Royal Affair (Royal Scandal #1)

by Parker Swift

  “As soon as I saw your text,” he continued, “I stopped to figure out what was going on. I had a zillion voicemails and emails, and it didn’t take me long to figure out what had happened.” He was talking fast, trying to get it all out. He wouldn’t let go of me, but I could feel him wanting to throw his arms up to his face in exasperation.

  “Lydia. The work lunch that Saturday. What happened was Amelia’s mum learned that Piers needed to meet with me and, apparently, she urged him to make it a Saturday meeting. She let Amelia know, called my mum and got her on board, decided that it should be a big old happy family lunch. No one told me of course, knowing I’d have shut the whole ridiculous thing down. Not ten minutes into the meal I was surrounded. That’s my mum, Lydia. She and Louise are school mates, and they’ve been hell-bent on setting their children up, forcing us into the same kind of shite marriages that were foisted upon them. My mother thinks I’m single, and as far she knows I haven’t dated anyone since Caroline. She thought that if she gave me a nudge I might just fall into it. I didn’t tell you before, because I didn’t know she was going to be there. And then when she was, well, I thought I could shut it down. I wanted to protect you from it. I thought I should protect you from it, but now I realize I should have told you.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him, Hell yes, you should have told me, but he kissed me quickly on the lips to hush me and pulled back. “Let me finish. The second time I met Amelia to tell her to back off, that there was never going to be anything between us, to put an end to all of it. I should have told you about that, about all of this, and I tried. But you stopped answering my texts or taking my calls a week ago. Maybe I could have tried harder, but I didn’t think you’d listen. And fuck, I didn’t want to push you away any more than I already had. I thought you’d take one look at this absolute insanity—the newspapers, the lies, the god-awful family crap—and run. I was worried you wouldn’t believe me. I’ve made quite a cock-up of the whole thing now, haven’t I?”

  “You have,” I said sternly.

  “This all probably sounds ludicrous to you. But I’m quite certain Amelia is to blame for the photographer being there both times, for grabbing me as we exited, and for leaking some bullshit about us having a relationship. The rest is what the press does best—make something out of nothing. I’m so sorry about that, Lydia. I promise there is nothing to any of it. I’m not talking to either of my parents right now because of this. And I obviously won’t be speaking with Amelia anytime soon.”

  What was I supposed to say? I did believe his explanation. And he was right—I didn’t answer a single call over the past week. How was he supposed to tell me? If he’d come to my door I would have shut it in his face. I relaxed a little in his arms, but the truth was that this was only part of our issue—a big part obviously, but still only a part. I brought my own hands to my eyes to shield them, to throw my head into them in confusion.

  “Dylan, I—”

  “I know. As long as we’re not public, things like this will keep happening. The thing that makes me the furious is that if we had been public—if my mother, Amelia, all of that lot knew about us—this never would have happened. I knew it the night Michael showed up, and I know it even more now. The world needs to know you’re mine.” I shot a look up at him, and I could feel the hope written all over my face. “I need the world to know you’re mine. That I’m yours. Because I am. Even if you won’t take me back, I’m yours. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Lydia. I felt horrible ignoring you at the coffee shop. It felt so wrong. I felt like a fraud. I’m so sorry, baby. It was automatic—I’ve been used to shielding anything I care about from the world, but I never meant to hurt you. This is completely new to me—I’ve trained myself carefully over years to keep this part of my life shut down, simple, private and you come in…Lydia you have upended me completely. Everything’s different with you. I don’t know how to do any of this.” Possibly for the first time since I’d met him, he looked his age—young, unsure, wanting.

  “Me either.” I sniffled and smiled slightly. He returned my smile with relief.

  “I love you, Lydia.” Three little words and my heart boomeranged back to me. He loved me. “And I want the world to know.” I looked up at him, stunned. My smile was growing. I couldn’t have wiped it from my face if I’d tried. He pulled me in, not being able to keep his distance any longer. “And if you ever call yourself a nobody again, especially in comparison to a twat like Amelia Reynolds, I’ll give you a spanking you’ll remember.” He whispered this last bit in my ear, his relieved playfulness returning.

  I sank into his embrace, letting relief settle over me. There had been an explanation, but more importantly he’d known, he hadn’t needed to be wrangled or told. He’d found me, found us, on his own. Suddenly something occurred to me. “How’d you find me here?”

  “Creepy?”

  “Just a little.”

  “Can’t we put this in the knight-on-a-white-horse column?” he asked with a pleading smile, and I smirked at him in return, pulling into him, holding him to me. “I called Daphne.”

  I pulled back in surprise. “You did? How’d you get her number? What did she say?” Daphne must have been shocked. Not to mention worried. I’d have to call her as soon as this conversation was over.

  “While Lloyd was driving me around town looking for you, I had Thomas look up Daphnes who’d graduated from NYU last year. I woke up three different Daphnes before I found yours.”

  “Really?” I let out a laugh. “Poor Thomas. What did you say to them?”

  “I said, ‘Are you the Daphne who might know where Lydia Bell is?’ When I got yours, well—”

  “Oh.” I laughed. “I can only imagine that call. She must have given you a hard time.” Daphne was fiercely loyal.

  “She gave me quite an earful. She doesn’t like me much.”

  “Can you blame her? She’s the one who sent me that horrible picture today. You must have said something right though if she was willing to help you.”

  “I told her I loved you. And she knew you’d be here. She said, ‘If she’s not with you, and she’s not home or at work, then she’s at Primrose Hill.’” He paused, curious all of a sudden. “What are you doing here?”

  I reached into my bag and handed him the photo.

  “Your parents?” he asked, and I nodded. “Is that why you’re in London?” I nodded again, wiping the last of my tears from my cheeks and feeling myself calm down. “And this is you.” He pointed at my mother’s pregnant belly. I nodded again.

  “They were happy here. They were in love here,” I explained.

  He reached down and picked me up, bringing me into a swinging hug. “And now you’re in love here.” I raised my eyebrow—I hadn’t told him that I loved him. He immediately stopped swinging me, realizing his faux pas. He looked nervous for a moment. “I mean—”

  “I love you too, Dylan.” I rescued him. “I mean, obviously. I love you too.” I jumped into his arms and wrapped my legs around him, kissing him deeply.

  He kissed me back long and hard and moved the kisses across my cheeks to my ear and neck, holding me tightly the whole time. Finally, he put me down and straightened me up, tucking my hair behind my ears, wiping away the mascara that had run under my eyes, and fixing my scarf. “Come. I’m taking you to dinner. Out to dinner. You’ll tell me all about your parents while we eat. I’m going to take you somewhere where I know everyone. I’m going to kiss you at the table and embarrass you.”

  I laughed, and took his hand. “Can we go home and shower first? I feel like I’m a mess.”

  “No. It’s nearly eight, and I want to feed you. We’re not going anywhere fancy, and you look beautiful.” He planted a steady and firm kiss on my lips, like he was holding on to me for dear life, and led me down the hill to his car.

  While Dylan spoke to Lloyd, I used Dylan’s phone and shot Daphne a quick text.

  TUESDAY, 7:52 pm

  It’s me, Lydia. Thank you for knowing
me so well. All’s good. Really good. I’ll call you tomorrow.

  She wrote back immediately.

  TUESDAY, 7:53 pm

  Dying to hear. That guy can be very persuasive.

  Chapter 35

  Dylan never let go of my hand. He took me to a tiny restaurant, tucked away between some shops in Soho. There was a chalkboard with the menu on the wall, and the place had an unfinished and unpretentious atmosphere, not the place you’d go looking for a young ex-bad-boy famous aristocratic architect. But as soon as we walked in, the host greeted Dylan with a hug. Dylan immediately guided me forward. “Jamie, this is my girlfriend, Lydia.” Jamie’s eyes widened in surprise, and he offered his hand warmly.

  Girlfriend!

  “Pleased to meet you,” he said, eyeing me curiously. I reached out for his hand in return.

  He was right that he seemed to know everyone. The chef, Will, came out to greet us, and the waitstaff continued to bring out tidbits that we hadn’t ordered, and addressed Dylan by name. He knew everyone’s story, and by the end of the night they all knew who I was.

  “You come here often, I take it?” I looked at him, confused. It was like these people were his family.

  “All the time. Will is an old friend. I helped him start this place—we’re partners.”

  “You own this place?” I asked surprised.

  He nodded in confirmation. “With Will. I invested when he was ready to open. We’ve known each other since we were kids. He’s one of the good ones, one of the few people from my past who understands what it’s like to actually want to do something with your life other than ride horses and drink tea and listen to your grandparents talk about life before the war.”

  “I have trouble imagining you here with your family or clients—you seem so relaxed, so yourself.”

  “Oh, I’ve never taken anyone here.” I looked up to Jamie, who was bringing another bottle of wine, and he nodded at me in confirmation.

  Over dinner I told him more about my family than I’d ever told anyone. He was sweetly riveted, and he shared more over that dinner than he had in three weeks of being together.

  Had it really only been three weeks?

  “Are we insane? Isn’t it too fast to fall in love?” I asked him.

  “What makes you think I have any idea what’s normal?”

  “Good point. I mean, you’re kind of a perv.” I smiled at him.

  “Your perv. And who cares? All I know is that I’m not letting you out of my sight. For a second.”

  “Does this mean you’re going to be even more overprotective?”

  “You think I’m overprotective?” I gave him an “oh please” look. “Lydia, I like control. That’s never going away.” He gave me a look that left no room for error in this department. “And can’t you see why? Look at the havoc that one stint with the press wreaked on my life, on your life.” He had a point. But of course his control reached far beyond protecting me from the press.

  “Plus, the world is more dangerous than you think,” he said, moving his eyes to his plate. I got the sense he was talking about something specific, but I didn’t want to interrupt our evening to probe.

  * * *

  When we got back to his house, it was nearly midnight, and I was completely spent. He helped me shed my jacket, and lifted me into his arms. I rested my head against his chest and closed my eyes, inhaling him. He put me down in his bedroom, and began removing his clothes. He pointed to a drawer in his dresser, and I went over and opened it. It was nearly full of clothing in my size. There were a couple of beautiful lacey bras, t-shirts, a pair of jeans, a skirt, and some other items. All new. No underwear, I noticed. Some things wouldn’t change, and I didn’t want them to.

  “What’s all this?” I asked.

  “I had Thomas pick some things up for you while we were at dinner. I want you here more. Fill that drawer up. And there’s one for you in the bathroom as well.”

  “You want me clothed?” I smirked at him.

  “Almost never,” he said, smiling back at me. “But if we’re going to be seen in public together, clothing will be an unfortunate necessity.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “And never in here.” He sauntered up to me and lifted my shirt over my head. He threw the shirt into the corner, and smiling that mischievous smile, traced where it had been with his fingers. His light touch had my skin singing, and my nipples stiffened immediately. Yearning settled low in my belly, and I pushed my hips into him, and putting my hands on his ass, pulled him into me. “I’m still in charge, you know,” he said. I had zero doubts.

  He ran his hands up my arms and settled them in my hair, and, gripping my head, he pulled my face to his, devouring me with a purposeful, steady, intensely deep kiss. I rested my hands on his biceps and felt them firm as he lifted me onto the bed. He hovered over me and unbuttoned my jeans. “Ass up, baby.” I complied immediately, and he dragged my pants down and off my legs.

  He buried his face in my belly, breathing me in, and I fingered his hair, massaging his scalp, wanting my hands on him as much as was humanly possible. He dragged his tongue across my lower stomach, skirting where my pubic hair once was and leaving a cool path behind him, sending a shiver rippling up my body. “You are intoxicating, Lydia. I’m going to make you come. And come. And come.” God, how could he say that? His words spoke directly to the desire congregating between my thighs. “I love you.” The words, just three little words, filled the space between us.

  His kisses moved south, carefully abstaining from my sweet spot, circling me in some kind of torturous assault. I could feel my wetness spreading between my legs. I arched my back to bring my sex to his mouth, but he instantly retreated. “Ah ah, Lydia. Patience.” He zeroed in on my clit, and flicked it with his tongue, sending an outrageous bolt of covetous desire down my legs. “I missed you so much. Please, please, never leave me again.”

  I groaned and luxuriated in having him with me again. “Never,” I said.

  “First, I am going to fuck you here,” he used his fingers to part my pussy lips and thrust his tongue into my entrance. “Mine, baby.” Then he gripped the backs of my thighs and pushed them into my belly, exposing me fully to him. He trailed kisses back to my rear and softly licked me there. “And soon, here,” he said, and I sighed in response. “This is mine too.”

  “Oh god, Dylan. I’m yours. All yours, and you’re mine. I want you. So. Badly.”

  “I want you too, baby. And you have me.” He rose to my face and kissed me fiercely, taking no prisoners. He rose to kneel, sitting on his feet, and he pulled me up with him. “Wrap your legs around me, Lydia. That’s right.” He lifted me onto him, filling me with his hardness. He groaned deeply as I took him in. He supported my back with his steely arms as I threw my head back, spreading myself for him. He was so deep in me, in every way.

  I used my knees to rise and fall on him, and we quickly found our pace, syncing with each other. I gripped his hips with my thighs, pulling us more tightly together, molding us to each other.

  “Oh god, Lydia!” He reached in between us with one of his hands, and strummed my clit. “I want you to come with me baby, are you close?”

  “Yes! Touch me, Dylan.” I heaved out the words, and he relentlessly and expertly worked my clit with his fingers. We rose into our orgasms together, crying out each other’s names, and he finally settled deeply inside me. The sweat on our bodies made us sticky as we embraced, and I could feel his come in me, pouring out of me. He held my body to him as though for dear life, crushing my breasts to his chest.

  “I feel like a fool. How did I not see you coming?”

  My chin rested on his shoulder, another way of hugging him closer. “You think I saw you coming, Dylan? You’ve opened my world.”

  He withdrew, cleaned us up, and laid me down gently on the bed. He propped himself on his arm, so he could look down at me, and stroked his fingers down my body, from my chin down to my sex and back.

  “I want to give y
ou everything, Lydia. Never leave.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you’ve done that to me at least ten more times.” I closed my eyes again and just indulged in the feeling of his trailing fingers on my skin.

  “No. I mean ever.” I flashed my eyes open again and looked at him, confused. “I want you here, living with me.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a little fast?”

  He shifted inched closer, so our bodies were touching, and he laid his palm against my cheek, threading his fingers through the hair at my nape. “Lydia, I want you here, safe, where I can look after you. I don’t like thinking of you alone in that house. And I don’t want to spend any more nights apart than we have to. Move in.”

  “Dylan, that’s nuts. It’s too soon. One thing at at time, ok?”

  He exhaled in defeat. “Well then prepare yourself.”

  “For what?”

  “For me asking you. Every day. Until you say yes.”

  I didn’t give him an answer, but I rolled my eyes, which earned me a raised eyebrow swiftly followed by a kiss to my lips.

  “You don’t make me sore anymore.” I smiled. “You’ve officially broken me in.”

  “Good. Now I can really get crazy with you.” I gaped and stared at him playfully, but also in true shock. He really was going to show me things I didn’t know existed. “As you’re ready, and if you’re willing, of course.”

  I turned into him, hiding my face, embarrassed by my thoughts of all he was going to do to my body. He pushed my hair from my face and found my eyes. He rose and brought me into his arms. “Time to sleep, baby. You have a busy day tomorrow.” He kissed me on top of my head and squeezed me tighter.