Romancing Rayne

by Riley Edwards

  “I promised you a twenty-five year anniversary scavenger hunt. Now we’ll have to come back.” He started back to where the group was waiting for us. “We’d better hurry; we wouldn’t want Spike to miss his tea,” Ghost mocked.

  Did that really just happen? I was truly at a loss.

  “Lunch sounds great. I’m starving,” I said, trying to mask my giddy satisfaction.

  Harry, Meghan, and Oliver were all waiting for us near the exit by the time we came back around.

  “Ready?”

  “Yes. Thank you,” Ghost answered.

  “When we get to the bottom, we’ll head out through the Royal entrance. Oliver will go with you and drive,” Harry explained.

  And down we went, 344 steps. I used the time to memorize every moment of this adventure; I never wanted to forget a single minute of the day.

  10

  Ghost

  “Where are we going for lunch?” Rayne asked from the back seat.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “I don’t think I can handle any more surprises, Ghost. I feel bad I didn’t get to say a proper goodbye when we parted ways with—”

  “You’ll see them for lunch. We’re joining them.”

  I knew she was fishing for hints. Spike had told her we had lunch plans while in the belfry.

  “Oh, that’s right,” she pouted. “Is that Hyde Park?”

  “It is,” Oliver answered. “Have you been?”

  “No, never.” Rayne’s face was almost pressed against the window as she took in what she could from the moving vehicle.

  “If you have time, you should. There are many hidden trails and gardens. It’s quite lovely.”

  “Quite lovely? Have you gone soft, Sparky?” I poked at Oliver.

  “Some of us know how to behave in front of a lady. I can be a classy bloke when I want.”

  “Whatever you say, friend.” I laughed.

  “How did you get the nickname Sparky?” Rayne asked.

  “We were outside of Kabul and on one of the very few paved roads. Out of nowhere we came under attack by rebels. You see, we were in circa 1980 Toyota pickup trucks, not very comfortable, but trusty. We’d left the airstrip after picking up supplies, so the assumption was they only wanted to steal our cargo. Anyway, both of my back tires were hit and completely flat at that point, but I couldn’t stop. Spike was in the truck with me and Ghost and Blade in the one behind us.” I couldn’t believe Oliver was telling Rayne this story. So much for keeping top-secret missions secret. “Eventually, the rubber had come free of the rim, leaving me driving at a high rate of speed on metal. All of a sudden, over the radio, this bloke starts complaining he couldn’t see because of the sparks flying from the back of my truck. After that, Ghost and Blade started calling me Sparky. It caught on and Spike and the rest of my unit coined the name as well.”

  “Holy shit. What happened next?” Rayne asked, obviously happy with all the new information she was getting.

  “Blade, the crazy bloke, climbed out of the cab and got into the bed of the truck. He must’ve sprayed ten or twelve full magazines of ammo at the rebels. One of the vehicles chasing us veered off the road and hit a parked car, flipping it end over end. The other car stopped to help them.”

  “How did you make it back with no rear tires?”

  “We ditched the truck, loaded our supplies in the back of Ghost’s, and Blade and I sat in the bed. It was an uncomfortable ride.”

  “Was there ever a comfortable ride in Afghanistan?” I asked, remembering the shit trucks with no padding on the seats and non-existent shock absorbers.

  “There was nothing comfortable about that hellhole,” Oliver answered.

  Thankfully, before Rayne could ask any more questions, Oliver turned down an alley, drawing her attention to her surroundings.

  Oliver slowed at the guard gate and was waved through without stopping.

  “Where are we?” Rayne asked.

  “Almost there, Princess.”

  “Ghost. Seriously. I am not dressed for a fancy restaurant. I’ll die of embarrassment.”

  “You look beautiful. And we’re not going to a restaurant.”

  “That sign says Kensington Gardens!” she shrieked. “As in Kensington Palace?”

  “One and the same.”

  “Oh, put the poor woman out of her misery and tell her,” Oliver said, pulling the car through another set of guarded gates.

  Oliver slowly pulled through and the black, ornate iron gates, complete with gold leaf tips, and the OS14 Royal Protection Officers closed them behind us as soon as we passed.

  Rayne’s head was swiveling back and forth, looking for any hint of where she might be. I was pleased she wasn’t familiar with the Kensington Palace grounds.

  Spike stepped into view along with his new bride, both smiling and holding hands. I was thrilled my old friend had found the same happiness I had.

  Oliver exited the car and opened Rayne’s door, offering his hand to help her out.

  “Ma’am,” he said with a small bow once she was steady on her feet.

  “Are you hitting on my wife?” I joked.

  “She is a stunning morsel; however, I prefer my women unattached.”

  “Morsel? Jesus, where do you come up with your pickup lines? No wonder you’re single. Now hand over my woman.”

  “Welcome,” Spike greeted. “Thank you for agreeing to have lunch here. Nothing ruins a meal more than photographers.”

  “Ghost?” Rayne tugged on my shirt, stopping me from following the prince. “Is this Nottingham Cottage?”

  “It is.”

  “But—”

  “Princess. This is nothing more than Spike’s home. Relax and enjoy yourself. It’s just like having a barbecue at Fletch’s.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “Relax.”

  This was not going as planned. I wanted Rayne to have fun, not be stiff and freaked out. Maybe this had been a bad idea.

  “You’re right. I’m being stupid. They’re just people.” She smiled, then muttered, “Everyday, royal people.”

  “I hope you don’t mind, I asked the staff to set a table in the garden,” Meghan said as we entered. “Would you like a tour before lunch?” she asked Rayne.

  “Would you mind? I don’t want to impose. This is your home.”

  “Not at all. Let’s let the men reminisce about their glory days.” Meghan smiled and motioned for Rayne to follow.

  Spike and I both stood, waiting for the women to leave before he offered us a seat.

  “My apologies we missed the wedding. The team was called away on a mission. I was happy I’d never told Rayne about the invitation; she would’ve been crushed if she’d known. She did, however, watch it live on TV with the rest of the women. I heard so much about it, I feel as if I was there in person.”

  “I wish I could’ve taken her to an island and done it in private. There are some things a man wants to share with just his bride.” There was a longing in his voice. I couldn’t imagine always being in the spotlight, having my every move criticized and documented.

  I understood why he’d spent as long as he had in Afghanistan. There, he was Spike Wells, troop leader, not the sixth in line for the throne. The news outlets have reported he’s done two tours, however that’s inaccurate. He’s done more than two tours, and his time in country had been downplayed as well.

  “So, tell me, how are the rest of the guys? Truck did email with an update, but he always leaves out the gossip.”

  Oliver joined us, setting a tray with three crystal tumblers and a decanter of amber liquid down on the table in front of us.

  “Good idea. Let’s toast,” Spike said, pouring each of us two fingers of Scottish whisky. “To best mates.”

  Rayne

  Lunch had turned into dinner, and while I was still amazed I’d spent the day with royalty, Ghost had been right; as soon as I’d relaxed, I had a great time. The prince was hilarious. Of course, like any good American
royal watcher, I’d read the tabloid stories about his exploits. I wasn’t sure if I was happy or disappointed to learn much of the bad-boy prince stories that had been printed were greatly exaggerated. He was caring and down to earth and positively in love with his wife.

  We talked about everything from his charity work to more stories about Afghanistan. Harry even explained why Ghost called him Spike Wells. Who knew, both Prince William and Harry had used code names when they were in college. Prince William was known plainly as Steve, and Prince Harry, being the rebel, chose the name Spike. But what really got him animated and happy was when he spoke about his time in Africa. I was honored when he pulled out his laptop and shared his personal photo collection. The couple planned on spending more time there in the near future. And when they’d invited Ghost and me to come along, I nearly swallowed my tongue.

  Meghan and I finished cleaning up the dinner dishes. Yes, Her Royal Highness did dishes. She’d insisted on us cooking and not calling in the staff, explaining she and Spike enjoyed doing normal, everyday things together. Now we were gathered in the living room. The men were enjoying an after-dinner whisky when Oliver offered to pour me a drink.

  “No, thank you,” I refused.

  He held an empty glass in Meghan’s direction and she, too, declined. I’d noticed, like me, she opted for water with dinner as well.

  “What’s wrong with the women tonight? Are you both up the duff or something?”

  Meghan’s eyes widened in shock, and Ghost stiffened beside me. I searched my brain trying to decode the British slang but couldn’t remember what it meant.

  “You know, a bun in the oven, in the family way, or as you Americans so eloquently put it—knocked up,” Oliver helpfully continued.

  “Um . . .” I looked to Ghost, waiting for him to respond. We’d decided to wait until everyone was back from their honeymoons to announce our pregnancy to our friends.

  “I cannot confirm nor deny that intel,” Ghost told the room.

  “Cheeky bastard.” Oliver laughed. “Congratulations.”

  All eyes turned to Spike. If the broad smile of his face and the pretty blush on Meghan’s cheeks were anything to go by, I’d say she was pregnant as well.

  “I, too, cannot confirm nor deny. You’ll have to stay tuned and see if an official announcement is made.”

  Oliver sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Just great. Now babysitting will be added to my official duties. I don’t wipe arses.”

  The conversation flowed, and as we were getting ready to leave, Harry turned to me and asked, “Did you have a good day?”

  “The best. I really can’t thank you enough. I’ve learned so much, too.”

  “Before you leave, do you have any other questions?” he offered.

  “There is one thing. But it’s personal and probably rude of me to ask.”

  I twisted my hands together. There was one thing I was dying to know. I could’ve looked it up on the internet but if the prince was offering to answer questions, I might as well get the answer straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.

  “And?”

  “What’s your last name?”

  Laughter filled the room until Meghan cut in. “I don’t know what’s funny. I had the same question, too.”

  “My Christian name is Henry Charles Albert David. Quite a mouthful. We do not use surnames. However, I come from the House of Windsor. If you’re asking what’s on my passport and foreign documents that require a surname, it’s Mountbatten-Windsor. My grandfather’s surname hyphenated with my grandmother’s family name.”

  “How do you sign documents if you don’t use a surname?”

  “My first name only,” he answered.

  “Thank you for answering my silly question.”

  “I told you there was a lot for me to learn,” Meghan added.

  We said our goodbyes and Meghan pulled me in for a hug and slipped her personal email address into my hand before we headed to the car. Oliver was going to drive us to the hotel before returning to Nottingham Cottage for the evening. I’d also learned that Oliver was Spike’s personal protection guard. It was something similar to the president’s Secret Service agents. All the royals had a Royalty Protection Group around them at all times, and Personal and Close Protection Officers when they were in public. Oliver only guarded the couple and was close friends with both.

  “I love it here,” I said as I watched the city’s lights twinkle from the back seat. “So much history,” I said dreamily.

  “You should visit more often,” Oliver said.

  “I wish.”

  I did what sightseeing I could as we sped down the road. Oliver, obviously knowing his way around the city, avoided all the congested tourist areas. Before I knew it, we were pulling up in front of the Park Plaza.

  After thank yous and handshakes, Ghost and I were alone in the elevator.

  “I can’t wait to tell Mary about our day.” Ghost chuckled and tucked me close. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Princess. I hope you enjoyed it.”

  “Enjoyed it? There are no words.”

  “Good.”

  “I’ll have to show you how grateful I am.”

  “Show me?” Ghost cocked his head to the side in question.

  “Oh, yeah. Show you. Tonight, I’m first.” I crooked my finger at him, and he leaned down, allowing me to whisper in his ear. “First, I’m going to drive you crazy with my mouth, and then I’m going to climb on top of you and do that thing with my hips you like. And after that, I’m going to ride reverse cowgirl so you can watch my tattoo as I get us both off,” I whispered.

  “Princess,” he growled.

  “Yeah, Ghost?”

  “One change. Before you ride me, you’re gonna crawl up and sit on my face so I can tongue your sweet pussy. Then you can do that thing with your hips I love so much.”

  “Anything you want, Ghost.”

  11

  Rayne

  “What did you think of the Tower of London? Is it all you’d dreamed it’d be?” Ghost asked as we wandered the courtyard of the infamous fortress.

  “I could spend all day here and not get bored. There’s so much to learn. I wish I hadn’t forgotten my cell phone at the hotel, I could’ve FaceTimed Emily. She would’ve loved seeing the Crown Jewels. Did you see that 530 carat diamond?”

  As interesting as the Tower had been, nothing would ever come close to seeing Big Ben. Even twenty-four hours later, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much fun we’d had.

  “Not exactly the basement torture chamber you thought it would be?”

  “No, but poor Queen Anne Boleyn was executed on the lawn.”

  “She seemed to have made many enemies during her three years as queen.”

  “It wasn’t her fault. King Henry seemed to have had an issue keeping it in his pants. That man wrote love letters to any woman who struck his fancy. He was a cheater and weak minded. Even if she was the schemer historians make her out to be, he didn’t have to follow along.”

  The beauty of the day wasn’t lost on me. We’d gotten lucky, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight; the blue sky made an amazing backdrop for the stone castle. So much wealth and antiquity were hidden behind these walls. “I bet it’s beautiful at night, all lit up.”

  “You know, we could come back one evening or we could go to the Hampton Court Palace. It has been said a screaming Queen Catherine Howard runs down the great hall.”

  “That would be a no.” I shuttered at the thought. “A big, fat no way.”

  A huge influx of tourists flooded the courtyard, a man with a stroller came dangerously close to knocking me over, and Ghost caught my hand and pulled me close. “Be careful, Princess, a guided tour just let out. Are you ready for lunch?”

  “Before we go, I want to stop at the gift shop and look around.”

  “Right this way, my lady.” Ghost made a grand sweeping gesture with his free hand and we began walking toward the over-priced tou
rist-trap the London Tower called a souvenir store.

  The White Tour Shop was no less packed than the courtyard had been. Ghost was being a good sport, following me around without complaint. I had something for all the girls and was now on a quest to find Annie the perfect gift. Just when I’d thought I was going to have to give up, I stumbled upon a sword and shield.

  “What about this?” I asked Ghost. “Not exactly Army, but still combat related.”

  “Get her the sword. Fletch will shit a brick; it’s perfect.”

  “You’re bad. But I can see Annie zooming around in her tank wielding a sword.” I found the perfect-looking one on the bottom shelf. “Here, will you hold my water?”

  Ghost took my bottle and stepped to the side, allowing a group of women to peruse the shelves next to me.

  I pulled the sword off the shelf and examined the gold-plating and wondered if Annie would deem gold “too girly.” Deciding she would, I moved farther down the aisle, finding basic pewter swords. The patina made them looked bruised and worn, as if they’d been used in a great battle. Yes, those were perfect for little Annie and the imaginary Army battalion she led.

  With the sword in hand, I stood and looked around the shop.

  “Ghost?”

  Ghost

  I fucking hated crowds. Too many people packed into a small space. My eyes scanned for exits and hidden doorways. There should’ve been a maximum occupancy of fifty fewer people than were crammed into the gift shop. I’d been watching Rayne pick through the assortment of swords for Annie when a little girl bumped into me, spilling her very large cup of lemonade. With the cup smashed between us and cool liquid running down the front of the little girl’s dress and the leg of my pants, I grabbed her shoulders before she fell.

  “Whoa. Are you okay?” Her eyes widened in horror, and tears sprang to her eyes. I looked around, waiting for a parent to come to my rescue, but no adults seemed to be looking for the girl. “Where’s your mom?”

  The girl shook her head and pinched her lips. I suppose she was doing the right thing not speaking to me, stranger danger and all that, but it was not helping find her parents.