by S. E. Rose
I leave Logan chatting with her as I make my way down the great hall and back toward my father’s study. I knock on the door, but I find it open. My father is at his desk, looking at his computer screen intently as Marcus hovers behind him. The look on their faces tells me whatever they are viewing is not anywhere near warm, fluffy kittens.
“Daddy?” I ask.
He looks up and gives me a nod.
“I’m sorry to intrude. I was just wondering if you’ve learned any more since we were debriefed,” I ask.
He shakes his head. “We’re just viewing video footage from the local news. I promise I’ll keep you all informed once I know anything, Anna,” he says in a serious tone.
“Thank you,” I reply, and I walk back out, leaving them staring at the screen. I’m about to head back up to my room to grab my computer and find my secret hiding spot when Logan walks up to me.
“Do I get the grand tour?” he asks, holding out an arm for me to link mine with. There’s not much that could pull me away from my computer and curiosity at this moment, but Logan may be my kryptonite. I put my arm through his and escort him down the grand hall.
“You want the five-cent tour or ten-cent tour?” I ask.
“Well, I want to see it all, of course,” he replies.
I slowly walk him through each room, pointing out famous pieces of art, and the history of various artifacts and furniture. We spend the better part of the next hour walking the entire palace. I hear the buzz of the dinner bell.
“What’s that?” he asks.
I grin. “Dinner,” I explain.
“Fancy,” he says.
I shrug.
“Come on, I’m starving,” I say to him as I practically drag him down to the dining hall. I must admit, it is an entertaining sight to see the royal family dressed down and eating American food while sitting at a three-hundred-year-old table whose matching chairs are leafed in gold.
“You’ve outdone yourself,” my father says to Tessa who bows and takes her leave, but not before giving me a wink and raised eyebrow that tells me I’ll be needing to chat with her later. I give her a small nod, and she exits.
“I take it you have found your accommodations acceptable?” my father says to Logan.
“Yes, very much, Your Majesty,” he says, trying to use a more proper vernacular.
“Father, any news?” Chris interjects.
My father shakes his head. “I imagine we won’t know much more before tomorrow morning,” he states.
“Well, please—”
My father holds up his hand, silencing Chris. “I understand that you all want information, as do I. But we’ll just have to be patient,” he says.
That shuts up everyone. My father asks Logan polite questions, as his royal etiquette kicks in, while the rest of us eat in silence, except for a few statements about our trip.
Chapter 19
After dinner, my father excuses himself, leaving us all staring at each other.
“Well, that was fucking awkward,” Auggie quips.
Chris groans. “Augs, shut up,” he mutters.
Auggie stands. “I’m going to the lounge for a drink if anyone cares to join me,” he announces as he walks out of the dining hall.
I look at Chris who looks anything but pleased. “I’m just going to go up to bed, I think,” I say as I stand.
“Night, Anna,” Chris says to me as he also gets up. He meets me at the end of the long mahogany table and gives me a kiss on my cheek.
“Night,” I reply with a yawn.
I hear Logan push back from the table. I turn to him.
“You going to join Auggie?” I ask.
“No, I think I could use some sleep, too,” he admits.
I nod, and we all leave the room together. Chris excuses himself to grab a cup of tea in the kitchen, and I head up the grand staircase with Logan behind me. We reach the landing, and I see Logan hesitate. There are guards placed throughout the palace because of the plane incident. I could easily have one of them show Logan to his room, but I decide I’d rather do it myself.
I can’t help the grin that suddenly erases the frown on my face. “Lost?” I ask him.
He sighs. “I do believe this summer palace is a little big for my liking,” he says.
“Follow me,” I say to him as I lead him down the hall and in the opposite direction of my room.
“I can’t imagine growing up here,” he says to me as I lead him in the right direction.
I shrug. “I don’t know any different,” I explain.
“You must have been able to play hide-and-go-seek for hours,” he contemplates.
I laugh. “We did, on occasion,” I admit. “Here you go,” I say as I stop in front of his door, after turning a corner. I open the door and put out my arm.
“Would you like to come in?” he asks me. I freeze because I have absolutely no idea what to do. I look down the hallway where a guard is walking in the opposite direction from us, but he’s far enough away to not hear Logan’s question.
“I-I…” I trail off as words fail me. Didn’t he say we needed to not take this friendship to another level and now he’s wanting me in his bedroom. He must sense my conflict because he grins.
“Just to talk and have a nightcap,” he assures me.
“Oh, uh, sure,” I say, following him inside his room.
The guest room is one of the larger ones. We enter a large sitting area. It’s separated from the bedroom and bathroom beyond by two giant French doors that are ornately carved. Each panel of the door has a different inlaid wood design. I stare at them a while because I realize that I’ve never taken the time to study the sheer beauty of them before.
“Scotch OK?” Logan asks.
“Uh, yes,” I answer, suddenly feeling silly being served by my guest. But Logan seems to have made himself at home as he walks over to a side table and pours us each a glass of scotch.
“The doors are beautiful,” he says, noting my intense gaze.
“They are. I so seldom come in here, I’d forgotten about them,” I say. “They were originally part of a castle. My mother bought them at auction when I was little.”
“I imagine every square inch of this place has a story behind it,” he says as he walks over to me and hands me the crystal tumbler. I take a sip and feel the liquid burn a path down my throat.
“You must be tired,” I note.
He shrugs. “I could use a little company. One could get lost in this place and never be found,” he says.
“Hardly,” I say with a laugh. “The grounds on the other hand…”
“I look forward to exploring them…when we are cleared to do so,” he adds.
I give him a tight smile. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. My eyes focus on his shoes as I’m too embarrassed to look up at him.
“Why?” he asks. My eyes follow the sound of his voice, and I find him looking intently down at me.
“For all of this. I was foolish to think I could play at being a spy and rescue you. And I let my stubborn drive to keep my worlds separated lead me instead of my intuition. I’m not sorry that you’re safe, Logan. I just am sorry you’ve had to deal with all of this,” I say to him.
He takes my glass from my hand and sets it down on a table next to his. He clasps my hands in his and stares at me. His eyes boring into my soul.
“I’m not sorry. Do I wish we had met under different circumstances? Yes. Do I regret meeting you? No. This is all…well, it’s a lot to wrap my head around,” he admits. He releases my hands, and I immediately crave his touch.
“Come sit, tell me about Princess Susanna,” he says. I sit down next to him. The silky fabric of the eighteenth-century sofa feels cool against my skin. I can smell the oaky scent of his cologne. The room falls quiet as he examines me.
“W-what do you want to know?” I stammer, suddenly feeling a little shy, which is very unlike me.
“Tell me something that no one knows,” he commands.
I squ
are my shoulders and look at him. I think for a moment pondering what to say. Now that my secret is out in the open, or at least known by him and my brothers, there are not many things that are just mine. “I once fell off my horse while galloping,” I offer.
He raises an eyebrow but remains silent letting me finish my story.
“I was riding Mister Jenkins. We were galloping right here, out in the south field, and he was spooked by a fox that ran across our path. I fell off and twisted my ankle rather badly. I was so afraid father wouldn’t let me ride anymore, that I forced myself back on the horse once he calmed down and rode him back to the stables. I told my father that I had tripped on a rock in the garden,” I say.
“And you never told anyone?” he asks.
I laugh. “Well, until now,” I say to him as I peer up at him from beneath my lashes. “So?” I ask.
He cocks his head to the side and gives me a boyish, questioning look. “So what?” he asks.
I laugh and take another sip of the scotch. “Don’t I get to hear a deep dark secret of yours?” I ask as I cross my legs. I see his eyes travel down my body and back up again. I feel chills run through me at the intensity in his gaze.
He laughs. “I’m afraid my deep dark secrets pale in comparison to yours,” he replies with a smirk.
“Well, drastic times call for drastic measures,” I say.
“Like leading a double life?” he presses.
I shrug. “I…needed freedom, something that was just for me,” I try to put into words my thoughts.
“Like dabbling on the dark web and bringing down international criminals?” he muses.
“Well, you make it sound so much more exciting than it is,” I reply.
“Anna, did you never contemplate for a moment just how dangerous your ‘hobby’ was?” he asks. His face changes and I can tell he’s quite serious now.
I take a moment, sipping on the scotch again. Allowing the burning sensation in my throat to consume me as I try not to think about my “dangerous hobby.”
“I never thought of it as dangerous,” I admit.
“Anna, you are a god damned princess, for Christ’s sake! You could have been killed or blackmailed,” he says.
I shrug. “So, you doubt my abilities, then?” I question him, feeling my pride getting the better of me.
He groans. “No. I think you are too brilliant for your own good,” he says. He pauses, and I wait for him to continue. In the five seconds of silence, all I hear is the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. The palace is eerily quiet at this hour. My eyes drift back to his as he opens his mouth to continue.
“Telling your brothers and me what was going on is the smartest thing that I think you’ve done in a very long time,” he confesses. It stings a bit to hear this from him, but sometimes the truth hurts, or so I’ve learned.
“Truth?” I ask. He doesn’t move but continues to stare at me. “It feels good to tell someone. The burden of keeping it to myself was overwhelming at times…and a bit lonely,” I admit.
“What’s the family heirloom that you’ve been searching for?” he asks. I’m a bit taken aback by his sudden question.
I close my eyes…the memory of the last time I saw her floods my every fiber.
“Mommy!” I say loudly as I pick up her lipstick from her vanity.
“Yes, darling?” she says. She’s reaching into the safe, the one next to her closet behind a framed picture.
“Why do you always wear that crown?” I ask her.
“It’s a tiara, my sweet, and my mother gave it to me the day I got married. So, every time I have a special occasion I wear it because it reminds me of who I am and the duties I am responsible for,” she explains.
“It’s a crown,” I declare.
She laughs and pulls the crown out of the secret place. She leans over and kisses my head. Then, she places it on my head and smiles. I grin. It’s too big, and she keeps her hand on it, so it doesn’t fall down.
“Someday, I will give it to you, Anna,” she says.
“Really?” I ask.
“Really,” she repeats with a smile. “Now, off you go,” she adds as she removes the crown from my head and places it on hers. I run to the door and then turn one more time. I look at her in the mirror as she checks her makeup once more.
“Will you come kiss me goodnight when you get home, Mommy?” I ask her.
She turns to face me. “Of course, my sweet,” she says and blows me a kiss. I catch it and blow her one, and she catches it and brings her hand to her heart. I giggle and run off to find Auggie.
“Anna?” Logan’s voice brings me back to the present.
“Sorry,” I say. “My mother’s crown…tiara.”
“Oh?” he asks. I suddenly feel very claustrophobic. I glance around as though we are being watched, which is ridiculous.
“What?” he asks.
“You want to…uh, get out of here?” I ask.
“Anna, it’s not safe. Pete said—”
I stop him from speaking with a raised hand. “It’s a secret place. We’ll be safe,” I tell him as I stand. I grab the bottle of scotch and place it under my arm as I walk to his bedroom door and open it, peering out into the hallway to check for one of the guards my father now has everywhere on the property. Seeing the immediate coast is clear, I walk into the hall across from his room and feel along the wall until I find it. I press a part of the wall, and it pops open.
“Holy shit!” he exclaims from the door.
“A countess lived here two hundred years ago. She had the tunnel installed so she could sleep with her husband’s best friend who often came and stayed at the palace,” I explain. I turn on the light on my cell phone and enter the dark, dusty passage. “You coming?” I call out behind me. We walk down a set of stairs.
I hear his footsteps as I continue walking. He’s quiet as we make our way through the tunnel of mazes until I reach the door that I’ve been looking for, the door that leads out to the back garden. We are technically still within the walls of the palace, or at least the original palace walls. I laugh to myself. I walk up a few stairs and find the exit I have been searching for.
I open the door with a mighty shove and moonlight seeps inside.
“Anna,” Logan whispers.
“It’s OK,” I reply as I walk out into the garden maze. This maze has a small building in the center of it and one wall is actually faux as it blocks this secret passage. I walk into the enclosure which is open to the outside and follow a path into the garden. It’s chilly, and I suddenly wish I had grabbed a coat or blanket. I step toward a bench and sit down, placing the bottle of scotch on the ground after pouring more into my glass. I lean back and close my eyes. The crickets chirp and an owl hoots in the distance, but otherwise the night is quiet and calm.
“Anna?” Logan says.
I open my eyes, and he’s standing before me. The moonlight illuminates his face, and he looks so incredibly handsome that I want to jump up and kiss him.
I clear my throat and thank god that I’m in the shadows, so he can’t see my blush. “I just wanted to get some fresh air,” I say.
“Where are we?” he asks, looking around us.
“The maze in the back garden,” I say. I lift the bottle and nod at him. He brings his glass to me, and I pour scotch into it.
He sits down next to me, the heat from his body feels delicious against my cold skin.
“You’re cold,” he states. He wraps an arm around me, and I snuggle against him, leaning my head on his shoulder.
“So?” I ask. “Tell me a secret.”
“My secrets aren’t as grand as yours,” he retorts.
“You are living the life you want to live,” I say to him. I immediately regret my statement.
“What do you mean, Anna?” he says.
I sigh. “I just mean…it’s not always easy…being a royal,” I try to explain.
“Is it really that bad?” he asks.
The scotch is sta
rting to warm me up, and it may also be making me less guarded. I scoot down and turn so I’m lying on the bench with my legs over the arms and my head in his lap. I stare up at him, and he looks down at me with amusement.
“Well, Dr. Logan,” I start, clearing my throat, and he chuckles. “It’s not that bad. But it can be stressful at times. I’m supposed to be this perfect little princess. You know? The one in the photos from my mother’s funeral that made the world weep, the one that was always photographed being silly at state affairs, the one that was supposed to grow up to be perfect in every way possible.” I sigh again.
“It’s a lot to live up to,” I admit, gazing up at his eyes. His hand comes to rest on my belly and I feel it flutter in response.
His eyes grow hooded and his gaze darkens. “You are perfect, Anna, in every way possible. And the fact that you are a rebel makes you even more perfect,” he says in a low voice that sends chills throughout my body.
“No, I’m not,” I answer.
“You are to me,” he replies, lifting my head in one of his hands as he leans down to kiss me. Just before he does so, he pauses. “I shouldn’t do this,” he breathes.
“Yes, yes, you should,” I coerce, reaching behind his head and forcing his lips against mine.
I sigh against his skin. His lips caress mine and his tongue darts out to taste me. I open my mouth, giving him full access to plunder it. He complies, and I meet each thrust of his tongue, tasting the scotch on it. I feel weightless, cradled in his arms. It’s a heady sensation that I’m not sure is caused by the kiss, the scotch, or a combination of the two.
His strong arms pull me up, and I willingly straddle his lap, feeling his erection press against the juncture of my thighs. I grind against him as we continue to claim one another’s mouths. His hands travel along my body, squeezing and caressing. By the time we pull back to breathe, I’m panting with need.
