Cross Me

by Geneva Lee

  “Or maybe Clara,” I said darkly.

  His eyebrows lifted. “That would be an ill-advised stance to take. Particularly if you want to touch her again. I assume you didn’t insinuate that this evening.”

  We both knew that I couldn’t keep my hands off her. Norris was the best at pretending not to notice rumpled clothes and mismatched buttons and freshly yanked hair, but he wasn’t stupid. He also knew me well enough to know why I’d spent the afternoon in bed with my wife. It was something we’d never had to discuss. He just seemed to understand.

  My anger ebbed into a dull frustration. He had a point, and we both knew it. It wasn’t Brexton’s fault. It wasn’t Norris’s. Or Clara’s. “It’s my fault.”

  “There was no way to know what would happen. You can’t spend your life expecting the worst,” he said. “And neither of you can spend your marriage making power plays.”

  He misunderstood me. I wasn’t to blame for not being there or for fighting with her over her security. I was to blame for not overruling her when I knew what was best for her safety. “But I have to plan for it. She’s not going to like it, Norris. But we have to increase security or...”

  “You can’t lock her away,” he said, guessing what I was thinking. “Perhaps a dedicated team chosen by yourself and your wife would help to ease her into an increased security presence.”

  “I need you overseeing the entire family’s security,” I mulled aloud. “I’ll want you to attend any events she has scheduled, but day to day, I need you.”

  “Even I can’t be in two places at once,” he said dryly.

  “Georgia got her out of there. Perhaps—”

  “She’s not going to like that.” There was warning in his voice.

  I was well past caring. I would do anything to keep her safe. “I’d hire the devil himself to keep her safe. She’ll get used to it.”

  He didn’t argue with me. He would later. Clara would, too. We had all known this was coming. We’d never defeated the darkness that plagued this family. It had only retreated for a moment. Now it was sweeping towards us—all of us.

  “And the rest of the family?” he asked.

  “Edward is coming home. I’ll brief him, but there’s no need to wait. I want dedicated security on each of them. All hours. People we trust explicitly.”

  Norris’s jaw clenched as if it was hard to hold back his opinion. “The usual family then?”

  “No,” I said with a shake of my head, choosing my words with a meaning only he could understand. “All of my family—seen and unseen.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  CLARA

  Alexander had become even more unbearably paranoid, a feat I wouldn’t have thought were possible if I wasn’t experiencing it firsthand. For the last week even my movements inside the palace had been tracked. There were more security guards than ever before. At one point, I thought I saw one of the cooks wearing a gun holster. I wouldn’t put it past my husband to arm everyone down to the gardeners. Despite my unofficial house arrest, there was one bright spot: Edward had returned to London.

  Part of me felt horrible that his honeymoon had been cut short. The other part of me—the selfish part—was glad to have the company. Not that I had seen much of him yet. He’d been laying low with David as he prepared to move into the new house Alexander had gifted him. If I felt like I was under scrutiny at the castle, it was nothing compared to what Edward was facing on the streets of London. Paparazzi were following him and David’s every movement. It was one of the perks of being the most recent Royal to wed. They were also pestering him for details about last week’s attack.

  Not that Edward had any answers. None of us did. That was probably what was driving my husband so crazy. But regardless of what we did and didn’t know, he couldn’t keep me here forever. The first few days I’d been more than happy to stay home and process what I’d experienced. Now things were getting out of hand. If I didn’t put a stop to it, there was no telling how far X would take this.

  Alexander was leaving our bed earlier and earlier each morning and taking meetings and calls later and later each night. I’d had enough. As I stepped out of our private quarters on my way to tell him that, Norris met me in the hall.

  “Your Highness,” he began, but I held up a hand to stop him.

  “If you’re going to tell me to go back to my rooms, I’m afraid you aren’t going to like my response.”

  Norris had always been an ally, which was why I wasn’t telling him the response rattling around in my brain at the moment. It included a few choice American words coupled with a few choice British words. None of them were ladylike. None of them were suited to the vocabulary of a queen. I didn’t give a fuck.

  He mustered a slight smile, shaking his head. He knew better than to try to convince me that Alexander was right. Probably because Norris often thought he was wrong, too. “I’m here to tell you Prince Edward is here to see you.”

  “Finally! Where is he?” My eyes darted around Norris as though he might be hiding Edward behind his back.

  “I’ll take you to him,” Norris offered.

  My excitement grew as he led me through the castle’s long corridors. It wasn’t going to solve my problems. I still needed to talk to Alexander. But if I couldn’t go out into the world, at least the world was coming to me. It also meant there would be a friendly face around. Edward always sided with me over his brother. I could use the back-up.

  He had been shown to one of the formal sitting rooms. One of the parlors we reserved for entertaining important dignitaries and diplomats. Occasionally, we used it for larger family gatherings. It seemed a bit grandiose for a meeting between best friends. Was X keeping everyone but top level security out of our private rooms now? We seriously needed to talk. Edward looked ridiculous sitting alone in the giant room, but the smile that lit up his face when I rushed into the room filled the whole space. We collided in a fit of giggles, hugging one another. I couldn’t tell if I was just really happy and therefore prone to laughing or if I was going quietly mad and likewise prone to laughing. I trusted him to tell me.

  Edward backed up a step, grabbing my hands and turning them over in his own.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Checking to make sure you’re all here. Thank God, you still have ten fingers.” He pulled me into another hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  “Don’t start,” I warned him. “Your brother is bad enough. I can’t take one more overprotective prince in my life.”

  “Too bad for you. If you’d wanted to stay a common tart”—he winked at me—“then you shouldn’t have married him.”

  “I probably would be having more fun, if I hadn’t,” I grumbled. It had been our joke when Alexander and I were only dating—a nod to the trashy tabloid headlines that had followed my every movement during that time. I’d been called a gold digger, a commoner, and worse. It still raised my blood pressure to think about it.

  “Earth to Clara,” Edward said, taking my hand and leading me over to a stodgy divan upholstered in silk damask.

  I gave him a sheepish grin. There was so much to tell him. We needed a catch up, and I wasn’t certain where to begin. Some of my news was big—Edward still didn’t know I was expecting—and some was garden variety gossip. “Sorry, I’m not used to getting to talk to people.”

  We took a seat and Edward turned, casually throwing his leg over the antique furniture as he gave me a sympathetic nod. “Is he that bad?”

  “Remember my honeymoon?” I said flatly. “Or lack thereof.” We hadn’t had a honeymoon. We’d been dealing with the aftermath of his father’s death. Alexander had shut me up inside these very same walls. It had nearly ended our marriage before it began.

  “That bad, huh?” Edward whipped his horn-rimmed glasses off his face and wiped the lenses with a cloth from his pocket. “Speaking of honeymoons—”

  “I’m so sorry!” My hand flew to my mouth. Here I was complaining about my husband’s behavior,
and my best friend was listening after being forced to abandon his own honeymoon.

  “No one needs a month-long honeymoon,” Edward said seriously. “David wanted to come home. We wanted to be here for you.”

  “If I were you, I would have stayed. It’s a circus here,” I warned him.

  Edward didn’t need the warning. He was used to the sideshow that was his birth family. He’d grown up with it. He, unlike me, had a much better grip on this kind of thing. I was glad he was here now to help me through it. When Alexander shut me out, it helped to have a sympathetic ear.

  “Alexander asked me to come home,” Edward confessed.

  I sucked in a breath and tried to digest this information. Alexander had barely spoken to me since that day. It wasn’t that he was angry with me—he was obsessing. He’d stumble into the bedroom exhausted. We’d make love and he would fall asleep. I could set my watch to this new schedule, and I didn’t like it. I’d gotten updates from Norris and Brexton, but hardly any from Alexander himself. Probably because there wasn’t much to know. The intel that had warned our security teams about the attack had led to a dead end. Now Alexander seemed to be checking under every rock in London, knocking on every closed door, and reading every security file held by SIS and MI5. “He needs to learn to let other people do their jobs.”

  “He sees his job as protecting you,” Edward said sagely. He squeezed my hand, which was still in his. “So he’s keeping you locked away?”

  “You know how he is. Especially with the baby,” I whispered. Edward had guessed our secret over the holidays, even Alexander didn’t know that he knew.

  Edward leaned back, shaking his head as he let out a low whistle. “Can you blame him for acting crazy? You’re pregnant. I lost my mind when I heard the rumors you’d been there.”

  “I keep telling him that it was all a bizarre coincidence. Hardly anyone knew I would be there, but…”

  “He’s not letting you out of his sight, is he?”

  “He seems to content to know that I’m in the house. That’s why I’m so glad to see you.” I turned a pout on him. This was where he came in.

  Edward held up his hands in surrender. “I’ll do what I can, but I’m not promising you anything. You’re the one he listens to.”

  If that was true, then this was hopeless. Edward seemed to sense what I was thinking. He looked around the room and my gaze followed his, taking in the outdated fashions. “I don’t think this room has been redecorated since before I was born. You know…”

  “Are you suggesting I spend my time redecorating?” I asked, unable to keep a note of distaste from my voice.

  “There are worse ways to spend your time.” Edward continued to study the room as though plotting exactly what he would do with it. He was welcome to focus on interior design. It was one of his strengths. My strengths lay elsewhere. It was time to make a plan of my own.

  * * *

  I had a plan by afternoon tea, which was when I remembered we had guests coming for dinner. Guests who were the perfect, if unwitting, accomplices to my new scheme. I had purposely forgotten to remind Alexander that his grandmother and uncle were coming for dinner, knowing he’d purposefully forget and stick me with entertaining them. I might have also told his secretary to leave it off his official schedule. I did, however, take the opportunity to send him a note reminding him his brother was home and that I expected to see him at seven sharp.

  Edward and I spent the afternoon in my closet, plotting what I should wear into battle. I’d let him in on the bare bones of my plan. Then we called Belle and put her on speaker phone. Smith had swept her away to the Scottish countryside, so she couldn’t join us. It would have been nice to have more backup, but I understood. If I had the option for a normal life and babymoons to the country, I would have seized it.

  By 6:30, Edward was helping me put the finishing touches on my makeup. He passed me a tube of red lipstick, but I shook my head, a wave of nausea rolling through my stomach. I had worn that shade that day. It was the one Georgia had commented on. Edward didn’t notice I was upset. Instead, he began rummaging through my lipstick drawer until he found a more muted option. The nudish-pink worked well with what I had chosen to wear. Somehow, despite only a week passing, my baby bump had grown even more pronounced. Most of my clothing did little to hide it. I’d warned Edward not to mention this while we were on the phone discussing options with Belle. I still wanted to tell her in person. It was the only perk of being locked away at home. No one here was taking photos of me and disseminating them on the Internet. No bump watch sites were poring over my wardrobe. It was a small victory. I stepped away from the mirror and studied the wrap dress we had decided on. The cobalt blue was shockingly bright and hard to ignore. More importantly, I felt powerful in it, and that was what I needed now: to feel powerful. I was going into the lion’s den, but I wasn’t a piece of meat. Their grandmother, Mary, was vicious and manipulative—a cruel lioness. So, I was walking in with my proverbial whip in hand, ready to take control of the entire room.

  I swiped a coat of lipstick on and nodded with satisfaction to Edward. He pulled out his phone and took a quick picture. I glared at him. “That better not wind up on the Internet.”

  “I’m sending it to Belle. Don’t worry,” he said quickly, “I’ll crop it! Although, do you know what this photo would sell for? The first picture of the Royal baby bump?”

  “Don’t remind me,” I groaned. Soon there would be betting pools across the world regarding everything from the sex of the child I carried to what we would name him or her. I was going to need a brave face over the next few months. I knew I could handle whatever they threw at me, but Alexander needed to know the same.

  “At least it’s only grandmother and Henry tonight. Good practice,” Edward said sympathetically. “On second thought, she might be worse than the press.”

  We exchanged a worried look. The truth was that if there was one person in the world more set on destroying me than the tabloids or our enemies, it was a member of my own family—and she was coming to dinner tonight.

  I’d asked the kitchen to prepare something that would be easy on my stomach and meet his grandmother’s dietary requirements. I was still struggling with keeping food down. The morning sickness never seemed to end. It was different than my first pregnancy when all I did was cry. The chef, who was in my on my secret, had chosen a salad and mild chicken soup to start and even more bland roast chicken for the main course. It probably wasn’t the fancy, extravagant meal the Queen Mother was expecting, but it was one I expected I could keep down. It would seriously undermine my plans to lose my supper in front of her.

  Edward and I arrived early, wanting to make certain that all of the arrangements had been made. We had obsessed over every detail: who was sitting where, what wine was being offered, and how sharp the butter knives were. The family had never resorted to using cutlery as weaponry before, but there was a first time for everything. Between Mary’s constant criticism and my hormones, it was best to be on the safe side.

  “This was the right choice,” Edward said with approval as he looked over the place settings.

  “Do you think?” I needed every detail to be perfect.

  “I believe this was created for my father’s coronation.” He picked up a plate and looked it over before carefully replacing it. “My mother picked it out.”

  The table was set with a china pattern that had been a favorite of Alexander’s mother. We used it often for private family meals. Right now, I wanted to remind my husband of the strength of family. I also wanted to send a clear message to Mary, who had been the one to pick out the last 25 years’ worth of China. This family could both respect tradition and stand on its own. My fingers skimmed over the elegant silver design of the plates, lingering at the monogram centered on the rim. The A and C had represented Albert of Cambridge. I could imagine how Elizabeta had felt as she picked out these plates. I’d never met her—she had died when Alexander was very young—but there
were touches like this all over Buckingham Palace—small nods to the love she must have felt for that man. Alexander’s father had changed after her death, so I had never known the version of him that had inspired such obvious affection. Now, the A and C represented something else to me entirely.

  Alexander and Clara.

  It was a merging of the old with the new. It was also a reminder that we were in charge of the monarchy now, and I wasn’t about to let anyone, even Alexander’s grandmother, forget that.

  As seven o’clock approached, Mary and her younger son, who I’d only met in passing at my engagement party and a few other family gatherings, appeared. It was always a shock to see Henry. He looked so much like Albert that sometimes, when we were in the same room, I caught myself doing a double take. The looks they shared were the Cambridge family genetics before Elizabeta had introduced her Greek lineage. My own child had dark hair and electric blue eyes. It was hard to say whether Elizabeth’s skin would take after her father’s golden hue or my own pale porcelain, but I wondered what Mary thought when she looked at her. Perhaps, it was the striking difference between Alexander and her own sons that made her wary of him. It has been clear since the moment we’d been introduced that she despised her grandchildren. I’d never bothered to find out why. The mere fact that she hated them was enough for me to return that feeling towards her. Alexander and Edward were the best men I knew, and if she couldn’t see that, I wanted nothing to do with her. Now, I was about to do the unthinkable. I swallowed as I considered the olive branch I was planning to offer to her tonight.

  Mary’s lips pursed, her expression sour, as she swept a scathing look over me. Her eyes landed on the small bump I had chosen not to hide. That was one secret out of the way. I could only hope she wouldn’t go blabbing it to the press herself. Next to her, Henry’s face was serenely unaware of the tension. My limited experience with him had been friendly. He had been the spare to the heir. Maybe that was why he had always been kinder to me. Like Edward, he’d known that the moment his brother had his first child, his chances of landing on the throne were limited. He also didn’t seem to mind passing on that responsibility.