To Kiss a Prince

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To Kiss a Prince Page 6

by Shéa MacLeod


  "I've never liked the woman. I don't know what Evander sees in her. She's the most shallow, self-centered, snobbish waste of space I've ever met."

  "Wow. Bella. Tell me how you feel."

  We both laughed.

  "Why is Evander with her if she's always been so nasty?" I asked.

  "Let me tell you something about Tamzin and Evander. She's only after Evander for what he can give her. She's been chasing him for years, and when Meg and John died, she saw her opportunity and jumped. I think Evander was just so upset, he couldn't think straight. I know he doesn't love her. But initially she was all tea and sympathy. Once he was hooked, the claws came out. If there's one fault my brother-in-law has, it's his loyalty."

  "But surely Tamzin has money of her own."

  Bella shook her head. "Not money, Anna. Title."

  I swallowed. "Oh."

  A look of understanding crossed her face. "That's it, isn't it? That's why you won't come to the party."

  I glanced down. "I'm not sure what you mean."

  "Oh, please, I'm not daft. How did you find out?"

  "I, uh, Googled him."

  She laughed. "Of course you did. And that's when you found out that Evander Cartwright is a prince."

  I stared at her in misery. "I thought maybe it was a mistake, but it isn't, is it? He really is a prince."

  "He is. On his mother's side. Some ridiculously small European principality nobody's ever heard of. He's like twenty-seventh in line to the throne, so he'll never inherit, but Tamzin is desperate to become a princess."

  I couldn't believe I'd even dared to dream of being with him. I must be insane. He was so far out of my league, I couldn't even see the field he was playing on.

  Bella must have seen some of what was running through my head. "Listen, Anna. You are coming to my party. Understand? Tamzin is not the hostess. I am. And I want you there."

  "But—"

  "And as far as the prince thing is concerned, Evander has never cared about such things. You should know that."

  I swallowed. "That's not what I heard."

  She looked confused. "What do you mean?"

  I told her about the conversation I'd heard them having the first night I arrived. "And you're right. I'm not like you guys. I don't belong here as anything but the boys' nanny."

  "Don't be absurd," she said. "We weren't talking about you."

  "You weren't?"

  "Of course not. We were talking about Tamzin. Believe me, I've been trying to get Evander to break up with that woman for ages. Now. Say you'll come."

  I sighed. "Okay. I'll come."

  "Good." She stood up. "Wear that gorgeous dress and knock his socks off. If Evander knows what's good for him, he'll dance the forró: with you tonight."

  I shook my head. Evander had been far enough out of reach when I didn't know about his title. There was no way a prince like him would want an ordinary girl like me.

  # # #

  I could hear the music as I came down the stairs from my room. The party was already in full swing from the sound of it. I'd had trouble getting my hair just right, and that had delayed me.

  I paused at the top of the second flight of stairs and smoothed a hand down my new dress. Bella had exquisite taste. The dress fit me like a glove, and the deep purple color made my pale skin glow and turned my blue-gray eyes nearly violet. I knew I looked good, but did I look good enough to blend in with Bella's posh crowd?

  Taking a deep breath, I turned the corner and descended, brushing one hand along the smooth, polished railing. Below, what seemed like a sea of faces stared up at me. I recognized appreciation in the gazes. I must look okay.

  I searched for Evander and saw him standing in the archway that led into the living room. His gaze drank me in, and I felt my pulse kick into high gear. He began to push his way through the crowd toward the staircase.

  Then I caught sight of Tamzin staring daggers at me from the opposite side of the hallway. If looks could kill, they'd be calling the coroner right about now.

  "Anna, you look absolutely stunning," Evander murmured in my ear, holding out his arm. "Please. Come dance with me."

  I shook my head. "You should dance with your girlfriend."

  He glanced toward where I was looking and caught sight of Tamzin. "She's not my girlfriend. I broke it off last night. I should have done it ages ago."

  I swallowed. "So you don't have a girlfriend?"

  "Not at the moment." His expression was intense, and my heart gave a little flutter. "Dance with me, Anna."

  "Is it the competition already?"

  "Forget the competition. I just want to dance with you."

  As the quartet Bella had hired for the evening struck up another song, Evander led me into the living room. All the furniture had been pushed against the walls, and the huge pocket doors to the dining room had been opened to create one huge room. Bella's employees had draped swaths of sheer white cloth from the ceiling and down the walls, tacking it up here and there with silver and red bows, and glittering orbs that sparkled in the light from the crystal chandeliers. Vases overflowing with pink and red roses graced every table, the mantelpieces, and were tucked into every available corner. It was, in a word, magical.

  Evander led me to the middle of the room and took me into his arms. Heat rose in my cheeks as he began to move, slow and sensual. Soon I forgot everyone was staring at us and lost myself in the rhythm of the music and the feel of his arms around me, the intensity of his gaze on mine. Others joined us on the dance floor, but I barely noticed. I was lost in the fantasy.

  After a while, the rhythm changed as the band started a new song. Something snazzier, more upbeat. Instead of continuing to dance, Evander took my hand and led me from the room and out through the kitchen into the back garden. The place was lit with fairy lights and magic but was empty except for the two of us.

  Without speaking a word, Evander pulled me into his arms again. He lowered his head, his lips found mine, and he kissed me.

  I'd been kissed before a few times, but never like that. Never with such wonder and passion. He was both tender and demanding. He slipped his tongue into my mouth, and I could taste the wine he'd been drinking and, underneath it, his desire for me.

  He pulled me closer until I was flush against him. Every soft curve of my body molded against every hard plane of his. I lost myself in him, in his kiss, wrapping one arm around his broad shoulders and sliding the other into his thick, silky hair. He groaned in my mouth and gathered me closer, if that was even possible.

  Finally he pulled away, staring into my eyes. "Anna…."

  "Well, isn't this a pretty picture."

  We whirled to find Tamzin glaring at us, hands on hips. Her gold gown glittered in the fairy lights. She looked like a fairy queen. And she was pissed off.

  "Tamzin, this is none of your business," Evander snapped. "Go back inside."

  "Excuse me. I think that little slag snogging my man is very much my business."

  "I'm not your man," Evander snapped. "We broke up last night, or have you forgotten?"

  Tamzin all but growled. "I haven't forgotten, but it was a mistake. You know it was. We are perfectly suited for each other. Not like that…." She sneered at me. "That piece of trash. She's not even in our realm."

  Evander opened his mouth to blast her, but someone else beat him to it. "That's enough, Tamzin." Bella stepped out from the kitchen.

  "You don't understand, Bella. That little slut is trying to steal my boyfriend, and I won't have it."

  "I'm not your boyfriend, Tamzin." Evander hadn't let up his hold on me. Instead he pulled me against him. "I should have broken up with you a long time ago, but how you've treated Anna was the last straw."

  "I think you should leave, Tamzin. Now." Bella's tone brooked no argument.

  Tamzin stamped her well-shod food. "I can't believe you are choosing this… commoner."

  I stepped away from Evander, holding up my hand to stop him saying anything. It was sweet
of him to want to defend my honor, but I could defend myself.

  "I may be a commoner, Tamzin, but at least my mother taught me manners."

  Her eyes widened. "Why you…."

  "You know," I said thoughtfully to Bella, "another thing my mother taught me is that wealth and position doesn't guarantee class. I can see she was right."

  Bella sputtered. I could feel Evander trying desperately to hold back a laugh. Tamzin let out a shriek of anger and stormed out of the garden.

  "Way to go, Anna," Bella said with a smile of approval. "I'm glad to see the backside of her." She gave Evander a meaningful look. "I hope you've figured out you deserve better than that woman."

  Evander glanced down at me. "Oh, I have." He said softly. "Believe me. I have."

  I'm not sure when Bella went back inside. I was too busy kissing my prince.

  Chapter 8

  I stared nervously into the mirror. The woman staring back at me was barely recognizable. So much had changed in the past year, and tonight was Valentine's Day and Bella's party. Only this year was extra special.

  Bella knocked on my door. "Anna?"

  "Come in." Bella and I had become best friends. I was still nanny to the twins, but it was less an employee/boss relationship and more of a sisterly one.

  She smiled when she saw me. "You look absolutely gorgeous. Evander is going to flip."

  "I hope so. Are you sure this isn't too simple? I mean, he is a prince, after all."

  "Yeah, of tiny little Davinia. It barely counts. At heart he's an Englishman, and he doesn't like too much fuss. This is perfect. You are perfect."

  I got a little misty-eyed. "My mother hasn't been driving you crazy, has she?" I'd had to kick her out of my room. It was too small for her carrying on.

  "I can deal with her. Don't worry. Are you ready?"

  I took a deep breath. "Yes. More ready than I've ever been."

  She nodded and held out her hand. I took it, and she helped me down the stairs. My dad was waiting in the hall. Bella handed me a bouquet of pink and red roses and kissed me gently on the cheek. Then she turned and glided elegantly down the stairs and into the living room. I heard the quartet strike up a rather exotically Latin version of the Wedding March.

  "Ready, girl?"

  "You bet, Dad. " I smiled up at the big gruff man who loved me like crazy, even if he had a hard time showing it sometimes. Together we descended the stairs and entered the living room.

  The living room and dining room had been opened up, and chairs had been arranged like a small chapel. At the opposite end of the room was an Anglican priest, and next to her stood Evander in his full-on prince regalia, complete with black, regimental jacket, red sash, and about a dozen medals. I'd insisted on it, and he'd finally agreed. Wasn't every day a girl got to live out a fairy tale, after all.

  My dad walked me up the aisle and handed me off, his eyes suspiciously moist. I gave him a kiss before he went to sit with my mom, who was grinning like she'd just won the lottery. I might not care much about Evander's title, but she sure did.

  The actual ceremony was a bit of a blur. I couldn't take my eyes off Evander, and he couldn't take his eyes off me, but I definitely remember the part where the twins started jumping up and down, chanting, "Kiss him! Kiss him!"

  So I did. It's not every day a girl gets to kiss a prince.

  Coming February 2015

  Kissing Frogs

  Notting Hill Diaries: Book One

  Sometimes you have to kiss a lot of frogs. Sometimes you even have to marry one.

  Chapter 1

  Mr Toe Sucker

  "May I suck your toes?"

  I blinked. It was the best response I could come up with under the circumstances. After all, it wasn't every day I got such a proposition from a date, and a first date at that. Wasn't the first date limited to hand-holding and a quick, awkward peck on the lips if things went well? Granted, I'd been out of the scene for a while, but things couldn't have changed that much in the last couple of years, could they? Or maybe British men had different standards of dating than American ones?

  Date number—what was it now?—six gave me what he probably thought was a charming smile. As far as I was concerned, it was just plain creepy. He'd seemed so normal, too, with his cheap, ill-fitting black suit, pale blond hair in need of a trim, and silver-rimmed glasses that made his brown eyes appear a little buggy. Accountant, he'd said. Well, first he'd said he was in finance, which sounded a lot more lucrative and exciting than accountant, but it hadn't taken me long to figure out the truth. I'd presumed accountant equaled boring. Safe. Even if he did have a sexy British accent. And now he wanted to suck my toes in the middle of a busy London tube.

  Maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe I shouldn't have had that second glass of sauvignon blanc. Or was it third? It was hard to keep track when your date was rambling on about the positive side of Hitler and the Nazi regime. Really, I should have called the whole thing off then and there, but lately I'd started to worry I was being too picky about men. If I didn't loosen up, I was going to end up alone. After six dates with six different men, I was beginning to think being alone wasn't such a bad thing.

  Give the guy a chance, I'd told myself. Don't be so judgmental. Maybe he's a nice guy. I really needed to stop listening to own idiotic ideas.

  I quickly glanced around at our fellow travelers on the Central Line. The car was full, and I was positive everyone had overheard my date's request. He hadn't exactly been subtle about it. Or quiet. But only one person was paying any attention. I was suddenly snared by a pair of amused green eyes. Good Lord. You could cut diamonds with those cheekbones. No one has the right to be that ridiculously good-looking. Clearing my throat I turned back to my date, ignoring the fact that Mr. Cheekbones was listening to every word.

  "Excuse me?" Maybe I hadn't heard right. Maybe I'd fallen into an alternate universe. It could happen, right?

  "May I suck your toes, Kate?" My date repeated, gazing longingly at the toes in question, the husky timber of his voice telling me how excited he was by the prospect. Ew. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. And not just because of the lack of cushion.

  "My toes?" I stared down at my feet, the toes peeping out between the straps of my shoes. They were okay, as far as toes went. A little on the stubby side. I'd painted the nails burgundy only last night. The color looked good against my pale skin and matched the flowers on my sundress. A silver ring graced the middle toe of my left foot. The weather in London had been unbearably hot and humid lately. Sandals had become my best friend. The gold gladiators were rather nice, if I did say so myself, but certainly not toe-sucking nice.

  They were also filthy. The toes, not the shoes. Although the gladiators were probably pretty dirty, too, come to think of it. Walking around London all day in sandals did that. The very idea of someone putting my dirty toes in his mouth grossed me out. Especially as he'd probably want a snog after. Fat chance. Might as well pick up a piece of gum off the pavement and chew it. I shuddered.

  "Uh, I don't think so —" What was his name again? "Charles. They're filthy." I shrugged apologetically, figuring that would be the end of it.

  "I don't mind." He looked a little too eager for my liking. His muddy brown eyes got even bigger behind the lenses of his glasses, and his cheeks turned a little pink. He was very obviously getting turned on at the mere thought of sucking on my grimy feet.

  Oh, Lord. He's one of those. I'd heard of foot fetishists, but this was the first time I'd experienced one in the flesh, so to speak. Frankly, it was a little baffling. Even more baffling than him gushing over my American accent. Most Londoners mocked my pronunciations and hard R's, but Charles seemed to think it was hot, which had naturally been a point in his favor. So far, the only real point in his favor.

  "I mind. Besides"—I glanced around the nearly full car, catching Mr. Cheekbones staring at me again. Why couldn't I get a date with a guy like that? Because he's way out of your league, you idiot—"there are people watching.
" I'd never been entirely comfortable with public displays of affection and toe-sucking went way beyond that. What was next? Shagging in an alleyway?

  "That's fine with me," Charles said earnestly. He gazed down at my feet in a way that made me more than slightly uncomfortable. I shifted in my seat again, wishing like anything the Tube would hurry up and get to my stop. Ew, creeper.

  It wasn't the toe-sucking I minded. I considered myself to be rather open-minded about these things and figured it could probably be fun under the right set of circumstances. Like the kind of circumstances where one's feet were clean and one was in a private setting like, say, a bedroom. It was the public location I had issue with. And the dirt. And Charles himself, if I were perfectly honest. I should have ditched him the minute he complained about paying six pounds for a crappy Chinese dinner. I was pretty sure he'd picked the worst Chinese restaurant in the whole of London's Chinatown just because it was cheap. Then he'd hinted at me paying half. I'd ignored him. I'd felt a little guilty at the time but figured I deserved it after the Hitler diatribe. I no longer felt guilty in the slightest.

  "Yeah, sorry. I don't think so." I felt myself growing angry. Why the hell was I apologizing? I had nothing to be sorry for. I had every right to say no to something that made me uncomfortable. Open-mindedness and second chances be damned.

  I was suddenly having flashbacks to my marriage. Just thinking about it, my heart sped up, making my hands suddenly shaky. My throat grew tight, and I started sweating in places a lady is not supposed to sweat. I'd never stood up for myself, not once, no matter what my almost-ex-husband blamed me for. If the shirt he wanted wasn't clean, it was my fault. If he was late for work, my fault. Everything I did was wrong, and I'd been made to feel guilty anytime I'd even thought about growing a backbone.

  Another thing to add to the growing list of "must work on." The flashbacks. And the standing up for myself. I was trying. Really I was.

  "Right then," Charles said as he not-so-subtly adjusted his trousers. "How about a foot massage? I give really good ones."

 

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