But that was before the sniper attack.
She’d dealt with the wedding, handled news of Marianne’s assassination, and barely coped with becoming Queen within the space of a handful of weeks from being a commoner. It was, however, starting to catch up with her.
Her nerves were shot.
Figuratively and almost literally.
This was all too much.
She’d married Edward so that she could have her cake and eat it too. Perry wanted to be with her men. Wanted it with a fire that would never die, and yet, she hadn’t expected this. She just… hadn’t.
Who would?
They were close to two decades into the new millennium. Things like this didn’t happen, did they? Rulers and presidents weren’t shot at like there was a civil war going down. And yet, Marianne had died. Philippe was bare feet away from her in a coma. It had happened. And it was happening again, thanks to some stupid rebels who were intent on meddling in business that was of no concern to them.
She raised a shaky hand and rubbed at her forehead. Feeling the beginnings of a headache start to gather, she shot Philippe a final glance, then headed out of the bedroom. Almost immediately, she ran into Xavier.
“Xavier!” Perry felt the tension drain from her at the sight of him. The way she’d barged into him, she’d raised her hands to prevent them from colliding. Now, with her hands on him, she took full advantage of that. Spreading her fingers on his lean, taut belly, she stared up into his warm, gray-green eyes.
“I was looking for you,” he said cheerfully, but the smile in his eyes flickered and died as he looked at the door behind her. “How is he?”
“The same,” she murmured, answering how she always did because there was never any change.
Philippe’s heart carried on pumping, his hair kept on growing, but nothing else ever seemed to differ. Not that the guys knew she was tending to Philippe’s grooming—it was perfectly natural to her, but she had the feeling it would be distinctly odd for them.
Better to keep her mouth shut, she figured, because she wasn’t about to stop. Philippe was her father by marriage… that meant a lot to her.
She licked her lips, feeling the dryness of her mouth, and whispered, “Come with me?”
Xavier frowned a little but nodded. At his affirmation, she reached behind her and fiddled with the doorknob. As the door swung open behind her, she took a step into the sickroom once more, relieved when he followed her. Closing the room off again when he was inside, she immediately dove into his arms, wrapping hers tightly about his waist, and pressing her face into his chest to hide her expression from him.
God, this was what she’d needed.
Just a hug. A simple hug from one of the men who loved her and thought the sun rose and set on her.
Of course, once she was in his arms, she never wanted to leave.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she whispered immediately.
“I don’t believe you.” He reached between them and with his thumb, nudged her chin up and away from where she’d tucked her face into his chest. “What’s going on?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I always miss you when we’re apart.” It wasn’t as sappy as it sounded. Unless the four of them were together, she had to maintain a strict and appropriate distance from George and Xavier.
That distance was like torture, and each day, it grew worse, because each day, her love for them grew stronger.
She reached up on tiptoe, and slanted her mouth over his. When his tongue pierced her mouth with an immediacy that had lust roaring through her, she whimpered. The sound, in the silent room, was overloud. Aside from the beeping and whooshing machines that were supporting Philippe, the faint noise she’d made had seemed like a gunshot blast in the stillness.
Jerking back, she licked her lips and stared deeply into his eyes.
“Come with me,” he whispered, his jaw clenching tightly as he scanned the room.
She had to hide a smile. It was almost like he was looking for an escape, a secret door that would lead them directly to her bedroom. Instead, there was only the interconnecting door to the Queen’s Suite.
Perry almost pulled her hand from his when she realized his intent. “I can’t. Not in there.”
But he shook his head, and tugged her along in his wake.
This was totally inappropriate.
Totally.
Still, she didn’t lag behind, and instead peered around the Queen’s Suite. It was weird to think this had been Marianne’s home for so long, especially when she saw the main bedchamber.
“Why’s everything covered in white cloths?” She scowled, annoyed that all the furniture was hidden.
“Because it’s tradition,” Xavier told her, his voice less hushed now.
“It is? Why?”
“Edward’s heir, when he ascends to the throne, will stay in these apartments. The sovereigns switch between wings every generation.”
“I thought Edward was being spontaneous and trying to give us privacy,” she grumbled, disappointed that wasn’t the case. Although, she wasn’t too disappointed with her new suite.
It was fresh and modern. Well, as modern as it could be with a three-hundred-year-old bed and light fittings that had been there since they’d replaced candlelight.
“He was. You couldn’t have moved into those apartments until he’d been crowned, and he started the decorating process way back when you were still planning the wedding.”
“Philippe and Marianne didn’t mind making the place more modern?” she asked, curiously peering around him when he led them to another door.
“I’m sure they did. Marianne could be a stickler for tradition, but they probably understood that your marriage had to be treated differently than his with Arabella, for fear it could end the same way.”
Considering what Ferdinand L’Argeneau had just told her, this made her ears prick to attention. “Oh? How?”
“They were estranged, for the most part. Leading separate lives by the end. You know how private Edward is about certain matters, Perry,” Xavier told her as he guided her into a room that looked like an office.
It had gentlemanly overtones and she had to presume it was Philippe’s study. This, too, was filled with drafty white sheets that added a spooky air to the atmosphere. It didn’t help that they’d done all this while Philippe was still living and breathing.
It gave her the damn creeps, if she were being honest.
“Who sanctioned all this?” she demanded. “It’s a bit weird, isn’t it? It’s like burying him before he’s dead.”
“We don’t know when Philippe will wake up, or if he even will. There’s little point in keeping these rooms open…these items have to be protected. Preserved.”
“And a white sheet will protect them?” she asked, her tone laced with scorn.
“Better that than getting sun damage,” he pointed out. “These are period pieces. Measures like over-polishing them instead of covering them up can ruin the patina of some of the inlays. Not only that, why waste the cleaning staff on apartments that aren’t even used?”
That did make sense, she guessed. “Xavier, who did sanction it?”
“Murielle Harlington, I’d imagine.”
She scowled. “Murielle?”
Xavier snorted. “Another Guardian on your hit list?”
She’d already made her dissatisfaction about Marianne’s Guardians, as well as Rose, the Dragon, known to her men. Still, she demanded, “Why didn’t she consult with me over it?”
“Because their position gives them power. The whole point of them is to deal with the things that are too unimportant for you to handle.”
She pursed her lips. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“Why? Feel like micromanaging life here at Masonbrook?” he asked, cocking a brow at her.
Perry tugged her hand from his, and stacking both of hers on her hips, grumbled, “I just would like to be kept in the loop.”
“What are you looking at?” she asked, wondering what was so fascinating on the bookshelves.
She’d thought they’d be heading off for some naughty nookie. Sure, she loved reading as much as the next girl, but when it came down to reading about good sex or having it, she’d take the latter over the former any day of the week.
Her sex drive had been well and truly engaged over the last few months, and Perry knew that was the difference the love of a good man, or in her case, men, could instill.
She’d had several crappy lovers over the years, and having sex with them had been a chore. With her three? They were the ones who had to put limits on it.
Since they’d been crowned, Edward hadn’t touched her. George and Xavier had. They usually sneaked away for quickies that had blown her brain, while also making her wonder why Edward wasn’t doing the same. Well, not wonder. She knew why, but she didn’t have to like it.
Too much work would make him a dull boy.
“I’m looking for the book.”
“The book?” she questioned, staring up at the shelves with a frown. Not a book? What was he looking for? “Why? Are you going to whisper sweet nothings into my ear?”
He shot her a look. “Anything I’m about to say into that ear of yours won’t be sweet, and it won’t be whispered.”
She perked up—so, they were still on the same page. “Can I help with the book?”
Xavier snorted. “Just shut up and let me concentrate.”
Figuring that was fair dos, she watched him continue to scan the shelves, then he made an a-ha noise, tilted a book, and then, nothing.
He scowled, but it cleared when a creaking, shifting noise pierced the atmosphere. She jolted in place, then let out an amazed cry when a doorway in the paneling opened up beside the bookcase. “Oh my God! There’s a secret panel outta here? That’s too fucking cool! Are there more?”
Xavier’s head fell back as he laughed at her swiftly uttered questions. “There are more, and I will show you them another time. Just not now.”
The heavy lids of his eyes, so slumberous and languid, offered a promise that had her biting her lip.
“Trust me?”
She frowned. “Why do I need to trust you?”
“Because I highly doubt Philippe kept the passageway dusted.”
“Nobody knows about it?”
“Nobody save for Edward, George, me, you, Drake, and Philippe.”
“Is it so we can escape if we’re trapped here?”
He nodded. “Yes. The two wings we live in today were modernized back in the late eighteenth century. We had UnReal activity back then, and they were far more likely to have come at the family with pitchforks and shovels and the like.”
“They thought you were Dracula?” she demanded disbelievingly.
“They were farmers,” he corrected, tone amused. “Not vampire hunters.”
“It leads to a safe room?”
“No. This particular one leads to your old bedroom.”
“The Tulip Room?” she blurted out.
“At the time, it’s where one of the Kings kept his mistress.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You mean, the King kept his mistress so close to his Queen?”
Xavier’s nose wrinkled. “You’re judging my ancestor. My very dead, very ancient ancestor who lived in another era.”
“Too damn right I am!”
“Don’t forget, this was the time of child royal brides, Perry,” Xavier said, grabbing her hand as they approached the doorway which had appeared from nowhere—this shit was just too cool. “I think the King, at the time, had a mistress of twenty years old, and a wife of eight. It was a political match.”
“That’s disgusting,” she said on a grouch as she ducked her head. The passageway was really fucking dark and it stank. Of cat wee? What the fuck.
“It speaks of royal marriages of that particular period. They didn’t consummate the relationship,” he assured her. “Not until the Queen was fifteen.”
“Because that’s not gross either.”
“You Americans,” Xavier chided. “You seem to think no one has sex before they’re eighteen, but everyone’s doing it.”
“I didn’t,” she grumbled, then walked into him in the pitch black.
“You waited until you were eighteen to have sex?” He sounded totally disbelieving—she wasn’t sure whether to preen or scowl.
“Not intentionally. No one would have sex with me until I was eighteen,” she corrected.
“That can’t be.”
“I had a lot of puppy weight back then.”
“I refuse to believe you weren’t gorgeous.”
His insistence was cute, but it didn’t stop her from sniffing. “When we go back home for a visit, remind me to show you all my photos of when I was a teenager. Prom was a disaster. It’s no wonder I’m always terrified of falling over.”
He gripped her tighter about the waist. “There are three steps here.”
“You’ve got a good memory.”
“Misspent childhood. Edward and I used to play in here a lot.”
She blinked; then when the blackness didn’t fade, wasn’t sure if she’d opened her eyes again or not—that was how damn dark it was. “That sounds boring.”
“Being related to a king isn’t fun. I thought you’d have figured that out by now.”
A snort escaped her. “You’ve got me there. Not like I can argue with that!”
He laughed. “Didn’t think you would. And don’t worry, there will come a day when I fully expect to see your embarrassing baby photos.”
“Huh. Only if that works both ways.”
“I’ll have you know I took only the most beautiful of baby photos,” he joked, then murmured, “Ah, I think we’re here.”
It was so dark, she didn’t have a damn clue how he figured out they were close to their destination. Then, she squinted and saw the faintest of lights that ran around a door shape.
“How do we get out?”
They’d traveled so far that when she turned back to look at the entrance to the passageway, she couldn’t damn well find it. She really hoped it was still open—the last thing she needed was to get stuck in the walls of Masonbrook.
Even if Xavier was at her side.
Before she could start to freak, she heard a grating sound, and the hinges on the secret door popped open.
Her eyes watered a little as the shadows and light merged. Her vision tried to adjust, and she rubbed her eyes as they stepped out into the Tulip Room. She smiled at the old room, then grimaced when she realized that this, too, was covered in damn dustsheets.
She heaved out a breath. “This is really aggravating.”
“How am I only just figuring out that you’re a control freak?”
“I’m not a control freak.” She squinted up at him then glowered at his overpowering height. “And stop being so tall,” she groused.
“I’ll just lop off a few inches the next time I go to the doctor’s,” he mocked, but he complied by taking a seat on the side of the bed. “Better?”
She made a grumbling sound. “I guess.” Then, she prodded him on the shoulder as she stepped closer to him. “I’m not a control freak.”
“If you weren’t, we’ve made you into one. You definitely like to know what’s going on around you.”
“Who doesn’t?” she demanded. “This is my home, ya know?”
“I don’t think you’d have cared before you got married,” he said, his tone musing. “I guess that’s probably the side effect of what’s happened—Marianne, you... It’s okay, Perry. We can accommodate for a while.”
“Only a while?” She pulled a face. “Anyway, there’s nothing to accommodate. I’m. Not. A.
Control. Freak.”
“Tell that to someone who believes you.”
“Well, you were about to get lucky. But not anymore.”
He laughed, then grabbed her around the waist and hauled her close. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Nowhere, by the sounds of it,” she retorted, settling into his arms with a sigh. Before he could say another word, ruin her mood, and make her want to hit him rather than fuck him, she planted her mouth on his.
He immediately slanted his head and dove right into the kiss. She moaned against his lips, loving the immediacy of his response. Hell, she even loved that he could tease her out of her funk. Could tease her from her uncertainty, her concerns…
God, she just loved everything about this man.
She pulled back slightly and bit down on his bottom lip, the urge to tell him was as hot a fire in her blood as the arousal he stirred in her. “I love you, Xavier.”
He reached up and cupped her cheek. “I love you too, Perry.” Rubbing his nose against hers, he whispered, “Even if you’re turning into a dominatrix on me.”
Despite herself, Perry chuckled. “Don’t tell me you’re into leather and whips, too?”
“Only if you’re wearing them,” he replied with a wink.
Her laughter deepened, and then it was swallowed whole as he kissed her again. His tongue foraging deep in her mouth, taking her breath and reminding her who she belonged to. He sampled her, tasted her. Tried everything she had to give, and she fell deeper into the kiss. Deeper into him.
He made her feel like there was an endless amount of time in the world just for this. No pressure for more, no stress. Just the freedom to kiss him, to be in his arms, to have him love her with his mouth.
She moaned, her thoughts working against her as much as his kiss was rocking her world.
With a whimper, she cupped his face and retreated with a heavy breath. “I need you.”
His sigh was redolent with pleasure. “I need you too.”
Biting her lip, she reached between them and grabbed the hem of her shirt. Pulling it overhead, she had to smile when he growled at the sight of her braless tits. His hands immediately came up to cup them, and she both winced at and reveled in his touch.
Long Live Queen Perry: Contemporary Reverse Harem (Kingdom of Veronia Book 3) Page 17
