His Majesty's Measure

by Pamela DuMond

“Did I say that?” She blinked and sipped on her Grasshopper.

  “Yes. Leo, Ladies, here’s what I think went down. The flower van stalled in front of the cathedral not due to an act of God or crappy maintenance. It was a ruse. Someone—I don’t know who and I don’t know why— planned on interrupting our wedding and kidnapping Max. They used Royal Nana as their pawn. They planned on her being stubborn, knew, or at least suspected, she would have to maneuver around the van, which would further delay the wedding. All the guards were watching the crowds and the paparazzi. The florist had already been vetted. I bet the guards only gave the flower truck a cursory examination.”

  “Devious,” Bea said.

  I nodded. “Someone, a member of their crew, maybe, sent word that Royal Nana wanted to be escorted inside the cathedral. Max, being the dutiful and loving grandson that he is, left the altar to help her enter the church. It was at that moment that Daira, the daughter of Helga Ailey, the woman who tried to kill either me or Catherine last year—”

  “Who dangled twenty-five stories off the top of the penthouse and nearly fell to her death?” Bea asked and held out her empty glass.

  “I dangled. Catherine did not dangle.”

  “Then Helga tried to kill you. I’m getting the tingles. Someone fill up my tank, please?”

  “Daira probably got Max’s attention and threatened him in some way shape or form. Royal Nana was in the nearby special abilities bathroom, but the sound was muffled. Maybe Daira didn’t actually say, ‘We have a scooter under the covers and in space. Let’s spin or we spill your ride.’ Maybe there is a clue in what Royal Nana heard, something that can help us figure out our next step; how to find Maximillian, or at least better understand why he did what he did.”

  “I bet Daira said, ‘We have a shooter undercover and in place. Get in, or we’ll kill your bride,’” Esmeralda said.

  Goosebumps raised on the back of my white, polyester clad arms. “Max ditched me to save my life. I’m going to find a way to save his.” I raised my petite liquor glass. “Ladies, I come before you today as an American commoner, a non-royal, a non-bride.”

  “Hear hear!” Bea said, and thumped her fist on the table.

  “I come before you as a woman who is in love with a young man. A woman who longs to save her guy from whatever torture he’s enduring.”

  “Amen, sister,” Joan said.

  “I come before you as a woman who has had to fight for everything. Nothing has ever been handed to me. Nothing has ever been easy.”

  “I’m sorry,” Leo said.

  “I’m not. That’s just the way my life played out. Why should that change now?” I lifted my Grasshopper. “I go forth from here resolved to find my Prince and secure our Happily Ever After. Will you help me? Say a simple Aye for Yes, and Nay for no.”

  “Aye!” Bea said as she wobbled to her feet.

  “Aye!” Joan said and lifted her glass.

  Roman barked and jumped up and down excitedly.

  “Aye!” Royal Nana said, and thumped the table.

  “Aye!” Esmeralda said, pulled out her phone, and punched in a number.

  “Nay,” Leo said. “I know you mean well, but I believe the proper authorities should handle this.”

  “Nay,” Herr Fingerlachen said. “Her Royal Highness can’t go forth next week. She has an appointment on Tuesday with her gastroenterologist, a meeting with the Friedricksburgh Chateau Homeowners’ Association on Wednesday, and a telly interview with Jane Dawson on Friday or Saturday. We haven’t confirmed the date or the time for that yet.”

  “The Jane Dawson? The famous journalist?” Joan asked.

  “That’s okay, Herr Fingerlachen,” I said. “Why don’t you and Royal Nana stay here and hold down the fort?”

  “What are you ladies thinking? You can’t go anywhere. You can’t investigate this mess,” Royal Nana said, and downed her Grasshopper. “It’s too dangerous. My grandson’s been kidnapped by an international gang of criminals. I fear for his safety and I’ll fear for yours too. I’m calling Sasha. Fingerlachen. Fetch my phone, please.”

  “Don’t call Mr. Krause,” I said. “Give us twenty-four hours. I want to track down Daira. I bet she can give us some really interesting stuff.”

  “You just want to beat her senseless,” Bea said.

  “I won’t touch her. I’ll let the courts do that when I sue her despicable ass.”

  “You mean when she’s arrested,” Bea said.

  “Whichever comes first.”

  Esmeralda sighed. “I texted Major Peter.”

  “Captain Sam,” Joan said.

  “He and his pal have agreed to pick us up here at 15 00 hours. That gives us three hours to nap, shower, find something to wear, and throw on a little makeup before we leave.”

  “On it,” Joan said, grabbing Bea and hoisting her up. “Nap time for you, lady.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  Esmeralda wrapped her arms carefully around Royal Nana. “Thank you for your wonderful, loving hospitality. You are amazing.”

  “You’re welcome my only grand niece.”

  “You have twenty-five grand nieces.”

  “But none as fun as you.” She winked.

  Esmeralda laughed and smooched her on the cheek. “You’re right.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “We’re going to track down Daira Ailey and have a long overdue conversation with her,” Esmeralda said. “Nothing dangerous. Nothing outrageous. Nothing newsworthy.”

  “Good. And then I’m going to punch her so hard, her veneers will rattle and fly out of her lying mouth.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to touch her?” Bea said.

  “I changed my mind. She stole more than a wedding day. She stole a chunk of my heart. Daira Ailey can rot toothless in hell.”

  “I can live with that that,” Esmeralda said.

  Chapter 16

  VIVIAN

  Royal Nana had enough spare bedrooms to house a marching band on tour. But she was a bit of a hoarder. Most of the rooms were stacked with collectibles and tchotchkes, and so the four of us ladies shared two rooms.

  I bunked with Esmeralda in a mid-sized chamber that had twin antique white beds with festive canopies. The matching 1970s bedspreads featured yellow, pink, purple, and lime green psychedelic flower power designs.

  “I’ll wake you in time to shower and put on some makeup,” Esmeralda said.

  “Sounds perfect.” I crawled under the covers still dressed in my white velour I Heart Friedricksburgh Chocolate ensemble. I curled up in a ball, Roman lying across my feet.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but except for my eye mask, I sleep in the nude,” Esmeralda said.

  “You can do whatever you want under the blankets.”

  “It’s too hot to sleep with covers. My thermostat is set on high, señorita. I’m part Spanish you know.” She stretched vigorously.

  “I know. You’ve only told me five thousand times.” I flipped over to my other side so as not to watch the naked calisthenics and have them permanently burned into my brain.

  “I’d be happy to teach you my anti-aging exercise routine,” she said. “It gets the blood flow going to all the vital parts so that when you fall into REM sleep, every organ is rejuvenated, the cells bathed in—”

  “Yes, yes, sounds amazing. I’ll totally take you up on that after Maximillian is rescued.”

  “Husbands, wives, boyfriends, and girlfriends thank me. I have a website filled with testimonials. ‘You saved my love life, Esmeralda!’ said Connie from Copenhagen. ‘Thank you, Esmeralda! You rejuvenated my lady bits,’ said Linguist from Latvia.’ ‘The Vajay-jay and I have never been happier!’ said Bonnie from Boston. I’ve been contacted by private laboratories and am on the fast track to receive a medical research grant.”

  “That’s fabulous. You’re a saint. Must grab some shut-eye before our mission. Nighty.” I clamped the thin pillow over my head, closed my eyes, and prayed f
or a decent nap although I suspected that would not be the case.

  I still harbored a deep, dark secret that I hadn’t yet shared with anyone: not the doctors at Friedricksburgh Memorial Hospital and not my ladies, because frankly, it was too embarrassing. It made me break out in a sweat and my heart pounded faster just thinking about the sheer embarrassing filthy, dirty dreams that were not very princess-like.

  Ever since I’d passed out on the tarmac the first day I’d landed on Bellèno soil about a year ago, I’d been experiencing weird ass dreams of a sexual nature about Max. The ‘naked walking down the wedding aisle’ nightmare wasn’t the first dream I’d had about the Prince of Bellèno. That was actually pretty PG-13, and I could chalk it up to a first cousin of the ‘unclothed and exposed in the classroom’ dream.

  Every time I was too stressed and laid my head down, I was pretty much guaranteed that Max and I would be doing something naughty and usually in public.

  I drifted into a light sleep under the flower power bedspread when suddenly I found myself back on the plane flying from America to Bellèno. I sat in a first class passenger seat, the tray table next to me open and filled with saucers of honey-roasted peanuts and pretzels.

  “Of course you can have as many bags of peanuts as you want, Ms. DeRose,” the flight attendant said, placing a sparkling crystal bowl filled with them on the tray. “You’re flying first class now. For you, we even have those yummy Friedricksburgh Farm mint sugar cookies. Would you like some freshly made hot chocolate with that?”

  “I’ll make Vivian’s hot chocolate,” Maximillian said, appearing in the seat next to me wearing nothing but a tie in the Royal Bellèno colors and matching boxer shorts.

  I took in his defined shoulder and chest muscles, and inhaled sharply. I drew my hand over his six pack, rock hard abs and journeyed south to his festive underwear that tented in my honor. I ran my hand lightly over his cock, feeling it respond to my touch. I shivered with anticipation.

  “Don’t count me out, Vivian,” Leo said, appearing out of nowhere and wearing only jockeys. He stood in the aisle. His cheekbones were so high, his dark hair swept back off his forehead. His underwear bulged, the outline of his hard dick practically saluting me.

  “Thanks Leo, but I’m already engaged.”

  The temperature inside the plane ratcheted up about ten degrees, and I broke out in a sweat. “Even better, Max is making me hot chocolate.”

  “I’ll sweeten the deal, Vi,” Leo said. “I too will make you hot chocolate and I’ll put extra fresh, homemade whipped cream on top.”

  “I planned on doing that as well, Vivian,” Max said.

  And just like that, two huge cups of steaming cocoa materialized on the tray next to me with swirls of whipped cream eight inches high. “Um…” I glanced from Leo to Max. “They both look terrific.”

  Max leaned down, his ginger hair brushing against my forehead. “Mine is the best, my American Princess-to-be.” He squeezed my knee with one firm, muscular hand, and whispered in my ear. “Come on, Vivian. Humor me. It will be so much fun. I’m dying to initiate you into the Mile High Club. Who better to introduce you to the joys of carnal relations at 5280 feet? I am, after all, your fiancé.”

  “Right,” I said. Max was absolutely right. I loved this man. I wanted this man. An ache grew in the V between my legs and my nipples hardened. I would have sex with this man on the ground or a mile above it. “Of course, Leo.”

  “Max,” he said and frowned.

  Leo laughed.

  “Yes, I meant Max. Of course I meant Max. Yes, I would love that.”

  “Is this your sad, pathetic fantasy, Max? Having sex on an airplane?” Leo asked. “Or is it Vi’s? Who can better service her needs and desires? You or me? Did you ever think about asking Vi what her fantasy might be? Maybe she wants to have sex in a garden at midnight under a starry sky.”

  “That would be nice,” I said, and fanned myself.

  “I’ve already visited the airplane bathroom for the usual reasons,” Leo said. “It’s not very suitable for fucking. These seats in first class, on the other hand, are reclinable.”

  “He has a point,” I said. “The lighting is awfully harsh and I can see every pore on my face. The sink is itty bitty and I’m not sure I want those sharp, germ-ridden hot and cold water spigots etched into my ample backside.”

  “Point taken,” Max said. “You can leave now, Leo. I’ve got this under control.” He leaned down, kissed me fiercely. “We can improvise, darling,” he said, and peeled off my proper pant suit in the middle of Posh Airways First Class.

  He tossed my Pashmina wrap over the seat behind him. Next, he unbuttoned my top, his lips brushing the delicate skin of my chest, the stubble on his chin tickling me. I stifled a giggle. He reached for the front clasp of my bra and unhooked it.

  “Hey, Vi. Remember me?”

  Leo stared.

  Watching.

  Patiently waiting.

  “Yes, of course I remember you.”

  “Good,” he said.

  “Don’t you have some place else you need to be?” I asked. “Something better you need to be doing?”

  “Nothing better, no one more captivating than you, Vi.”

  “Ignore him,” Max said, pushing my skirt up my thighs. “I always do.”

  “I’m not sure I can.”

  The problem was I didn’t know how to tell Leo to leave. He was, after all, the heir to the throne. The last thing I wanted to do was make some terrible gaffe and embarrass everyone, myself included. If only I could think of a good excuse…

  “I don’t think, Max, that we should be having sex here and now in the first class section of Posh Air. I didn’t wear my fancy underwear today. Just everyday cotton briefs. Everyone will see. And you know how people are. They’ll judge.”

  Leo waved his hand. “I’m the guy who doesn’t care what you’re wearing. Cotton, silk, a crown of daisies, a diamond tiara. I don’t care as long as I get a chance to be with you. A chance to win your heart.” He held one muscular hand out to me, his fingers curling through the air, beckoning. The devil himself never looked so commanding.

  I froze and stared at those beautiful large fingers. Something fluttered inside me. A beat-beat in my heart moved lower into my stomach, drumming insistently. I was growing wetter, if that was possible. This didn’t make any sense. I was on an airplane with two smoking hot princes, one of whom I was engaged to. One for whom it was perfectly normal that I was interested in. The other… not so much.

  I glanced around at all the other first class passengers who were ignorant to the throes of my dilemma, absorbed as they were in re-runs of Downton Abbey, or a mind tickling Sudoku puzzle. Everyone was oblivious, except for Leo.

  He smiled and ran his tongue over his lip. “What say you, Vi? Give me a chance to make your fantasies come true.”

  Max hit the recline lever on my seat and threw it back into near horizontal mode. “Leave, Leo. It’s you and me time, Vivian.” He stared down at me, his lips full and bitable, his ginger hair messy, that one lock traipsing across his moist forehead. “Let’s give it a go.” He yanked off his boxers and tossed them, his thick erection slapping against his stomach.

  I already knew Max was well endowed. But right here and now, he was really well endowed. His eight inches looked even larger.

  “I don’t know, Max. People are here. Your brother’s standing in the aisle. This feels a bit awkward. I’m not sure I can even take….” I stared at his thick, hard erection that seemed to be calling my name. “Not sure I can take all of you.”

  “We’ll never know until we try. Be my good girl, Vivian.” He lifted one of my legs up over his shoulder, rubbed his length against the V in my center. “Does that feel, good, love?”

  “Of course it feels good. It always feels good.” I glanced up at Leo, who stood just feet away. “Leave!”

  “You can’t order me around,” he said. “Some day I will be king.”

  “Then for the lo
ve of God, Your Majesty, turn around. Don’t watch. Or I’ll never speak to you again.”

  “Only if you promise to give me a fair shake, Vi. Only if you promise that my time will come.”

  I pointed. “Turn.”

  “Promise,” he said.

  “Fine. I promise.”

  “What exactly?”

  I bit my lip. “I promise that I will give you a chance. That your time will come.”

  He winked. “I’ll hold you to that.” He turned and walked down the aisle.

  Minutes later I gasped and cried out, “Yes, Max! I’m coming Max. Yes, I will marry you!” The best orgasm on a plane ever shattered the window in my aisle, blowing my hair out around me. “I’ll say yes to the stupid fucking dress even if I have to wear ten of them before ‘I do’ sticks and you carry me over the threshold.”

  But I became distracted. “Why is the wind from that open port so hot? Are we flying over a desert country, Max? Are we back in Morocco?” I woke with a start to Esmeralda, her hair set in pink rollers waving a blow dryer back and forth across my face.

  “Vivian. Wake up! What’s up with all the moaning and groaning?”

  “Turn that thing off. I’m up.” I looked around the room. No Maximillian. No Leo. In spite of my gratitude that I wasn’t actually sexually involved with and physically torn between two hot princes, there were also no mint sugar cookies, which didn’t feel fair.

  Esmeralda turned off the dryer. “Chop chop, she said. “We’re meeting Major Peters on the helipad in forty-five minutes. His intel organization tracked down Saoirse Ailey. She works as a croupier at a casino in Monte Carlo.”

  “What’s the dress code?” I asked.

  “Attire: Fancy. Makeup: Heavy. Attitude: Sassy. Sex Appeal: High.” She disappeared into the bathroom.

  “I only have the white velour track suit you bought for me at the Friedricksburgh Hospital gift shop.”

  She popped around the corner and proffered a garment bag. “I already handled that.” She tossed it on my bed along with six-inch platform heels.

  “You know I can’t walk in heels.”

  “Then it’s past time you learn.”