Royal Command (Royal Watch #2)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  Small. Compact. Clean. Tidy.

  And almost devoid of any personal items. A pair of dress shoes were by the coffee table, his suit jacket tossed on the chair, and a rumbled band t-shirt discarded on his gray comforter. There were a few shelves with books, a few pictures of him and some buddies in military gear. Nothing of him and Gracie or anything that gave me real insight to him. I moved gradually around the space, taking in everything, touching the few books he had on his shelf.

  “It’s just a place I lay my head.” His voice rumbled through the quiet like a distant thunderstorm. They were the first words he had spoken, swiveling me around.

  He stood in the middle, shifting on his feet, not looking at me. It was the first time I ever had seen him look hesitant and uncertain.

  “I didn’t really have the time to do anything to it.”

  “It’s nice.” My throat was tight, like I hadn’t spoken in years. I took off my coat, laying it delicately on the bed, strain making me awkward and nervous. Being in his space changed something—drew an intimacy that shifted the dynamics. We had roles when we were at the palace, a safety net that kept us strangely secure.

  Being in the place where he slept, lived, and probably brought other women ripped all the netting away. It made what we were doing very real.

  What if he realized he didn’t want me? That he liked the idea of me, the challenge, but not the real thing?

  “You want some tea, sorry, coffee?” He took off his jacket, tossing it on the chair with his other, already strolling to the kettle on the stove. “I know you hate tea.”

  “Is this going to be a point of contention?” I asked playfully, ambling over to him, trying to ease the tension clouding the room. “Is that your line?”

  He crooked his head, peering down at me, our mouths suddenly closer than I expected. “My line?” His eyes roved over my face, his voice deep and husky.

  “I’m not a true Victorian, then. Tea is taken very seriously here. Might be a breaking point for you.” I forced myself to hold his gaze, the air crackling between us, my playfulness tripping over itself, making it even more awkward. “Could you be with someone who doesn’t drink tea?”

  The kettle fell back onto the burner, and he whirled around, sliding his hands into my hair. He yanked me roughly to him, his mouth taking mine in a ravenous kiss. A tiny gasp of surprise lashed at my lungs as he devoured me. It was only a second before I responded with my own need.

  “You are adorable when you’re awkward,” he muttered against my lips, annihilating all the nerves and strain into a melted puddle. Our mouths were brutal and demanding, both of us gasping for air when we could, not able to get enough.

  This was awful to admit, but with Theo, I sometimes got bored, and I would start thinking of other things when he kissed me. With Lennox, there was nothing else, and I never wanted to stop. Standing on my toes, my teeth nipped and tugged at his bottom lip, the craving for him steamrolling over everything else. He grunted, crashing his mouth back into mine, our hands tugging at the barriers covering us. We staggered a few more steps closer to the bed.

  “Stop,” he said half-heartedly. I didn’t. “Spen-cer.” His hands moved down to my arms, holding me in place while he took a step back, breathing deeply. “I think we need to talk first.”

  Ugh. Damn reality. “Yeah.” I nodded, blowing a breath out of my mouth, my shoulders sagging in defeat. I didn’t want to. I wanted to feel his skin against mine, have him deep inside me. I needed him to make me forget everything.

  “Theo…”

  His name was an instant cold shower, pumping ice into my veins and pain into my chest. I turned away, running a hand through my hair, my defenses rising.

  “How about we talk about your wife first?” I swung back around, anger replacing the fire in my belly. “How could you not tell me you were married?”

  He pinched his nose. “I tried…”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit. You could have told me at any time,” I yelled. “You kept it from me. You fucked me; you could have told me about Gracie. You should have.”

  “I know.” He bowed his head, pacing in an abstract circle. “I keep my personal life very private.”

  “Don’t you dare.” I stomped up to him. “You don’t think I deserved to know? I wasn’t personal enough to you?”

  “Up until the other night? No,” he volleyed. “I tried to keep my job separate from all my shite. But you kept bleeding in. I tried to keep you at a distance. And honestly…” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I loved you being separate.”

  “What?” I popped like a shotgun. “You liked me being naïve and clueless about you being married?”

  “I’m not saying it’s right.” He started to move around again. He breathed out, facing me. “Gracie has been a source of bottomless guilt and darkness. Regret. Resentment. Obligation. And then I would feel worse for feeling those things. The guilt is compounded when her parents are around. They still act like she will wake up at any time, and our life with kids and the farm is still happening.” He put his hands on his hips, staring at the floor. “I’ve tried talking to them, but they don’t hear me. They hold on to me so tight, to the idea of Gracie and me, because if they don’t…they will have to face the fact she is never coming back.” He paused for a few moments. “Being around you was the exact opposite.”

  His gaze lifted to mine.

  “I felt alive. A different man. Fuck, you drove me mad some days, could piss me off like no other. And let me say, I’ve trained some dumb wankers in the military in my time. Gracie never even got close to what you stirred in me. I realized I loved it, craved the feeling of being near you. You made me laugh, smile. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had really laughed. So yeah, maybe it was selfish, but I wanted to keep you separate—keep those two worlds unconnected. I convinced myself you were just a job anyway. I worked for the King; you were my charge to protect. The girlfriend to the Prince, my mate. I needed to keep you at arm’s length.” He scoffed dryly. “The more I found myself near you even when I didn’t need to be, the more I denied the truth. But after the bombing, how close we came to death, I couldn’t pretend anymore.”

  “I couldn’t either. The bombing was my awakening as well. But you still should’ve told me.”

  “Yeah.” He strolled to the window, shoving his hands in his pockets, staring out into the night, streetlamps and restaurants glowing from beyond. “In fairness, you were with Theo. I tried to be respectful. Until you came to me that night. To my bed. It was game over for me.”

  “Me too,” I whispered, dropping my head. Admitting it didn’t seem to relieve me at all. Our situation felt so hopeless. Whatever we did would cause so much pain and damage.

  “I filed for divorce a few months ago.”

  My head wrenched up, gaping at his reflection in the window. “What?”

  “The doctor signed it, stating Gracie would never recover, that she is brain dead. The machines are the only thing keeping her alive.” Lennox’s voice stayed even, but I could see the pain crawling over him. “All I need to do is file it with the court.”

  “But?” I moved my way up to him.

  “Every time I go to do it, I see the devastation in her parent’s faces.” He flipped around, leaning his back against the glass, gazing up. “It will destroy them. I’m their last tether to her. And if I cut that tie?”

  Jesus…the weight Lennox carried. From his sister’s death to Gracie. How he even functioned, I didn’t know. He didn’t even see how strong he was.

  “It shouldn’t be on you to keep their illusory world afloat. It’s not fair to you. You have this one life too. Don’t you think Gracie would want you to live it? Be happy?” I stepped into him, my hand reaching out for his t-shirt, needing to touch him. Be near him. “It’s not fair to them, either. They need to move on as well. And I think deep down, you all know it but are too scared to finally let go.”

  He watched me play with his shirt, fisting my fingers into t
he cotton.

  “You changed everything,” he said, so quietly I barely heard him. I glanced up, our eyes locking. He pulled me into him, wrapping his arms around me. Falling against his warm chest, I held onto him. It was nothing sexual or even friendly. It went way past that.

  It was home.

  I knew I would fight for this, no matter what we had to go through.

  We exhaled together, his lips brushing my hairline.

  “Now tell me what the hell happened with Lord William?” He leaned back to peer down at me.

  Ugh. Right. Lord arsewipe.

  “Can we just get drunk and have wild sex instead?” I dug my head into his chest, feeling laughter reverberate in his chest.

  “After. Definitely.” He kissed my head again, pushing off the window, leaving my embrace. “Now sit your arse down and start talking while I make you some coffee.”

  “Make it spiked, and I’m on board.”

  “Already planned on it.” He winked, setting a fever of butterflies through me, the smile on my face making my cheeks ache.

  Removing my boots, I crawled on his bed, inhaling his rich, manly smell, triggering instant desire and comfort in me.

  Recognizing Lennox wasn’t the only one who had kept huge family secrets, I went back to when I found my uncle with Eloise, and the revelations of my family’s financial problems landing on my shoulders. Lennox sat in his chair, listening to every word, rage lighting his eyes when I got to the blackmail and attack just this morning.

  He pushed out of the chair, moving to the punching bag, gripping it until his knuckles blanched. “He. Touched. You.”

  “Tried.” I attempted to smooth out the incident.

  Lennox shot me a look. “He only stopped because he had a stroke, right?”

  I bit down on my lip.

  A strangled noise came from him, his fist cracking into the bag.

  “I’m going to kill him,” he seethed, hitting the bag again before circling to look at me. “He’ll wish the stroke took him this time. Bloody wanker…”

  I couldn’t ease Lennox’s anger because I felt it too. William would have assaulted me if the stroke hadn’t happened and stopped him. He didn’t deserve sympathy because he was in a hospital bed tonight.

  “Kill him after I talk to him.”

  “What?” Lennox blinked at me, indignation radiating off him as he paced in circles. “There’s no way you are going to see him again! We will find the money for the loan somewhere else. I will figure something out.”

  “You can’t even afford to pay for Gracie’s care.” I got off the bed, getting in his path, my hand laying on his, trying to calm him. “This is my family’s problem, you have enough to deal with.”

  “I will not let you near a fucking rapist.” His nose flared.

  “Hey.” I threaded my hands with his. “He can’t do anything to me anymore. I will be fine.”

  “Your father and uncle should be dealing with this, not you. Why do you need to go?” His fingers unconsciously squeezed mine.

  “It isn’t the loan I want to talk to him about.”

  Lennox’s brows furrowed.

  Dropping his hands, I went over to my coat, pulling out the pictures.

  “I found these in the mess scattered over the floor from his desk.” I took a deep breath, handing the stack of old snapshots to him. Puzzlement flickered on his features, his gaze dropping down to the photos. He slowly flipped through each one, analyzing the faces. His eyes darted to mine.

  “The woman he’s with…” I tapped at her face, swallowing back the truth. “That’s my aunt Lauren, about twenty years ago.”

  I could see it click, what I still wanted to deny.

  “Please tell me I’m wrong,” I croaked, begging. “That I’m seeing something that’s not there…please.”

  “I can’t,” he muttered. He had been around Landen enough to recognize what I did.

  “Fuck.” A garbled cry broke out of my chest, feeling the pain this will cause my family—will cause Landen. He may not like his father, but finding out his father is actually Lord William was even worse. The truth would break him.

  Landen was everything to me. Knowing I held information that might destroy him finally cracked me. Sobs bubbled up my throat, the dam shattering, my tears flowing.

  “I don’t know what to do. With Landen. Theo. My family.” Everything felt too much, too heavy.

  Lennox pulled me in, wrapping me in his arms, keeping me tethered. Anchored.

  Saving me from drowning under it all.

  Chapter 13

  Lennox held me until there was nothing left, letting me release everything I had been keeping in. I hadn’t even let myself face the bombing. Because I physically was all right, I felt everyone, including myself, thought I should be fine. Over it. But I was still processing the stress my body experienced, the relief, fear, and guilt of living. There were sinister what-ifs constantly plaguing the back of my mind.

  And Lord William would have hurt me earlier. It was only a twist of fate that stopped it. Again, because it didn’t actually happen, my brain kept telling me I should be over it. Stop being so dramatic. It all kept piling on until I caved underneath.

  “Sorry,” I muttered into his damp t-shirt, pulling away, wiping at my eyes.

  “Don’t ever apologize. Not to me. And certainly not for that.” His hand cupped my face gently. “I don’t think you realize how strong and unbelievable you are.”

  “Yeah.” I snorted, motioning to his tear-stained shirt. “Clearly.”

  “Spence.” He turned my blotchy face up to his, his jaw setting with seriousness. “Do you get that most people couldn’t even take half the shite you’ve had to face already? Just three days ago, you were in a terrorist bombing. Almost died. Your entire family’s future was put on your shoulders. You’ve been blackmailed, assaulted, and you’re a constant pincushion for the world to shred apart and criticize because tearing you down makes them feel better about their little lives.”

  “They can have it.” I scrubbed at my face with my sleeve, breaking away from him. How quickly after we let down our guard did we pull it back up to shield ourselves again. “All those who think being a princess is so glamourous and such a fantasy are welcome to it.”

  His heavy gaze stayed on me, but I couldn’t look back, feeling raw, like I had been skinned alive.

  “Come here,” he demanded. I shifted my eyes to him. He curled his fingers, beckoning me to him. Exhausted and depleted, I didn’t fight and shuffled back to him.

  He grabbed the hem of my sweater, pulling it over my head. He moved with intention, but gently, his gaze trained on me. Leaning over, he swiped the worn t-shirt off his bed, pushing it over my head. I put my arms through, letting him dress me. His knuckles skated down my ribs as he drew the fabric down, the soft cotton and his masculine smell wrapping around me like a protective bubble. Soft. Safe. His focus didn’t shift from my eyes as he unzipped my jeans, dragging them down my legs. His fingers wrapped around my calf, helping me step out of them.

  Not a sound was uttered when he tugged the covers down, and I crawled into his huge bed, the mattress instantly engulfing me in a hug. The swish of material turned me on my side to face him, watching him undress. I couldn’t help the slight intake of breath when he flung his shirt to the ground, the image of his ripped torso branding itself in my mind. He stripped down to his boxer briefs, heat flaming through me.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he growled, turning off the lights, crawling in next to me.

  “Why?” I inched closer, my hand skimming his chest. He was so close, his breath and heat tantalizing me. The city lights decorated for the holidays glowed through the windows, lighting up his hazel eyes.

  “Because.” He clutched my hip, rolling me to my other side, facing away from him, his arm wrapping around my middle tightly, tucking into the back of me. “You need to sleep, and if you keep your eyes on me like that, you won’t be getting any.”

  I sucked
in, my thighs clenching at his claim. I did need to sleep. I had barely slept in the last week, but being near him kept the monster he woke needy and wanting.

  He snuggled into me, his palm curling under the shirt, spreading over my bare stomach. “Close your eyes.”

  “Right.” I let out a clipped laugh. Did he not understand that just being in the same room had me achy and yearning? I was pressed against him with his hand touching me, and he expected me to sleep?

  “Relax,” he muttered in my ear.

  Exhaling, I tried to ease the tension in my body. The warmth and security of him around me quickly loosened my muscles like a warm bath, though my mind still flicked around, avoiding the big issues, landing on things I shouldn’t be fussing about.

  Except I was.

  “What?” He sighed.

  “What, what?”

  “Remember, I’m a trained op.” He nuzzled my ear. “I can hear the thoughts buzzing in your head.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  “Spence, from day one, I have been keenly aware of every minuscule movement, expression, and noise of yours.”

  “Really?” I twisted around to him. “Noise of mine?”

  The side of his mouth curved up. “To the tiniest of sighs, gasps, and… moans.”

  Air hauled through my nose, my cheeks flushing.

  “Now say what you want to ask me.” He smirked like he already knew.

  “Bloody hell, I’ll bet you’re fun to surprise on your birthday,” I grumbled, turning away from him.

  “Not really one for surprises.”

  “No kidding,” I snorted.

  “For you, I’ll pretend to be surprised.” He pressed into me, wrapping firmer around me. “Now ask me.”

  “Fine.” I hated I was going to utter these words out loud. I was such a girl. “You said you had a lot of sex.” I cringed as I said it. “How many have you brought here before now?”

  His teeth nipped at my ear. “None.”

  “What?” I gazed back at him.

  He leaned up on his elbow, peering down at me smugly. “I’ve been married for almost four years.”