However, God seemed to laugh loudest at her plans.
Here she was in First Class on a British Airways flight landing on the tarmac of Heathrow Airport with the Prince of Wales. It was hard to believe, even as she looked down at his hand protectively over her own.
As if he could read her mind, he turned to her. “Are you nervous?” he asked, squeezing her hand gently.
His face made her smile involuntarily. “Yes. Is it that obvious?”
He shrugged. “I still get nervous sometimes with all the lights and madness. I guess that is why being in Hernando was so pleasant. For the first time in my life, I was left to just be myself.”
“Well, being yourself is a wonderful thing,” she said softly.
Looking over at Geoff, who was directly across the way, Hope raised a brow. “Does he ever sleep? I swear every time that I’ve looked over there, he’s been awake – even after this long flight.”
Michael sat up in his chair and smirked at Geoff, who was listening to them both. “He’s a mean bastard. Military. Former MI6. A bit of a snake wrangler in my honest opinion. Nasty business…that Geoff.”
Hope grinned. “I don’t think he’s mean. I just wondered if he sleeps.”
“I do sleep, madam,” Geoff answered gruffly. “Just not on planes when I’m escorting the Prince. After all, if I am a snake wrangler, the question is who am I wrangling?”
Michael pointed to Hope. “Her, of course.”
Everyone laughed.
The British Airways staff, more formal than normal, quickly went to first assist the Prince and his entourage of eight, including Hope, who had booked up the entire First Class flight for security reasons. All smiles and perfectly applied make-up, they stood in waiting.
The head attendant came quickly to the intercom and gave the current time and temperature in a chipper tone. “For your safety and comfort, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the Captain turns off the Fasten Seat Belt sign. This will indicate that we have parked at the gate and that it is safe for you to move about.” With a twinkle in her eye, she kept her seductive gaze on Michael.
“Please check around your seat for any personal belongings you may have brought on board with you and please use caution when opening the overhead bins, as heavy articles may have shifted around during the flight,” she continued.
Hope had to giggle. Under her breath, she nudged Michael slightly. “I think she has a crush on you.”
Michael blushed. “I thought she was looking at you, my dear.”
“If you require deplaning assistance, please remain in your seat until all other passengers have deplaned. One of our crew members will then be pleased to assist you,” the attendant said even more directly to Michael.
“That was a bit much,” Hope said with a raised brow.
Geoff couldn’t help his sudden growl. He had seen the likes of the attendant a thousand times on these trips, and it never ceased to amaze him how direct the women could be.
“We remind you to please wait until you are inside the terminal to use any electronic devices. On behalf of British Airways and the entire crew, I’d like to thank his Royal Highness, Prince of Wales and his esteemed guests as well as all of our other passengers for joining us on this trip, and we are looking forward to seeing you on board again in the near future. Have a nice evening.”
As soon as the signal to move about the plane came on, Michael quickly unbuckled, glad to get that over with. Standing up, he offered Hope his hand. Slipping her little hand into his, she stood up just in time for him to plant a kiss on her full mouth. “Mmm,” he said, pulling her close. “I can’t wait to finally get you home, alone, away from all of these bloody people and into my bed.”
The flight attendant immediately looked away. His sudden display of affection made it clear that he was not interested, and put to bed any discussion of him still being a playboy.
“I can’t wait to be alone with you either,” she said, as he bent and grabbed her purse from the floor.
“You’ll be escorted off the plane first,” Geoff informed Hope more than Michael. “After that, the rest of the plane will be allowed to disembark. Just remember to stay close and don’t answer any questions.”
Hope nodded but wondered who would have questions.
Quietly, she followed Michael and the rest of the entourage to the main cabin door. Shades covering her eyes, and baseball cap pulled down low over her face, she felt a surge of nervousness overcome her as the main cabin door opened. Michael grabbed her hand and they walked through the small port that had been completely emptied to the gate opening. As soon as they emerged out into the airport, flashing lights assailed them.
Reporters, cameramen and onlookers lined the sides of the roped off entry snapping pictures while fans screamed his name and professed how much they loved him.
Just as Geoff had suggested, Hope kept her head down and her hand locked in Michael’s. She could feel a million eyes on her, crawling all over her, judging her. She nearly tripped until Michael slowed and turned to her. His bodyguards moved into the view of the cameras. “Hey,” he said, with a gentle smile. “I won’t let them get to you.”
Hope nodded. She needed to hear that. Heart racing, she moved the backpack on her shoulder. But Michael took it from her and passed it to one of his men.
“Are you ready?” he asked, looking toward the entrance. “A few more hundred feet and we’ll be in a car all alone again.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, hearing someone scream her name. She was too afraid to turn and see who it was. Walking with Michael again, she kept her eyes on the exit.
The paparazzi was relentless. They screamed questions out to them the entire time that they walked. The camera flashed so many times until Hope was grateful for her dark shades.
“Turn around and give us one shot!” one of the photographers screamed.
Hope kept walking.
“Hope, give us a quote. How did you meet the Prince?” another screamed.
She looked up at Michael, who kept his eyes on following his security, who pushed through the crowd and made a clear path for them. How does he survive this every day? She asked herself inwardly. The sight made her feel sorry for him and yet understanding of why he had run in the first place.
“Michael, what do you think Duchess Thalia will say when she finds out?” another reporter screamed.
“Is this just a fling?” another man screamed.
“Is she pregnant?” a woman screamed.
Hope and Michael were almost at the door to exit out into the light of day when the last of a barrage of questions came.
“How will the Queen react to Hope’s mother’s demise? She’s not exactly the type of woman that you vet to be in line for the throne,” a louder reporter screamed. “Hope are you suicidal as well?”
The question paralyzed Hope. Stopping in her tracks, she began to turn toward the voice of the man when Michael wrapped his large arm around her and guided her out of the door. As the sun and the breeze blew through her hair and over her face, it carried with it a tear that slipped from the corner of her eye and down her cheek.
A large black Mercedes Benz was waiting for them at the door. Geoff quickly opened the door for Hope and Michael and made sure that they got in without interruption. Hitting the top of the car to signal the driver to drive, he made his way to the car behind them and followed the motorcade out onto the roadway that had been blocked off for their exit off the premises.
Hope was speechless. Sitting back in the car, she snatched off her shades and finally took a deep breath. “What the hell?” she said, wiping her eyes. “Who told them about my mother?”
Michael sat back in the seat and shook his head. “I have a few ideas,” he said, biting his lip. “I’m so sorry.”
Hope folded her arms. “Is Thalia behind this?”
Michael clenched his jaw. “Funny, I was just asking the same question about that cock sucker, Sean.” He caught himself. “Excuse my language.
”
“Excused,” she smirked. “So what are we going to do about it? We can’t just let them run over us?”
Pulling his cell phone out, he sneered. “I’ll get Geoff on this.”
Hope had other concerns. Putting her hand over his and his cell phone, she asked the question that was bothering her the most. “Am I going to be a problem for you?” she asked sincerely.
Michael gripped the phone in his hand and turned to her. “If you leave me, yes, you’ll be a problem for me.”
Hope knew that he was deflecting from the seriousness of the situation. “You know what I mean, Michael,” she said, pressing him for an answer.
Suddenly, he was serious. “Did you mean what you said to me back in Hernando?”
“What part?” she asked, frowning.
“The part where you said you loved me too.”
She shook her head. “Yes, I meant every word of it.”
“Well, so did I. This isn’t the 19th century or even the 20th century. No one is going to choose who I love and no one is going to be allowed to take you away from me. I may be a Prince to England, but with you I’m just a man. No one is going to get between the two of us.”
His words soothed the deepest of her worries. “I’m just scared,” she said, scooting over to lay her head on his shoulder.
Michael pulled off his jacket and pulled her into him. Kissing the top of her head, he looked out of the window and relaxed in the leather seats. “I’m scared too, but we’ll just have to weather this together.”
***
Kensington Palace
Apartment 1A
For years, Michael had fought the will of his family to live in the auspicious 1A Apartment on the historic grounds of Kensington Palace. This was the place of the extremely high born, where many of the royals and staff that supported the crown lived since the 17th century.
However, just like with many of his other protests, he had been silenced about wanting to live alone and was forced to move from his penthouse downtown to the Central London estate after a story surfaced on the news about how much he was paying in rent to live alone. Michael had to admit it was a pretty costly bill for security, the maid service, the entire top floor penthouse suite, access to helicopters, etc. But he would have gladly worked as an indentured servant to keep away from his brother’s judgmental eye. So in order to appease the public and the taxpayers, he had moved begrudgingly back in the iron grip of his family’s lair.
Richard lived in the well-known Apartment 1 with his wife and children, and from time-to-time demanded Michael’s presence for dinner and clandestine conversations, especially regarding matters of state. However, where they were once strained, relations had gotten much better between the brothers when Michael started to see Duchess Thalia.
Now, here he was again, on the bad side of public opinion and his brother’s approval. Home sweet home.
The motorcade pulled up to his apartment and the men quickly began to unload his few small bags. Standing outside in front of the entrance, Hope looked up at the darkening skies and pulled off her shades. She could smell the rain in the air.
Michael took her hand and led her up the stairs. His butler quickly opened the doors for him to his home and he moved out of the way and motioned for Hope to step inside. As she stepped across the threshold, a row of maids in formal staff attire, bent their heads and bowed out of respect.
Hope looked around the apartment in complete awe. It was so regal, so elaborate. Befitting a king, the home was a testament to his crown. Gold gilded doors, high ceilings, breathtaking art, and priceless statues, rich pewter colored walls, tall windows with expensive drapes, elegant furniture and the smell of unadulterated money.
She stood in the middle of the floor looking around in awe. “Michael,” she said on bated breath. “This is…surreal.”
He smiled, glad that she approved. “It’s our home for now,” he said, laying his jacket on the back of one of the chaise lounge chairs. “Shall I give you a tour?”
“Please,” she said, pulling off her baseball cap. “I feel too underdressed to even be here.” A nervous chuckle pushed out of her. “God, you must have thought my home was so shabby.”
Michael frowned. “No, I did not. It was perfect.” He walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Massaging her tight muscles until she began to relax, he bent and kissed her neck. “Shall we start with a tour of the bedroom?”
Hope blushed. Looking behind him for the staff, she realized that they had quietly excused themselves already from the room. “Where did they go?” she asked perplexed.
Michael shrugged. “Wherever they go,” he laughed a little. “Let someone else take care of you for a little while. Trust me, they take great pride in their work. And they are well treated. I’m not the type of person that would allow anything less.”
“It just feels weird to have a butler or maid tending to me,” she said, turning to him. Her eyes were bright with excitement.
Michael was glad. Earlier, she had been so hurt by those hounds at the airport. He was hoping that being here might lighten her mood, although it had the opposite effect for him. He would have rather been back in Hernando in her bed making love.
Michael kissed her lips. “Let’s get you a hot bath, a change of clothes and dinner. And we can talk about all the things we are going to do together now that you are here.” The look in his eye said that he wasn’t talking about things to do together outside of the bedroom. Slipping a hand behind her on her lower back, he escorted her to the spiral staircase that led upstairs to his master bedroom.
Hope felt like a fish out of water. This home was amazing and everything in it, but as soon as she walked into his apartment, the first thought that came to mind was did she belong here. However, Michael seemed to not have the same thought in his mind at all.
Leading her to the room at the end of the hall with white double doors, he grasped the gold-gilded knobs in his hand and pushed the doors open to a luxurious bedroom that seemed to minimize all the beauty outside of the room. A king-sized oak sleigh bed sat against a wall of art that span from the 18th century until today. In frames that probably cost more than her home under special lighting, the back wall was a sight that one would have more than likely seen in a Smithsonian. His bed, a vision of sex, was covered in dark thick comforters, huge body-sized pillows and a newspaper. On the opposite wall was an uncompromisingly large shelf of books in rows up to the vaulted ceiling and down to the floor. The only windows in the room were on the far right side of the opulent room and were covered by dark curtains with white linen drapes, pulled to the sides and hung against golden sconces. A simple wooden desk sat in front of the windows with a lamp, a photo of his mother in a beautiful frame and Michael’s writing papers.
On the same wall was a large fireplace and to add a more modern touch to the room a television mounted over the mantle.
“It’s very masculine,” she said, trying to find the words. “And very stately.”
“And very boring,” Michael said, closing the doors behind them. “I wish that you could have seen my penthouse. It was more our style, you know. Very modern but at the same time a place that you enjoy without leaving for a month.”
Hope smiled when he said our style. Her eyes flashed with promise. “So what did you have in mind in terms of a bath?” She dropped her purse on the floor.
Michael smirked. “I have the mind to give you one.”
“Really?” she laughed. “You’re going to give me a bath in the middle of the day.”
Michael pulled at the buttons of his shirt. Slipping it off, he pulled off his undershirt to reveal his perfect muscular frame. “Do you have a problem with that, Ms. Daniels?”
Hope raised her palms. “Hey, you won’t get an argument from me, Your Highness.”
“Then why are you still clothed?” He asked, pulling at the buckle of his pants.
“I’m just enjoying the show,” she said walking over to the bed.
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Michael growled. “If you go over there and get on that, I’ll be forced to move to DEF-CON 3.”
Hope laughed as he threw his pants to her. “What is DEF-CON 3?” She looked out of the window and saw heavy raindrops hitting the window pane. It was a perfect day now. In the coziness of his private chambers, she felt suddenly as safe as she did back in her home.
He grabbed the remote and turned on his Bose system. “This is DEF-CON 3,” he said, putting on a song. Pink Floyd’s Marooned lit up the room. The hidden small speakers put out a crystal clear vision of sex.
“What is this?” Hope asked, listening to the song.
“Pink Floyd,” he said, walking up to her naked. “And you’re still clothed.” Putting his palm in between her breasts, he playfully pushed her back on the bed. Grabbing her feet, he first pulled off her boots, then her socks, then made his way up to her jeans and pulled them off. Helping him out, she pulled off her shirt, but when she went for her bra, he stopped her.
“No, don’t touch it,” he ordered. “Sometimes, when you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.”
Snickering, she laid back on the bed again. “Okay, Tiger.”
His left eye twitched. “Why do you call me that, anyway?”
“Because you have a deadly gaze,” she said, as she watched him slowly and seductively remove her powder blue lace panties. Massaging her inner thighs, he watched her give in to his demands.
Her mouth opened in pleasure.
“You like that?” he asked, as he grabbed her legs and turned her over on her stomach.
Her eyes closed as his fingers stroked gently over her backside. “Yes,” she whispered.
His fingers flicked at her bra and unhooked it. Removing the article of clothing from her body, he kissed down the length of her long back to her ample bosom. Massaging her slowly, he kissed the round orbs with his tongue as he spread her legs further open.
Hope could feel his hot skin pressed against hers and smell his cologne all around her. She could feel his hardness pressing against her, aching to be buried inside of her body. She could feel his hands roaming all over her, stroking and massaging her muscles, easing the tension of a long day. And in that moment, she felt completely at ease. No more lights, no more questions, just the privacy they needed to do what they did best…love each other.
Highness (The Lonely Heart Series) Page 19
