by Geneva Lee
Heat prickled at the corner of my eyes, and I turned from my husband to my own window. A hand closed over mine and I glanced over to find him still gazing stonily into the distance. I shifted my attention back outside.
No words passed between us, but our hands remained clasped tenuously, even as we arrived at Westminster Hall. There was a moment of hesitation when Norris opened the door, neither of us quite ready to let go of the other. And then Alexander’s head swiveled in my direction, offering one brief smile before he released my hand.
The funeral procession itself would travel from the hall to Paddington Station, according to what I’d read online. I waited in the car for a moment, taking in the crowd of sailors who would pull the carriage conveying the King’s coffin. The carriage itself was draped in the vivid colors of the King’s Standard. It was hard to imagine him in there. Despite the brief glimpse I’d had of him while his body laid in rest at Buckingham, I hadn’t visited his body. He’d righted some of the wrongs he’d committed, but, in the end, it didn’t feel like enough.
The back passenger door swung open, and Alexander’s hand extended to help me out of the car. But as soon as I was on my feet, he turned to discuss something quietly with Norris.
The April air was muggier than I expected. Heat bloomed up my neck and cheeks, and I crossed my arms over my chest protectively as I realized I shouldn’t have worn a coat. Then immediately uncrossed them. I was in the midst of an official state funeral. My wounded pride, and more than moderate discomfort at being here, had to be pushed aside. Keeping my head down, not quite ready to acknowledge the large crowd gathered to pay witness to the King’s final march, I moved to stand behind Alexander.
“Ma’am?” Norris cast a concerned look at me.
I forced a smile onto my lips. My fingers clutched at my collar. I just needed a little more air.
Norris cleared his throat, capturing Alexander’s attention. My husband turned to study me.
“I’m fine,” I said, sensing I was being tattled on. Making a decision, I unknotted the belt of my jacket to slip it off. But before I could, a brief dizzying wave washed over me. I stumbled forward as Alexander’s arm shot out to catch me.
He took a step closer to me, lowering his voice so that we couldn’t be heard over the crowd. “The processional takes two hours. Norris will take you home.”
I shook my head as my thoughts continued to swim. My place was here with him. I needed to show him that.
“This isn’t up for discussion.” Alexander motioned for Norris, and the trusty bodyguard gently gripped my elbow, leading me back to the car.
Between the sudden vertigo and the shame coursing through me, I didn’t have the energy to fight him as he guided me back into the car. But as the door slammed shut, I couldn’t help but think it wasn’t the only one that had just closed.
Back inside my bedroom, the weight of the day caught up with me. I was here instead of carrying out my own responsibility. This afternoon Alexander would leave for Windsor, where his father’s body would be interred. He would do all of that without me.
Ripping free the pin holding my hat, I threw it across the room and collapsed against the wall. I pulled my knees into my chest, obliterating my stockings in the process. Rocking back and forth, I liberated everything I’d tried to suppress for the last week.
Week. My life had been shattered in a moment a week ago. How could time seem to move so quickly and slowly at the same time? I was still reeling from the assassination, unable to process that it had actually happened, as though it had been a fleeting nightmare—and yet, it had been the longest week of my life, made worse by Alexander’s constant absence.
A soft knock startled me, but I stayed silent. Alexander could send anyone he wanted to check on me, but it wouldn’t alter the memory of his rejection. If he needed reassurance that I was okay, he’d have to come himself.
The knock grew more insistent, and finally the door flew open.
“I’m coming in and don’t try to stop me!” Belle yelled right before her concerned face appeared around the door.
“Hey,” I managed to squeak past my tears. “You should be at the funeral.”
“No one will miss me,” she said dryly, sinking down to sit next to me. I dropped my head to her shoulder and she hooked an arm around me.
“I miss you,” I whispered.
“I’m right here. Chicks before dicks, right?” Belle squeezed me closer. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
“I don’t even know where to begin.” But her invitation opened the floodgates and I poured out every confusing moment from the last week.
“I understood most of that,” she said, “but, darling, I’m going to need you to take a deep breath. I’m not an expert but I’m pretty sure this stress isn’t good for the baby.”
“Easier said than done,” I sobbed.
Belle hugged me tightly and let me cry until there were no tears left.
“Stupid hormones,” I muttered finally, my chin still trembling. “I should warn you that I’m being a tad dramatic these days.”
“Your crazy ex-boyfriend almost killed you on your wedding day. I don’t think you can be dramatic enough,” she pointed out. “And I feel like a total arse because I don’t know what to do. Normally I’d advise that we should drink copiously to drown our pain, but…”
She reached down and patted my stomach.
“Oh my god.” My voice broke as fresh tears welled in my eyes. “I forgot about Philip. I am a terrible best friend.”
“You get a pass on this one.” She rubbed my back soothingly. “According to the best friend triage system, attempted murder and unplanned pregnancies trump getting cheated on. Everyone knows that, and if it makes you feel better, the whole thing has distracted me from the wanker, so…thanks.”
A giggle broke past the rawness bottlenecking in my throat. I’d forgotten how good it was to laugh.
“Also I’m moving in with Aunt Jane and she’s going to teach me how to have lots of torrid love affairs,” Belle informed me.
“Of course she will.” I smiled, recalling Aunt Jane’s view on taking lovers. Belle would have her hands full keeping up with her. “Is there space for me? Plus one.”
“Always,” she promised, but her brow wrinkled thoughtfully. “He loves you, Clara. Anyone can see that.”
“I can’t,” I whispered. I wanted to but the haze of lies and distance had made it impossible. “He doesn’t want the baby.”
“He doesn’t know he wants the baby,” Belle corrected me. “Wasn’t this the guy who said he couldn’t love? He loves more fiercely than anyone I’ve ever met—except maybe you. You two are going to get through this.”
I wished I could believe her. I wished a lot of things. But wishes—like happy endings—were for fairy tales.
Belle stayed with me until the next morning while I waited for Alexander to return from the funeral. We fell into an easy rhythm, watching movies and eating junk food. It was the perfect distraction from all the things happening outside my control. For a little while I even believed it could last.
“Your mobile is ringing,” Belle said as I came out of the bathroom. “It’s your mum.”
I sat on the edge of my bed and held out my hand.
“Are you sure?” Belle asked. We both knew exactly why she was calling.
“Where were you?” she demanded before I even had a chance to say hello.
“Good morning to you, too.” I flopped back onto the bed, clenching my eyes in preparation for the attack.
“Alexander barely said a word yesterday evening,” she continued.
“You saw him?” I asked, stunned.
“Of course, we went with the funeral party to Windsor. I assumed you would be there.” She heaved a sigh that I could feel through the phone line. “Especially after I bought you that hat. That was Jane Taylor.”
“Perspective, Mother,” I snapped.
“Do you know what the tabloids are saying?” her voice low
ered. “That you’re pregnant. They have pictures of you nearly fainting at the start of the procession—and thank god for that, because I don’t know when you’ll get to wear that hat again—and then you disappeared entirely! Entertainment Today has started an entire blog devoted to the Royal baby bump watch.”
I’d fallen silent as she prattled on, a sour taste flooding my mouth.
“Clara,” my mother said, but I didn’t respond. “Clara?”
“I don’t feel well,” I said softly. “I should go.”
“Oh my God, you are pregnant,” she breathed.
Acid rose in my throat and I dropped the phone, rushing for the bathroom with Belle on my heels. I clutched the porcelain as Belle hovered over me, holding back my hair.
When the heaving had calmed, I sat back and clutched my stomach. “I just left my mother on the phone.”
“I have no doubt she’ll call back.” Belle began riffling through the vanity drawers until she found my toothbrush and toothpaste.
She pulled me to my feet and I took it half-heartedly. “I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can,” she murmured, watching me over my shoulder in the mirror.
“How do you know that?”
She wrapped her arms around me, dropping her chin on my shoulder. “Because you have to.”
An angry voice wafted down the hallway and I paused, momentarily torn. Alexander had come home hours ago and shut himself in his private office. My stomach churned as I considered that he might be dealing with publicity fall-out from my little spell yesterday.
“You can’t keep avoiding each other,” I said as though saying the words out loud might help me believe them.
I waited at the door for silence, trying hard not to eavesdrop. That proved simple since Alexander only seemed interested in barking vague orders at the other party. When he hadn’t spoken in several minutes, I knocked briskly on the door and sauntered in.
There was no way I was giving him a chance to shut me out. Not this time.
“I heard about the tabloids,” I admitted. I knew he had no love for the gossip rags that had spewed lies about his family for years, but I also suspected he might be more sensitive to their intrusion at the moment based on how tightly he’d clung to privacy for the last week.
“Speculation was inevitable the moment we were married.” He leaned back in his chair, affording me a better view of him.
It was entirely unfair that he could look so drained and so hot at the same time. The slight circles under his eyes only highlighted the strong curves of his face. Stubble peppered his jawline and drew attention to his sinful mouth.
I lost track of why we were at odds as my body carried me closer to him. I wasn’t thinking. I was acting on pure, primal instinct—the same instinct that had pushed me into his arms in the first place.
“I arranged for a new personal car for your use. A Range Rover,” he continued, shifting papers across the desk. It smacked of someone trying to look busy.
Suddenly, I remembered why I was upset with him.
“I don’t need a new car.” I twisted my wedding ring around my finger, my eyes darting to check if he was still wearing his. He was. “The Rolls-Royce is fine.” I didn’t add that a new car was even more pointless considering how rarely I went anywhere these days.
“I will be attending more meetings, and you have your own appointments. There are other…considerations to keep in mind.”
My mouth gaped. Not only was he going to ignore me, but he was going to ignore the baby as well. “Considerations? Christ, X. He has a heartbeat.”
“Speaking of,” he said without missing a beat, “your prenatal care has been arranged with our private family physician. You should speak directly to him if you have questions or concerns.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, the simmering anger I’d felt earlier blazing into fury. “I should, huh? Where do you fit into this? Should I send you a birth announcement or am I allowed to tell anyone?”
“I’ve been advised that, given the current situation, we should wait a few more weeks before we announce—”
“Advised by whom?” I demanded, smashing my fist on the desk. My hand smarted from the impact and I jerked it back, rubbing out the pain. Alexander stiffened, his posture going rigid as I challenged him.
“You and me, remember?” I started to lean forward so I could force him to meet my eyes, but then I drew back and recrossed my arms as I peered down at him. “Nothing changes between us. That’s what you said, so why are all these people suddenly advising us on how to handle our lives? I can’t hide this pregnancy forever, and I don’t want to.”
His head tilted back, shifting his attention to the ceiling. “You’re being unreasonable. The doctor told me to expect hormonal fluctuations—”
A glass paperweight flew past his ear and cracked against the plaster. Alexander’s head fell forward and he stared at me. I shrugged. “Hormonal fluctuation.”
I didn’t wait to see how he responded. Instead I walked as calmly as my rage would allow back to our bedroom. I was certain he’d have plenty to say about that one, but for now the look of total shock plastered across his face was good enough.
Grabbing a pair of tan riding boots from the closet, I dropped onto the bed.
Alexander’s muscular frame filled the doorway, a dangerous glint sparkling from his eyes. He ran a finger over his lower lip as he watched me pull a boot over my leggings.
“Going somewhere?”
“Apparently I have a new car,” I snapped. “I thought I’d get out for a bit.”
“It’s dark out and the weather is bad.” Alexander shifted, moving a few feet closer before stopping again.
“The last time I checked, I was an adult, or are you giving me an order, Your Majesty?”
“Practice good judgment, especially when speaking to me,” he advised.
“Practice good judgment?” I repeated. The time for good judgment was long past, and we both knew it. Pushing onto my feet, I started for the door. “Fine. I’ll do that when you do the same. Tell me what’s going on. You aren’t attending state meetings at midnight.”
He yanked on his tie, letting it drop loosely around his neck as he undid his top collar button. “My business doesn’t concern you.”
“Like hell it doesn’t,” I exploded. “You don’t get to decide to cut me out of your life. That’s not how love works. We’re bound to each other even if you walk away.”
“That’s what you think this is about?” Alexander moved so quickly that his hand was around my waist before I’d processed his question. The other caught my chin and directed my eyes to meet his. Inside me a low spark lit, beginning to simmer, as he held me captive. “You think I’m walking away?”
“Late meetings? Private phone calls? What am I supposed to think?” I wasn’t asking, I was pleading—pleading for him to tell me my fear was misplaced. My anxiety took over, spilling every paranoid thought I’d had for the last two months at once. “I know this isn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want to be King. You didn’t want to be tied to this life. You didn’t really want to get married, and you certainly didn’t want—”
“Shut up. Just shut up.” His lips crushed against mine, his hands sliding under my ass to lift me into his arms. We were in motion, colliding recklessly, too caught up in reaching each other to consider the consequences.
There were things that needed to be said. Realities that needed to be dealt with. But in that moment, all that mattered was the hands seeking me out as we struggled to find each other in the darkness that had consumed our lives.
Alexander laid me across the bed, but I knew this was where his gentility ended. The need to possess—to claim—radiated from him, but that didn’t mean he was in a rush. Far from it. He moved to the bedside table, dropping his cufflinks casually on the mirrored tray. Then he turned his attention to his buttons. One. Two. Three. The tension in my core doubled as the final button popped open and he shrugged off the linen shirt with
the sleek grace of a predator readying himself to kill.
I had missed his body. He’d withheld it except for the quick fuck in the hallway. I couldn’t be sure if his distance was meant to punish me or to punish himself. All I could think of was feeling the smooth hardness of his chest against my breasts. I longed for the warmth of his skin on mine. I needed nothing between us—no clothes and no lies.
My fingers found the edge of my blouse, but before I could shrug it free, he pounced. Two strong arms bracketed my body, locking me in place and preventing any movement.
“I’m not walking away. That’s not what I do,” he growled, sending a ripple of anticipation coursing through me. “That’s not what we do. We fight and we fuck and we love each other. We never walk away.”
I gasped, my head falling back onto the mattress as he pressed between my legs. Even through the layers of clothing still separating us, his erection stabbed against my swollen sex, awakening the hunger I’d held in check through the pain and suffering of the recent past.
“I chose you, Clara. Do you still choose me?”
“Yes.” It was a whisper. It was a prayer. It was a vow as solemn as the one I’d made by his hospital bed.
His mouth dropped to trace kisses along my jaw. “All the things that happened to us—they haven’t defeated us. They haven’t destroyed us. They’ve strengthened us. I couldn’t do any of this without you—” he pulled back and fixed his gaze on me “—so don’t ever fucking suggest I want to walk away again.”
My eyes closed in answer to him, lost under his spell, intoxicated by the rush of emotions provoked by his unflinching confession.
I had needed to hear it, but it had also needed to be said—and that was a fact I couldn’t ignore. Too many things had gone unsaid between us lately. We’d been tiptoeing around the truth, trying to ignore how drastically our lives had been altered.
And how much more they would change in the next few months.
I shifted the hand still clasping the edge of my shirt and spread my fingers over my belly and the space where our child grew inside me. “I can’t do this without you either.”
