And he couldn’t imagine anyone more perfect for the role.
Fierce, as Alejandro might say.
Whether they were young and dapper, or white-haired with a walking frame, Joe watched as everyone present clamoured around her. Joe kept a discreet distance, able to enjoy the spectacle of Paloma meeting her fans with his usual diligence, keeping her safe. Abuelito looked particularly charmed by the apparition of loveliness before him. Joe looked round as someone tapped his arm.
It was Mel.
“Will you introduce me once her fan club’s done?” she giggled, then stepped towards Admiral Picante. “Paloma, darling, I love your hair!”
“Well, you know”—she stooped to kiss Mel’s cheek—“I never wear wigs.”
“One hundred percent natural, of course.” Mel winked as she pulled her mobile out of a sequinned reticule. “Selfie, Pal?”
“I’m usually rather shy, but I’ll make an exception!”
Mel pulled a huge, cheesy grin. “Say queso!”
“Queso!” Paloma grinned, blowing a kiss into the camera. And straight at Joe, though only he knew it.
A stage shaped like a half-moon was at one end of the room, with an immaculately dressed swing band at its foot. Joe followed in Paloma’s wake as she headed towards her stage. He tried not to be distracted from his job by the seductive wiggle of her walk.
There were so many security staff dotted around the room, some dressed like Joe in tuxes in order to blend in as if they were guests, and others were in their undertaker suits, deliberately sticking out.
No one would try anything here, Joe was certain of it. All the guests had been screened, all the catering staff worked at the castle anyway. So he allowed himself to relax, just a little. Even if he was always, in some capacity, on the alert.
As Paloma sang, Joe became aware of a presence at his elbow, a phone held in her outstretched hand to film the set. There was Vicky, her little dog wandering in circles around them, free from its handbag. She grinned at Joe, nudging him in a silent greeting.
Joe nodded to her, then turned his attention back to the stage, every so often glancing at the audience. Everyone was rapt, the veterans clearly touched by Paloma’s interpretation of songs that took them back through the years to their youth. Joe tapped his foot, wanting to dance. Not an urge he felt all too often, but he couldn’t resist the thought of whirling Paloma across the room as the swing band blared.
With the live band and an audience, Paloma came alive again, seemingly drawing her energy from the people who’d gathered to see her perform. And even as the son—or daughter—of a duchess known across the globe, Paloma’s performance wasn’t a facsimile of her actress mother. Paloma had something of her own.
Perhaps some might have thought this was a gamble, that a drag queen at a charity bash in Windsor Castle was a disaster waiting to happen, but nobody could think that now. She was effervescent, and the man who became her had shared his bed with Joe last night.
As Joe scanned the room, picking out his colleagues. He knew that if any hint of his relationship with his principal was known, he’d be sacked. Not because it was between two men, but because no relationships were allowed between a CPO and the person they were meant to be protecting. But how could he have resisted Alejo, or Paloma?
When the set came to an end, a real admiral stepped onto the stage, his large complement of medals catching the light, his brocade almost as showy as Paloma’s.
“A round of applause for Admiral Picante!” And the high ceilings rang with the sound of clapping. And there was that curtesy again, even in towering heels and a pencil skirt. There’s no end to her talents.
The actual admiral offered Paloma a kiss on the cheek. She graciously accepted, earning another round of applause that only grew louder when she said, “And on behalf of all of us, thank you all for your service and everything you’ve given so we can have parties like this. It’s a privilege to honour the veterans and every man and woman who are still serving today.”
Another round of applause, with added whooping this time, filled the room. With the admiral gallantly escorting her, Paloma gave a very royal wave to her public and descended the steps from the stage. Joe could see she was working her charm on him already, coquettishly commenting on something regarding his medals.
Maybe she was telling him they slay the house down.
The band started to play and couples took to the floor. Mel had found herself a dashing young man with slicked-back hair and neat ginger beard, his uniform pressed perfectly. She couldn’t have looked happier.
One of the oldest men in the room approached Paloma. He was a tiny man, a dumpling on legs, with red cheeks that Joe supposed were a permanent feature after a lifetime at sea under the glare of the sun, scoured by the salt air. His twinkly eyes fixed on Paloma, who had to bend down to hear him as he spoke. Then the next thing Joe knew, Paloma and her nonagenarian escort had taken to the dance floor, the old sailor beaming with glee.
She’d made his day, Joe knew. This young Spanish man with his brattish shell and his megawatt smile and the most perfect feet had swept the veteran right off of his. This was a resounding triumph and perhaps, just maybe, Leviticus would be so angered by Alejandro’s success that he’d make a mistake. And when he did, Patrick and his team would be waiting.
The evening went on, and Joe watched as people drank champagne and danced. Paloma never seemed to be off the dance floor, and Joe started to worry about those dear feet of hers and how they would cope in those heels. He knew he couldn’t dance with her, because far too many people in the room knew that he was Alejandro’s CPO. Even if no one suspected their relationship, dancing in public together was most certainly beyond the pale. Especially when Joe was meant to be guarding his principal, not trying to remember his steps.
Joe noticed that one of his colleagues, who was Ironclad’s CPO, or Abuelita as she was known to Alejandro, had gone, and so had his principal, but the party was still in full flow. Perhaps no one else had noticed her departure for the evening. She had never been one for an Elvis has left the building announcement.
Joe felt someone’s gaze on him. When he looked up, he realised it was Paloma.
“Would you escort the admiral to her quarters?” she asked sweetly.
“Of course.” Joe offered her his arm again, knowing what an honour it was to lead the lady away.
Chapter Sixteen
They made their way from the hall arm in arm, slipping away unseen from the dancing. As the door closed, Paloma gave a happy sigh and said, “You were the most handsome man in Windsor tonight, Osito. In the world!”
Joe chuckled, shaking his head. He was at risk of turning rather pink. “That room was full of hunky men in uniform. Handsome silver foxes with medals, too. But I appreciate the compliment.”
“But the hunkiest was in a tux.” She lifted his hand and kissed it. “Was I all right, Joe? Did they like it?”
“You were amazing! They loved it!” Joe replied. “Everyone in that room was having a great time. You slayed, darling.”
She laughed, clearly delighted with his approval. Then she asked, “Did you get a dance?”
“Apart from drinking on the job, dancing is forbidden too,” Joe told her with a wink. “You were never off that dance floor! How many men do I need to fight for you hand?”
“There’s nobody here now,” she purred. “And I can still hear the music.”
The trumpets could indeed still be heard, the trombones and the throbbing bass. And there was no one about where they were standing. No one to see.
Joe bowed. “May I have this dance, madam?”
“Officer, it’d be an honour.” She kissed his cheek, her lips lingering. “Thank you for your service, Sergeant.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Joe settled his hand on Paloma’s waist, and rested his other on her shoulder. He began to step side to side in time to the distant music. “There… Am I getting this right?”
“You’ve done this be
fore, I can tell!”
“Not very often!” Joe tried not to overthink his dancing, and let the music guide him. He drew nearer to Paloma, until their bodies were just touching. “Would you like me to share your bed again tonight?” he whispered, his lips brushing Alejandro’s ear.
“More than anything,” she murmured, sinking against him in their dance.
Joe didn’t know how long they danced there in their own little world, surrounded by the grandeur of the elaborately decorated corridor. They couldn’t kiss in case they were spotted and could only dance, but Joe held Paloma ever more tightly, his dancing slowing until he only swayed.
“I’ve never been this happy,” Paloma whispered, clinging to him. “Thank you, darling.”
“Nor have I.” Joe smiled against Paloma’s cheek. “I’d very much like to kiss you. Would you like me to? But not here. We can’t do that here.”
“Take me upstairs?”
“Nothing would please me more.”
Joe whirled Paloma in a circle, then took her arm and led her up the stairs. The self-same stairs that royal mistresses had once trod, where a duchess’ son was now escorted by the man hired to protect him.
“How are those delicious feet doing, Paloma, dear?”
“They’re ready for a rest,” she admitted. “I didn’t get a chance to break in the shoes pre-show.”
“In that case…” Joe glanced around. They seemed to be alone, but even if someone appeared at that moment, he’d claim it was legitimate CPO business to spare his principal their sore feet. So he lifted Paloma into his arms and carried her the rest of the way to their apartment. She looped her arm around his neck and gazed up at him, like a bride crossing the threshold.
Snuggled against Joe’s chest, she murmured, “Did you leave your armour behind tonight? I can feel your heart beating.”
“I should’ve worn it, but I didn’t. We’re pretty safe here, and I wanted to feel as if I wasn’t your CPO tonight. Just your date.” And thank God nothing happened.
“Perfect,” Paloma told him. Only as they reached the door did she chance a stolen kiss to Joe’s cheek, and he knew there’d be a sparkly lip print there.
Just like Halloween.
Joe carried Paloma through to Alejandro’s bedroom and laid her down on the bed. He stood there, transfixed, his breathing uneven. “You’re so beautiful. You’re perfect.”
“Not me,” she said. “I’m made of glitter and good corsetry.”
“And your feet are sore.” Joe climbed onto the end of the bed and lifted one of Paloma’s feet into his lap. “Goodbye, shoes?”
“Bye, bye, mermaids!” Paloma agreed.
Joe slipped them off and dropped them over the side of the bed. Then, Paloma’s feet still clad in their nylons, he stroked them. “Is that nice?”
She replied with a soft murmur, reaching up to unpin her cap and put it on the pillow beside her. She curled her toes and straightened them, watching Joe through her lashes.
Joe went on stroking, enjoying the silkiness of the nylons under his touch. Then he held Paloma’s heels in his hand and bent to kiss her toes. Just a peck, and he chuckled. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist, but they are lovely.”
He placed Paloma’s feet gently onto the bed, then lay beside her, propped up on his elbow. “Can I have a kiss from the star of the show?”
“I’d love that,” she whispered, bringing her hand up to stroke his hair. “Kiss me, Sergeant Wenlock.”
Joe half-closed his eyes as he brought his lips to Paloma’s, sighing into their kiss as it deepened. He ran his hand from Paloma’s cheek, down the side of her body to rest on her—
“Oh.” Suddenly awkward, Joe broke from the kiss. “Should we— You’re wearing your padding and all that jazz. Do you need to take it off first?”
“I can leave it all on if you’d rather kiss the señorita.” She smiled. “What would you like?”
Joe stroked the pad of his thumb across Paloma’s sparkly lip. “Alejandro,” he whispered. “Is that bad of me?”
“If you were wearing duct tape where I am, you’d know the answer to that.” She kissed his thumb. “You’re lovely.”
Joe winced. “I’d forgotten that you have to— Yeah, maybe the drag needs to come off!”
“Promise me you won’t take that bow tie off until I get back?”
“This?” Joe laughed. “Well, if you say so.”
“Find us a drink, darling, and I’ll be back before you know it!” Paloma kissed his nose and sat up “Barefoot, this time!”
“Will do. It’s been a pleasure, Admiral Picante.” Joe gave his best naval salute, his palm facing away from Paloma. She blew him another kiss then, pausing only to grab the red silk robe on the way, hurried into the hallway towards the bathroom. Joe was left alone with the admiral’s cap and a moment later, the sound of Alejandro’s soft singing.
He headed into the dark, silent dining room and found a bottle of wine in the cabinet. He returned to the bedroom, bringing the wine and two glasses. As he stood by the bed pouring their drinks, he remembered there was something that he hadn’t done.
That bloody video.
But he pushed the thought away again. He didn’t want to spoil Alejandro’s evening.
Joe kicked off his shoes and socks and got back onto the bed, propped up against the pillows as he sipped his wine in the most opulent bed he’d ever sat on in his life. It wasn’t long at all before Alejandro’s singing disappeared into the hiss of a running shower then Joe heard the bathroom door open. He listened to Alejandro going back and forth into the sitting room, no doubt with wigs and corsetry and heaven knew what else. Drag, it seemed, was an exacting art form.
“And I’m Alejo again!” Alejandro announced as he pirouetted into the bedroom, clad in his silky robe. His wet hair stood out at angles and he smoothed it down with his hand and posed against the doorframe, every inch the casual young rake. “Why, Mr Bond, whatever did you do with the admiral?”
A very corny line popped into Joe’s head. He’d always wanted to do this. Raise his eyebrow and say a terrible Bond-like double entendre. So he did. “Something important came up.”
“My God, you’re adorable!” Alejandro took something resembling a running jump onto the bed, landing safely beside Joe. He scooped up his discarded hat and put it atop his wet hair at a rakish angle. “Are you keeping the British end up?”
“Yes. There’s a slight stiffness coming on. In my trousers.” Joe frowned. “That didn’t really work as a double entendre, did it? More a single entendre. Oh well.” He wrapped the end of the sash on Alejandro’s gown around his finger. “So, the duct tape has gone?”
“Everything’s gone. Under here is only Alejo, as God made him.” As he was speaking, Alejandro plucked at Joe’s bow tie with his fingers, loosening the knot until it was untied. Then he plucked at the first three buttons of Joe’s shirt and gave a nod, as though to signify a job well done. “Just as you are now, you’re my perfect fantasy, but you’re real. I dreamed about you and your tweed after our first kiss.”
Joe cupped Alejandro’s face. “And what did you dream? That we kissed each other again?”
“In a bed like this,” he whispered. “And you were very gentle.”
A pang of longing captured Joe at those words. “I kept thinking of Paloma. I kept wondering who the man was under the makeup and the costume. I didn’t want to go off into the night. I wished it could be different, and I thought you were lost to me.” Joe shook his head. “But you weren’t. You weren’t. You know we shouldn’t be doing this, kissing, undressing each other, but I can’t help myself. I want you so much, Alejo. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone. And knowing that you want me, too. I don’t give a damn about protocol. I’ve nearly given my life for this job, and what do I have to show for it? A medal given to me in secret, and a life lived in the shadows. I want you, Alejo, so much that I can’t stand the thought of losing you again. You dear, darling man.”
“If you want me, I’m y
ours,” Alejandro whispered, stroking Joe’s face with his soft hand. “I know we shouldn’t but…I’ve never done what I should, and life’s going pretty well so far.”
“You mean…” Joe swallowed and gazed into the seemingly endless sparkling depths of Alejandro’s eyes, “make love to you?”
He nodded, then said, “I’d love you to.”
Joe blinked, entirely unsure what to do next. So he kissed Alejandro. Kissed him with all the passion that he’d kept bottled up and battened down inside him. It was clumsy and energetic and magnificent. Joe pulled away.
“Then let’s.” He took one end of the sash again. “It’ll sound like another double entendre, but do I just tug?”
“As hard as you like, Osito!” He ran one fingertip down the tantalising glimpse of Joe’s torso that the buttons had revealed. “I’m going to take my time.”
“I’ll wait, then.” Joe could see a patch of Alejandro’s smooth chest through the vee of his gown. He’d already seen it, of course, but that border of silk made it voluptuous and seductive. “How do you want me?”
“I want you…” There was a pause as Alejandro considered his answer. “Happy, eventually naked, and by the time we fall asleep, utterly, decadently, satisfied. How’s that?”
Joe puffed out his cheeks. “Now there’s a plan for a fun evening! Eventually naked, you tease!”
“I’m in bed with my dream man and he’s wearing a tux. I’m not rushing that!”
Beaming, Joe replied, “I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s dream man before, so by all means take your time.”
“I’ve got one teeny little question.” Alejandro pouted, fluttering his eyelashes. “Will you tense those gorgeous muscles if I ask you to? Just out of artistic interest, nothing more.”
“Absolutely! Just let me know when you want me to. I’m happy to oblige. Whenever you like.”
The Reluctant Royal Page 23
