by Nina Levine
As the door clicked shut, Katherine raised her head, considering me with those deep, dark eyes.
She is stunning.
Anticipation hummed through my veins, my blood buzzing under my skin. I'd been waiting all night for her to address my proposal and had a feeling this would be the moment.
"I must admit, I was surprised to learn that you've resigned."
I started, my eyebrows lifting. "You know about that?"
A small smile teased at the edge of her lips. "A queen knows all, Jonathan."
"Jon," I corrected absently. "Have I made the right choice? My caucus thinks not. They've given me twenty-four hours to come to my senses."
"That's because the polls have swung to eighty-three percent in your favour. Should they go to the ballot box tomorrow you'd have an outright majority." She tilted her head slightly. "You'd have the Prime Ministership, Jon. Isn't that what you want?"
Do I tell her the truth?
I could hardly conceal it from her. Not if she were to be my wife.
"I never wanted it."
Her eyebrows rose. "I find that hard to believe."
I snorted. "Would it also surprise you to find out I'm a progressive?"
Laughter spilled from her lips, light, musical and genuine. She shook her head.
"Now I know you're joking."
I swallowed. "My Queen, I—"
"Katherine," she invited. "Or Kit. But only when we're in private or with true friends."
My heart thumped in my chest. "There are friends that aren't true?"
Her lips quirked. "Many. As you'll learn if we settle the negotiations."
"Negotiations for?"
"My hand in marriage. Come, Jon. Did you really think I would accept your proposal without question?"
My lips tipped into a grin, my body relaxing. "Never."
Her grin reappeared. "Good. Now, explain your startling claims," she said, her tone teasing.
I leaned back in my seat, somehow now firm in the knowledge that she would be mine before this dinner ended.
"What I'm about to say may shock you enough that you'll kick me out and ban me forever."
"Try me."
"Like all good stories, this one starts with a hero and a villain."
"I do like a good tale."
I hushed her, leaning forward to capture her hand in mine, intertwining our fingers. My cock hardened when she didn't pull away, allowing me to touch the skin I had so often craved.
"Once upon a time," I began, running my thumb over the silk of her hand. "A woman found herself pregnant and alone. Her immediate family, now stout traditionalists thanks to her conservative step-father, disowned her, casting her into the streets and leaving her, and her unborn baby, to the wolves."
Kit's hand involuntarily jerked under my own, tension creeping into her limbs, her eyes blazing with outrage.
Oh, yes. You're a fierce warrior for our people.
"The woman went to her lover expecting help. But his father, a politician of the highest office, threatened to disown him as well. Unlike the fierce woman who loved both man and child, his was a paltry, weak love, and he too cast her into the world without protection."
Kit's breath caught. "She was all alone?"
"Shh, let me continue."
She grinned, squeezing my hand in encouragement.
"The woman sought refuge with her friends but they couldn't offer the long-term stability that she craved for her or her child. For two years she moved herself and her child from place to place, desperate to find somewhere to call home. It was a few days after her son's second birthday, while standing in line to receive her welfare cheque, a famous woman arrived at the centre. There was no fanfare, no cameras or reporters, just a woman seeking answers."
"Was the woman, say, five-four, brunette, with a smile that could light up the room?" Kit asked with a grin.
"Correct."
We both smiled at the description of her mother.
"So many interruptions, my Queen," I tutted.
"You'll find I'm not good at taking direction."
Desire flashed between us, awareness raising the hairs on my skin.
Perhaps not in public but in the bedroom? You'll like the directions I give.
I cleared my throat, determined to get this over with before I gave in to the aching need that had settled in my soul.
"The Queen Consort, only just beginning to show the curve of her first pregnancy, began to make her way along the line, speaking to each and every person in wait. When she reached the tired mother and her rambunctious child, the woman had struggled to curtsy, so weighed down by the weight of exhaustion and anxiety."
"'Please,' said the Queen. 'Don't worry yourself. Now, come. Let's sit and talk.'
'I'm sorry, my Queen, but I need my cheque to feed my little one.'
The Queen had looked at one of her guards. 'Take her place and call us when you near the front of the line.'"
"And with that, the Queen had taken the woman away. They sat at a local café, sipping drinks, and eating more food than the mother and her child had seen in months. They ate their fill while the Queen asked questions about their life and what the mother needed."
"'A job,' the woman requested. 'So I might look after my child.'"
I cleared my throat, the next part always difficult to tell. "The Queen had considered the woman, a hand on her own stomach.
'Do you know, the first time my child kicked was when I saw your son's face? In times gone by the elders would say that means their spirits are connected. I may not put stock in that story, but I do believe our future Monarch wishes me to help. The crown will pay for a house, and provide an allowance for as long as you need. You have my word.'"
Kit's fingers flexed, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"And she honoured her word. The Queen purchased the woman a house and provided her with an allowance. And every day the woman wrote to the Queen. And every day the Queen wrote back. As the babies grew, the woman found she needed a purpose. And one day, while passing the unemployment line and seeing another woman who was pregnant with a toddler in tow and nowhere to lay their heads, she stopped, and invited her home."
Kit raised her free hand to her lips, pressing them there.
"The woman wrote the Queen, as she did every day, and told her of this new living arrangement, and of her burning desire to help other women like her. And together, the women formed a plan. A charity was founded, and the women worked closely to build a foundation that would become a bedrock for those in need."
"Mallory House."
I nodded, the familiar bittersweet kick of grief and love swirled in my chest. My mother had passed from this world nearly ten years before.
"Is that the end?"
I grinned, pressing a hand to my heart. "You wound me, my Queen. Didn't you listen closely enough? We've been connected since before your birth."
She chuckled, then sobered, squeezing my hand. "I'm sorry I missed your mother's funeral. She was a magnificent woman."
"She was," I agreed. "And you were in London representing the country at Climate Change talks."
Her lips quirked. "My first appearance without my father hovering over me."
"I believe that was the event when you told the President to please stop talking over you and that you were more than capable of speaking for yourself."
She groaned, her head dropping forward and a blush tinting her cheeks. "The man was an ass. He constantly interrupted, spoke over, or tried to present his opinion as my own. 'What the Princess is trying to say is….'" She lifted her head. "I will not allow another to speak for me or our people. Do I regret my language? Perhaps. But I don't regret doing it."
Our people.
"I'm glad. It gave me a laugh in a dark time."
She squeezed my hand. "Jon, this was a lovely story, and I'm sorry for your loss. But what does this have to do with me?"
I hesitated, wondering what my admission would cost me.
"
You kicked. If not for the kick my life, my mother's life, the multiple lives their charity has assisted… it would have all been for naught." I cleared my throat. "I grew up on this tale. A simple kick that changed the course of my life. If the kick of an unborn monarch could have such a long-lasting impact, then what could a woman, fully formed and fierce, achieve?"
A small, confused frown marred her brow. "What are you saying?"
"I watched you, Kit. For years. I knew pieces of you through the letters my mother and yours shared. I knew of your habits and friendships. Your heartbreaks and daring. Long after we ceased to be playmates, I learned of you through those letters, developed a sense of the woman you were learning to be. Perhaps hero worship formed part of it, because for a good many years I had a crush on our fair princess."
She grinned, but it held a touch of reserve."
"I no longer feel that way. Now, I look at you as a woman. A woman I want to protect and love." I laughed, the sound dry and self-deprecating. "Perhaps this makes me sound like a stalker. Perhaps this obsession with you is unhealthy. But my will has been so strong for so many years that I was determined to do whatever was necessary to allow you to see me as a partner. As a potential ally."
She withdrew her hand, sitting back, her face blanking. "What are you saying?"
"The conservatives are challenged by you. They fear your spirit and the changes you want to make. They use the media and old men with loud platforms to try to silence you. In my, perhaps misguided, wisdom, I chose to sow the seeds of insurrection from within the party. I'm not a conservative, Kit. Just a very good actor."
She sucked in a breath. "You're saying you spent the last four years of your life working your way up—aggressively, I might add, the ranks of the conservatives all to… what?"
I leaned forward, our gazes meeting. "To meet you."
11
Katherine
Queen's Bedchamber, The Royal Palace
I paced beside the window, the inky darkness far too calm for my roiling emotions.
To meet you.
The unhinged Jonathan had left the Palace hours ago, his 'good night' accompanied by a chaste kiss to my inner wrist.
I shouldn't still feel that touch now. Shouldn't feel as if those lips had seared some unseen brand upon me.
"The man's crazy," I muttered, furious with myself. "He's a certifiable stalker. I should be glad to be rid of him."
But the heat in his eyes, the genuine warmth and caring, the authenticity with which he'd relayed his story… it seeded doubts within me.
I reached for my phone, pressing into it the numbers he'd handed me earlier that evening.
"Hello?"
"Jon, I need to understand."
"Kit?"
I heard movement on his end, the rustling of fabric.
"Did I wake you?" I asked, suddenly aware that it was closer to morning than midnight.
"You did but that doesn't mean it isn't a welcome intrusion."
He settled while I continued to pace, that strange itchy feeling crawling under my skin.
"Now, what do you need to understand?"
"How can I be sure you're not a crazed lunatic?" The words, in no ways subtle or polished, spilled from my mouth with abandon.
He chuckled. "I knew telling you would be too much. I should have held back."
"Why didn't you?"
"Well, for one I refuse to keep secrets from the ones I love— not the important ones, anyway. Sure, birthday surprises or whatnot, but the big things? The things that truly matter? Never."
I swallowed. "Help me understand then. Are you in love with me?"
"Yes. But also no. I love what I know of you. I love your love for our people. I love your brains and sarcasm. I love your quick wit, and your generosity. I love your smile and your laugh. I love the bits of you I know, Kit. But it's hard to love someone fully when I only know the surface."
His voice dropped, the tone smoothing out. "But within me burns a desire to know more. To know everything. That's what I want."
"To control me?"
He burst out laughing, his amusement loosening the awful tension in me.
"That is an impossible feat and one I dare not even contemplate." He chuckled again. "No, I don't want to control you, Kit. I want to love you. To protect you. To give you a safe place to land."
"And being my husband is the only way to do this?"
There was a long pause down the phone line.
"No," he finally admitted. "The Prime Ministership was my original choice. It was through that office that I'd be able to further your causes."
"What changed?"
"I saw you. I felt your hand clasp mine, your breath hit my cheek as you blessed me, and I knew I wanted you. Fiercely."
"As a partner?" I asked, my heart hammering in my chest.
"As a woman. As my woman."
The rough desire in his voice sent shivers down my spine. My body reacted to it, a primal part of me attracted to his declaration of ownership.
This wasn't about my crown or my throne. It wasn't about the power I yielded or money and connections.
This was about me.
"Jon…."
"Should I describe what I want, my Queen? Tell you how I want to start at your neck and taste the delicate skin above your pulse? How I want to kiss and suck my way down your delicious body, worshipping at your breasts, learning the curves and peaks of your body?"
My eyes drifted closed, my body leaning against the wall to hold up my now shaky legs.
"I'd count the freckles on your skin with kisses. Tally the marks and scars with fingers that want nothing more than to know every inch of you. I'd know which trail to follow by the guide of your breath, your sighs and moans my map. I'd find your centre, Kit. Opening you to me, dipping my head to lick my way to your clit, pressing my tongue against it and teasing you until you fall apart under me, your body liquid heat against my tongue."
"Jonathan…." I tried to find the words to tell him to stop. To continue. That this isn't what I wanted. That this is exactly what I needed.
You could have this. This could be yours.
"Are you touching yourself, Kit?"'
My breath caught. "N-no."
"Why not?"
Why not?
"Are you?"
His dark chuckle had my core clenching, my body desperate and aching to be filled. "Oh yeah."
I licked dry lips, attempting to summon courage to speak around the aching need. "Tell me."
"I'm thinking of your mouth and what you said earlier tonight, that you don't follow directions well. I'm wanting to see if that would change in the bedroom. If you'd let me order you down to suck my cock. If you'd let me push between your lips. If you'd lick and suck, and swallow."
I panted, my free hand fisting the fabric of my pyjama bottoms.
"Are you touching yourself, Kit?"
I couldn't speak, could only let out a small sound of denial.
"Touch yourself, my Queen. Tell me how it feels."
My hand slowly unclenched from the fabric, sliding up to the waist band. For a second I hesitated, desperately wanting to but fearing what this meant.
"I'm doing this because I want to," I told him, annoyed that my voice sounded breathy rather than commanding.
"Of that I have no doubt."
I moved to slide my fingers beneath the waist band, my body practically begging me to offer it relief.
A knock on the door halted me.
"Your Majesty? Are you awake? There's been an accident."
I froze, my body weeping with need, my brain attempting to kick back into gear.
"Jon, I have to go."
"Wait! I—"
I hung up on him, striding across to pull it open. Victoria stood on the other side, her hair messy with sleep.
"I'm sorry to wake you, ma'am, but there's been an accident. A cruise ship has—"
"I understand. Help me dress. And hurry."
12
Jo
nathan
St. Edman's Port
I strode into the command centre, a strange mix of anger, fear and concern roiling in my gut.
For all purposes I was still the party leader for another six hours, which meant when something went wrong during this strange election period, I was the one they called. Well, me and my opposition leader, Jane Beesley. During this caretaker period where no one party ruled, we could either elect to come to a consensus between us, or the Queen would intervene.
I suspected Kit would anyway.
"Jane," I greeted, holding my hand out to shake. Patrick trailed me, his fingers flying across his phone as he texted my deputy leader, filling her in on the situation.
"Jonathan." Jane shook my hand. "I'm sorry we're meeting like this."
"Yeah." I looked around the command centre, spotting Kit near the monitors listening intently as a man in uniform spoke. "I see our Queen is here."
"She was first on the scene and decided to take command until we could get here."
"How bad is it?"
Jane shook her head. "Cruise ship capsized off the coast. It's a small one— a domestic cruiser with about three hundred passengers and crew on board."
"Fuck."
"'Yeah. We expect it's primarily international tourists but until we can get the passenger logs, we're just waiting."
"Not that it matters. If they're in reach then we have a duty to assist."
She gave me an approving look. "In that we agree."
The next few hours flew by as decisions were made and assistance rendered.
I worked side-by-side with Jane and Kit, authorising funding, issuing emergency declarations, fielding interviews, and offering comfort to families watching.
We watched, each of us with bated breath as the navy operators cut into the belly of the ship and slowly, so freaking slowly, passengers began to emerge.
"Coffee?" Victoria asked, appearing with a cup in hand.
"Thanks." I took the offering gratefully. "What a night, huh?"
"It's certainly been illuminating, that's for sure." Her grin faded as she looked across to Kit who stood huddled with the Chief of Defence. "Can you see if she'll eat something? It's nearly lunch and she's not had a bite all day." She held out a paper bag to me.
