Cross Me
Page 24
Betrayal flashed in Alexander’s eyes, but he covered it quickly. Lifting his head, he met Anders’ confused gaze. Anders looked between us, then to everyone else in the room.
“What are you talking about?” he demanded when no one spoke.
“Albert was your father,” I said gently. I took a step toward him, glanced at Alexander’s strained expression, and thought better of it.
“Todd Stone was my father.” Anders’s face hardened into stubborn refusal. I recognized the look. Alexander wore it often.
“She’s telling the truth,” my husband said. He came to my side and looped his arm around my waist as though he needed my support to get through this. “After my father died, we discovered he’d been taking care of an ill…another child—a son none of us knew he had. I began to investigate and it led me to you.” He cleared his throat, but his words were thick as he added, “You’re my brother.”
Anders looked around the room, his jaw unhinged. His mouth clamped shut, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “You’re telling me this is my family.”
“Yes,” I said. “I know it’s a lot to process. I had a hard time when he told me.”
“And when did he tell you?” Anders rounded on me. “Did you know the whole time?”
“I told her after your accident,” Alexander said.
“That ashamed of me, huh? You probably wish the accident had finished me off.”
“How can you think that?” I asked.
Anders threw his head back and released a shaky laugh.
“I’m sure you have questions.” Alexander was doing an impressive job of keeping his head. I took his hand and squeezed it.
Anders zeroed in on our clasped hands. He looked up and shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
“You must want to know about your father,” Alexander said.
Anders leveled a glare at him that sent a chill shivering up my spine. “Todd Stone was my father.”
He turned and strode out of the room. I started after him, but Alexander held me back.
“Let him go.”
“No, X.” I pulled free and ran after him.
I caught Anders in the White Drawing Room.
“Stop,” I begged him, unable to keep up with his long strides in my heels.
“Why?” He whipped around to face me. “You’ve made it clear that there is nothing between us and now…”
“This isn’t about—”
“What is it about, Clara? Am I supposed to hug you and call you sis and show up for Easter brunch?” He moved closer, leaving very little space between us, and lowered his voice. “Am I supposed to join the family and pretend that I’m not in love with you?”
“You aren’t.” I swallowed, praying Alexander hadn’t followed us.
“I am. Christ, I might not know much, but I know I’m in love with you.”
“Then you should go.” My voice trembled and he pulled away.
“I guess we won’t be one big happy, family after all.” He choked back a bitter chuckle, turning his face away. “Goodbye, Clara.”
“Goodbye, Anders,” I said in a small voice.
Before I could stop him, he leaned forward and brushed his lips over my forehead, lingering a moment too long. “Sorry,” he said, straightening up. “I had to kiss you just once.”
And then he was gone.
I watched him leave, knowing Alexander’s eyes were on my back—knowing he’d seen the whole thing. I was always acutely aware of his presence, but now I felt his gaze raking over me possessively. Sucking in a breath, I turned to face him.
Alexander’s stony face might have been unreadable to some. I recognized it as his battle mask. He was fighting to stay in control, the war raging within him. Norris appeared at his side along with Edward, and the two began to speak in low voices as my husband listened without a word.
They would need to strategize, of course. The information had been controlled and I’d just spilled it to an outsider they couldn’t keep quiet. I thought about telling them Anders wouldn’t say anything, but it didn’t matter. The boys would withdraw to the proverbial war room to plot.
“Just a moment,” Alexander said, cutting them off.
He crossed the room in four great strides and pulled me into his arms. His thumb brushed away a tear I didn’t know had fallen.
“X, I’m sorry,” I murmured, turning my face into his palm.
“Don’t apologize for my mistakes, Poppet,” he reminded me
“I shouldn’t have told him. It wasn’t my place—”
“It wasn’t your job to keep it a secret.” He kissed me swiftly. “I would, however, have liked some warning about you quitting the Games.”
“I knew you wouldn’t let me,” I admitted softly.
“I won’t exactly mind having you home, barefoot and pregnant.” He glanced behind him. “They’d like to discuss a few things.”
Security things, no doubt. They needed to plan what to do when my slip blew up in their faces. I nodded. “Not too late. I don’t want to sleep alone.”
“I won’t let you be alone or sleep,” he promised with a grin. He disappeared with a kiss, taking my heart with him.
I stood in the empty room, small and humbled. It was easy to feel that way under the gold leaf and chandeliers. But it was a symptom of something else. No matter how hard I tried, I didn’t seem to fit into this life. I was the insignificant nobody playing at being a Queen, and I was messing up at every turn.
“Fancy a walk?” a gentle voice asked. “Everyone’s gone off to worry about King and Country.”
I looked up to find Henry, hands shoved in his pockets and ascot undone. I’d never seen him looking quite this ruffled.
“I could use some fresh air.” I paused and reached down to pry off my heels. I sighed with relief as my toes sank into the plush rug.
“Someone will pick them up,” he reassured me.
At last count, nearly eight hundred people worked here, so he was undoubtedly right. “I never quite feel at home here,” I admitted to him, eyeing the shoes. “I can’t even leave my things lying around.”
“Maybe you should,” he suggested, offering me his arms. “The gardens?”
I nodded at the suggestion. It was early evening and not overly cool for March. The days had begun to lengthen, and so a few minutes later we found ourselves under the purple dusk of twilight.
“Will you be cold?” Henry’s forehead wrinkled as he looked at my bare feet.
“I have my own little furnace.” I patted my stomach. “I’m always too warm.”
We walked in companionable silence for a few minutes. It was early spring and the flower beds were barren, but there was something magical about the quiet. The grounds were dry, but the smell of rain hung in the air. We were in the middle of London and a world apart.
“Henry,” I asked, putting to words a question that had bothered me since Alexander had revealed the truth about Anders, “that day at the track, before the accident, you said something about it being impossible—that Alexander couldn’t know. What did you mean?”
“I think you already know.” Henry patted my hand with a sigh. “It’s nice to have it out in the open.”
“Is it?” I wasn’t sure that was true. A year ago, Alexander hadn’t known a thing about Anders. Now he had another family member to worry about, one who wouldn’t make it easy for him.
“It may not seem like it, but trust me, secrets are poison. They change you.” His eyes took on the same distant quality they had the day of Anders’ crash.
“So you’ve known Albert’s secret the whole time?”
“I knew all my brother’s secrets.”
“All?” I repeated.
“A King is burdened with many worries. Albert turned to me often.” He said this as if it were no big deal to cover up illegitimate children and God knew what else.
“I wish he would have talked more with Alexander,” I admitted. “I guess everything was different after Sarah died.”
“You said that before.” My mind drifted to Alexander and me. Albert had loved his wife. He’d spoken of her with a passion I couldn’t deny. Maybe her loss had shown him what he’d taken for granted, but Henry spoke like it was something more. “What drove them apart?”
“The thing that sets a sovereign apart. Power.” He looked down at me, his eyes narrowing. “You’re worried about your relationship with Alexander.”
I swallowed on the lump of uncertainty in my throat before I tipped my head.
“He kept the truth about Anders from you. I can’t say I approve.”
“You said secrets were poison. Sometimes I think my husband doesn’t know that,” I admitted. I wanted to believe we’d put that part of our relationship behind us, but could we ever, really? I was keeping something from him now, because I believed I was protecting him. He had done the same for the same reasons. “It’s difficult to know what to tell and what to keep buried.”
“Secrets don’t stay buried in this family,” he advised.
“Then I hope we’ve dug them all up.”
His lips twisted into a rueful smile as he looked across the grounds of the palace. His eyes were full of memories.
“I don’t care what this family’s done,” I said fiercely. “Alexander and I are going to change it all. Anders was the last secret that will come between us.”
“Oh, Clara.” Henry turned and patted my hand like he was soothing an innocent child. “Do you know how many estates this family has? There are lots of rooms to bury secrets and even more closets to stash skeletons. I’m afraid your husband hasn’t been as honest as you think.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ALEXANDER
It was dark before I sent everyone home. When I’d failed to appear for dinner, Clara had appeared. She circled around my desk and grabbed the arms of my chair. Spinning me to the side, she leaned down and covered my mouth with hers. A curtain of hair fell around my face, surrounding me with her sweet scent. My hands went to her ass, drawing her closer.
“I thought you were coming to bed,” she murmured, taking her lips from me.
“Too far,” I grunted, shoving her skirt to her hips.
“You have a one-track mind.” She wiggled away from me, but didn’t push it back down. Instead she hoisted herself onto my desk, allowing her legs to fall open. Her stockings stopped at her creamy thighs, held in place by garters.
“I do.” I wasn’t ashamed of it. I rolled my chair between her legs and hooked a finger under the fabric bunched at her waist. Lifting it, I discovered a lace garter belt slung low under her belly. My cock, which has been following recent developments, stiffened at the sight of her sex on display, her body rounded with the life she carried for me. “Fuck, Poppet. We are definitely not making it to the bedroom.”
“How was your meeting?” she asked, playing with a strand of hair in an expert display of coyness.
My eyebrow arched, a low rumble growling in my chest. “No business talk.”
I gripped her hips but before I could yank her forward, she placed her palm on her chest. “We said no more secrets, X. Tell me how it went.”
“As expected. Brexton thinks we should get in front of this and out Anders. Norris seems to think he won’t tell anyone.” It was hard to concentrate with her so near and so naked.
“I think Norris is right,” she said as though she’d considered this, too. “Anders doesn’t seem interested in getting dragged into this family.”
“The first smart move he’s made,” I muttered.
“Try to think of how he feels,” she urged.
“Yes, Poppet. You’re right. He’s had his whole life paid for without any responsibilities. I must consider his feelings.” He raced cars. He was reckless. He was everything that my father had tried to stamp out of me.
“Don’t be an ass.” She smacked me on the shoulder. “What else?”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You were in here for ages. You can’t have spent all that time worrying about Anders.”
“Nothing much.” I settled into my chair, my eyes never leaving the temptation in front of me. I blew air through my lips. She was determined to have a conversation. “Is this some torturous new form of foreplay?”
“Huh?” She glanced down and her eyes widened. Crossing her legs, she smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, X.”
“Now I wish I hadn’t said anything.” This was definitely not an improvement.
“What else did you talk about?” she pressed.
I hesitated. I hadn’t told Clara everything that had been going on lately. She’d had enough on her mind, but she’d asked for no more secrets and I could give her that moving forward. “There is an issue with Parliament.”
She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as if she was trying to get a better read on me. I did my best to look unconcerned by this news.
“It will come to nothing. A few people are upset that we arrested Jacobson, but there will be press coverage.”
“When is there not?” she asked, suddenly looking tired.
“Do you ever wish”—I searched her face hoping to find the truth—“that you had a normal life? Away from all of this insanity?”
“Don’t you?”
“I’m serious. Sometimes I hate myself for taking away your choices in life.” I meant every word. I thought about it more often than I liked to admit, because considering it forced me to imagine a life without her.
“You gave me the chance to make the most important choice of my life,” she said softly. “You let me choose you.”
A wide smile carved over my face. “I think you’re a better statesman than I am. You always have a good answer.”
“It’s the truth.” She pushed her hair over her shoulder and leaned forward to hook her arms around my neck. “I chose all of you. Nothing you could tell me will ever make me regret that. No mistake. No secret. I need you to know that.”
“I do,” I said, sweeping a kiss over her lips.
“I need to know that you’ll stop keeping secrets. I can handle it.”
“I know you can.” I nuzzled her nose with mine. “In the spirit of being honest, I suppose I should tell you that I’m finding it hard to think, knowing what’s under that dress.”
She didn’t laugh. Instead, her eyes bored into me.
“Promise me.” Her voice broke on the request.
“I promise.” I would do everything in my power to keep that vow. She deserved that much. Every time I thought she was fragile, she reminded me how strong she was. “God, I love you.”
Her head tilted, tears filling in her eyes. She tried to blink them away but they clung to her dark lashes. “I love you, too.”
She gulped, but she couldn’t swallow away her emotions. There was only one way to set her free from her worry. My hands sank into the soft flesh of her hips and drew her to the edge of the desk. Clara responded, opening her legs so I could lift her onto my lap. Her arms coiled around my neck as she kissed me hungrily.
“Oh, X,” she whimpered, burying her face against my neck.
“I’m right here,” I said in a hushed voice.
She released my neck, her hands going to my pants. “I need to feel you.”
I considered carrying her to the bedroom, but the thought ran away from me as she unfastened my belt and slid a hand down to grip my cock. I groaned as her delicate fingers stroked my shaft. If she wanted all of me, I definitely wanted all of her. I reached up and found her zipper and drew it undone. Lifting her dress over her head, I unhooked her bra, allowing her full breasts to swing loose.
Clara moved against me, her hand still manipulating my cock, as I bent to capture her dark, pert nipple. I sucked it, watching as she slowly came undone, writhing against me. She was primal a
nd beautiful—my very own goddess.
I moved to the other breast, my hand reaching to knead and plump the one I’d abandoned.
“Yes, please,” she whimpered as I drew the soft furl into my mouth. I would never have my fill of her, but I would never stop trying. Our story was only beginning, but she was every word, every page, every chapter.
I felt her hands undoing the rest of my pants and a cool breeze as my cock met air. She planted her palms on my shoulders and lifted her body to hover over the wide crest of my cock. My eyes never left hers as she eased, inch by inch, over me. Hers started to close, but she fought the urge, her irises rolling slightly as she moaned.
“That’s right,” I said, rubbing her back as she adjusted to the deep position. The dazed pleasure on her face was nearly enough to make me come. “Is this what you need?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her teeth sinking into her lip and she began to circle her hips. “I need you—all of you.”
“You have me.”
She tightened against me, her channel contracting around my cock as she slowly rode me.
Her face fell forward, burrowing against my neck. A small, anguished cry escaped her mouth as she began to roll her hips in desperate circuits. I rocked my hips, urging her there faster. I needed to feel her come. She clung to me as a violent spasm surged through her. I held her through it, joining her in the end. Then I carried her to our bed and proved she had all of me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CLARA
I waited until Alexander’s breaths slowed into a peaceful rhythm before I slipped out of bed. I let him make love to me for hours because I’d known what faced me when he finally stopped. When I was with him, I was lost to his mistakes and his secrets. I couldn’t avoid them any longer. Pausing by our bed, I watched him sleep. In a few hours he would wake. By then I needed to know the truth. Having this hanging over my head had kept me awake with a racing heart. The doctor told me I needed to keep my stress level down. There was no way I would be able to do that if I tried to ignore this. Because, after everything, I was certain: I was done with secrets. If there were skeletons to uncover, I would find them. I wouldn’t allow anything to come between us—not even him.