Fit for a Queen

by Nicole Burnham

  He could swear she blushed again, though they were at a darker point on the sidewalk, making it difficult to tell.

  “True. It’s tempting to say yes. Curiosity alone would make me interview, if not for NBS. To work in the palace and be surrounded by so much history on a daily basis would be a gift. And I have a lot of respect for the royal family. They take their duties seriously, they give a lot of time and money to charitable causes, and they work—actually work—to ensure that the standard of living in the country is high. They put real thought into improving our country’s economy, into our transportation system, into education, and even the environment. They care. That’s more than I can say for a lot of people in power, let alone those who were born to it.” She puffed out a breath, as if the intensity of her passion for the subject left her winded. “But it’s a huge risk.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  She spread her hands wide. “No idea. I have a week before I have to decide.”

  They passed the entrance to another beachfront hotel. Across the street, on the lagoon side of the boulevard, stood the headquarters for a large tour operator. Sandwich boards touted trips to archaeological sites like Chichen Itza and Ek Balam, day passes and transportation to the parks of Xel-Há and Xcaret, and dozens of different zipline tours, fishing excursions, booze cruises, and catamaran outings.

  “We’re more than halfway,” Daniela said, her eyes going to the tour operator. “I took the bus here from the hotel to meet my Chichen Itza tour group.”

  “They were good?”

  She nodded. “We left for the ruins at the crack of dawn, but the guide was cheerful and kept everyone in a good mood during the bus ride. He was knowledgeable, too. I was impressed.” She skipped over a crack in the sidewalk and asked, “How about you? Book any excursions for your long weekend?”

  The topic of the palace and her pending decision faded away as he told her about the four-wheel drive outing he and his friends took through the jungle that morning, complete with a swim in a cenote. She’d never done anything like it, and her questions were rapid fire.

  It struck him that his parents would like Daniela. Or at least, they’d appreciate her inquiring mind. She claimed to have a penchant for order, but seemed to want to know as much as possible about the world around her, even the odd parts she had no interest in experiencing herself, such as asking how Royce and his friends worked with the tour operator to change a muddy tire under the watchful eyes of several stray dogs. That segued into a deeper discussion about Guatemala and his work there, about the rainforest habitat, about the birds and other wildlife he’d learned about during his time in Central America, and about the organization managing the roads project.

  He’d always equated curiosity with exploring. With thrills and a sense of the new. Perhaps, for Daniela, she desired to know all she could to make the world around her more predictable. Safe.

  “I’m impressed you can tell the different birds apart,” she said. “By their calls, I mean.”

  “You hear the same sounds over and over,” he explained. “It’s natural to ask the locals about them. When you see those same birds, though, you wonder how that sound possibly came from that creature. A bird’s appearance and its call don’t always match the image you have in your mind.”

  He admitted then that there was a lot about the jungle he still didn’t know. “I’m sure the Guatemalans who live near our camp think I’m terribly ignorant. I ask a lot of questions.”

  “But you’ve learned a lot.”

  He snorted at that. “I’ve learned the most about washing mud out of my socks, which insects leave the biggest and itchiest welts, and which plants I shouldn’t touch.”

  “Key information. You were right to prioritize.”

  The massive facades of the Sun Palace and then the Westin came into view far too soon. Much as his back and feet ached—the effort expended on the morning’s jungle excursion had settled into his muscles—he slowed their pace just to keep talking to her. To enjoy the night breeze and the way it lifted Daniela’s hair so she was forced to tuck strands behind her ears every now and then. The twinkle of the stars overhead and the gradual silence that descended when they were between hotels, then the rise in volume and light pollution as they neared another. Their conversation had even developed a flow. Serious, then light, then serious again…but always interesting.

  Daniela raised her arms in victory as they approached the expansive white building and a brightly lit sign for the Sun Palace came into view. The smile that illuminated her face made his chest constrict in response.

  “We did it. No drunks from the beach, and hopefully no blisters.” She raised a brow, then looked at his shoes. “You survived the long walk from the bar to your hotel with a total stranger.”

  “I won’t tell my mother I risked my safety,” he replied, though as the word mother left his lips, he realized that was one topic they hadn’t discussed. Her family. It made him wish she’d stayed in the very furthest hotel. He’d have asked her about them.

  “What about your father?” she asked. “You won’t tell him?”

  “Not on your life. He’s grumpy enough that I left Guatemala without letting them know beforehand. Hearing I walked over ten kilometers from a bar back to the hotel would put him over the edge.”

  “That was reason for his phone call?”

  “The one that had me running out of the club and right into you? Yes. Apparently, it doesn’t matter that I’m an adult. I’m supposed to call before I leave one country for another.”

  A sudden gust of wind caught the large Mexican flag at the hotel entrance, the snap of the fabric drawing their attention. When their gazes met again, silence fell between them. Neither wanted to go their separate ways, despite the fact the goal had been to make it to this destination so they could do exactly that.

  It was the first awkward moment they’d shared, aside from when he’d put his hand at her back at the bus stop and feared he’d made her uncomfortable.

  She spoke first, her voice a notch lower and huskier than it’d been all night. “I wouldn’t have predicted this is how I’d spend my evening, but I enjoyed it.”

  “Same.” He hesitated, then added, “Thank you.”

  “Thank you? I didn’t do anything.”

  “You missed a bus. You trusted me enough to hike rather than wait for a taxi.” He shifted closer, but kept his hands at his waist. “I doubt we’ll see each other again, given that you’re heading to Michigan and I’ll be in Guatemala and then who-knows-where, but this was meaningful to me. It’s not often I have the chance to talk to someone like this. So—”

  Now, his brain urged. Lean in and kiss her. Do it!

  “—I’m glad you missed the bus.”

  That brought a grin to her face. In the same tone he’d used a moment earlier, she replied, “Same. Thank you.”

  He wanted to kiss her. Badly. His fingers fairly vibrated with the need to reach for her hip, to ease her body against his, and to brush his mouth over hers. Not in a deep, fast, hard kiss, but a slow and gentle one. Romantic. A kiss that acknowledged the transitory nature of their meeting and the knowledge that he’d keep the experience tucked in the recesses of his mind to be drawn out whenever he needed an uplifting thought to get him through one of life’s darker hours.

  She blinked.

  As they’d made their way along the boulevard, they’d been side by side, which prevented him from studying her features as he did now. For the first time, he noticed a tiny flake of mascara rested alongside her right eye. Other than that speck, she was absolute perfection. Wide eyes. Finely arched eyebrows. Delicate silver hoop earrings. Skin that glowed from their long walk. Full, sweet, pink lips.

  Perhaps the mascara flake made her more perfect. It made her human. Because that mouth—

  Her lower lip twitched and he knew she’d caught him staring, and that she also knew exactly what was going through his mind. She took a step back and then he heard what she must
’ve heard while he was focused on her mouth. A van. Pulling to the front of the hotel.

  Moment broken, they turned to look. As a woman in the passenger seat fumbled with her door, Royce pushed out a long breath. He was used to being the first in any group to pick out movement or noise that was out of place, like an approaching vehicle. To have Daniela hear the van before he did spoke to his level of distraction.

  The woman finally rolled down her window and waved as the driver hustled around the vehicle to assist her.

  “Daniela!” Her voice held a northern European accent made thicker by alcohol.

  A chorus of “Daniela!” and “Hey, you’re here!” followed as the driver opened the sliding rear door of the taxi and women poured out.

  “You left without us!” a petite brunette protested. She jammed a thumb in the direction of the tall woman he’d seen ordering drinks at the bar. “Katja said you were tired and decided to take the bus.”

  “My feet refused to dance another minute,” she claimed, though Royce had seen no evidence of that as they’d walked. He suspected the noise and heat of the club drove her out, rather than physical factors. “You guys heading to the rooms? Or did you want to try the beach again?”

  Katja spoke up. “Rooms. Tomorrow night’s supposed to be clear, so it’ll be better anyway.”

  “I’ll be up soon. You can tell me how the rest of the evening went. I want to hear about Auburn.”

  The van rolled away and the group moved past Royce and Daniela in a wave, though Katja paused to give Royce a discreet glance.

  “Auburn?” Royce asked once the two of them were alone again.

  “Guy who approached her as I was leaving. He was wearing an Auburn shirt.”

  “Ah.”

  Quiet descended and the air between them fluttered with tension. They’d been close to kissing before the van arrived. They each knew it. They each knew the other knew it. And neither knew what to do now.

  Royce swallowed. If he’d have lowered his head to kiss her, she’d have met him halfway, he was certain. But the moment had arisen so naturally that to force it now felt like a betrayal of their entire walk. The discussion, the trust, the feeling of being alone together in a crowded city.

  Given the distance they’d covered, nearly two hours must’ve passed since they first spoke outside the club. It felt as if he’d gotten to know her far more than a two-hour time period allowed. And, simultaneously, the time seemed too short.

  “Guess they closed down the place,” Daniela said, as if she, too, had calculated the time.

  “Then had to wait for a ride. But they seemed happy.”

  She made a sound of agreement before looking at him again with a smile. “I had the better adventure, and I’m the least daring person in our entire group.”

  “Apply for the job.”

  It wasn’t what he’d planned to say, especially not with such urgency. But he meant it. “Take the risk. Be daring. What’s the worst that can happen?”

  Surprise etched her features. “Um…I could miss out on another job. A good job.”

  “Would you, though? You said the bank positions are competitive. There will certainly be more than three people interviewing for each open spot. There are no guarantees for that good job. Besides, the bank will always be there. The palace opportunity won’t. If you get the palace job and it turns out to be in seasonal decoration, you can apply to the bank again. It might take longer to land a position than through a campus interview, but so what? You can do that dead-end palace job in the meantime. It’d be no different than what I’m doing in Guatemala. It’s not a career. It’s not moving me forward in my career. But it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.” He couldn’t help the grin that rose to his lips. “If you don’t take the shot at the palace job, you’ll always wonder what you missed. Consider it an adventure.”

  “A risk that could pay off big?”

  “Exactly.”

  Her gaze softened. “I suppose it’s been a night for risks, at least for me.”

  He swept the back of his fingers along her cheek. When she held his gaze and didn’t pull away, he spread his palm to cradle the side of her head. “For me, too.”

  Then, very slowly, he lowered his head to kiss her. Gentle, sweet. A kiss that lingered, that allowed him to enjoy the softness of her skin beneath his hand, the sound of their breathing, the wash of the salt air over their skin. Her lips parted a fraction and he deepened the kiss, but kept it slow. Savoring the moment, savoring Daniela.

  She hadn’t met him halfway, but only because she wasn’t tall enough. When she smiled against his mouth, he smiled, too.

  “Very risky, Royce Dekker,” she whispered.

  “Worth it.” He gave her a brief, final kiss, then wished her good night.

  She backed toward the hotel entrance, an enticing grin on her face that made him wish he hadn’t let her go.

  “Beware of the drunks coming off the beach,” she said.

  “I will. Have a safe trip home. And good luck. No matter what you choose, I know you’ll end up in the right place.”

  He was already walking toward the Westin when he heard her say, “I know you will, too.”

  Chapter 6

  Five Years Later

  * * *

  It wasn’t until the cool air of the cathedral enveloped her that Daniela realized how overstimulated she’d become.

  Perhaps overstimulated wasn’t the correct word for what she’d experienced. As Queen Fabrizia’s personal assistant, Daniela had accompanied the queen and her husband, King Carlo, on their state visit to the tiny country of San Rimini. Working for Fabrizia required ease with pomp and circumstance, but this morning Daniela had marveled as if she were a child on her first amusement park visit, adrenaline shooting through her veins as she absorbed the myriad sounds and colors.

  She’d never before visited the country, but she’d heard about its beauty for years and was entranced by the bits and pieces she’d seen on television. She’d expected to be impressed. It exceeded her expectations.

  King Eduardo and his four adult children hosted Fabrizia and Carlo for breakfast, then the two kings and the queen walked the length of the palace’s expansive front courtyard, greeting the troops who’d worn dress uniforms for the occasion. Afterward, they’d climbed into an open top, horse-drawn carriage, which transported them through the palace gates and along the Strada il Teatro, the glamorous boulevard that ran parallel to San Rimini’s waterfront, passing casinos, shops, and the country’s world-famous aquarium. Masses of locals and tourists alike turned out to see Eduardo escort his guests to the reopening of San Rimini’s Duomo, which had been closed for much of the previous two years as its stained-glass windows were restored.

  For her part, Daniela had spent the early morning hours feeling like an extra on a movie set. She’d been treated to a tour of the palace while the monarchs enjoyed their morning meal, then was escorted to a room that allowed her to view the military presentation in the courtyard. The sun was bright, but not hot. Seabirds circled overhead, their wings riding the breeze. Cheers and music had emanated from the crowd gathered outside the palace gates, most taking photos and video as they watched. An Oscar-winning director couldn’t have set the stage for the day’s festivities any more perfectly. The carriage gleamed, the footmen stood tall, and the horses even smelled of flowers rather than…well, horse.

  Once Queen Fabrizia and both kings had taken their seats in the carriage and exited the palace courtyard, Daniela and three members of King Eduardo’s staff had been transported by private car on a secure road that ran parallel to the parade route, which allowed glimpses of the crowd while ensuring they would arrive at the Duomo before the royal party. They’d been dropped off a block from the cathedral, then zigzagged their way through a mass of revelers before they’d reached the cordoned off area near the doors to the southern transept, where guards inspected their credentials and allowed them to pass.

  Clopping of hooves and whistles from the
crowd had signaled the approaching carriage, then King Eduardo and his guests stepped onto the stone walkway that ran alongside the massive cathedral. Queen Fabrizia’s chin had lifted, her sharp green eyes taking in the exterior of the Duomo and windows. She’d touched King Eduardo’s elbow, then smiled at him in appreciation. Daniela could swear the stones beneath her feet vibrated as the crowd roared its approval.

  The restoration project was known to be the dream of San Rimini’s late Queen Aletta, who’d been first a protégé, and then a friend of Fabrizia’s. When Aletta passed away, Fabrizia and Carlo had pledged funds from their personal holdings to ensure the restoration would go forward.

  Daniela imagined Fabrizia felt a great deal of emotion in that moment, though she appeared perfectly composed.

  Daniela had kept a discreet distance as the monarchs approached the medieval structure, ensuring she stayed out of the sightline of photographers. She held the queen’s handbag, ready to assist if beckoned, and soaked in the atmosphere. It was a day of celebration. A day where a lone blue balloon floating overhead, one that had likely escaped from the fist of a child, made her heart sing. A day that reminded her how much she loved her job and how fortunate she felt to have it.

  However, now that the royal party had entered the Duomo and the heavy wooden doors were drawn closed against the city noise, Daniela realized that the time spent in the palace courtyard and in front of the Duomo left her ears ringing. Her heart beat powerfully enough to thrum beneath her jaw, and her breath came in shallow inhalations.

  Noise and carefree celebration energized most people, but made Daniela jittery. She craved open spaces, quiet, and predictability. Facing crowds had always been the toughest part of her duties for the queen. Thankfully, she wasn’t required to navigate them on foot very often.

  She filled her lungs with the chilled air that seemed intrinsic to centuries-old cathedrals, then followed the royal party along the Duomo’s southern transept. The awareness of her physical state wafted away as she absorbed the sense of tranquility—of order—that surrounded her. Gray stone that had long ago been worn smooth by thousands of feet covered the floor, guiding them along the transept to a center aisle bracketed by row after row of polished wooden pews. At the crossing, her eyes lifted skyward. The new stained-glass windows soared overhead, their colors bright with the sunlight striking them from the exterior. The reopening celebration would begin in a half hour, after King Eduardo and his guests were treated to a private tour, one that highlighted the Duomo’s history and improvements. Daniela imagined the tourists and locals who’d waited in line to be the first admitted into the building would find the wait well worth it.