Tabloid Princess, page 15
“Gizmo? You named your dog after Gremlins?”
He laughed and ruffled the dog’s fur. “Look at these ears.”
Grinning, I stroked the pointy ears of the terrier. The name was a good fit.
When I straightened back up, I found Prince Oliver scrutinising me, that small question flickering in the depths of his thoughtful stare. “You came.”
“I did.” I nodded, that lump coming back to my throat again.
“Why?” He put the dog down and then slid his hands into his pockets.
“Do you have to ask?”
“I do.” The way he stood there, carved out of some fine marble, but with a look of almost trepidation on his face, unknotted my nerves a little.
“Brutal?” I asked, repeating my censorship question of our impromptu meeting in the ancient graveyard.
“The only way I like it.”
I licked my lips, noticing his gaze flicking down to the movement. “I couldn’t not. I knew I shouldn’t. But I couldn’t contemplate not coming.” I laughed ruefully. “That probably doesn’t make sense.”
His stare was deep and searching. “It makes a lot of sense.”
“Why did you ask me?” The dog licked my feet, but I tried hard to ignore it.
He smiled, half of his mouth pulling up into a smirk. “I couldn’t not.”
Chuckling to myself, I nodded slowly. “This sounds worrying on all levels.”
The smile he flashed stole my air. “It really does.” He reached a hand and pointed towards his simply giant warehouse/flat. “Come I’ll give you the tour.”
“Is it a royal tour?”
He smirked, making it look so sexy I almost keeled over on the spot. “Well, as the royal is in the room and I’m giving it, then yes, I guess it is.”
I wanted to ask him close to a billion questions. All of them burned my tongue, but I held back. The smirk grew.
“Can I ask something?”
“Just one?”
“Am I that easy to read?”
“I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this, Leia, but your thoughts are all over your face.”
I cringed, my cheeks burning, trying to ignore the way my name sounded coming out of his mouth. “It’s been mentioned. Occasionally.”
“Only occasionally? You surprise me.”
Without thinking, I flicked my hand out to bat him lightly on the stomach and we both paused. Did I just hit the future King of England? I did. I did.
“Why don’t you have any security here? Aren’t you worried? Like, I know you want your privacy, but surely your safety is just as important. There are nutters everywhere.”
He stilled while he mulled over my question. “This place is important to me. And yes, there is security. It’s guarded front and back while I’m here. But, if someone knew; if the press turned up one night, or the privacy I crave was encroached, then I’d move on. I’d find somewhere else. At the end of the day they are just four walls.”
“Why do you risk it then?” We hadn’t moved from the door. I could still turn around and leave. I think he let me hover there on purpose, so I could turn and go if I wanted to.
“Because I get to be myself here.”
My mouth opened slightly. His gaze fell to my parted lips. “Oh.”
Who was he when he was himself?
Was he the man in the car, stiff and formal, his words battling to express themselves?
Was he the man on the balcony, his hands able to control me with just a simple touch?
Or was he the man in front of me, his body relaxed, his smile more natural than I’d ever seen it. So natural and so breathtaking it made my chest squeeze.
Maybe he was all three. A diamond with three sides, each facet catching the light as and when he needed.
“Are you staying?” This was the final time he’d ask. I knew it. He knew it.
Turn around. Turn around. My brain screamed its survival instruction at me. But my body, and my heart wanted something else.
“Yes.”
Fifteen
“So, when do you go to the palace to do ‘princey things?’”
We stood in the middle of the large living space, my tour now effectively over. I’d stood mesmerised by a Grand piano when he’d told me it was his to play.
Now, his face lit with a wide smirk and he lifted an eyebrow. “I tend to do ‘princey things’ most of the day and then only come here once my official engagements are over.”
“Do you get hand ache or ligament damage from shaking so many hands all day long?”
“Leia! I do other things than just shake hands.” Chuckling, he motioned me over to the kitchen area, where he picked up a bottle of wine with a French label and showed it to me. “Is red okay? Or I’ve got some beers in the fridge.”
He made it all sound so normal.
He seemed so normal.
The stiff man in his smart clothes, his expression torn, was nowhere in sight.
He’d made a decision. I could sense the finality in the way he moved.
“Sure. Red is fine.” I nodded my agreement and avidly watched him as he pulled a corkscrew from a small drawer and went about twisting it into the top of the bottle. My eyes refused to stop staring at his muscles under his T-shirt. “So what do you do if it’s not just shaking hands?” I asked.
“Well, as the eldest son.” He flashed me a grin. “I’m expected to be my father’s ambassador. Where he can’t go, I must.”
“Even if you don’t want to?”
“Normally.” The smile dropped a little bit.
I lifted myself up to perch on a chrome and black leather barstool alongside the black kitchen island. “So, what else do you do, other than be your father’s bitch?”
His face actually fell for a moment, but then lifted into a wide grin. “It’s just as well that’s not treasonable.”
I shrugged. “I’d still say it anyway.”
His gaze focused on me. “I’m working that out.” We watched one another for a moment.
I waited for the screaming to start in my head. I was with Prince Oliver in his house. I was in his home. He was pouring me a glass of wine.
Strangely it didn’t come.
He looked like he was also expecting the penny to drop as he handed me a glass of wine which I took and clinked against his.
“Can I just say something?” That lovely low tenor of his voice rippled inside me.
“Don’t hold back.” I flashed him a wicked grin, but then darted a nervous glance over his face, not sure if I’d crossed a line.
“You seem to be remarkably okay with being here.”
I nodded slowly and took a sip of the wine. God, that’s good wine.
“I wasn’t okay earlier.” I blushed at my burst of honesty.
“No?”
“No. I’ve been struggling to make sense of what’s happened. I’ve been telling myself our kiss was just that; a throw away moment. I don’t know what interest I could hold to you; the man who has everything, a whole kingdom almost.” I took another sip of wine, fortifying my resolve. “Then I worried that maybe you’d change your mind. That you wouldn’t send the car and I’d be standing there having decided that I’d come. That maybe you’d realised your mistake.”
He tilted his head, listening to my outpouring of lameness.
“Then I decided that if I could just get in the car, assuming there was one, I’d come and see what you wanted.” Another sip of wine.
“And now?” His gaze was intense. I struggled to swallow down my drink.
“My turn.”
He rolled his eyes which I think may well have been the cutest thing I’d ever seen—apart from Daisy; no one came above her in the cute stakes.
Daisy.
I tried to focus on all the reasons why I shouldn't be here, but they whirled around my head like wisps of cloud on a fast breeze and I couldn’t catch them.
“Why did you kiss me?”
My breath caught as I waited for his answer. It took a while coming, seconds ticking by painfully slow.
“Honest?” he asked.
“Brutal?”
A smile ghosted his lips. “Don’t be offended.”
I pulled a face. “Talking to the wrong girl.”
“I can count the amount of people I’ve met who haven’t been affected by who I am. Who I will be. What I could do for them. Everybody wants something. No one is ever themselves with me.”
“You are the future King of England. I think they have just cause.”
He shrugged and there was a helpless edge to it that brought to life that ping in my chest. “How many have you counted?” I breathed my question and then hid my flush behind my glass.
“One.” His stare bored straight into mine. “You.”
I stood rock still as he reached forward just slightly and trailed a finger along my cheek.
The fire that combusted throughout my entire body at that one simple touch constituted a massive overreaction.
“I’ve never met anyone who hasn’t given a shit about who I am.”
“I do give a shit; I can assure you.”
“But it didn’t change how you reacted to me, what you said. You saw who I was and then responded by being exactly who you are.”
Lifting my hand, I caught his fingers and pushed them gently away from my face regretting the lack of contact instantly. “Prince—”
“Oliver, please.”
“Oliver.” Saying his name out loud made my insides ache. “I can’t be anyone other than who I am.” I took a deep breath. “And the person I am, is not the kind of girl who should be having dinner with a prince.”
Unsay the words. Unsay the words.
“Even if the prince doesn’t care?”
“Even then.”
“It’s just dinner. Not even that yet. Right now, it’s just a drink.” The curve of his lips hinted at dangerous things.
“Can I ask one last question and then I’ll stop?”
His eyebrow quirked, but he inclined his head.
“Why was your wedding called off?”
The lingering smile on his face dropped instantly. “You saw that news item?” Sarcasm dripped from his words and it hurt to hear.
“There are hermits living under rocks who saw it.” I put my glass down, sure my shaking fingers would drop it.
He perched on the stool next to mine, spinning it slightly so our knees were almost touching. “Things have changed so much. A couple of hundred years ago you’d have married for strategy or allegiance. A marriage wasn’t founded on love.”
“I’m not being rude, but The Royal Family aren’t that important anymore. You can marry anyone, surely?”
“If I was John, yes. Isabella has it even easier. Mother and father would just be happy if she wasn’t drunk and high most the time.” His cheeks coloured a little. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
I lifted my shoulders. “I know a good charity who could help her. But anyway, what’s the difference between you and John?”
“There’s a huge difference. It’s been there since we were infants. No one can ever ignore its existence.”
“You will be king, and he won’t,” I filled in the facts for myself.
He nodded, his gaze holding mine. “So, while yes, I can marry within reason who I want, I still have to make the correct choice. Choose a person who the people will love, who will keep our family relevant in these new times we live in. She should be a queen our people worship.”
“And that wasn’t Charlotte Macclesfield? I’m not being rude, again, but it sounds like a tall order for any woman to fill.”
“No, she wasn’t it.”
“Why?”
He paused thoughtfully, staring into his wine. “I don’t know a huge amount about dating.”
I snorted the loudest laugh I’d ever produced. “Oh please. You are always being pictured with a new woman, always up to something; something headline grabbing.”
“No. I’m always pictured as I walk out of places, or into them, while someone usually manages to stand by my side and grab themselves a headline.”
“Hold on.” I held up my hand. “No way. I’ve seen pictures of you holding hands coming out of restaurants.” I looked for my bag. “Let’s get my phone and Google.”
He placed his hand over mine, stopping my words with the sheer warmth of his skin. “Trust me.”
My laughter died on my tongue. I shouldn’t trust him. If the papers were to be believed he was a player. I’d read the headlines which had suggested his wedding had been cancelled because he’d been caught cheating… But, regardless, I did believe him.
Stupid brain.
“There were dates.” He lifted his shoulders. “Not as many as some would have people believe.” He reached for his glass and I watched his lips cling to it as he took a sip. “And you?”
“Me what?”
“Dates?” He rolled his hand in a ‘Give me more’ fashion.
“Oh. Uh. No.”
“No?”
“Um. Dating hasn’t been my thing.”
“Why?”
I stared into my drink recalling the moment Daisy had been placed in my hands. That pink face, the pursed lips. “Life I guess.”
I didn’t want to talk about this. I wanted to be on safe ground like asking did he have gold-lined toilet paper, but as I looked up, he shifted towards me.
I held my breath as his hand slid over mine, his firm fingers running between mine like water over rocks. His thumb rubbed delicately against the edge of my palm.
I wanted to implode, and all because he was touching my hand. Warmth licked up my arm, my legs becoming heavy, more than a simple touch warranted.
“Leia,” he breathed my name and I shivered down to my toes.
Unable to focus, my head woozy from holding my breath, I blinked up at him. “I don’t think I should be here.” The loud thrumming of my heart, loud and fast made talking impossible. It hurt.
“I’m sorry.” He dropped his head until his forehead rested against mine. “I shouldn’t say it. I should let you go and live your life, but—”
“No,” I gasped. The stabbing sensation I’d experienced for the last three days intensified in my chest, ripping tiny holes in my careful existence. “Oliver.” His name tripped dangerously from my tender lips. “I’m not a good person for a prince to be with.”
He pulled back, but instead of dropping contact, his hands lifted to my shoulders, his thumb slipping into the groove of my collarbone. “No?”
“No. I don’t believe in fairy tales or dream of being rescued by a knight in shining armour. I have to protect what I have for myself.” I groaned, wishing he would drop his hold on me, all the while not having the strength to extricate myself from his grasp. “I know it doesn’t make sense to you.”
“And I can’t be seen with you. Anyone. I’ll never be able to stand outside your office with a bouquet of flowers, just because I want to. I’ll never be able to do a weekly food shop or nip to Waitrose or stroll hand in hand in the park. I can’t do any of that. Normal isn’t a word my family or my lifestyle allows for.”
We stared at one another. Hard and ruthless. All the while our words spun around us.
“But I know when you leave here, I’ll be the lesser for it. I don’t know what it means, Leia. I’ve never been in this situation before.”
“What situation?” My legs wobbled but I held myself up straight.
“Unprecedented.” That one word speared me in the depths of my stomach. He leant closer until I could almost taste him, his word ticking over the sensitive skin of my lips. “Won’t you stay a while longer?”
I shouldn’t. I should have left. Said my goodbye there and then.
“I will be leaving though, and then I don’t think I’ll be seeing you again.” It hurt to say. I wished it didn't; it was pathetic, ridiculous, and utterly unlike anything I’d ever known.
This wasn’t life.
It sure as hell wasn’t mine.
He shifted back, cool air rushing between us and I managed to catch a lungful of breath that wasn’t a tangle of him and heartbreak. Him and desire.
“I thought this was supposed to be dinner?” I lifted an eyebrow, burying the pain of the moment inside me until I could lie by myself later and pick it to pieces.
“Ah.” A cheeky grin brightened his face and the pinched frown he’d worn moments ago evaporated. “I might have made it sound a little better than it could be.”
“How so?”
“I can’t cook, and I didn’t order in.”
“You told me you were a master cook!” I started to laugh. “I believed you.”
“I lied. Shameless, I know. And I didn’t say I wouldn’t feed you. How about toasted sandwiches? I can do them rather well, even if I do say so myself.”
I swiftly thought of Daisy and her love of a toasted cheese sandwich. What was I doing here?
“Toasted sandwiches and this rather fine wine.” I lifted my glass, pleased to see my hands weren’t tremoring like my legs. “Sounds like a banquet to me.”
I watched as he walked around the island and pulled out the makings of sandwiches. “So, you make sandwiches and talk about Tampax on television?” I teased him, surprisingly comfortable.
He grinned as he scooped some butter onto a rounded knife and lathered it onto the bread. It’s just as well I had no issues with diets or such fads. “I dropped that in just for you.” His gaze held mine. “Did it make you chuckle?”
“It would have done.”
“But?”
I nibbled my lip, unwilling to elaborate.
“Leia. You can’t leave me hanging like this… I mentioned feminine hygiene products on national television specifically because I wanted to make you smile.”
The fact he wanted to make me smile alarmed me.
The fact he thought about me while conducting a national interview had the ability to tilt my world on its axis.
“Don’t say things like that.”
“Like what? Tampax?”
“No.” I bit down on my grin. “That you were trying to make me smile, or laugh, or anything really.”
He stopped buttering the now well covered bread while he contemplated me. Then he shrugged. “Okay.”
