by S. A. Gordon
“I can’t … I just can’t believe it.”
“And I couldn’t either, the first time it happened to me. But you’ll come to see it as a blessing because she can’t ever hurt you like this again. You’ll also come to realize that the circle of people who are really worth your time is very small.”
“What should I do about work?”
“I think you need to call and explain the situation—they probably won’t want you there anyway, because it will cause problems for them for the next day or so. Therefore, I think it’s a good time for you to come here.”
“Wouldn’t that be the worst idea?”
“Not at all. We can make sure no one gets a photo of you—well, reasonably sure—and if you’re here then there are more resources available to protect you. I don’t have nearly so much reach while you’re over there.”
“Um …” Caitlin wasn’t sure what to say or do. Everything was too strange—too beyond anything she’d experienced before. David sounded so calm about it all, but she guessed this was normal for him. People behaved strangely around him all the time.
“You don’t have to do anything,” David said reassuringly, “apart from tell your office that you won’t be in for the rest of the week. We’ll arrange the rest, okay? I’ll let you know which flight. But you should start packing now because we’ll try to get you on a flight as soon as possible.”
Caitlin wondered who “we” was and realized that he probably meant his “people,” his office … What was it like to have staff? What was it like to have someone to book flights for you—just make things happen as and when you want them?
“Caitlin?” she heard him say.
“Huh? Sorry. I’m … I’m just a little dazed.”
“No, I’m sorry—and I should have said that earlier. This is happening to you because of me. If you’d just gone for a drink with someone else, you wouldn’t have to put up with it all. You wouldn’t have to find out that your friends are more inconstant than you’d believed.”
“Is your life always like this?” she said, sounding dazed.
“Not always. But it’s not normal, obviously, the way we live. It won’t be normal when you get here. Provided you want to come. You still haven’t said.”
“Oh.” She closed her eyes, the import of all of this now hitting her: her face was in the newspapers; her name was in the newspapers. People from school she never wanted to see again would see it. Matthew would see it. Liam would see it. For someone who had lived her life just going about her business—trying to be a good worker, a good daughter, a good friend—it seemed unbelievable. She didn’t merit this kind of attention. And suddenly, desperately, she wanted to escape it.
“Yes, I’ll come,” she said quickly.
“Good.” He sounded relieved. “All right—go and pack. And I’ll call you back with the details.”
“How will I know it’s you? Your number doesn’t show up.”
“True. True. I’ll text you first to tell you I’m about to ring. All right?”
“All right.”
“Are you all right?” he said softly.
“I’m …” She inhaled. “I don’t know. Ask me when I get there.”
“Another thing—you’ll be in first class, okay? I don’t want you to be bothered by anyone.”
“But—”
“But what? The expense? My love, I can afford it.”
Caitlin trembled slightly at the term of endearment. My love? No one had ever called her that before. No one had even hinted that they would want to call her that before.
“And it’s the least I can do,” she heard David continue while her mouth went just a little dry. “I’m telling you so you’ll know which queue to go in at the airport. They’ll also take you through to the lounge so you don’t have to wait in public.”
“Is that how you travel?”
“Of course. Well, most of the time. If I’m traveling with the boys I usually have to tough it out in coach, but the boys protect me from people’s selfies.”
It was all so improbable that Caitlin laughed. “Okay. I guess I’ll talk to you soon, then.”
“Very soon. Ciao.”
“Bye.”
Caitlin ended the call and threw her phone in her purse. She really just wanted to lie on the couch and watch TV but she knew she had things to do. First—she couldn’t forget her phone charger. What would she do about a converter? She couldn’t worry about it. She was sure David could take care of it, anyhow. Now—clothes. And she had to hurry—not just because of the flight but because she didn’t want to see Lisa, if she happened to decide to come home. Not that she thought she would.
Caitlin pulled a small bag out of her closet and threw in two pairs of trousers, a dress, some sweaters, tights, a warm hat, a scarf and some dependable shoes. She had no idea what she’d need but she honestly didn’t care right now. And she didn’t care if she wore the same thing for a week straight.
Underwear, bras … toiletries. She raced around throwing items into the bag, then remembered her passport—thankfully still up to date because she’d taken a trip to the Caribbean only two years ago.
She dressed herself for the flight: a black turtleneck sweater, camel woolen pants, low black heels. She had her coat ready to go and her purse next to it.
Caitlin’s face crumpled as the adrenaline surge of the past few minutes hit her and she realized that she felt like an animal in flight. She just wanted her mommy to hold her and tell her that everything was all right, even if it wasn’t.
She remembered that David had told her to call her mother and she was glad she had an excuse beyond just being a pathetic sap. But as she heard the most familiar voice in her life say “hello,” all she could do was cry.
“Hi, Mom,” she said, trying not to let her mother hear her sniffling.
“Hi, honey. I’m so glad you called. I’ve left you a bunch of messages.”
“Have you?” Caitlin muffled a cry. “I’m sorry, Mom, my cell has just been ringing and ringing …”
“Where did this story come from?” Her mother sounded concerned, but Caitlin knew it was concern for her wellbeing, not concern about anything her daughter might or might not have done.
Taking a deep breath, Caitlin said, “It came from the truth, Mom. I’m—I’m actually going to London right now.”
“Now?” Her mother sounded even more concerned.
“David is arranging a flight for me.”
“David? You mean that prince?”
Caitlin couldn’t help but smile, hearing her mother sound angry rather than disbelieving.
“That’s the one,” she said.
“He’s getting you into all this bother. I’m not sure I like the sound of him.”
“He’s great, Mom, really. He’s lovely. Honestly.”
“Uh-huh.”
Caitlin could almost hear her mother pursing her lips and making a disapproving face.
“I don’t like him getting my girl into this kind of mess,” her mother said after a pause.
“It’s not a mess, Mom. It’s just a complication. And I was wondering if you could help me uncomplicate a few bits of it.”
“Oh, honey, of course,” said her mother, and Caitlin felt relieved and reassured and just a bit overwhelmed all at the same time.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Caitlin couldn’t quite understand how kissing David could get better. After their first kiss—that lingering experience after that perfect night, so many months before—she had dreamt of it happening again, sure that she was embellishing the memory so much that any real experience could not hope to match it.
So when he finally took her into the sanctuary of his apartment in Kensington Palace and folded her into his arms, when he brought his face close to hers and said, “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time,” when he placed his lips against hers and she remembered how unexpectedly soft they were, like those of no man she had ever kissed before, and remembered how much kissing him felt l
ike jumping off a cliff, she just couldn’t believe that this time she jumped with a feeling of complete safety, attached to the most amazing parachute.
Time didn’t so much stand still as lose shape and meaning. As he bent over her, one hand on her lower back and one between her shoulder blades, she became lost in the hard press of his chest muscles against her breasts, in the smell of him—a faint scent of expensive cologne and whatever he had eaten for lunch and other things that she could have sworn were a dog and grass and sunshine—and in the way her body just seemed to become a mess of blood and synapses and emotions and lust. She wondered if he was feeling the same and then she didn’t care if he was. This was how she felt; this was what he was giving her. She was grateful. It wasn’t so much all her romantic dreams come true as all the romantic dreams she didn’t even know existed coming to life. But this wasn’t romance: it was physical and it was visceral, but it wasn’t romantic. The way he pulled at her and she pulled at him, the breathless way they had greeted each other at the airport in the private room that he had arranged for their reunion—all of it spoke of a connection, an attachment to each other that was beyond the definition of something that seemed so trite. She wanted to be his lover. She wanted to be his friend. She wanted to be his confidante and his support. All of these roles she had never considered being for just one man, thinking that they were roles she could play for a suite of individuals but not just one person.
All of this raced through her mind and body as he kissed her.
“Well,” he said when they finally broke contact, both of them breathing hard, a sheen of sweat on their foreheads.
“Sorry, what was your name again?” Caitlin said and she stumbled a little as he tried to pull her upright.
David laughed, the sound rich in his throat. “Indeed.” He stepped back from her then and held out his hand. “I’m David,” he said.
“I’m Caitlin.” She shook his hand. “And you’re a great kisser. I wouldn’t mind seeing you again.”
“Great. Because I believe I have some free time.” He made to take her into his arms again but she placed her hands against his chest.
“As much as I would really love to kiss you again,” Caitlin said, almost panting with desire, “I’m really, really hungry.”
“Oh, god! Sorry. How thoughtless of me—it’s some mealtime for you now, isn’t it?”
“It’s okay. It’s just … I’ve run through my energy reserves.”
“Do you mind if we eat here?” David said, looking at her with concern. “There’ll be something in the fridge, I’m sure. Then I can show you to your room.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “I thought I’d stay at a hotel. Like we discussed.”
“That was before. It’s riskier now. We managed to get you into the country undetected and I really don’t want you being spotted at a hotel now. We won’t be hermits here, I promise,” he added hurriedly. “But I just want you where my protection officers can help.”
She nodded. She loved kissing him but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to go further yet. This time—this time of them just finding out about each other—wouldn’t come again. Staying in his home—she had to move past the sheer surprise of being inside a building she had only seen in photographs and realize that this was his home—could hurry up the process when she just wasn’t ready for anything else to go faster that she’d prepared for.
“You’re worried about something,” he said gently, taking her hands. “Tell me.”
“I …” She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“My love, I’m not going to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do. If you’d rather be at a hotel, we can certainly arrange that. Mick and Stan won’t like it, but they’ll adjust.”
She shook her head again. “It’s okay.”
“This apartment is quite large. Plenty of room for us both. But Margaret has space if you’d rather. She’s just across the courtyard.”
Caitlin blushed. “No, that would be … weird. Staying with your sister.”
“Too much?” David said, cocking his head. “She’s actually skiing in Gstaad, if that makes you feel better. She’d be quite happy that someone would be talking to her cat while she’s away. She knows I won’t do it.”
“You don’t like cats?”
“That cat doesn’t like me. Margaret was given it as a Christmas present when we were teenagers and I was going through a cruel phase—the cat paid the price.”
“So you can’t really blame it for not liking you.”
“No. But that doesn’t stop my sister trying to force a reconciliation.” He smiled warily. “I have the scratch marks to prove it.”
Caitlin nodded. “Understood. So, uh …” She made a face. “I don’t really know what to do.”
David gazed at her. “I’ll call my sister while you have a look in the fridge to see what we can eat. How about that?”
“I like that division of labor.” Caitlin smiled, feeling suddenly nervous. Was she being gauche, wanting to stay somewhere else? He was probably used to women wanting to jump straight into his bed, not run to his sister’s bed. She felt like she was being ridiculous. She felt—
“Stop worrying,” David commanded.
Caitlin fixed her gaze on him. “Wh-what?”
“I can almost hear your whirring thoughts. Stop worrying. Everything’s fine. If I didn’t want you to stay at my sister’s I wouldn’t have suggested it. And when I say ‘my sister’s,’ her place belongs to the country—as does mine. Plus, it’s only over there. So you’re still in the same compound. We’re just … going slowly.” He smiled and looked devilishly handsome while doing it.
“And you don’t mind?”
“I’ve gone fast enough over the past few years. Too fast, sometimes.” His gaze wandered toward the window. “It’s not really who I am.”
Caitlin swallowed but said nothing.
“I give you a leading statement and you don’t ask me a question?” David said, raising an eyebrow then winking.
“I …” Caitlin cleared her throat. “I can be patient when it comes to finding out who you are.”
David narrowed his eyes and put his hands on his hips. His slim, powerful hips. Caitlin swallowed again.
“That’s a ridiculous statement, Caitlin Meadows,” he said. “You want to know as much as you can about me the way I want to know as much as I can about you. That’s the dance we’re in at the moment.” He tilted his head to one side. “It will change,” he continued. “It will become a tango, in due course. But right now I’m enjoying this foxtrot.”
Caitlin looked at the floor and then back up at David. “Honestly, I … This dance is new to me, David. I’m not used to someone being so nice to me, let alone considerate. It’s all a bit much.”
“You mean, on top of ensuring that your privacy has been invaded by several of the world’s major news organizations, I’m also kind and considerate?” He looked disbelieving. “I think you’re the one being kind and considerate.”
“Am I here because you feel responsible for me now? Or … I don’t know, sorry for me?” Caitlin said, taken aback by the words as they came out of her mouth because she hadn’t known she’d even thought them.
David looked completely surprised—Caitlin realized she’d never seen him look surprised before. She supposed it took a lot to surprise him, given the life he’d led. The life he was still leading.
He pressed his lips together and took a short, sharp breath.
“Do you really believe,” he said slowly, “that I’d offer to sacrifice you to my sister’s cat if I felt sorry for you?”
Now it was Caitlin’s turn to look surprised—right before she grinned.
“I guess not,” she said meekly.
“You guess right, then.” David’s nostrils flared and he held out his hand to her. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen.”
*
The restaurant was cozy—a small neighborhood Italian place that kept the décor simple and th
e menu simpler. It was not far at all from the palace but there had been no question of them walking—they had been driven and dropped off discreetly a few doors up so their arrival wasn’t noticeable. David had given his name as “Arthur Sussex”—Caitlin planned to ask him where that came from later on—and the maitre d’ had smiled broadly and said, “Sir, an honor to have you with us again.” So this must be David’s regular joint, and the staff clearly knew who he was—the chef’s head had appeared above the pass bearing an inquisitive expression and it had just as quickly disappeared—so Caitlin presumed he felt comfortable here.
This was their first attempt at an outing. They’d spent the last day and a half since her arrival camped out in David’s sitting room—not yet furnished to his taste—or avoiding Margaret’s cat, whose name Caitlin still didn’t know because David referred to it only as “the monster.” And the cat wasn’t wearing a collar—of course, why would it need to? It wasn’t as if it was going to wander out onto the street and get lost. That cat—a burgundy-colored Burmese—was yet another example of how differently David and his sisters lived. But as comfortable as their apartments were, she and David both knew they couldn’t stay cooped up there forever, as much as they enjoyed spending their time kissing and talking. They couldn’t even walk around the grounds—the parts that were shut off from the public weren’t that big. So David’s office had booked a table for them in the only restaurant they could trust to keep a secret.
For their evening out, Caitlin had tied her thick brown hair back in a plait so that she didn’t resemble the photograph that had appeared in the papers, and David wore glasses and his trusty cap. The glasses weren’t for show, apparently—he was short-sighted, he said, and at night he found the glasses useful. They were so nerdy, though, that Caitlin knew there had to be an ulterior motive for wearing them: they made him look much less like himself. Combined with the cap, he resembled a well-groomed computer programmer. And she could tell that he loved it.
They were relaxing into each other more and more with each passing hour. They told stories about all sorts of things and laughed at each other’s foibles. Caitlin felt safe with him, and it wasn’t because he had bodyguards. It was for all the reasons she’d first found him intriguing: he was relaxed with himself, relaxed about himself; he had nothing to prove to anyone and no insecurities to take out on other people. Or, if he did, he hid them well. Accordingly, Caitlin felt her own anxieties—as small as they must seem to anyone else—fall away. They just didn’t matter, not when she was here with this man who seemed so in command of himself and his surroundings. It was such a relief to be around him—to feel that things were taken care of. He had told her that he felt the same way about her but she wasn’t sure how—she didn’t really know what she was offering him that was equal to what he offered her. That was her lingering insecurity: that she just wasn’t enough for him. But she would never say it out loud.
