently my very skin belongs to the British people.”

  “Your skin belongs to you alone. Why a horseshoe?”

  “Pemmy taught me to ride. ‘Course she was my only grandmother, being as how the queen died before Father married Mum. It was a treat to spend summers at the lodge where Mum grew up, away from the scrutiny. Pemmy taught me to curry the horses and pick their hooves long before she’d ever let me ride. I had to prove myself every step to be able to ride eventually. She really expected a deal out of me.”

  “I recall you leaving me in the dust when I went riding with you.”

  “I liked to race then, liked to show off is more like.” She said. “If I rode with you now, I wouldn’t leave you behind.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Pemmy treated me like I could do hard things. Like I didn’t need to be kept on a shelf and dusted so I didn’t break.”

  “I suppose I could get a meaningful symbol like your horseshoe. Let me see, my dad made all his money out of those automated soap dispensers you find in public toilets. Perhaps a dapper soap dispenser tattoo. What do you think?”

  “Better just get the toilet. It’s more recognizable. Plus what if the artist can’t draw a credible soap dispenser? You’d be forever answering questions as to what it was.”

  “True. I suppose I had better keep thinking. I went to Eton. Hated every minute of it. I could have the three lily flowers from the arms.”

  “Quite manly, that.” Lizzy said.

  “Or the three roses from Cambridge.”

  “We do have a bit of a nancy-boy shield system here. I must speak to the king, as the arms of our finest educational institutions are totally unsuitable for tattoos.” She said. “My second one is on my ankle. Just here, see?”

&n
bsp; “What does it say? As I’m still driving I cannot look over long enough to read your leg.”

  “It says ‘She’s mad but she’s magic. There is no lie in her fire.’”

  “It sounds exactly like you.”

  “It’s from a poem about a writer who kills herself after her lover leaves her.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever read a line that perfectly described me.”

  “Let me think on that one—“

  “No, don’t. I’m half afraid to hear what you think of me. I might choose a questionable Chinese character. I could ask for ‘courage’ and wind up wearing the symbol for lo mein.”

  “Better to steer clear of foreign symbols you don’t know. Although I can help with a bit of Mandarin.”

  “Truly?”

  “Yes. Spanish, French, Mandarin, and Greek. They had me learn a great many languages and now they spend ever so much time trying to get me to belt up.”

  “I learned French, but only because of the rumor that it helped with the ladies. I’ve never had much luck despite knowing French though.”

  “I reckon you order off French menus beautifully.”

  “That I do. You’ll want to tell me where to take you as I’m not familiar.”

  “Clerkenwell. There’s a studio there that’s quite discreet. I messaged already and we’ll have a private space. Don’t want anyone snapping a picture with me in my knickers.” She said.

  “All right?” She said.

  “All right?” He said.

  “I do mean it, I wonder how you are.”

  “I’ve been knocked about but I’ll come through well enough.”

  “That’s a terrible answer.”

  “You’re after the truth of it, then? The girl I pledged my heart to couldn’t be arsed to tell me she would rather take her chance at a one-off with a royal than spend her life with me.”

  “I hope she bloody catches fire. Fucking slag. She’s total bollocks.” Lizzy said.

  “Ah, the truth comes out now, away from the silver and the toffs, you sound just like a commoner! As for Amanda, I gather you’re suggesting I don’t choose her name for my tattoo.”

  “Correct.”

  “What will you have?”

  “This.” Lizzy showed him a picture on her phone of a long vine with roses on twining up the model’s bare side. “Only, do you think it ought to stop right where hers does or go on up to the side of the breast? That way, if my gown shows a bit of the side, there’s this leaf peeking out.”

  “I think I ought to look at the road, Liz.”

  “I hate that. Don’t call me that. As your sovereign, I forbid it.”

  “You’re not my sovereign. You’re Jamie’s little sister.” He said.

  “Did you like my flower design?”

  “It’s nice.”

  “Nice?”

  “I’m driving. You flash me a picture of a topless model, and nice is the only acceptable thing I could say, I assure you.”

  “You can’t even see her face!”

  “I didn’t notice.” He said and she smacked him playfully on the arm.

  “We’re here, pervy. Just park over the street.”

  “You showed me a model’s tits and I’m pervy?”

  “As your sovereign I decree it so.”

  “Total crap. In you go.” He said, opening the studio door for Lizzy.

  The receptionist took a break from being snooty to the queue of customers and ushered them to a curtained-off space. She handed them a binder of designs to look at and slipped back out front. Lizzy and Phillip stood awkwardly, balancing the large binder between them.

  “Look! Olaf, the small snowman from that film!” Lizzy said. “Father wouldn’t go too mad.”

  “I’m not sure the design is the issue. I think it’s more about having any tattoo at all.”

  “The British people simply must bear with the fact that I’m defacing their property tonight.”

  “Shall we graffiti the Tower Bridge as well?”

  “No, this will be sufficient for now.” She said. “Oh, look, you should have that!”

  Lizzy was pointing to a tree design, the tree of life with a twisted trunk, spreading branches and roots all contained in a circle.

  “You’ve done a bit of work for the environment, I know. I didn’t attend the dinner because—“

  “Because your little sister Beatrice had the short straw when you drew for which of you had to attend?”

  “No, not at all!”

  “You forget, I know the rules already.” He said.

  “Very well. I didn’t want to go. But you’ve dedicated yourself to the environmental cause and you’re also beginning a cycle of renewal so the tree of life with its endless circle is perfect.“

  “I’ll have it if you stop talking about the cycle of renewal immediately.” He said.

  “I saw that on a chat show, about beginning again. I thought it sounded profound.”

  “It’s quite silly. Anyhow, I know I’ve never been in a tattoo studio before, but this looks like a doctor’s examining room.”

  Phillip indicated the plastic chairs and two tables covered with crisp paper, the counter with a variety of sharp tools.

  “I’ll hold your hand.” She said.

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  The receptionist popped her head in.

  “D’you want anything to drink?”

  “Vodka.” Lizzy said. “Two, please.”

  The receptionist returned with two shots. Phillip raised his glass to Lizzy in salute, drained it in one, and she did the same.

  “Another?” The receptionist said.

  “Abso-bloody-lutely.” Phillip said. “I’ve not had a proper drunk since my failed wedding.”

  “Are your mates good for nothing? Edward might at least be counted upon to get you roaring drunk, especially while Jamie's in disgrace, I’d have thought. It falls to the woman’s lot, as most thankless tasks will, then. Who’d have believed when you came home with my brother ten years ago—“

  “Twenty.”

  “Twenty? It’s twenty fucking years since you came to Pembroke? Well then, who’d have thought two decades on that I’d take you for drink and a tattoo? That I’d be the one of us lot to corrupt you?”

  “I could have told you as much that very day, Lizzy. Even then you had that glint of corruption.” He said.

  The receptionist brought in a tray of shots and they had two more each. Lizzy felt over-warm and muzzy. She stretched and paced the small room. She looked at the tattoo photo on her phone again and pressed Phillip for his honest opinion, laying her hand on his bicep wholly unnecessarily again.

  “Truly, Lizzy, it’s a nice tattoo.”

  “Is it unattractive? I want to be rebellious, not ugly.”

  “You could never be ugly.”

  “That is the best thing you’ve said to me since…telling me I was a corrupting influence.” She said.

  Lizzy giggled. Once she began laughing she couldn’t quit, even pressing her hand over her mouth.

  “They’ll think you’re drunk and refuse to ink you, settle down.”

  “They won’t care if I’m drunk. I bet I am! I only ate part of a dinner roll before bloody Magnus took it away.”

  “He took your bread. Why would he do that?”

  “I’m not to gain any more weight. It’s an official directive from Father who thinks I’m grown too stout.”

  “Bollocks! You look perfect.”

  “I—no I wouldn’t say I was perfect, not at all. I do like my pudding and my cocktails a bit more than is healthy. That’s why Father thinks I ought to--”

  “Your father can sod off.”

  “I think that qualifies as treason, when it’s my particular father we’re speaking of.”

  She felt better suddenly, as if the fact Phillip thought her father was stupid meant that there wasn’t anything wrong with her.

  A man entered, his left ar
m encased in a sleeve tattoo of skulls. Phillip stared. Abruptly he put out his hand.

  “I’m Phillip. Good to meet you. Your work is ace.” He said with a grin and the tattoo artist shook his hand and nodded.

  “Who’s to be first?”

  “Ladies first, I always say.” Phillip said.

  “No. Tattoo virgins first.” She said.

  She had thought if she went first he might bolt and not go through with the tattoo but she saw now she’d underestimated his daring.

  “It’s the tree of life.”

  “Placement?” The artist said.

  “What d’you think, Lizzy? My arm?”

  “I think your chest. Here, unbutton your shirt.” Lizzy said.

  Phillip unfastened the jet studs on the front of his tuxedo shirt and shrugged out of it. Lizzy took an involuntary step back. If she had ever taken time to imagine what her brother’s mate Phillip looked like without a shirt (which she hadn’t since the age of fifteen), this was not what she would have pictured. She would have assumed he’d look pale and ordinary. She would have been absolutely wrong on that count. There before her, naked to the waist, was a man who made vain, gym rat Magnus look willowy and girlish. Phillip was just her height, true, but his shoulders and chest were heavily muscled, powerful looking. There was a white wedge-shaped scar below his collarbone on the left side. She stared at it, wondering what it was from and why she was suddenly so taken with it. She had not thought Phillip would have any sort of scar. She’d reckoned he was more predisposed to carpal tunnel syndrome like the corporate sort.

  “Just beneath that scar, I think.” Lizzy said. It had to be the vodka. Nothing but three shots on an empty stomach would make her bite her lip and stare at Phillip’s chest. It was the drink that made her want to put her mouth to that pale scar.

  “It’s warm in here. I’m going to step out for a moment, bit of fresh air.”

  “You’re staying right by my side. You promised you’d hold my hand. I might faint.” Phillip said and held out his hand, not sideways as if to shake hers, but palm down.

  Lizzy reached out and took his hand. He didn’t lace their fingers together, just held her hand palm to palm. His hand was cool and strong, and she sat on a stool next to his chair. She held his hand and watched as Bo, the tattooist, wiped down Phillip’s chest, opened a disposable razor and shaved the area of Phillip’s chest where the tree would go. Phillip remained still, not making insecure jokes about being shaved by another man.