The Anti-Cinderella Conquers the World

by Tawdra Kandle

  That same tic I’d noticed in his cheek was back, and his breathing was still rapid. His jaw was clenched. But in his eyes, I saw a slow, reluctant acceptance dawning.

  “You could come with me, if it would make you feel better,” I suggested, trying to sweeten the pot. “That way, you could keep your eye on me. And everyone would be so excited to have Prince Nicholas at the opening.”

  His mouth relaxed slightly, and he swept one hand down over my hair, smoothing the unruly locks away from my face. “I could probably make that happen. I don’t have anything until two this afternoon, except a conference call with No Hungry Child—but that could be pushed back.” Exhaling a long breath, he bent his head to touch his forehead to mine. “Ky, I know you think I’m being insane about this. I know you don’t understand. But sometimes, even when I can’t give you all the details or information, I need you to trust me. I need you to—not to obey without questioning, I’d never expect that of anyone, let alone my wife, but I’d like you to give me the benefit of the doubt. I want you to realize that if I feel strongly about something, there could be a reason beyond what I’m saying in the moment. And I hope that because you love me, you could respect that and do what I’m asking.”

  I considered. “I understand, I think, and I could do that. But not today, right? For today, you agree that I should go, and that you could go with me?”

  He closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “Yes. For today, as long as the Palace is in agreement that it’s safe for you to be there, we’ll go. I’ll just call and make sure that me going along won’t cause any problem.”

  I hugged him tight, relief and gratitude coursing through me. “Thank you, Nicky. I promise that I will try my best to be open to hearing what you’re saying to me—and if you tell me that I need to trust without asking questions, I will. Or at least I’ll try.” I knew myself well enough not to make a blood oath on this one. “I love you.”

  “I know.” He sounded resigned. “If I didn’t love you so much, this wouldn’t matter. But I do, and it does.” Kissing the top of my head, he swatted my backside. “Let’s go get ready. I expect my very important wife to look especially hot as she’s doing her very important work.”

  “I hope you’re not patronizing me.” I narrowed my eyes.

  “Not one bit,” he assured me. “I would never do that. I do think the gardens are incredibly necessary and wonderful. I think I’ve made that abundantly clear on multiple occasions.”

  “You have,” I concurred. “And I appreciate it. I’ll tell you what . . . I’ll put extra effort into looking sexy today, so that if you start to get anxious while we’re there, you can just glance at me and picture me naked, straddling you. It’ll take your mind right off your worry.”

  Nicky groaned. “If I do that, I’ll have a problem of an entirely different nature.”

  I grinned wickedly. “But that’s one I can take care of for you. With pleasure.”

  He shook his head. “You’re evil, woman.”

  Laughing, I ducked out of his arms and headed for the closet. “I do try, Nicky. I do try.”

  “Have I ever mentioned the I-told-you-so dance?”

  From his spot next to me on the back seat of the black sedan, Nicky glanced at me sideways, his lips twitching. “I’m fairly certain I’d remember you telling me something about that. Do illuminate me, darling. What exactly is the I-told-you-so dance?”

  I turned to face him, bending my leg and tucking it under me as the car glided along the streets of London. “When Bria, Lisel and I were little, my parents had rules about how we treated each other. You know—we weren’t allowed to use the word hate in reference to people, we weren’t supposed to tattle on each other, we were meant to be kind, supportive and nurturing sisters . . . and we were never supposed to say I told you so if one of us was right and the other wrong.” I snickered. “They were trying to teach us grace both in being right and in being mistaken.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Nicky remarked cautiously.

  “Oh, it was. Mama and Daddy are awesome parents, and they really wanted us to grow up to be decent people. But three little girls didn’t always see things that way. So we figured out work-arounds—like, we would say, ‘I dislike you extremely!’ instead of using the word hate. And when I was about eight, Lisel and I had a huge argument about a television show we’d been watching. When I turned out to be on the correct side of the fight, I wanted to rub it in her face, but I knew I’d get in trouble, so I developed the I-told-you-so dance. It let me express my feelings without taking a hit for it. I found it so satisfying that I adopted it for all such situations . . . but then it backfired on me, because Bria and Lisel started using it, too.”

  “Uh huh.” Nicky leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. “Care to demonstrate?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” I smiled sweetly, and then I lifted up my arms over my head, pistoned them up and down, wiggled my hips and shimmied my shoulders. The dance finished off with me sticking out my tongue for extra effect.

  On the other side of the backseat, Nicky was cracking up. “That’s classic, Ky.” With a small cough, he quirked an eyebrow at me. “I assume you have a reason for bringing this up just now.”

  “Well, I feel it would be unkind and less than gracious if I were to say I told you so about the ceremony today, so I just need to say . . .” With an expression of triumph, I launched into the dance again, not stopping until my husband was roaring with laughter.

  “All right, sweetheart, your point is made. I don’t necessarily agree with it . . . I mean, we don’t know what might have happened today if the extra security hadn’t been in place. We don’t know whether or not there was a near-miss. Maybe you were just lucky.”

  “It’s possible.” I shrugged. “But regardless of maybes or possibles, the day was just about perfect. The Lacketts were troopers—no one even knew about the vandalism at the nursery, except for the board of directors at the garden.”

  “They’re lovely people,” Nicky agreed. “And one good thing came out of this—I was able to be there with you, too, and that was a definite treat. Sometimes I forget how much fun it is when we work together—since we’ve been married, we’ve been splitting up to cover more ground, which is a good idea, but not so much fun.”

  This was an opening I’d been waiting to find for the past few weeks, since Daisy and I had talked about Nicky at my office. Biting my lower lip, I gazed at Nicky through my eyelashes.

  “Maybe we should try to make that happen—more engagements together, I mean. Let’s look at our calendars and see if maybe I could be added to a few of yours coming up, or you could be added to mine.”

  He frowned. “I don’t know—I can look at everything, but I have quite a few events out of town in the next month or so, and it’s too complicated to have the Palace add you and to arrange security.”

  I slid my hand around his arm. “But Daisy said it really isn’t. She says it happens all the time, especially when someone marries into the family—that person can be added to appearances or engagements that have been planned for months.”

  Nicky cocked his head, his brows drawing together. “Daisy? And just how did this topic come up between you and my little sister?”

  Damn. I’d spoken without thinking. “We were talking at lunch a few weeks ago, and I might have mentioned that you’ve been away a lot lately. She asked why I wasn’t going with you, and I told her what you’d said.” I coughed. “She seemed to think maybe that reason wasn’t exactly accurate.”

  “My sister doesn’t know everything, Kyra.” Nicky’s voice was tight. “And in this instance, she truly doesn’t have any idea about—what’s going on.”

  “Apparently, neither do I,” I shot back. “Care to clarify all of this for me?”

  “There’s nothing to clarify.” Nicky moved away from me, almost shaking my hand off his arm. “I told you what you needed to know.”

  My husband’s choice of words made my stomach drop.
“What I need to know? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Nicky glanced toward the front seat where our driver and Simon both sat, both of them behaving as though they hadn’t heard anything out of the ordinary. It was a special talent that all of the staff seemed to possess. Even so, we usually tried to be discreet, to be aware of what we said in front of others. It was never a good idea to lay too much temptation in someone’s lap, and spilling intimate details to the press could mean a hefty payday for a Palace insider willing to talk.

  Both of us fell silent, but the air between us was thick with what we didn’t say. I managed to take a few measured breaths before I opened my mouth again.

  “Tomorrow night, I’m presenting an award on behalf of Her Majesty at the London Artisans Association Banquet. I would very much like it if you came with me.”

  His jaw tensed. “I . . . can’t. I already have a commitment.”

  Disappointment filled me. “You do? Where will you be?”

  “Hector Carreon’s stag night. I’m in the wedding, and I promised I’d go.” Nicky sounded vaguely regretful. “Sorry, Ky. He’s an old friend. We’ve known each other since we were in school together.”

  “I know.” I tried to keep the irritation out of my tone. I didn’t particularly care for Hector. He’d been one of Nicky’s most frequent wingmen back in the days when my husband had been the Royal Family’s most notorious party animal, and although I had faith that Nicky had outgrown that behavior, I didn’t trust Hector. Whenever we’d had occasion to meet, he’d watched me with an expression of amused contempt, as though he knew something I didn’t. I hated the way he made me feel.

  “Might be late, too,” Nicky added. “Matter of fact, I almost definitely will be. There’s a chance that I’ll stay at the hotel where we’re having the party.”

  “It’s here in town, isn’t it?” My voice rose an octave. “Why wouldn’t you just come home?”

  “For a number of reasons, not the least that it will make things easier on my security officer and my driver. Staying will also make sure that all the events of the evening will remain private—no pictures of me leaving in the small hours of the morning. The next day, I have to be in Brighton for that symposium, so I’ll simply leave from the hotel.”

  I couldn’t argue with any of his rationale. It made sense. That didn’t mean that I had to like that or admit to Nicky that I understood. I stayed quiet until after we’d arrived back at the cottage.

  Actually, I didn’t say anything at all for the rest of the afternoon . . . even after Nicky and I were alone. I didn’t trust what might spill out of my mouth if I opened it.

  Sometimes, silence was safer.

  Nicky

  I hated leaving her again.

  It felt as though this year had been a series of doing just that: saying good-bye to my beautiful, amazing wife and leaving her behind. Since we’d returned to England after our honeymoon, my life had been by turns absolute joy, when Kyra and I were together and happy, laughing and loving, and abject terror when I thought about her being the target of these damned terrorists.

  I’d had long and bitter arguments with my grandfather and with my dad, who wanted me to tell Kyra the truth about the threats, about the specialized training Scotland Yard had insisted I undertake. None of them could understand that for my own sanity, I had to let her remain blissfully ignorant.

  Granted, after the close call in Scotland, when protestors had crowded my car and put my security officers on high alert, I’d come close to spilling everything. She had been so unhappy at the idea of me keeping her in the dark that the words had been on the tip of my tongue. But in the end, I’d stayed silent.

  And now, here I was, sitting at this idiotic stag night, my ears ringing from music that was too loud and my eyes stinging from the cigar smoke that hung heavy in the private lounge. I was frustrated that I’d agreed to come to something like this when there were so many more important needs pressing down on me.

  “Ooooh, aren’t you Prince Nicholas?” One of the women who was here at the party as a guest of the groom—which was, of course, a euphemism that meant she was actually an exotic dancer—sat down heavily on the chair next to me. “I remember you back in the day, when you’d be closing down the pubs just about every night! One of my friends had a, em, date with you one time back then.” She winked at me. “You know. She said you were incredible.”

  I gritted my teeth. “That was a long time ago, thank God. I’m happily married now. Very happily married.” I took a pull on my beer. “My wife is beautiful and smart and frankly, the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met. I don’t need to look at anyone else. She’s my world.”

  Some of the mischievous light in her eyes dimmed. “Oh. Well, that’s . . . nice.”

  At that moment, a flash of light made me jerk my head to the right. “What the hell was that?”

  “Hmmm?” The woman sitting next to me widened her gaze. “I didn’t see anything.”

  My heart sinking, I closed my eyes. Fuck. I knew what had happened. Someone in this crowd had a cell phone, and that person had snapped pictures. That meant that by morning, those photos would be all over the internet and the papers.

  Suddenly, I couldn’t be in this place a moment longer. Pushing back my chair, I stood up and stalked over to where Hector sat at a table, a woman with her huge breasts spilling out of a low-cut shirt snuggled on his lap.

  “Oh, look, if it isn’t His Royal Highness.” He spoke with the same slightly mocking tone he always used when he addressed me by my title. My stomach churned. Why was I here? Hector meant absolute shit to me. Why wasn’t I at home with my wife? I should be there, holding her, not here with men whose vague friendships were mere echoes in my past.

  Kyra was my present and my future, and all I wanted to do was to get back to her.

  “I’m leaving,” I told Hector. “I have a symposium in Brighton tomorrow, and I’ll have to be on the road early.” I held out my hand. “Best of luck. We’ll see you at the wedding.”

  Hector was silent, staring at me, and then he shrugged. “Do what you have to. You’ll be the one missing out.”

  “Right.” I turned around and headed for the exit. At the door, Hugh Naughton, my security officer, waited for me.

  “All set, sir?” His expression was as it had always been, neutral and placid.

  “Yes.” I blew out a long breath. “I guess there’s no sense in trying to go back to Kensington at this point, is there? Not at this point.”

  He shook his head. “Honestly, sir, it’s past three. Why don’t you get some sleep upstairs in your hotel room, and then we can be on the road by seven? If you tried to get back to the Palace now, you’d end up with very little rest and disturb the Duchess in the process.”

  I nodded. “That’s what I thought. All right, then. Let’s go.”

  As we rode up in the elevator, both of us quiet, I thought about Kyra and how much I missed her, even though it had been barely twelve hours since we’d parted. Rubbing my chest, I told myself that it would be all right. I’d get through this weekend in Brighton, and then . . . once I was home . . . we’d talk, and I’d tell her everything.

  And we’d be together again, and all would be well.

  IT WAS A GRAY AND chilly morning, complete with the light persistent drizzle of rain that was stereotypically London. A smart woman in my position would’ve been curled up under a cozy blanket in front of a blazing fire, enjoying a good book and maybe even a snooze.

  But I’d never been accused of making the best choices in the world, which was why instead, I was dressed in old jeans, a baggy hoodie from my undergrad days and—as a nod to my recent relocation to this soggy island nation—a headscarf knotted under my chin. In this get-up, I tromped around the gardens, walking in circles around the now-familiar shrubbery and rows of dormant flower beds.

  Staying inside wasn’t an option for me today. I couldn’t stomach another moment alone in the cottage, where the silence felt particul
arly loud this afternoon. I didn’t feel like going into the office, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone.

  So when I heard someone calling my voice over the soft pitter patter of raindrops, at first I ignored it.

  “Kyra!” Alex touched my back to get my attention. “I’m sorry. Didn’t you hear me?”

  Lying wasn’t in my make-up, so I merely shrugged. “I’m not very good company just now, Alex. Unless you needed something in particular . . .”

  “No, I don’t need anything.” She jerked her head. “C’mon. It’s too cold to stand in one place, so let’s keep walking.”

  Grunting, I resumed my brisk pace along the path. Alexandra kept up easily, and I remembered that she used to run marathons. This was probably nothing at all to her.

  “I’m really all right. You don’t have to baby-sit me.” I spoke without turning my head to look at my sister-in-law.

  “I’m not.”

  We did another loop before I spoke again. “Did Nicky send you to find me?”

  “No, he did not.” She answered me evenly, and I believed her. She didn’t have any reason to fib. “Actually, it was Daisy. She’s on her way over, but she suggested you might be out here. She’s going to meet us here in a bit.”

  “Why?” I scowled at her. “I told you, I’m fine.”

  “You’re not, Kyra. And that’s perfectly all right. You shouldn’t be fine—you have a reason to be angry. Daisy and I just want you to know that being angry doesn’t mean that you have to be alone.”

  I swallowed over the lump rising in my throat. “I’m not angry. Not really.”

  Alex sighed. “Irritated? Annoyed? Royally pissed off? It’s all semantics, Ky.”

  “I’m hurt, Alex.” Giving a small pile of leaves a savage kick, I growled. “My feelings are hurt because Nicky’s been shutting me out, and my pride is hurt because his picture was all over the newspapers this morning—pictures from a party at a bar where there were women who hardly had any clothes on. Pictures where he’s sitting at a table between two of those women.”