“Oh, it’s a scandalous story about Wallis Simpson. Do you know about her? Of course you must, being a British royal scholar and all. Why, that woman dug her claws into that man and ruined him,” she said, wringing her hands at it.
Adrian chuckled at the academic commendations being bestowed upon him erroneously. “I’m sure I have heard of her somewhere along the way.” His mother constantly warned him to avoid those types of foreigners who were after a quick entrée into royal society, not to mention bank vaults. If he’d heard it once he’d heard it a thousand times how badly he needed to marry one of his own. What that never explained was what if you didn’t love one of ‘your own’? Then what?
Adrian and Emma stood face to face by the fireplace rubbing each other’s arms, trying to warm up. Only then did her father look up briefly from his book—yet another World War II story, a subject she thought he’d probably read until there was no more information to glean. But it was his obsession. That and tacky wide-wale corduroy pants. Tonight he donned bright green ones with embroidered red Santas on them. She figured if there was any question about whether Adrian would stick around with her family, this would send him packing right back to his small Mediterranean principality, stat.
“Where’s Adrian’s little fellow?” Ellen asked.
Only her mother would refer to a man’s former “boyfriend” like that.
“They’re staying at a motel not far away,” her daughter said. “They insisted on not putting us out.” She couldn’t imagine juggling all the lies if everyone was under the roof the entire time.
“And here I was looking forward to a little slumber party!” she said. She looked at them and frowned. “You know you two look a little wet.”
Well. No one thought about having to explain away that one.
“Um, yeah,” Emma said. “We got caught in a small rain shower.”
“Rain shower?” he mother said. “I thought it was crystal clear out when I looked up at the sky earlier!”
“Indeed,” Adrian chimed in. “Strange sort of weather system. Just rolled in off the ocean and that was that. Maybe you needed to be right on the water’s edge to get it?”
“Yes, a microclimate,” Emma said.
“Microclimate? What were you doing on the water at this time of year?”
“We took a walk along the shoreline,” Emma said. We were just having fun, enjoying the ocean.”
“A few more degrees and you could’ve gotten some snow instead,” her father said, not lifting his eyes from the page.
“You don’t say,” Adrian said. “That might explain why I felt like an icicle out there.”
Emma shook her head. “I could give you a few reasons why you felt like an icicle.”
“Oh really? Do tell,” he said, challenging her. Only then did she realize she had to zip her mouth shut.
“Heh. Just joking.” She stifled a yawn, stretching her arms out. “Think I’m going to call it a night.”
“That’s fine. Your young man friend can join me on the sofa to finish watching the show,” her mother said, turning to Adrian and patting the seat next to her. “I think you’ll find this royal scandal most fascinating.”
Clearly Ellen had found one of her tribe once she learned he was gay and loved royals. Only thing better to her would have been if he could sort of un-gay himself so that he could woo her daughter. But some things weren’t meant to be.
Adrian looked at Emma wide-eyed, imploring for an escape clause. No way could he be assured of keeping up the ruse without Emma to run interference.
“I think Adrian’s still suffering from some jetlag, Mom,” Emma said. “I’ll just tuck him into bed and he’ll sleep like a baby I’m sure.”
“If you insist,” Ellen said. “But please feel free to join me if you can’t get to sleep!”
“Most definitely,” Adrian said, thinking he’d never dream of running the risk of being alone with her and chance spilling the truth.
~*~
“Good Lord, this is getting complicated,” Emma said as she shut the door and slumped against it, warding off any more unwanted attention.
“You’re not kidding. I think it’s more private being a public figure than it is being a stowaway. At least around you!”
“How was I to know this place would become Times Square?”
Adrian walked toward Emma and pulled her up against him, his mouth just inches from hers.
“If it takes living in a circus in order to do this, I’ll sacrifice for the cause,” he said, leaning forward and ever so gently grabbing her lower lip with his teeth, before settling his mouth on hers for a kiss. He could feel Emma loosen up and finally just yield to his efforts. So this is what it would be like if she stopped thinking and just went with it.
“I’m so glad I finally got you all to myself,” he whispered between kisses.
“I’m afraid this is as far as it’s going to go, however,” Emma said, pushing him away yet again. “We can’t risk detection. My parents can hear everything.”
“Are you kidding? Your father seemed thoroughly oblivious to the presence of other humans, engrossed as he was in that compendium he was reading. And your mother is glued to that television program. She’s practically in Buckingham Palace, or Windsor Castle, or wherever it is those two were trysting,” he said, a slight whiff of desperation to his voice. “Speaking of trysting, you promised me the pink palace tonight!”
“I know, I know. I’m really sorry, but I’ve had a change of heart,” Emma said.
“Again?”
“A woman’s prerogative to change her mind,” she reminded him. “Believe me, it’s not what I’d choose. But it’s all just too complicated. It’s making me exhausted trying to figure it all out. And now you’ve got that Serena girl putting the full-court press on you.
“Tell you what: I’ll make a deal. After you clear up all this engagement stuff and you’ve convinced your mother that you would like nothing better than to have a little trans-Atlantic fling with the likes of me, and she provides her unequivocal stamp of approval — and it needs to be a royal stamp, maybe even an official royal decree, for authenticity’s sake — then talk to me about continuing this, this, whatever it is this is.” She held her hands out to try to encompass her confusion over it all.
Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose as if staving off a migraine. In all his years he’d never met such a steadfast rejecter of his advances. It was like she was some bizarre force of nature, a hurricane pressed up against his own gale-force winds of momentum to the contrary.
“It’s a good thing I’m an honorable man,” he said. “But I can’t be held accountable for anything that might transpire while I’m sound asleep. I might develop a sudden sleepwalking habit, for instance. And with your bed right there…”
“I’ll risk it," she said, handing him his T-shirt and shorts. “Now, off to bed with you.”
~*~
Emma was the one who was unable to sleep, however, and found herself before dawn curled up on the sofa, working on her grandmother’s quilt.
“Hey,” Adrian said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he entered the living room thirty minutes later. “You so anxious to work on that thing before the wedding you’re never going to allow yourself to have that you got up in the middle of the night?”
He sat down next to her.
“Ha. Ha. You’ve got me in stitches. Get it?”
Adrian leaned forward and inspected her handiwork as she slid the tiny needle through the layers of fabric and batting.
“I don’t know how you can even see what you’re doing there,” he said as she dipped the needle up then down five times before drawing it through.
“Trust me, at this hour I can’t see it so well,” Emma said. “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to commune with my grandma. It’s what I do when I need to think. It soothes me.”
“You needed soothing? I could’ve taken care of that, you know.” He patted her knee.
She reached over an
d scratched his head. “I know you could. But it’s not quite the same.” She took a deep breath and released a long sigh. “As long as I could remember, I would sit next to my grandma as she worked away on those tiny stitches, for hours at a time. It was a testament to her commitment, that’s for sure. Of course she was alone, so she had a lot of time on her hands.”
“Your grandfather wasn’t around?”
She shrugged. “He died when I was a baby so I never knew him. I guess my grandma sort of latched onto me as a coping device back then.”
Adrian waved his hands. “I’d hardly call you a coping device. I’m sure she adored you.”
Emma nodded. “Of course she did. I didn’t mean it like that. I guess I was a really good distraction for her in her loneliness.”
“What about you? Were you lonely?”
“Me?”
“You didn’t have brothers or sisters, so perhaps it was a bit lonely for an only child?”
“Heck, I don’t know. I guess that’s why I found comfort in my grandma —she was always there for me. My parents always seemed to be so paired up with each other. But me and Grandma, we were a team.”
Adrian glanced over at here. “You miss her a lot?”
“Like mad, sometimes. She was my calming influence. She’s the one I’d talk to — oh, never mind.”
“What?”
“When I’d have boy troubles. My grandmother always reminded me it was them, not me. When I got another puncture in my self-esteem, she was there to plug up the hole.”
“So you watched your grandmother being alone all those years and it didn’t make you yearn to have someone yourself?”
Emma set down her needle for a second. “Huh. I hadn’t thought about it that way. Now that you mention it, my grandmother was all about wanting me to settle down at some point with the man of my dreams.”
“Wise woman, your grandmother.”
“Yeah but it’s all an illusion. Don’t you see that? That’s why I’m just not interested in the pursuit anymore. For what? To get my hopes up, only to have my heart crushed yet again as some man steamrolls over it?”
“They don’t all end that way, you know.”
“For me they do.”
“Maybe you’re just frontloading your statistics so it appears skewed. Perhaps you’ve rid yourself of all the bad luck and from here on out it will be only good. Did you ever think of it that way?”
Emma just stared off in the distance. If that were the case, then she’d end up with Adrian. And she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not in this lifetime, anyhow.
“Can I interest you in a cup of tea?” Emma asked. “I’ll put the television on quietly so you can keep busy while you’re wide awake at the wrong hour.”
She stood up, revealing that she was draped in a cheap-looking, too-long, zebra print straitjacket of sorts. Adrian just sort of stared at it for a minute, furrowing his brow.
“You think this is strange?” she said, her arms spreading across her coverall.
Adrian chuckled. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever seen whatever it is you’re wearing before. It’s just, I guess I’d say it’s, um, interesting.”
Emma spread her arms and gave a twirl. “You don’t like my zebra Snuggie?”
“Snuggie?”
“Yeah,” she said. “It’s a super tacky trend from a few years back. To be truthful, I never cared for the things, but my grandma bought me this for Christmas one year, so it’s something I’ve held onto as part of my collection of all-things-grandma. Usually no one sees me actually wearing the thing.”
“Consider yourself fortunate.”
She popped him jokingly on the head. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a matching one.”
“Keep reminding yourself of that while I happily go on about my life not looking like a zebra about to be hauled off to a mental institution.”
Emma stuck out her tongue at him as she disappeared into the kitchen to make him tea.
A few minutes later she handed him his cup of tea and then scrolled through channels until she found Nick at Night, which was hosting a Beverly Hillbillies marathon.
“What kismet! This is perfect. For you, good sir, no better taste of Americana than this, for your viewing pleasure.” She rubbed her hands together with glee. “It’s is the stuff of my childhood; it’ll give you great insight into who I am. And not necessarily in a good way.”
They sat quietly, the television turned very low, for a few hours, she working on her quilting project, he engrossed in Jed and Elly May, Jethro Bodine and Granny Clampett.
When Ellen awoke a while later, she suggested they invite Darcy and Caroline for breakfast. Adrian tried to contact Darcy, only to realize he must have turned the phone off the night before, so Emma texted Caroline, telling him Adrian wanted Darcy to switch the phone on for emergency purposes.
A short while later there was a knock at the door.
Since Emma was helping in the kitchen, Adrian answered it.
“Well, well, well, it sure took the two of you a long enough—” Adrian said as he started to look up, only to gasp at what stood before him. “Serena?”
“Adrian! It’s about time I tracked you down!” she said, wrapping her arms around him in a tight squeeze. As she loosened her hold and her hand dragged down his arm to grab his hand, Adrian glanced down to notice a gleaming rock on the third finger of her left hand. My God, it’s even worse than I thought! She is so desperate to be engaged to me she got the ball rolling with an engagement ring of her own choosing?
“Serena?” he stammered. “What might I ask are you doing here?”
“I could likely ask the same of you,” she said, smiling in a devious way as she tapped him on the tip of his nose with her well-manicured pointer finger. “Not exactly your usual sort of hangout.”
He pulled her out onto the front porch. “How the hell did you find me here?”
“Let’s just say I have a close friend in the national intelligence service,” she said. “I told you it was urgent and we needed to talk but you kept dismissing me.”
“Because I didn’t want to be disturbed!” he hissed.
“Calm down. Now, now, no need to get snippy,” she said, looking around at the modest house, assessing his new digs.
“This part of your world domination tour?” she asked, arching her eyebrow.
“What is it you so desperately need from me, Serena?”
Just then Bob opened the door wearing one of those nightshirts you see the dad in 'Twas the Night Before Christmas wearing. Could things get any stranger?
“Son!” he said to Adrian. “Well, er, is son okay to say? I’m not sure about your type, if you prefer something a little less, uh, masculine?”
Serena’s eyes bugged open and she nodded in query to Adrian.
“By all means, son is perfectly fine,” he said. “Though I suppose it would be inappropriate to call you Dad?” He winked and forced a laugh, trying to deflect the entire conversation.
“Who’s the little lady here?” Bob asked. “More company for breakfast I see?”
“Why breakfast would be lovely,” Serena said, reaching out her hand to introduce herself. “I’m absolutely famished. I’ve been flying all night!”
Adrian glared at Serena. Geez, if Emma thought things had been complicated before, now they were in quicksand up to their thighs.
“Are you another friend of Adrian’s?" he asked. “Though I’m sure you’re not that kind of ‘friend.’” He made air quotes around the last word.
Serena squinted at him, first wondering who this strange man in a dress addressing the future king of Monaforte so casually was, and secondly what in the world he meant.
“Serena is an old friend from back home,” Adrian said. “We’ve known one another since childhood.” He nudged her to just play along.
“Well, come on in and sit down, then!” Bob said as he ushered them both inside, his cheery voice booming in the early morning quiet.
“Adrian, would you ask Darcy and Caroline what they’d like to drink?” Emma shouted from the kitchen.
“I would, but they’re not here. I can ask Serena what she’d like, however,” he said, putting heavy emphasis on her name.
“Serena?” Emma said. “Good one! Are you trying to torment me or something?”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever known anyone to consider me a torturess before,” Serena said as she stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her arms crossed authoritatively.
Emma’s ears perked up at the posh, accented voice of a woman a few feet behind her, and she spun around and took in all five feet nine inches of lithe, blonde and loathsome Lady Serena Montague. Thoroughly unwrinkled and very nearly perfect in an expensive-looking red silk poplin dress that made her look like a huge ribbon tying up an early Christmas gift for Adrian. The contrast to Emma’s schleppy get-up was downright mortifying.
Emma dried her wet hands and tried to fluff her hair, realizing too late she still hadn’t even brushed her teeth. And at least she could’ve looked cute in her adorable pajamas but instead had on that wretched Snuggie. It would hardly be a toss-up as to who showed better at this little smackdown.
“I’m sorry. Please forgive the way that came out,” Emma said, stammering. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Which led you to feel tormented upon my arrival?”
Adrian interrupted. “It’s a long story. It really has very little to do with you, Serena, and much to do with my mother.”
Serena nodded her head. “Indeed, which is what brings me here.”
“Hup two,” Ellen piped in before Serena could continue. “Let’s everyone wash our hands and get seated. I wonder where the others are? Their food is going to get cold.”
“Hup two? You’re a drill sergeant now?” Emma muttered, withering just a bit more in embarrassment.
They all took turns washing their hands like good little children after further introductions were completed, and finally sat down to a most awkward breakfast.
“Dear, would you start passing the scrambled eggs,” her mother said. “I’ll send the pancakes the other way. That way no one has to wait.”
Something in the Heir (It's Reigning Men Book 1) Page 15
