As we chatted with Carol, one of the organizers, at the end of a meeting, she glanced at me speculatively and spoke to Nicky.
“Sir, perhaps your friend would like to join us at the luncheon meeting at the end of the week? The one we’re having to raise awareness of better agriculture practices, with members of the government attending? I think she might have some interesting points to add to the discussion. And you know we need all the help we can get.”
Nicky glanced at me, the corners of his mouth tipping up. “What do you think, Kyra? Care to be dragged into the fray with the rest of us? There are a couple of MPs who are stubborn about changes of any kind, including in farming and food sourcing. You could be my secret weapon.”
I shrugged. “As long as I’m here, I’m happy to help. And you know that getting me to talk about farming and sustainability is never a problem—it’s getting me to shut up that’s the trick.”
Carol laughed, her eyes sparkling with surprised humor. “All right, then. I’ll add your name to our list.” She cast Nicky a sidelong gaze. “I’m thinking we should seat her next to Sir Martin Barrett.”
“That would be . . . devious.” Nicky cocked one eyebrow. “And perhaps not fair to Sir Martin. He wouldn’t know what hit him after Kyra.”
“Hey!” I swatted him on the arm. “That’s not nice. I know how to behave, and I never browbeat anyone into thinking the same way I do.”
“Of course, you don’t, darling.” He winked at me. “You simply show them the error of their thinking until they come around.”
“Then you’re exactly who we need.” Carol nodded. “Trust the prince to bring us the right person for the job.”
Nicky slid his arm around me. “Her passion is just one reason to love Kyra. She has a whole slew of other wonderful qualities.”
I glowed with his praise, and for the first time, I began to see the possibilities in our situation. I’d been fretting for months, sure that I’d be a detriment to Nicky, unable to recognize any way in which we might make the future work. But if there really was a place for me in his work—a place that complemented my own strengths—maybe there was hope for us, after all.
“I hope that’s all right.” Nicky squeezed my hand as we left the office building. “I know this is meant to be your vacation. I don’t want to put you to work if you only wanted to relax.”
“I don’t mind at all.” I leaned closer to him, bumping my shoulder into his arm. “I like feeling useful.”
“Do you, now?” He drew up short just inside the doors that led out of the lobby. On the sidewalk beyond the tinted glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows, a crowd of reporters and photographers were waiting to ambush us. They’d been the only difficulty this week, though Nicky told me stoutly to ignore them. He certainly seemed able to do it; he never held back from touching me or failed to hold my hand when we were in public. I was both pleased that he wasn’t trying to hide our relationship and worried that they’d only ramp up their harassment once they had solid proof that we were together.
“Do I like being useful to you? Of course, I do.” I tilted my face up to his, smiling brightly. “I want you to like having me around. It sure beats the alternative.”
“I do like having you here. Even when we’re just sitting together, watching television . . . you make me feel peaceful. And when I have to go out, the idea of coming home to you—I’ve never felt that way about anyone before.” Nicky traced my cheekbone with the tip of his finger. “But I don’t want to be selfish with you, either. I would keep you here with me always, if I could.”
I bit my lower lip. “What if you could? Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”
“For me, yes. For you . . . sometimes I’m not sure.” Something was warring within him, some struggle that he wasn’t sharing with me. Before I could ask him about it, Nicky bent his head to kiss me, his mouth possessive and wanting. “Let me take you home now, Ky. I want to be alone with you, and I don’t want to wait another minute more than absolutely necessary.”
My heart pounded with anticipated pleasure. “Then let’s not. Wait, I mean. Let’s go home.”
Without another word, Nicky tugged my hand, leading me through the doors. Harold waited by the car, and he climbed into the backseat as Nicky helped me into the front seat. I’d learned in the past few days that Nicky, like most members of his family, preferred to drive himself whenever he could, even though there was always a policeman present in the car, too. Harold was so quiet and unobtrusive that I sometimes forgot he was even with us.
“Kyra! Look over here, love! Your highness, will there be an announcement coming soon, then? Do you have anything to tell us?”
Nicky gave the press his standard brief smile and wave before he slid behind the wheel. As he pulled away from the curb, he reached across to give my hand a squeeze.
“Are you feeling particularly brave?”
My forehead knitted together. “That’s a scary question. Why?”
He chuckled. “I’m going to cook for us tonight. Do you trust me?”
I shifted in my seat until I faced him as fully as I could with my seatbelt still latched. “Haven’t I proven that I do? I trust you with everything, Nicky. Everything I am and everything I want to be.” I paused a beat. “But what are you making us for dinner?”
He wagged his eyebrows and smiled wickedly. “My specialty of the house. Roast chicken stuffed with fragrant rice, a side of creamed spinach that my mother taught me how to make, and for dessert . . .” He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed the back of my fingers. “Melted chocolate.”
“Melted chocolate?” I frowned. “Just melted chocolate? How is that dessert?”
The glance he slid me was as molten as the chocolate he was describing. “You drizzle it over . . . whatever it is you want most to put in your mouth.”
“Oh.” A flush started on my neck and crept up over my cheeks. “How did you know that was my favorite way to end a meal?”
Nicky’s only response was an evil smirk, and I groaned.
“How fast can you get us home? Suddenly, I’m ravenous.”
“You’ve been holding out on me.” I sank back in my chair and smiled at Nicky.
“Oh, have I been? How’s that?” He turned from where he stood in front of the kitchen sink, his smile warming me.
“I didn’t know you could cook. That chicken was incredible. If I’d known your hidden talent, I would’ve insisted that you feed me every night this week.” I paused, thinking. “Also back in Florida. Think about how much delivery food we ate then.”
“Ah, but don’t you think we would’ve gotten tired of chicken?” He dried his hands on a tea towel, leaning against the counter’s edge as he grinned. “Because while I can do that very well, sadly it’s the only recipe where I can actually claim some success. Other than this, I burn boiling water.”
“Well . . .” I stood up, rolling my shoulders. “If you can only do one thing well, that’s a good one.” I wandered around the granite island. “Your kitchen is really beautiful. Did you design it?”
Nicky laughed. “No. This cottage was renovated by my great-aunt years ago. Then my cousin moved in after university, and she had the kitchen redone. She has a degree in culinary arts, and she loves to cook. Right after the kitchen was finished, she got engaged and moved to an estate in the north. About that time, I was ready for my own place, so I moved in.” He lifted one shoulder. “I don’t use the kitchen as well as my cousin did. And I haven’t made that chicken since Alex and Jake came back from their honeymoon.”
“You cooked for your sister and her new husband? Aw, that’s sweet.” I tilted my head, my eyes steady on Nicky.
“Not only Alex and Jake but Daisy, too. We had a sibling dinner to celebrate. So it wasn’t just sweet, it was downright brave.” He smirked. “You haven’t seen my youngest sister in a long time. She’s a wild one.”
“Does she live here? In Kensington Palace?”
Nicky shook his head. “No, she has a flat
in the city. She doesn’t want the constraints of living in a royal residence, she says. Daisy exists to complicate things. She drives her policemen absolutely insane. But she can be just as sweet and kind as she is crazy. That’s the only saving grace about her.”
“That, and she’s gorgeous.” I’d seen Princess Daisy’s photos on line, and I knew Nicky’s baby sister had grown up into a beautiful young woman.
“She’s all right.” Nicky tossed the dish towel down onto the counter. “But enough about my family. It’s not too cold tonight. Want to take a walk in the gardens? It’s very clear. We could pretend to look at the stars.”
“Why would we pretend?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Because.” He grasped my elbow and tugged at me to him. “We’ll be too busy looking at each other to pay attention to anything else.”
“Hmmmm.” I pretended to think about the idea. “I think I can get behind that idea. Let me grab my sweater, just in case.”
“Don’t you trust me to keep you warm?”
“I do. But if I wear my sweater, you can concentrate on kissing me instead of keeping me from shivering. That sounds like much more fun to me.”
We walked along the silent pathway with our hands linked. Every now and then, Nicky pointed out apartments and who lived in them, simply because he knew that I was interested, or he told me amusing stories from his childhood that had taken place within these walls. I drank it in, absorbing what he shared, wondering if it was possible that someday, this might be my home, too. I let myself dare to dream that I could be one of the mothers pushing prams up and down between the shrubs or chasing toddlers along the walks and warning them to stay away from the fountains.
We turned and walked down a few steps into the sunken garden. It was dull and mostly dead this time of year, but Nicky described the splashes of color that decorated the plants during the spring.
“I couldn’t name all the flowers, but I know you could.” He raised our joined hands to his lips and kissed my fingers. Turning me so that my back pressed against his front, he pointed down the long pool to the far end. “See that archway? When Alex and I were small, she convinced me that if I ran through it fast enough, I could get to Wonderland. You know, where Alice and company live? I pretended that I didn’t believe her, but when she went inside, I tried it, over and over, until I tripped and fell on a loose slate. Cut open my head and had to have stitches.”
“Poor baby.” I arched my neck to see him. “Do you have a scar?”
“Yeah, but it’s in my hairline, so it doesn’t mar my rugged good looks.” He winked at me. “Still throbs from time to time, or so I tell Alex when I’m trying to make her feel guilty over something.”
“Show me.” I pivoted slowly in his arms. “Where’s your scar?”
Nicky touched his forehead, feeling along his hair until he found it. “Right here.” He guided my fingers there, too, and I brushed over the tiny ridge.
“Lean down,” I murmured. “Let me kiss it better.”
He smiled at me, a hint of amused indulgence in his eyes. I held his face between my hands and feathered my lips over the spot where he’d been hurt.
“There,” I breathed. “All better.”
“Hmmm.” Nicky moved his head a fraction of an inch. “I think I hurt my lips that day, too, now that I think of it. You should probably kiss them better.”
“Should I?” I angled my mouth over his and pressed my lips there, moaning softly when Nicky coaxed me to open to him. The tip of his tongue traced a circle on the sensitive skin just inside my mouth, making me sigh in pleasure.
“Ky.” He combed his fingers through my hair. “My Ky. Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
“Nearly as much as I love you?” I laughed softly. “Which is enough to walk in barren gardens with you at night in November.”
“True.” He wrapped his arms around me and held me close. “But here we are in the moonlight, under the stars, and there is no place in the world I’d rather be at this moment. If I could, I’d freeze us here forever.”
“Freeze might be the key word,” I remarked.
From somewhere nearby, music suddenly filled the air. I glanced at Nicky questioningly.
“Probably one of the non-family apartments. The units that are open to the public for rental are just around the corner. Maybe someone’s having a party.” He touched my nose. “Probably annoying for their neighbors, but for us, it’s serendipity.”
“Oh, really? How so?” I leaned back in his arms to gaze into his face.
“Because I want to dance with you, Ky. That’s something we’ve never done.” He sidestepped us until we stood on the grass, and then he linked his hands on my lower back before he began to sway.
“This reminds me of junior high school.” I rested my cheek against his chest, thrilling to the steady beat of his heart. “We had a vice principal who was a stickler about boys and girls keeping at least four inches of space between our bodies as we danced.”
“Ah.” Nicky’s fingers drew teasing circles on my back. “And did you behave?”
“Always.” I grinned up at him. “Actually, I didn’t dance with boys often—and when I did, it was always because we were friends. No one was chasing me.”
“Then they were all little fools.” He dipped his head to kiss me. “If I’d been there, I would have requested every dance. And I wouldn’t have followed the four-inch rule, either.”
“We would’ve been in trouble, then,” I observed. “And maybe you wouldn’t have asked me back then. I wasn’t a very girly-girl. Even in those days, I liked playing in the dirt more than I liked dressing up.”
“Ky, sweetheart, that doesn’t matter to me now and it wouldn’t have mattered to me then. When will you understand that you are perfect?” He tucked a curl of my hair behind my ear.
“Hardly,” I whispered. “I’m so flawed in so many ways, Nicky.”
“To me, you are perfect.” He brushed a kiss onto my forehead. “For me, you are perfect. And that’s all that matters.”
I sighed and snuggled against him again, closing my eyes as we continued to move slowly to the distant music. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”
I felt the rumble of his grunt deep in his chest. “Don’t ask that. It tempts fate. Just . . . believe. Feel my heart beat and know for sure that it only belongs to you, forever.”
And there in that perfect night, I trusted and believed in everything that could be.
A Royal Romance Disaster?
This week, all the buzz in London has been about American sweetheart Kyra Duncan, the latest love of Prince Nicholas, who’s been in town for a visit. The couple hasn’t been shy about displays of public affection as they’ve cavorted together across the city.
Most of the news and photos have been glowing tributes from those who love love and anticipate another transatlantic match for us all to coo over. However, despite that, there’s a strong and growing voice of dissent who aren’t so happy about Duncan or the possibility that she could be the next new member of the royal family.
“She’s just . . . crass,” one onlooker complained after catching sight of the couple this week. “She was wearing jeans and gym shoes, and she looked slovenly. That’s not what a princess should look like.”
One source tells us that Prince Nicholas took his girlfriend along to a meeting of the foundation Waste Not, where she was not shy in sharing her viewpoints and opinions on hunger and farming practices.
“She practically shut down the prince,” says our source. “Here it was his meeting, his work, and she kept interrupting, correcting him, even. It was uncomfortable for everyone there.”
Whether or not this kind of behavior will be tolerated by the prince and the rest of his family remains to be seen. According to palace insiders, Kyra is scheduled to return to her home in the states in two days, which will apparently be a relief to some who are not enjoying her visit in Britain.
I read the piece twice, my throat
burning with humiliation. I hadn’t meant to look at it; Shelby had sent me a link to a picture of Nicky and me that she’d loved, and the scathing article had been headlined on the same page, just above the photo.
It was a shame, because the picture of the two of us really was a good one. I might have had a smile on my face now, like I had in the photograph, if I hadn’t been idiotic enough to read the story.
“Nicky.” I glanced up from my phone, frowning. “The other day, when I was at the meeting with you, at Waste Not—did I overstep? Was I rude? Did I talk over you?”
“What? No. Of course, you didn’t.” He shook his head, his eyes fastened on the road in front of us. We were on our way to the luncheon Carol had suggested I attend, and until a moment ago, I’d been blissfully happy.
Last night, Alex had helped me choose a perfect dress and heels to wear, since the event was a professional one. She’d even made some suggestions about how I should wear my hair, and both of us had reminisced over one summer in Florida, when she’d taught me how to do French braids. I’d forgotten about that until she’d brought it up.
This morning, I’d felt as pretty and as perfect as I could. I’d greeted Nicky with a kiss when he’d come to collect me, and the expression of open admiration in his eyes had been the cherry on top of a lovely week together. I had begun to feel that maybe I really might be able to pull this off. Maybe I could be the kind of woman, the kind of partner, who Nicky needed. Maybe happily-ever-after really was possible.
And if I hadn’t clicked on the link for the picture as we drove to the hotel where the luncheon was being held, I’d still have been living in that state of contented ignorance.
“Why would you even ask that?” Nicky spied the phone in my hand. “Oh, God, Ky. What did you read?”
The Anti-Cinderella Page 18
