Royal Master

by Emilia Beaumont

  Brittany flicked her wrist to look at her watch. “Hun, I have to go. Duty calls.”

  “Need me to come? I can help.”

  “Hell no. I wouldn’t dream of it. This is your night off and besides, in a dress like that you need to get yourself onto that dance floor. Plenty of rich bachelors in the room that you could have your pick of.”

  “Don’t be silly. I think I’ll turn into a pumpkin before anyone asks me to dance.”

  She shook her head and tutted. “What on earth am I going to do with you? At least try to have a good time?”

  I nodded. “I’ll try, I promise.” My words reminding me of another promise I’d made a long time ago.

  “You better.” Brittany pecked me on the cheek and disappeared through one of the hidden doors the staff used to get around the palace and I was left with my raw heart to contend with. All I wanted to do was sprint away Cinderella style, without losing my shoes, and forget this night ever happened.

  The kisses William and I’d shared were nothing more than his attempt to blow off steam. I had to accept that. I was there, accessible, and he knew I wouldn’t go to the tabloids. My contract said as much. So I was an easy target.

  But then why had he taken me to the match? Why had he shown up at my place, wanting to spend time with me outside of work hours? And as much as I hated to admit it, I enjoyed having him around, loved being in his company, not knowing what he would do next. But most of all, for once, someone was focused on me and not the other way around and I’d loved that feeling.

  But that would be as far as it went.

  Watching the couple finish up their dance, I felt a tight squeeze on my heart. I was never going to be the woman who put that sparkle in his eye for the rest of his life. I was dreaming if I thought I could be good enough for a royal; I had no title, no wealth. All I was good for was keeping his schedule and barely keeping him out of trouble.

  William bowed over Annabelle's hand, then delicately kissed it. She blushed of course, as if on cue, and retreated back towards the safety of her little group. Her companions, I guessed. All girls with big smiles, only as giddy as they were allowed to be in such a formal setting. Princess Charlotte was amongst them too and she gave me a small wave as she noticed me looking over.

  Promptly I returned the gesture and went back to looking for an escape route. Anything to get me out of this awkward situation. No one would notice if I just slipped out, would they? I was practically invisible anyway after that display.

  Suddenly a movement caught my eye, guests moving out of the way, as William left the dance floor. This time he didn’t stop to strike up conversation with those he passed; his eyes were fixed on me. Some did try to stop him however, but he merely waved them away, or dismissed them with a couple of words.

  Immediately my heart started to speed up, my palms became sweaty, and as that slow smile conquered his lips I felt an inability to breathe.

  Frederick had never walked directly up to me during one of these events, preferring to either discreetly sidle up to me, whispering low instructions or finding a way to send a note via another staff in attendance if he needed something. We were told what to wear, where to stand, and to never engage a conversation with anyone above our station unless directly told to. Already I’d broken protocol with this dress—albeit with the King’s approval. But now William was bearing down on me like the rest of the rules no longer mattered. He was going to get me canned for sure.

  Frederick had never looked at me like that either.

  Control yourself, Sophie, I reminded myself. He looks at everyone like that…

  Determined I wasn’t going to focus on him, no matter how much my knees shook, I glanced away as if something positively riveting was happening on the other side of the room.

  “God, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said, finally reaching me, his hands clasped behind his back.

  I nearly choked on my own words. “What are you doing over here?” I asked furiously, my eyes darting everywhere to see where the family was located. Thankfully, they were all currently occupied; the King and Queen with Prince Lucien, Charlotte and Victoria with Princess Annabelle, but it was only going to be a matter of time before little birdies told them about the faux pas Will was making.

  “You shouldn’t be over here.”

  His eyes narrowed and a frown crossed his expression. “What the bloody hell are you talking about? What’s wrong with over here? You’re here. That’s good enough for me.”

  I felt my face colour slightly. “Seriously, will you just stop talking to me?” Trying to let him get the message I angled my body away from him.

  “Are you still mad? I take it you are.”

  “Oh my God, you’re doing this on purpose aren’t you? Stop being so damn obtuse.”

  “Yup, you’ve definitely lost me now…”

  “You’re not supposed to talk to me directly during an event, Your Highness. I don’t exist,” I hissed.

  “Don’t exist… who’s asinine rule is that, Sophie?”

  “Please, Sir,” I pleaded, looking everywhere but at him. “Just leave, okay? We can talk tomorrow if we really must.”

  “No.”

  I did look up then, seeing the clench of his jaw. He looked pissed, super pissed.

  “I’m not fucking going to ignore you because some stuck up royal centuries ago decided that you are beneath me. Come on, let’s dance.”

  He was crazy, out of his privileged mind! I shook my head until I thought I would give myself whiplash.

  “Go dance with Princess Annabelle again or anyone else. Anyone but me.” He grabbed my hand before I had a chance to react, towing me toward the dance floor. “No, no you… we can’t do that. This truly is breaking the rules.”

  “I live to break rules, Sophie. Or have you forgotten who you are dealing with?”

  Seventeen

  William

  “Be good,” I told her as the way to the dance floor magically parted for me. “I’m not going to take no for an answer. Remember I’m your boss.”

  As much as Sophie wanted to dig her heels in, put on the brakes and make a scene as I urged her to the dance floor I knew she wouldn’t dare, at least not in front of this crowd. And definitely not within earshot of my parents.

  It was probably a dick move though. I knew Sophie didn’t want to do it, always a stickler for the rules and tradition, but fuck I was tired of living by them; antiquated shackles that ruined any ounce of fun.

  It was time to shake things up a little bit.

  I’d done what they’d asked of me, done my sacred duty, twirled the Princess of Monaco around for everyone to gawk at. Gave her enough swoon-worthy looks that I was sure had every old matron in attendance wet with excitement. They would be gossiping about the potential match, desperate for a royal wedding. My ears should’ve been burning. But now, with Sophie desperately trying to pry her hand out of mine as I headed for my second dance of the evening, the rumour mill would kick it up a notch, churning with wild abandon.

  No doubt I would be punished for this little stunt. Perhaps not just by my parents either. Tomorrow I foresaw being summoned into the offices and given a stern talking to. But that would be a small price to pay for being able to dance with Sophie, to have her in my arms for the world to see and to give her a moment to shine.

  Especially in that dress that had me aching at the very first sight of her. That was a dress specifically made to make men turn back to their cavemen roots. In a few seconds when I’d made my way to her I’d already studied the bodice; thousands of tiny little golden stitches begging to be ripped open. And like a piñata my prizes would spill free.

  I was hard at the thought.

  She gasped as I spun her around and gripped her about the waist, pulling her close. Sophie wasn’t the only one that gasped at our close, inappropriate proximity, and a few murmurs rippled through the guests. But I didn’t care. Nobody puts Baby in the corner.

  As if she read my mind, with a pinne
d smile on her face Sophie hissed into my ear, “Who the fuck do you think you are? Patrick Swayze?”

  “You’re not fooling anyone, Sophie. You like it dirty.”

  She tensed up. Cheeks burning and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Relax, enjoy the moment. I know I am.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Just do as you’re told,” I whispered into her ear. “You’re not in control anymore. For the next five minutes your dance card is booked, colour-coded with yours truly, and you have no choice in the matter.”

  “Touché,” she muttered with an amused but equally thunderous smile.

  After a few turns her shoulders drained themselves of the tension they’d been holding on to and I sensed her melt, ever so slightly, into my embrace; beginning to trust me as I whirled her around. She was beginning to enjoy herself, and so was I.

  Although Princess Annabelle wasn’t the worst dance partner in the world I was glad that I was rid of her for the time being. That had been the most excruciating waltz of my fucking life.

  Annabelle, despite all of her looks and fancy ass degrees, was really only after one thing: a step up from Princess to Queen. Behind her brothers she didn’t have any chance of inheriting the coveted Monaco throne. So she and I both knew, without ever uttering one word to each other, that she was in want of a husband and the elevation I could provide. Everyone would of course be overjoyed, especially my mother, but the whole thing left a funny taste in my mouth. Doubly so when I now knew she’d originally been promised to Frederick.

  For most of my life I’d been second best… no way in hell was I going to be someone’s runner up prize in marriage too. Fuck, I didn’t even want to get married.

  Unless it was to someone very special.

  Sophie locked eyes with me. Hers were wide and so blue. Like an undisturbed cavern pool, crystal rimmed and constantly shimmering with intense emotion.

  The music faded away to nothingness; it was still playing, tinkling in the periphery, but all my attention was focused upon her and only her. I wouldn’t have been surprised if my heart stopped in that very moment. I had her and I never wanted to let her go.

  She was so different. Unique and mysterious, and yet in a way it felt like I’d known her since our very first touch. She already knew all of my own sordid details, things I preferred to keep hidden but she’d barely battered an eyelash. Ok, she’d blushed, intrigued more than anything.

  Either way she didn’t seem to care or judge me. She put up with my antics, bared the brunt of my stubbornness and I loved her for it…

  My foot faltered but I righted myself before I thought anyone would notice. Almost four years of forced ballroom dance classes as a teenager and I was fucking stumbling! And it was all because of her.

  “Oh God, I didn’t step on your toe, did I?” she asked, worry swirling in her blue gaze.

  “No, but even if you had it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly, or princely for that matter, for me to say, now would it?”

  “You? A gentleman?” She snorted, then her pupils dilated a few seconds later.

  That slight bounced right off me. I pulled her ever closer, hard. My body nestling up to hers with precision, tight and demanding.

  “You’re right. I’m no gentleman,” I said, almost growling with need.

  “You don’t know what you are doing,” she answered with a breathless gasp. With nowhere else to go, her breasts inadvertently pressed themselves up against me. Every glance south made me want to give in to temptation, to duck my head and run my tongue over her lips or her exposed neck. “You are about to start a war right in this room.”

  I leaned close and giving her a wink. “I don’t fucking care. Don’t you understand that?”

  “William, Sir, you have to. This is not proper,” she pleaded, her eyes searching mine. “I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s way above my station…”

  “Sophie, the more I touch you, the more I hold you, the deeper I get. I know you feel it too.”

  Her silence spoke a thousand words. She didn’t deny what was raging inside her but at the same time she seemed reluctant to admit it too.

  But that sliver of hope was enough for me.

  With a grin I swept her across the floor, ignoring the stares and gasps as we moved by in a very flagrant waltz that would’ve been splashed all over the front pages of London before morning had the press been invited. But they weren’t, and luckily there were no cameras allowed tonight.

  Guests started to move out of our path, and soon yielded the entire floor till we were the only couple left dancing. I gripped her tighter as we cut the corner of the dance floor, nearly lifting her off her feet as I spun her around. I could see in her eyes she wanted to let loose the smile she was holding in, but no matter what I tried she held back. Pragmatic in her surroundings.

  Briefly I thought about kissing her, in fact it had been at the forefront of my mind for days; I’d just become adept at ignoring the temptation.

  I suddenly became aware of the tension in the room, cold eyes on us, and for a fraction of a second I understood her reasonings. But that didn’t mean I could dismiss the very thing we were fighting against. We both wanted it to happen.

  Whether Sophie had rubbed off on me or I’d suddenly grown a conscience—the former was most likely—and I decided against giving in for once. If I had kissed her, I probably would wind up one less secretary and a hand imprint on my cheek as a result.

  The song sped by and before I knew it the orchestra had played their last note.

  Without a word, Sophie stepped away and I had no choice but release her. She curtsied and walked away, her shoulders tense and her walk stiff.

  Maybe I’d gone too far.

  The silence in the room broke and the chatter rose again as they all, I’m sure, started to discuss what they’d witnessed. Oh the impropriety! I drowned them out, staring after Sophie, willing my legs to move.

  Before I could go after her, a hand landed on my arm and I was forced to turn. A second set of blue eyes flashed with furious anger paired predictably with a tight smile on my mother’s face.

  “Care to take a turn around the dance floor, Mum?” I asked with a cheeky smile, knowing exactly why she was at my side.

  “Actually, William, I fancy a breath of air, a turn around the garden. Join me,” she nearly hissed. I nodded and escorted her out to the relatively small terrace surrounded by a formal garden with precisely cut box hedges and fragrant roses that was situated a few steps outside the ballroom. My mind wasn’t on what she was going to grill me about, it was more focused on finding Sophie. Regretting not pulling her out of the room when I’d had the chance. Retreating somewhere together where we could finally explore this thing that was burning us both up inside.

  Once we were a safe distance from everyone, my mum slowed our pace. “You silly boy, what have you done?”

  “Dance?” I replied. “Did you or Father introduce a new law that I didn’t know about? You’re not going to turn all Footloose on me are you?”

  “What?” she asked incredulously, her lips thinning further the more I stalled and riled her up.

  “The movie with Kevin Bacon… they ban dancing. You do know who Kevin Bacon is, right?”

  She swatted me with her evening glove. “Of course I do, but that’s beside the point!”

  “You asked me to dance, I did.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I was your perfect little prince for Princess Annabelle.”

  “Yes, William, you were, but,” she said holding her hand up, “don’t even think about interrupting me again. I’ll throw you in the tower if you so much utter another—”

  “Come on, Mum, you and I both know that little threat has never worked on us. Perhaps if you’d followed through a time or two… I for one would’ve loved the adventure.”

  Queen Beatrice in all her glory sighed, the anger in her eyes being slowly replaced with tenderness and a smidgen of regret. “You, my sweet, sweet boy, have always been
my daredevil.”

  “I aim to please,” I chuckled.

  She gave me a small smile, her hand still resting on my arm lightly. “William, I know you have no patience for what you were born into.”

  “That’s not entirely true.”

  “Let me finish.” Mum took a breath, regaining her thoughts. “And I know you fully anticipated your brother to take over one day. I think you were content with the idea really, it gave you the freedom you desired and longed for ever since you were a boy capable of tottering around on chubby legs.”

  I nodded, knowing she was right. I’d always been the one to go off on my own adventures, not satisfied with the strict confines of the nursery. But it was the thought of Rick that lanced my chest, pain driving through my heart. With clenched fists I battled it away, not wanting to open that cold door again. I couldn’t fall to pieces in front of my mum. She had already suffered enough over Frederick’s death and I needed to be strong for her.

  “I did, Mum, the crown was always Frederick’s,” I said softly, my voice full of emotion. “But it’s ok. You don’t have to worry. I’ll make Frederick proud.”

  She cleared her throat and briefly looked away. “It’s in my nature to worry. This is a very important and unique position you’re in. But I cannot stress enough what type of scrutiny you are under now, much more than before.”

  “What are you getting at?” I asked, already knowing the answer but needing for her to say it. She was being very gentle in her approach, but I knew without any shadow of a doubt that this all was because of Sophie. I wasn’t that stupid or blind.

  My mum looked at me, all the tenderness now gone from her expression. “You cannot be consorting with the help, William. What you did in there was highly inappropriate and has thrust this family back under the spotlight.”

  “If you didn’t want her to dance, then why on earth did you and Father invite her as a guest?”