The Throne

by Samantha Whiskey

  Swirling tension gathered low in my belly as I continued to circle that bundle of nerves with Jaime’s name on it. I couldn’t stop. I smelled him on me, felt him in me. My conscious reprimanded me for taking a selfish moment, for delighting in something that he’d recently awoken within me, but I told the proper Charlotte to shut up, and demanded Charlie to come out and play.

  “My Charlie.”

  His voice echoed in my mind, the demand in his tone, the caress in his plea.

  I increased my pace, discovering myself in the way he’d shown me, and God if I didn’t wish he was here, now, with me. His glorious body, slick, soaked, hot, steam surrounding us.

  My body demanded pressure, and I arched into it.

  “Jaime,” I moaned as I shook around myself. His name was the release on my lips, and his memory the release for my body. It was a shade of the pleasure he’d given me, but it calmed my mind.

  A crazed bit of laughter ripped from my mouth as I shut the water off. I had to give it to the man, he’d done something no one else before him had ever been able to do, and it wasn’t just take my virginity.

  He’d slipped past my barriers and made me his.

  An hour after my half-relaxing half-infuriating shower, I finally managed to get dressed and slip back into the public, palace-perfect Charlotte.

  My pumps clicked on the marble hall as I headed toward the formal dining hall, only slightly hoping Jaime would be there dining with Ophelia, as was his schedule. I tried terribly to ignore the jealous bite in the center of my chest at the thought, but the Charlie in me was having a really hard time letting it lie.

  “Come here,” a male voice demanded, and I slowed my pace, wondering if one of Jaime’s security detail needed to speak with me. I recognized the voice, but I needed a face to find the name in my never-ending catalog of palace staff. At least this little talent would come in handy when I took over at the Foundation for Women’s Progression.

  I turned toward where the man had called, arching my head around the corner. A feminine giggle had me stopping short as I rounded the corner completely.

  I managed not to gasp, more than a decade’s training in grace helping me bury the shock of seeing Lady Katherine and one of Oliver’s security team pressed against the wall.

  Ian.

  That was his name, easier to remember once Lady Katherine stopped passionately kissing him. Pity rippled through me as I saw the heat between them. Their bodies were flush, their eyes sparking, and he cradled her face in his hands. Totally in love. The fools. Yes, they were tucked into a corner of the hallway that was rarely happened upon unless you knew the shortcut to the dining hall—which I did—but still. The chances of getting caught were insane.

  Maybe that only made the act more…

  I clenched my eyes shut and shook off the thought. Two seconds and a deep breath, and I’d made my decision.

  “Excuse me, Lady Katherine,” I said, and the poor girl jolted out of Ian’s embrace. “May I have a word?”

  “Duchess of Corbin…” Ian started, but I held my hand up to stop him from defending his woman’s honor. She came to me with her head held much higher than I would’ve under the same circumstances. Surprising.

  “Duchess,” she said, her tone sharp, unashamed.

  “Lady Katherine,” I said, eyeing Ian for a moment who stood a few paces behind her, straightening his suit tie. “I’m sure this won’t come as a surprise, but I’m going to put word that you have stepped out of the interest in being Elleston’s future queen.”

  The girl flinched, but nodded.

  “You should choose who you want to wed,” I said, again eyeing Ian before returning focus to her. “Not let a title choose it for you.” I gave her a soft smile. “Being happy is much more important.”

  “It is,” she said, but her eyes looked…disappointed? Maybe over getting caught in the first place? I didn’t know, but hopefully she would understand what a great chance it was that I caught her, and not someone like a paparazzi. They would’ve fed the girl to the wolves; her future reputation be damned. “I am sorry,” she said, though her words were rushed. “He knows, though,” she continued. “Well, the prince. He knows that I never wanted to marry him.”

  I arched a brow at her.

  Did he now?

  “Very well, Lady Katherine.” I gave her a slight nod and turned on my heels; my mind lost in thought as I rounded the corner.

  If Jaime knew she didn’t want to marry him, he wouldn’t have ever chosen her, which means…

  He would marry Lady Ophelia. He knew that. Had known that last night…when he…

  Oh God.

  My stomach rolled. The fact that he’d known and still been with me, said the things he did, made love to me in such a way…

  No. I sucked in a sharp breath. I would not break down. Not here. Not where anyone could walk upon me—

  “Charlotte?” The Queen Mother said, and I whirled around.

  Like the fucking Queen. Perfect.

  I straightened my spine and mustered up the smile I’d been raised on. By the time she clicked over to me, two staff members carting suitcases behind her, I was certain there were no tears in my eyes.

  “Your Majesty,” I said, and did a proper little bow.

  She furrowed her brow at me. “What on earth are you doing?” She waved me off.

  I glanced at the suitcases. “Going somewhere?” I asked, completely deflecting.

  She smirked. “America.”

  “Now?”

  “Jaime and I already discussed this. I know he is in good hands with you by his side.” A knowing look flashed in her eyes, and I tried like hell not to blush. “And, like I told him, I need to get to know Willa better before she brings my grandson into the world. I’m surprising the two of them with the visit.”

  “She truly is wonderful,” I said, happy to not be the topic of conversation. “You’ll see.”

  She pressed her lips together. “I was going to bid Jaime farewell,” she said, pointing behind me toward the formal dining hall. “But perhaps you could deliver the message for me.”

  “Absolutely.” I nodded a few too many times.

  She chuckled. “Can’t wait to see you when I get back.”

  “You as well. I may not be here though, so we’ll have to arrange you a visit to the coast.”

  She smirked and nodded. “Naturally.”

  A quick snap of her fingers and she’d spun around, the staff hurrying behind her.

  Once they were well out of sight, I decided to abandon my mission of finding Jaime. Catching Katherine and Ian, plus the news that he’d already known she wasn’t interested in him, and the Queen’s too-knowing stare had me rushing back to my room. I couldn’t afford to let my emotions rule me, and if I set one pump into the dining hall and saw Jaime lunching with Lady Ophelia, chattering away about their obvious future together—well, Charlie may be unleashed with claws out.

  I slammed my door shut and took a deep breath. I had no right to be jealous. This wasn’t Ophelia’s fault, or even Jaime’s. This was how our lives had been since birth.

  Still, it hurt like a bitch.

  A few more deep breaths and I’d composed myself enough to open my cell and make a call.

  “Charlotte?” Willa answered after a few rings. “Xander just ran to the store. Could you not catch him on his cell? Sometimes the man forgets to turn the damn thing on which wouldn’t be such a big deal except for oh, I don’t know, me having his baby!”

  I chuckled, her fast and furious rant spilling much-needed normality all over me. “I called to speak with you, actually,” I said once I’d stopped laughing.

  “Oh,” she said. “Sorry. Habit. I always assume anyone from Elleston wants to talk to the King I robbed them of.”

  “You didn’t steal anything,” I said, sighing. “He always belonged to you.”

  “Okay, what happened?” She asked, her tone switching to alert.

  “The Queen is about to get on a plane to
surprise you. I wanted to give you a heads up.”

  “Shit,” Willa snapped. “Did she just get on it? How many hours does that give me to get this place clean?”

  I could almost picture her gaping at her cottage in New York, panic-stricken and tried not to laugh. “You have plenty of time. And it doesn’t have to be spotless. She needs to accept you for who you are. And she’ll love you.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Not everyone is as amazing as you, Charlie—Charlotte,” she quickly amended the nickname and the sound of it was enough to bring the tears I’d kept in check to my eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…are you crying?”

  “No,” I said through my tears.

  “What really happened?” She asked.

  I sucked in a sharp breath, gathering myself. “When you first got on that plane with Xander to come here…how did you do it?”

  “Um…I kind of packed a bag and followed him through security?”

  I laughed again, sighing. “You knew he was betrothed. You knew your time with him was limited.”

  “Ah,” she said. “It didn’t matter,” she continued after a few moments. “I had to be with him. I didn’t care if it was two days or two months, there was something about him that I couldn’t resist. Something inside me that screamed mine and I knew I’d take whatever amount of time I had left with him. That no matter how much it would hurt in the end, it would be better than never…knowing.” She sighed. “Does that make sense? Or do I sound insane? Xander says these hormones are making me crazy at times.”

  I nodded though I knew she couldn’t see me. “It makes terrifyingly perfect sense.”

  “Do you want to talk about Jameson?” She asked after I’d been silent too long. His name jolted through my entire body, and my heart stuttered despite how angry I’d been moments ago.

  “Who said anything about him?” I tried to play dumb.

  “With you?” Willa laughed. “It’s never about Xander.”

  “How soon did you see it?”

  “Honestly?” She asked. “I thought you two were together before I found out you were actually Xander’s…”

  “Right,” I said, not needing her to finish that sentence. “I’m out of my depth here, Willa.”

  “Please,” she said. “Charlotte, you are one hell of a woman. You’d be the perfect Queen…hell, you’d be a perfect King for Elleston, and you’d also be the perfect…anything you set your mind to. You just have to set your mind to it…but I have a feeling you’re trying not to on purpose. And trust me, I get your reasoning, but…you deserve happiness, Charlotte.” She waited patiently as I struggled to find the words. “What makes you happy, Charlie?” She asked, a smirk to her tone.

  I found myself smiling, but the fresh tears in my eyes reminded me just how complicated a situation I was in. “I honestly don’t know,” I said. Jaime made me happy, but he also infuriated me. “I’m trying to figure it out, though.”

  “Good,” she said. “I’m always here, you know? I’m sorry I can’t hop on a plane, but I’m here for this kind of call anytime you need, okay?”

  “Thank you, Willa. It means more to me than you even know.”

  “Anytime. And, I’m not sure if you knew but,” she said. “Jameson? He’s the one who came and got me. The one who brought me back to Xander. He knew the consequences and the risks, but he was willing to do anything for his brother. He knew what it meant for him, and he still gave us that insane gift. I’ll never be able to repay him.”

  My heart swelled. “He’s a good man.”

  “Truth. So, is the risk worth it?” She asked, and it was amazing how much insight she had into my situation. We’d been in similar boats, but I had a lifetime of history with this family while she was still learning.

  I wiped the tears off my cheeks and pushed off my door, nodding. “When I know the answer to that, I’ll call you.”

  “Good,” she said. “And thanks for the heads up about the Queen!”

  “Anytime,” I mimicked her.

  We said our goodbyes, and I tossed my cell on the bed I hadn’t bothered to make. I didn’t want to lose the illusion Jaime had left on it last night.

  I sank onto the side he’d slept on, at least for a few hours, and inhaled his scent. There were decisions to make, and futures to plan, but Willa had made me realize that some things are unstoppable, unavoidable.

  If he still wanted me, even if solely for these last weeks we had, I would take him. I would take whatever he gave, because I was madly in love.

  We’d set something into motion. Something that could ruin us both.

  Jameson

  Oliver pulled the Range Rover up to Fifteen Gryphon Drive, and we both stared.

  “This is the place, right?” I asked, my eyes caught on a bunch of pink balloons.

  “Uhhh,” he leaned forward. “This would be the house where Prime Ministers have lived for the last three hundred years, yes. But right now, it might double as a theme park.”

  “And it’s Damian’s, right?” Wait. Was that a Disney Princess?

  “Last time I checked he is still our Prime Minister.”

  “Right. Let’s go.”

  Oliver came around the side of the car as I let myself out. The front of the traditional, white-pillared house was draped in pink balloons and streamers, and the noise coming from the back of the house definitely fit with the decorations.

  It was a kid’s birthday party.

  At the Prime Minister’s house.

  There was apparently something I was missing here.

  Oliver knocked on the door, and it was promptly answered by an older woman wearing a staff uniform. Her mouth dropped momentarily before she sank into a quick curtsy. “Your Royal Highness.”

  “Good morning,” I said, looking her in the eye as hers widened.

  “The Prime Minister is expecting us,” Oliver said, his eyes already sweeping past the woman.

  “Of course. Right this way.”

  She led us through the massive entry over marble floors, and past the entrance to the administrative wing, to the massive floor-to-ceiling windows that looked over the backyard.

  “I’ll tell him you’re here,” she said.

  “No need, Harriet, I’m here,” Damian told the woman with a smile as he walked in from the east door. “Your Royal Highness.”

  “Damian,” I said, stepping forward to shake his hand.

  “Jameson. Thank you for meeting me here. I know it’s anything but appropriate.”

  I looked out to the yard, where a birthday party was in full swing. “No problem. When you said you had a family matter you couldn’t pull yourself away from, I didn’t realize it was a birthday party. I would have brought a present.”

  “Not at all. My daughter has more than enough presents,” he said with a soft smile, his eyes on the party.

  “Your daughter?” I scanned the troop of little girls in miniature ballgowns, looking for one that looked anything like him.

  “Yes. My daughter. You know, a female child whom I fathered. She carries my DNA and everything.”

  “You have a child.”

  He laughed.

  “Don’t you do any research on your Prime Ministers during the election, or at least right after?”

  I opened and shut my mouth a couple of times.

  “Yeah, I’m new to all this King stuff, so I guess I missed the memo that you were married with a daughter. What’s her name?”

  He pointed to the blonde skipping around in a pink Princess Aurora gown. Any girl who liked the classics was my kind of gal.

  “Delaney’s right there, and today is her sixth birthday. As for my wife…” he sighed. “We lost her five years ago to breast cancer.”

  You’re an asshole.

  “God, I’m so sorry, Damian.” I couldn’t imagine losing Charlotte so young, let alone with a one-year-old daughter to raise. Damian might be an asshole, but he was quickly becoming an asshole that I admired.

  A sad smile crossed his face
when he looked down at his daughter. “Thank you. She looks just like her mother.”

  “She’s beautiful.”

  He nodded and then turned to me, suddenly all business. “Now what was so important that you had to rush over here on a Holiday weekend instead of waiting for me to come to you like say...hundreds of years of tradition dictates?”

  “I need to meet with Parliament.”

  His eyebrows rose, but he didn’t ask. He simply waited for me to explain, which was yet another trait I found myself admiring. Damn. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to actually like this asshole.

  “That bill, the one we talked about removing marriage as a prerequisite for taking the throne?”

  “Yes, it’s done. Drafted and actually was sent over with your daily update yesterday.”

  Fucking daily update. Mental note: not only find out where that thing was delivered but maybe read it.

  “Great. I need to meet with them today.”

  “Sir, it’s a holiday. Most of Parliament has gone home. They’re scattered all over Elleston.”

  “Holiday. Right. Funny thing about having your entire life determined in the course of just a few weeks, you forget that for everyone else, it’s just business as usual.”

  Except, of course, Xander, who had his freedom now.

  “I can get everyone back and in session by noon tomorrow. Will that work?”

  I nodded, watching the girls dance and spin on the lawn. In a few years, that could be one of my daughters, a brown-haired, green-eyed darling with her mama’s brain and her daddy’s temper. A princess in reality, not just for a birthday party. God, I wanted that. A child with Charlotte, a piece of us both who would become the future of Elleston.

  The future of us.

  “Jameson?”

  I blinked as if needing to clear my fantasy—my potential future. “Yes, that will work. It has to.”

  “I’ll make the arrangements. Do you want to stay for cake?”