The Anti-Cinderella Takes London

by Tawdra Kandle

  “We had air-tight houses and central heat in Maine, thanks very much,” I retorted.

  “Oh, come here, then.” Standing, he scooped me into his arms and carried me to the huge overstuffed chair that sat near the fireplace. He dropped into the chair and settled me on his lap. “I’ll keep you warm. We can’t have any important parts falling off before the wedding.”

  “Hmmmm.” I snuggled down closer and reached for the quilt that lay on the back of the chair, pulling it around both of us. “What are the important parts? Just out of curiosity.”

  “Well . . .” He snaked one hand between us and slid it under my sweatshirt, making me shriek when his cold fingers hit my skin. “Let me see. Oh, this is one part I couldn’t live without.” He cupped one of my boobs. “Mmmmm. Yeah, this can’t freeze off. I’d miss it.”

  I giggled. “I have another, though.”

  “I see. Or rather, I feel.” Nicky’s hand slipped to the other side. “Ah, and bad news, because this one is already cold, judging by this.” He pinched my stiff nipple.

  “That’s true,” I whispered, arching my back slightly to give him better access. “So cold. Whatever will we do?”

  “Do you know that the warmest part of the body is the inside of the mouth?” His thumb rubbed languidly at the turgid peak.

  “Huh.” I wriggled closer. “Is that legit? Or are you just bullshitting me?”

  “Kyra.” His lips skimmed over my throat. “I’m a Prince of the Realm. The grandson of the longest reigning Queen in the history of Britain. A descendant of all manner of famous noblemen and noblewomen. Do you really think I’m the sort of man who . . .” He squeezed my breast and touched his tongue to a very sensitive spot just below my ear. “Bullshits anyone?”

  For an exquisite moment, I couldn’t speak. I simply existed in the pleasure my lover’s hands and mouth were giving me.

  “I think . . .” I finally managed to eek out a few words. “I think you are probably an amazing bullshitter, but that’s okay, because I’m willing to believe anything you tell me right now.”

  “Excellent.” Nicky circled me with his arms and tucked me tightly against his body. “Then I have you just where I want you—in more ways than one.”

  “You always have, Nicky.” I kissed the underside of his jaw. “And you always will.”

  6

  It is with the greatest pleasure that Their Royal Highnesses the Duke and Duchess of Westhampton announce the engagement of their son, His Royal Highness Prince Nicholas, to Ms. Kyra Duncan.

  His Royal Highness and Ms. Duncan became engaged last month while in the United States. Prince Nicholas has informed Her Majesty the Queen and other family members. He also received the blessing of Ms. Duncan’s parents.

  The wedding will take place late next spring at St. George’s Chapel in Windsor, with further details to be announced in due course.

  * * *

  “Are you ready?” Nicky squeezed my hand and smiled down at me. All around us, Palace staff members were milling and talking to one another, some clearly excited while others were more blasé about the whole deal.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” I pressed myself to his side. “This is the easy part, right? I don’t say a word. I just smile and pose. And show off my ring. Finally.” I lifted my hand and admired the pretty stone there. “I’m so glad I can wear it everywhere at last.”

  “Flash that rock!” Sophie grinned at me as she approached us, carrying a tablet in one hand. “And relax, because this is going to be fun. You look amazing, by the way.”

  For once, I believed that. With the help of my sisters, my mother, Shelby, Alex and Daisy, I’d managed to come up with an outfit that was perfect for today. I’d searched for the right dress and coat, something that flattered me and was appropriate for the occasion but still let my own unique personality shine through.

  It was Daisy who’d introduced me to one of whom Nicky called her artsy friends—a young designer who was just starting out in the business. Daisy had worn a few of her shirts in more casual settings, but she told me that Cassa, the designer, wanted to promote her more ambitious pieces.

  When we went to visit her, I felt as though I’d finally found someone who designed clothes I’d feel comfortable wearing. Cassa Welks was a diminutive young woman, probably a few years younger than me, with short-cropped black hair, wide red lips and dramatic dark eyes. Within a few moments of our meeting, she was hanging dresses on a long rail to show me what she had.

  “It has to be something that’s proper without being stuffy,” Daisy mused. “You don’t want to wear the sort of old suit your grand-aunt would put on for church. But you can’t wear a super-mini skirt, either, or anything that’s low-cut. You have to walk the line of fashionable without falling into trendy.”

  I liked just about everything that Cassa displayed, but when she hung up the fourth dress, I sucked in a quick breath.

  “Oh, that’s it.” I grabbed for Daisy’s arm. “Look at it. Isn’t it perfect?”

  Daisy ooohed, her lips pursing. “Try it on, Ky. It’s just your color.”

  The moment the dress slid over my head and onto my body, I knew I’d found what I wanted. The green material was a heavy silk with enough flow to flutter around my knees when I moved. The dress was fitted, conforming to my figure, and the modified shawl collar gave it a little pizazz without being showy. When I gazed at myself in mirror, for the first time I felt like a princess.

  Because we’d be outside in the cold for the photographs, Cassa promised to whip me up a coordinating coat, also fitted. That coat now hung by the door that led to the gardens; I’d slip it on right before Nicky and I walked out.

  Alex had sent her favorite stylist over to the cottage this morning to help me with my hair and makeup. He’d kept everything simple, blowing my hair out into gentle waves and applying the makeup with skill that I knew I’d never possess.

  “She does look amazing, and the best part is, she looks amazingly Kyra.” Nicky kissed my temple, mindful not to mess up my hair. “I was a little afraid that letting my sisters pile in might turn you into someone else entirely.”

  “I don’t think there’s much worry there.” Sophie met my eyes. “I don’t know many other women who are as confident in who they are as you are, Ms. Duncan.”

  I grimaced. “Please, Sophie. It’s Kyra.”

  She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I know. But the powers that be are here, watching my every move, and if I don’t toe the line, I’m fairly certain they’ve already selected a room for me in the Palace torture chamber.”

  “Don’t be silly, Sophie.” Nicky rolled his eyes. “Torture chambers are reserved for family. Rogue staff members are banished to the wilds of Scotland.”

  She laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind, sir. Thank you.”

  “Sir, the photographers are assembled. It’s just about time for you to go out.” Sir Todd, the same man who’d run my orientation meeting a few weeks ago, stepped over to us. “Ms. Duncan, are you ready? Is there anything you need?”

  Sudden terror gripped me, and I wanted to tell him that yes, I needed an emergency exit. Nicky held me tighter against him for a moment, as though he could feel my panic, and his steady presence gave me the strength I needed. My anxiety began to recede.

  “Thank you, no.” I held up my chin. “I think I can manage.”

  Sir Todd gave us a brief nod and ushered us toward the door, Sophie trailing in our wake. She and Nicky helped me with my coat, and then she knelt to adjust the hem of my dress and brush a bit of dust from my black leather pump.

  “There you are.” Rising again, she winked. “All set and ready to take on the world.”

  “Well, London, at least.” I slid my arm through Nicky’s. “The world will have to wait for tomorrow.”

  There wasn’t time for anything else, as the heavy wooden doors in front of us swung open. I allowed Nicky to set our pace, following his lead as we stepped outside, went down the steps and then
turned to walk along the brick path that meandered through the gardens.

  I’d been here before; in fact, this part of the Kensington Palace gardens was one of my favorites for solitude and quiet wanders. But today, the peace and quiet was nowhere to be seen, for as soon as we emerged from around the hedge, there was an explosion of flash bulbs and a burst of cheers.

  “Ms. Duncan, are you very happy? Are you prepared to become a princess? Ready to join the Royal Family?”

  “Prince Nicholas! Over here! Look this way!”

  Nicky steered me to a center point, several safe feet away from where the photographers were snapping away. I tried to remember what I’d been taught already: I didn’t look down or directly at the cameras themselves; instead I focused on the middle ground or on the people taking the pictures. I checked on my lips—where they smiling? I hoped so, because I was pretty sure my whole face had gone numb with nerves.

  I held tight to the crook of Nicky’s arm and concentrated on standing up straight.

  “Sir, congratulations!” A man called to us over the cacophony of clicks. “How do you feel?”

  Nicky cleared his throat. “Very happy. Thank you for your good wishes.”

  “Show us the ring!” one of the women yelled. “Let’s see it.”

  I lifted my hand, laying it atop Nicky’s so that he could angle our fingers in the right direction.

  “Who chose it? Did you design the ring, sir?”

  Nicky nodded. “Yes, I did. I had some input from Kyra’s sisters and even from my own. I’m surrounded by many opinionated women, and I decided to make good use of that.” He coughed a little and shot me a secret grin. “In the end, though, I went my own way and chose this completely on my own.”

  “How did he propose, Kyra?”

  I slid my eyes to Nicky. This was one of the questions that would be addressed during the interview later today—and we already had a prepared response—which meant that for now, I was supposed to just keep smiling as though I didn’t hear it.

  Nicky, however, shrugged. “That’s private. Just between us.”

  “But did you drop to one knee, sir?”

  I laughed then, remembering that day, with Nicky in the sand. He cocked an eyebrow at me, gazing into my face as he called out an answer.

  “I did it properly, let’s leave it at that.” He lowered his head to murmur into my ear. “Just two more minutes, then we’ll go in. Are you cold?”

  I shook my head. “I’m okay. As long as the wind doesn’t blow, I’ll be fine.” I smiled, certain it was more than a little tremulous. “If I’m shivering, it’s not from cold. It’s the jitters.”

  “You’re doing marvelously. We’ll turn around and go up the steps behind us, pause for a few more pictures, then back inside to warm up.” He covered my hand with his, chafing it a bit before he linked our fingers together.

  “Sir, can you both please look here and give us a smile?”

  We turned simultaneously, tilting our heads together slightly as we’d been instructed by the staff—or, as Sophie called them, the powers that be. There was another surge of clicks and flashes, and then Nicky turned around and tugged me toward the set of four steps that led to the upper tier of the garden path. We stopped for a minute at the top of the stairs, where Nicky drew me closer to him, his arm snugging me to his side.

  “Give us a kiss! Kiss her, sir!” The reporters were growing bolder now that they sensed our brief session was ending. I wanted to shake my head and roll my eyes at the group of them; they had to know a kiss wasn’t forthcoming. I’d been informed that the kiss had to be saved for the wedding day, as we exited the church. Kissing at the engagement announcement was apparently on the no-no list.

  To my left, I heard the sound of clapping. Nicky glanced that way, over my head, and chuckled.

  “Look there. See? That’s as far as the public can come into the gardens today, since they have this part secured, and the crowd’s been gathering since the announcement went out this morning.”

  I followed the direction he was looking. There, behind the barricade, was a large group of people, some of them holding up phones or cameras to snap our pictures, others simply waving as they cheered. When they realized that both Nicky and I were looking their way, the noise grew.

  We hadn’t rehearsed anything about this or even talked about it, which was probably why I just did what came naturally and waved back. Everyone cheered wildly.

  “They’re trying to take pictures, but what will they really see?” I asked Nicky. “The hedge is in the way, and we’re partly hidden by that tree. Can we go a little closer to say hello?”

  Nicky studied me, a small wrinkle between his eyes. I sensed his surprise at my request. “We can’t go down to shake hands or anything—not right now—but I don’t see why we can’t go closer to the hedge border there and wave. You’re right—they’re not seeing much from where they’re standing.”

  “If they’ve been waiting out there all this time, I feel like we should at least acknowledge them a little.”

  “I think you’re right.” Nicky lifted my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. Down where the press was still taking pictures and filming us, there was what sounded like a groan of delight.

  “Good heavens. They get all excited about the smallest things.” I shook my head as we walked further along the path. Suddenly, Harold was there at my side.

  “Sir, it’s this way.” He pointed in the opposite direction, the walkway that led back to the Palace.

  “Yes, I know. We’re just going to stand a bit closer so the crowd there can get a look.” He lowered his voice. “It’s all right, Harold. We’re not deviating from the plan, I promise. Just a quick wave and then right back inside.”

  “Of course, sir.” He stepped aside, but I noticed that he wandered along with us, a few paces behind us.

  When we came into view at the hedge border, the people who’d been watching shouted and jumped up and down, many of them calling to us.

  “Prince Nicholas! Kyra! Congratulations! Best wishes! We can’t wait to see your special day! We love you!”

  My first real smile since we’d left the sanctity of the palace spread across my face, and I waved again, leaning forward a little so that I could see the people more clearly. Nicky tugged me closer to him, his arm around my shoulder, and waved, too.

  It was as though I could feel the love emanating from that group of people, and I suddenly understood the allure of fame. None of those folks really knew me, but because they were excited about another royal wedding and perhaps even the idea of an American girl marrying a prince, they were happy for us. They’d waited there in the chilly wind on the off-chance that they might see us, even though they knew it would only be a fleeting glance.

  “We should go inside now,” Nicky murmured to me. “It’s all right to veer off the plan a bit, but we don’t want to upset the security people.”

  “Of course.” I gave one last wave and smile and then, with Nicky’s arm holding me close, I turned to go back inside.

  “Today was a long day.” Nicky stretched, pulling the tails of his shirt from the waistband of his pants in the process. “But a good one. Actually, a really excellent one.”

  “I won’t disagree on either sentiment.” I kicked off my heels and dropped onto our bed, laying back with a long sigh. “Holy cannoli. I feel like my cheeks are broken from smiling so much.”

  He laughed softly and lay down next to me. “I’m sorry. But you were wonderful today, love. Really, completely wonderful. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Mmmmm.” I closed my eyes. “Some of it was terrifying, but mostly, I enjoyed myself. And I was more surprised at that than anyone else.”

  “You were so calm during the interview. No one would’ve guessed you were anything but calm, cool and collected.” He stroked one finger down my cheek. “You answered their questions with the perfect mix of dignity and . . . hmmm. Sass.”

  “Sass, huh? Is that what the reporters
will be saying about me?” The corners of my lips tilted up. “I guess there are worse things.”

  “You’re not wrong. And having a backbone isn’t a bad thing in our way of life, trust me. If you haven’t noticed yet, my grandmother still has that, even after all these years. And no one could accuse Daisy of not being a bit sassy herself.”

  “That’s true.” We lay in contented quiet for a few moments before I spoke again. “Nicky, one thing they asked about today is something we haven’t finalized yet, with everything else going on. What are we going to do about Christmas this year? What are the plans?”

  “Ah.” He turned to his side and braced himself on one elbow. “Well, you have been invited to join the family at Sandringham. I should have said something earlier—but as you said, we’ve had other things on our minds.”

  “I’d love that, of course, but I was thinking, actually, that maybe I should go home to have Christmas with my family this year.” At Nicky’s frown, I rushed to continue. “It’s not that I don’t want to spend the holidays with your family. I’d love to do that, believe me. And next year, I will. But I’m worried about Honey’s health. I don’t . . .” I fell silent. “I don’t know how many years I have left with my grandparents. I’m sure you feel the same way about yours. After this year, I’ll happily enjoy English Christmastime. But will you give me this one with my own family?”

  “Sweetheart.” Nicky brushed several strands of hair away from my face. “We don’t have to spend every Christmas with my family. We’ll take them as they come—and I think compromise is the key here. I absolutely agree with you about this year. Go spend the time with Handsome and Honey and with all of your family. I’d say that I’d go with you, but if I did, the whole thing might turn into a circus with the press, and I will be expected to be at Sandringham, anyway. I’ll miss you, but I understand. Enjoy yourself. Be normal for one last time.”

  I’d been a little worried about broaching this subject, so it was a relief to me that Nicky understood so readily. “Normal is not something I’d ever claim to be—but I know what you mean. If I can have a quiet week in Florida, I’ll come back ready to tackle life as a soon-to-be royal.”