A Royal Shade of Blue (Modern Royals Series Book 1)

by Aven Ellis

  Christian eventually turns into a parking garage, and his protection officers follow suit. We park, wait for them to park, and when they are out, Christian opens his door. I follow.

  “I’m sorry,” I say directly to his protection officers, “but I couldn’t bear staying in the car another moment, not when this magical city is in front of me. Your choice of fudge is on me when we get to the Fudge Kitchen, as appreciation for your patience.”

  They both looked shocked at my offer, but Christian doesn’t.

  “She’s nice, this one,” Christian says, inclining his baseball-cap-clad head toward me.

  “Oh, Ms. Jones, that’s not necessary,” Oliver says, shaking his head in a firm no.

  “Do you not like fudge?” I ask.

  “Well, I do, but—”

  “No buts. Let’s get out of the parking garage and into Cambridge,” I say excitedly. I instinctively reach for Christian’s hand, but he quickly moves it away.

  “I’m sorry. You know I want to,” Christian says, his bright blue eyes pleading with me to understand.

  “No, it was an instinct. I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “I know you, er, your, um, family, let’s say, doesn’t show public affection, so even when we do eventually come out, I don’t expect it.”

  Christian furrows his brow. “We don’t show affection?”

  “Um, unless it’s a certain older brother with a hot blonde at a nightclub kissing, not that I’ve seen pictures of anything. I assumed it was an understood thing.”

  Christian begins to walk, and I fall into step with him. Oliver and Peter, of course, are close behind.

  “I never thought of it, because my parents don’t get along. It makes sense that they don’t touch each other during the show.”

  “The show?” I ask as we make our way toward the street.

  “You know, when we do our jobs,” Christian says, adjusting the brim on his baseball cap so it covers more of his eyes. “Neither did Grandfather and Grandmother. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to follow that.”

  I shoot him a look. “You won’t?”

  “No. I want to be affectionate with you in public, and you can be sure when the time comes, I will be.”

  There’s a strength in his voice, a conviction, that this man is going to fight the traditions of the monarchy that he doesn’t agree with when it comes to us.

  Oh, how I love him.

  “Cambridge,” I gasp as I get a glimpse of the outdoors.

  “Um, yes, it still is,” Christian quips.

  A squeal escapes me. “I can’t wait!”

  I hurry ahead, and Christian does a little jog to keep up with me. I practically burst from the garage and out onto the street, pausing to take in my surroundings, not having a clue where I am but loving it all the same.

  “Head left,” Christian directs.

  We head up a narrow street, and when we get to the corner, I see it’s marked Wheeler Street. There are cobblestone streets and restaurants, and oh, it’s magically old and wonderful. I should be freaking exhausted, not only from the flight but also the time change and the walk at Knebworth, but I’m bursting with energy.

  “This is the Corn Exchange,” I say.

  “Have you been studying?” Christian asks.

  I nod. “Yes! It’s a concert venue.”

  “Your pub quiz question: When did it open?”

  Dammit.

  “A long time ago,” I say.

  Christian laughs. “1875, and I’ll take that point, thank you.”

  “Oh, you will not,” I say as we walk along. “You can’t get a point for answering your own question.”

  People with umbrellas jostle around us, and the sidewalk is a sea of patterns and stripes and bright colors as people try to shield themselves from the rain.

  I notice a few people look at Christian, but he said Cambridge has been good about respecting his privacy. I know he’s still off-limits to the media for the next few months, but that doesn’t mean he’s off-limits from regular people throwing a picture of him on Instagram.

  “CP,” I say, “what if someone posts a picture of us from today on social media?”

  “You’re a friend from America,” he says, and from the immediacy of his answer, I know he’s thought about this. “I’m showing you around. That’s it.”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  “It is, when it comes to you and me.”

  Swoon.

  We continue down Wheeler Street, and I must fight the urge to whip out my cell and take pictures of everything I’m seeing. I know I’ll have plenty of time to do that when I explore on my own, and that’s the only thing restraining me.

  Wheeler Street becomes Bene’t Street, and as we walk further along I see the St. Bene’t’s Church. It’s the oldest building in Cambridge.

  “Look at that,” I say in wonder. “That bell tower is from the Anglo-Saxon period, the eleventh century. It’s incredible!”

  “You know what’s at the intersection of Bene’t Street and Trumpington Street, right ahead?”

  “I do,” I say proudly. “The Corpus Clock.”

  “Well done, Ace,” Christian says, smiling.

  We reach the Corpus Clock, which is street level outside the Taylor Library of the Corpus Christi College. There are people standing on the corner staring and taking pictures, and we stop for a moment to look at it, too. It’s round and gold-plated, with a huge cricket-type sculpture on top. This is a clock with no hands. Time is revealed through slits with a blue light as the mean-looking cricket thing moves back and forth.

  “The grasshopper creeps me out,” I say to Christian as we watch it move.

  “He’s eating up time; he’s supposed to be scary.”

  Time.

  My chest draws tight as I realize the precious time I have with Christian this week is going to go by way too quickly.

  I feel Christian studying me.

  “I know, I don’t want to think about time either,” he says, reading my mind once again. “Come on, King’s Parade is right here. So is your Fudge Kitchen.”

  “Oh, I can’t wa—”

  I turn away from the clock, but as soon as I do, I stop speaking.

  Because as I gaze down King’s Parade, I see King’s College. The neo-Gothic style of the King’s College Gatehouse is set behind a beautiful green lawn beside the breathtaking King’s College Chapel, a glorious representation of perpendicular Gothic architecture, with the most incredible medieval stained-glass windows and turrets reaching into the cloudy, gray sky above.

  As I stare at the magnificent buildings before me, I’m overcome by the history and the gift Christian has given me by bringing me to Cambridge, a trip I never would have made on my own at this point in my life.

  “Fiona?” Christian asks.

  I blink the tears away as I gaze up at him.

  “This is the most beautiful sight I have ever seen,” I say, my voice growing unexpectedly emotional as I turn my attention back to the chapel. “That chapel was begun in 1446.”

  “I know.”

  I turn back to Christian, and a tear escapes my eye, which I quickly brush away.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, his eyes wide in concerned surprise.

  “Do you realize what you’ve given me with this trip?” I ask. “It’s like walking through the pages of a wonderfully old, glorious history book, one I would linger over while studying the old homes and the photos of the interiors. Now I’m here. I’m in this magical city, with all these incredible places rich with art, and I get to explore them. It’s a dream to me, an incredible, wonderful dream. I’m standing here because of you, and it’s the greatest gift, to see all this history in person. It’s a fairy tale, one I only want to share with you.”

  Christian stares down at me, his eyes searching mine.

  “I never appreciated where I lived as much as I do in this moment, seeing Cambridge through your eyes,” he says softly. “That is a gift you’ve given me in retur
n.”

  I smile at him. “Thank you.”

  “Thank me after you’ve had some fudge,” he says as we head down the street toward the Fudge Kitchen, past tiny shops housed in quaint buildings.

  And with happiness filling my heart, I let Christian lead the way to the next experience we are going to share together.

  Chapter 15

  Game Changing Moments

  “I will never want another kind of fudge ever again,” I say, sighing happily as Christian drives us back to his place. “That was a complete game changer.”

  It was lush. Creamy. Sublime. I tried dark chocolate with sea salt, traditional toffee, and Belgian chocolate swirl. I bought slices of all of them and insisted that Oliver and Peter share them with me. I’ve decided I don’t care how much it costs. I’m going to have some shipped back to Palo Alto.

  To Christian’s shock, not only did I refuse to let him buy my order, but I treated him, too. I told him it was so I had full rights to his stash of flapjack fudge if I wanted some, but he knew I simply wanted to get him something for a change.

  “Wait until you try the drinking fudge tonight,” he says. “Another game changer, as you would say.”

  As he drives into a residential area, I feel the excitement of the day catching up to me. I rest my head against the seat, and a contented sigh escapes my lips.

  “Are you tired?” Christian asks.

  “Happy,” I answer.

  “You’re happy here?”

  I turn my head so I’m facing him instead of looking at the lush greenery rolling by my passenger window.

  “I can be happy wherever I am as long as it’s with you.”

  He smiles as he drives. “I hope you fall even more in love with England during your stay.”

  I find myself holding my breath for a moment. I know why this is important. Because if we are ever going to truly find out what we are together, I’m going to have to move to England. I’ll need to leave my family, my friends, and my entire life behind to see if Christian and I have the potential to build one together.

  “I’m sorry,” Christian says, interrupting my thoughts. “I shouldn’t put that pressure on you. We’ll take this one step at a time.”

  “It’s not pressure. It might seem crazy to talk about the future, but it’s right for us. That’s all that matters, Christian.”

  He turns down another winding road, filled with lots of leafy green trees and hyacinth blooming in front of fences.

  “I feel the same way,” he says gently. “I don’t care what other people say or think. All that matters is that you are happy.”

  “I do have a request, though.”

  “Anything.”

  “I have to have Sunday roast before I give my assessment of England.”

  He chuckles, and a tingle floats through me at the sound.

  “You will have your Sunday roast tomorrow, love,” Christian promises. He slows his car and turns into a gated driveway. A tall fence surrounds it, one covered with mature trees, shrubbery, and beautiful purple crocus flowers intermingling with bright yellow daffodils.

  Christian clicks a remote on his visor, and the gates swing open. I find myself staring at an old, brick two-story home with strong Georgian period details. Christian parks the car, and I eagerly get out, wanting to see the place Christian calls home.

  “The original house was built in the Middle Ages,” Christian says as he moves to the trunk to collect my luggage.

  “This is incredible,” I say, staring at it.

  “You haven’t even seen the best part,” Christian says, pulling out my bag and slamming the hatch shut. “I’ll give you a tour of the house, and then I’ll show you.”

  While Oliver and Peter get out of their car, I follow Christian down a sidewalk. There’s a lush and bright green lawn that, if it weren’t raining, would be perfect for a picnic. Huge trees tower over it, providing shade, and there are shrubs and more spring flowers in bloom.

  An idea hits me. I have on my itinerary this week to explore the outdoor market in Cambridge, which has everything from bread and cheese to vintage fabrics and old albums. I’ll get lunch for us one day. Christian can bring his reading, and we’ll have a romantic picnic here in this private oasis.

  “This is the rear entrance,” Christian says, interrupting my thoughts.

  I turn around and see Christian heading up the steps to a door. He takes a moment to remove his wallet, which he holds up to a sensor. He glances at me and lifts an eyebrow. “All to protect the prince who only leaves home to go to lectures. Or to run off after a princess from a faraway land called Stanford and claim her upon first kiss, you know.”

  Then he flashes me a grin.

  Oh, he’s so adorable I want to kiss him right this second.

  Instead, I hear the door click, and I follow him inside.

  My eyes dart around the space, trying to take everything in. While I see cool period details, like high ceilings and beams and sash windows, as well as a beautiful fireplace, the décor is hideous.

  There’s a bright red, floral-patterned rug covering the floor. Its pink and blue flowers are so loud they hurt my eyes. The drapes covering the windows are also red. The furniture is no better. Oversized, round, wood tables sit at each end of the sofa—oh, God, that sofa. It’s in a pale-blue upholstery to match the flowers in the awful carpet.

  I wrinkle my nose reflexively. Gosh, it’s musty in here. Like an old library. Which is great, if we were in an old library. Seriously, can these guys not smell this?

  “This is a home that came with the furniture, and Charlie’s dad said we were on our own for that. So, um, yes, it’s hideous because we couldn’t be faffed to invest in new stuff. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. We did for the media room because that’s the most important room in the house. Oh, we also bought a table from IKEA for the kitchen as the other one was practically from the Middle Ages. We feared if we put more than one plate on it, it would collapse in a heap.”

  The light bulb goes off. Christian might be a prince. He might have a ton of money. But true to his word, he’s still an ordinary bloke going to university, one who will invest in a TV but not a sofa.

  My heart warms. This fact makes me fall in love with him even more.

  I slide my hands up his quarter-zip sweater, and I playfully tug on the zipper. “If you tell me you assembled it without directions, I’ll take you right now on this living room floor, because that is one very sexy skill,” I say.

  “Well, now I see why you’re so smitten with her, Christian,” a male voice from behind says.

  I whirl around, my face flaming in embarrassment. A young man with curly, ginger hair is grinning broadly at me.

  “Charlie,” he says, walking up and extending his hand to me. “You must be the famous Clementine.”

  “Famous for saying completely inappropriate things,” I say, trying to recover as I shake his hand.

  “Pleasure to finally meet you,” Charlie says.

  I smile and shake his hand. “Likewise.”

  “How was your trip?” he asks, his green-gray eyes shining in sincerity.

  “Very good,” I say.

  Oliver and Peter step inside but immediately go down another hallway and disappear.

  I can’t describe how weird it is to have protection officers always around, but I know I’ll eventually get used to them disappearing and re-appearing whenever I’m out with Christian.

  “She made us stop at Knebworth House on the way here,” Christian says, affectionately looping his arm around my shoulders and interrupting my thoughts.

  “Oh, do you like stately homes?” Charlie asks.

  “I love them, but I didn’t make Christian take me on a tour. I made him walk the Dinosaur Trail.”

  Charlie’s eyes widen. “She got you on the Dinosaur Trail?”

  “Yeah, we went with Stephen and Emma. It was rather fun.”

  “Dear God, he’s going to marry you,” Charlie says, grinning. “You’re t
he only one who can make him do things outside of a royal diary or lectures.”

  I glance up at Christian, who begins to blush.

  “Shut up! Don’t scare her off,” Christian says.

  “She doesn’t look scared to me,” Charlie says. “I approve.”

  The door opens again, and this time, I see Stephen and Emma come in with Lucy, who is on a leash.

  “Hold on, we’ve got to clean your paws,” Emma says. “It’s muddy today.”

  Lucy spots me with Christian, and she immediately starts swishing her tail and barking in excitement.

  “Christian, she’s beautiful!” I cry as the dog lover in me comes out.

  “Here, I’ll get it,” Christian says, moving over to Lucy and taking a towel that is by the door. “Come here, girl.”

  My heart melts as I watch him gently wipe Lucy’s paws, talking to her as he does.

  “How did you find the Fudge Kitchen?” Stephen asks.

  “Did you try the double trouble?” Charlie interjects. “That’s my favorite.”

  “I saved that one for my next visit. Tomorrow,” I joke.

  “There you go,” Christian says, setting the towel aside and taking Lucy off her leash.

  She makes a beeline for me, and I drop down and let her sniff my hand first. She wags her tail furiously, and I start stroking her silky red coat.

  “Hello, Lucy,” I say as she licks my face. “You’re a beautiful girl. I’m glad to finally meet you.”

  I feel Christian’s eyes on me, and I steal a glance at him. He’s watching me, his blue eyes shining with affection.

  I have a feeling he might have fallen a little bit more in love with me, too.

  “Come on, I have something to show you,” Christian says.

  I rise and smile at Charlie. “Pleasure meeting you.”

  “You too,” he says, nodding. “Here, CP, let me take her bag up to your room for you.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I say, putting out my hand.

  “It’s not a problem,” Charlie says.

  “Thank you,” Christian says.

  “I’ll expect a pint on quiz night,” Charlie says.