by Anna Bloom
The scored frown on his face eased and those beautiful lips lifted at the corners. “You know this isn’t quite how I expected this conversation to go. I was thinking more over the holidays, some mulled wine, maybe a mince pie.”
“What conversation?” Again, with the booming in my heart. My palms slicked against his tuxedo.
“The one where I tell you I want you to be my wife.”
“Ollie, come on.” I lifted my hand and showed Granny Alice’s emerald ring. “You’ve already made a promise, and that’s enough for me.”
He arched an eyebrow, his devilish smile making my heart race even faster. “If you think a promise using a piece of old toot is going to hold up, I can assure you, I’m not the man for that.”
“Wait for Christmas, I’ll get in extra mince pies.”
“Are you saying no?”
“No.” I mean I didn’t think I was saying no… But then, well shit, I didn’t really know what was going on. “What are you saying?”
“Here, come.” He grabbed my fingers pulling me towards the palace doors. Liveried staff stood on duty holding trays of champagne. How long had they been waiting there for us to come in? We were officially late and then some.
Oliver pulled me in the opposite direction to the state rooms where the King and Queen were entertaining the Russian president and his family.
“Oliver, we need to go in there. I don’t want your dad bunching those giant brows at me again.”
He snorted but continued to tow me along by our linked fingers. Every light in the palace glowed to full effect for our distinguished visitors; St Mark’s at its absolute finest.
He stopped by a door which was wooden and curved, old and worn. My tongue tingled with dryness.
“Now. Only a member of the Royal Family gets to come in through this door.”
St Edwin’s Chapel.
“It’s sacrament, the one unbroken rule. In here the royal family have worshiped and prayed, whispering their private beliefs into the sacred walls.”
“Oliver.”
He pushed on the door. “I’ve wanted to bring you here since the moment we met. Since the first time you glared at me, furious and determined. You took my breath away, made me see a glimpse of an existence I didn’t know existed.
“Then when I sat in front of the painting of Lady Jane Grey and told you I’d walk to the block for you, all I could think of was walking you in here. Holding your hand in mine as your equal for life, husband and wife, with no earthly tie between us except for our vows and promise.”
There’d be words I wanted to say, but I wouldn’t know them for hours yet, days, maybe even years.
When the future King of England promises you his heart, his love, an unending promise of faithfulness; but all you can see is the face of the man you love, the man you adore, the man who is just simply one word: Ollie. Not prince, not king, just one simple word; a promise that etches itself into your heart where it can never be removed, there really is only one thing to say.
“Yes.”
He laughed, his expression clearing. That lingering shadow of doubt erasing from his gaze. His fingers grasped my face, tilting me, so his lips could brush over mine. “My wife.”
“My Ollie.”
His lips skimmed mine, his tongue teasing a path of shivering delight until he pulled away. “The only thing I want to be. Until the day I die, I want to be your Ollie, before anything else.”
Letting go of his gentle grasp on my face, he caught my hands and pulled me into the chapel. I don’t know what I expected. Something grand and elaborate.
So when I saw the plain pews, the bare walls decorated only with faded murals, a simple altar stood at the front of the chilly room, my breath whooshed out in one long gasp.
He turned, smiling wide and beautiful. His happiness in the moment made my heart soar. I watched as he went to a ceramic pot stood on the altar. “I left this here. Actually, it’s been in here for a while.”
Oh, sweet Jesus.
Picking up the pot he took off the lid and tipped the contents out into his palm.
With burning eyes, he turned back for me and then knelt at my feet.
My mind skittered to Daisy, Nana, all the people I loved. Janine, Molly. My friends at work. All the people who’d taken me up to this moment.
Then I let them go.
I let them go and I focused on him. Because this was it. Another royal engagement couldn’t fail.
I wouldn’t let it.
I wouldn’t let us fail.
Not for the King. Not for the people. Not for expectation and pomp and circumstance, but for him. Because this beautiful man deserved everything and he wanted me to be the one who would give it to him.
I was everything to him.
That mind-blowing fact brought me to my knees.
Knee to knee. Face to face. He delicately held a gold band between his index finger and thumb. Four brilliant diamonds shimmered in the dark light of the chapel. Our breaths caught between us in the cool air, blooming with mist. I shivered, but it had nothing to do with the temperature.
“One for you.” He pointed at one of the diamonds.
“One for me.” He pointed to the next along.
“One for Daisy.” His eyes met mine.
“And one for what comes next.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks and I wiped at them before he took my hand and slipped the ring onto my left hand. There’d be no missing that. Everyone would see. From space there would be Martians wondering what that blinging light was.
I met his gaze, bright with unshed tears.
“Thank you for saving my life, Leia Lawrence.”
I grinned, a stupid giggle building in my throat. “It’s the very least I could do, Your Highness.”
Eighteen
We stood outside the doors to the state banquet room and his fingers held mine so tightly I didn’t think he’d be able to do his princely diplomatic handshake. Just as the door whooshed open, he leant in close to my ear. “I have to officially ask the King for permission to get married.”
I glanced at him, my eyes wide. “Not here, please.”
The doors were open, the chatter of polite conversation lifting from within the room. “God, no.” His lips lifted into a curve. “I shall look forward to that conversation tomorrow over breakfast.” My face scrunched. Breakfast was our family meal at the cottage; in fact, most meals were family based at the cottage. Just the three of us, maybe Nana if she was there.
“Shall I take the ring off?” I asked trying to pull my hand free of his.
I might as well have said I’d launch it into the Thames. “Don’t even dare.”
“Okay.” I flashed him a smile. “Keep your pants on.”
“Not wearing any.”
My mouth fell open just as Oliver’s name was called along with my own. “Smile and look happy,” he whispered.
“I am happy.”
The green gaze that swept over my face read down deep into my soul.
Clusters of diplomats and officials hung in small groups. King Henry stood to one side of a large and blazing fireplace talking to the Russian president. Next to them was our small and weasel-like Prime Minister. I didn’t like the man. His party did nothing except to pinch on the people who already didn’t have enough.
My filed thought from months ago rostered itself to the front of my mind and I realised just who it was I could talk to about pollution in the city. I glanced to the Prime Minister’s left and noticed the Mayor of London bobbing her head along with the conversation.
Well this evening just got considerably better.
“Oh God. You are thinking something about tossers with too much money aren’t you?” Oliver leant into my side as we walked towards his mother to offer our respects.
“Not exactly.”
“Leia,” he warned. “This is the happiest night of my life, please don’t let it end up in a huge argument. We can fight any battle you want another day. I’d just like
to take you home to bed later without being hauled over hot coals by Marcus Cartwright first.” His lips quirked. We’d just reached the Queen and he dropped his mother a deep bow as was the correct thing to do at a royal engagement. “Ma’am. I apologise for our tardiness.”
I could barely hear what he said. In my head I had visions of us going home through the grounds, getting to the cottage, his hands on my skin, his ring on my finger.
How long exactly would the dinner take?
I lowered a curtsey. “My apologies, Your Majesty, there was an issue with Daisy.” I lied to the Queen. That fast track to hell just got slightly quicker. I promised myself I’d make it up to Daisy tomorrow.
“She’s not unwell, is she? I can send the physician along in the morning if you’d like?”
“Oh, no. Thank you.”
Oliver had said the King and Queen didn’t know of the woman who’d stepped forward as Daisy’s grandmother. But I hadn’t been able to ask any more questions because Oliver had managed to distract me by asking a pretty big one of his own.
I flushed. He’d asked me to marry him. It had all been so quick, yet so utterly right. The fears I’d arrived at the palace with when we’d come back from Cornwall seemed far away now.
The Queen’s gaze dropped from my flushed face to my left hand. She must have her mother senses switched onto high.
“Oliver?” Her voice rose in pitch.
“Mother?” His smile grew while I held my breath. When she let out a sigh, her shoulders dropping, my own stomach plummeted.
Maybe I shouldn’t have forgotten those fears after all.
“Leia.” She reached forward and gently grasped my face in her hands and then leant forward to kiss me on the cheek. It felt like the whole room watched. “Welcome to the family, my dear girl.”
In years gone by, I would have bristled at being called a girl. I hadn’t felt like one since the day I’d stared at the pregnancy test with the blue cross and my childhood had evaporated from one breath to the next. In that moment though, she made me crave to be that again. For the glimmer of security she offered with her smile and the depth of warmth in her gaze. She made me crave it, because I knew she was giving it. Wholeheartedly and without restraint. This wasn’t the welcome I’d been given in October when the palace doors had opened as a sanctuary. This was a mother’s welcome and it made my heart squeeze.
My brain—because it bordered on unhinged—wondered if Charlotte ‘I’m such a whore’ Macclesfield had the same response from the Queen.
She laughed and tucked me into her arm, pulling me away from Oliver. “Come, let me introduce you to the President’s wife. Isabella should be around here somewhere too.” Ducking her head close to my ear she whispered, “I suggest spinning the bling around. Otherwise the story will break before you get a chance to tell people yourself.”
A clammy sweat broke out over my skin. How were people going to react when the heir to the throne announced his second wedding of the year? I had to shut the thought down. I couldn’t allow anything to ruin my evening. Our evening. I glanced at Oliver who’d fallen into an easy conversation with some bore in a suit. He made it look so easy. His lips quirked and I knew he knew I was watching.
Taking a cue from the Queen, I allowed myself to be slipped into a conversation with the Russian president’s wife, while I stood straight and tall in my black velvet evening dress, four diamonds pressing into my palm.
“Madam President,” I dropped a polite but small curtsey, forcing the woman who didn’t know what to make of me to respond in the same manner in return.
The Queen gave me a small nod of the head and a secret smile.
“Have you enjoyed your trip so far?” I turned to the president’s wife with my conversation, taking control and breathing through my nerves. I might be a sweating mess on the inside, but there was no reason for anyone to see. That, after all, was what being a royal was all about.
We’d been summoned to the state banquet hall through a set of doors, when I spotted Isabella. Not so much spotted, but rather heard her as she bumped into the table and knocked over a glass which in turn landed on the silver cutlery.
I glanced over my shoulder, but Oliver was in talks with the Prime Minister, hopefully asking him how the bastard had the gall to cut the benefits of those in poverty. The King and Queen were up front leading the party into the room—as tradition dictated.
I stepped to the side, keeping my actions discreet and caught Isabella by the arm. We’d only been together this very morning; there was no chance she could be sick. Unless she had a migraine or something?
“Hey, you okay?” She pulled against my hold, not because she tried to get away from me, but because she didn’t have a shred of balance.
My skin chilled. I knew this hold. Remembered it all too well.
“Bella?” I peered at her closer while also trying not to make a scene. Her skin leached a pale ivory, her eyes wide, her pupils so dilated her green eyes were almost black. “Oh crap.”
“That’s a very pretty ring you’ve got on there.” She spoke louder and I grimaced as I noticed my ring had spun back around. “That’s not one of Granny Alice’s.”
People were taking their seats. Well, standing by them waiting for the King to sit first. My skin prickled along the back of my neck.
She swayed again and I didn’t think I’d be able to hold her.
“Come with me and I’ll tell you all about it,” I whispered into her ear.
“We can’t leave; not until the King gives his permission. Stupid isn’t it? We could wet our knickers and we’d still have to stand here.”
Oh, good Lord.
I glanced at the table. Most eyes were focused on the King, but the King’s eyes were on me. I stared at him, willing him with my eyes to not believe it was me making the scene; I wouldn’t have put it past him. Oliver, who stood to the right of the King watched me, alarm etched across his features.
The King nodded simply and then turned and smiled at the rest of the room. As he rose his hands to allow people to sit, and the general hubbub of small conversations started, I pulled on Isabella’s arm with as much force as I could lever without making her cry out.
The wild, almost feral depth to her eyes told me her decorum switch wouldn’t even exist, let alone be flipped.
“Hey, come on, little sis.”
The pale blonde hair of John brushed over my shoulder as he leant in close to Isabella and between the two of us we managed to get her out of the state room. The King’s voice had risen as he seemed to make an impromptu speech.
“Bloody hell, Bella.” John took most of her weight and I tried not to cringe away from his accidental touch across my skin as he helped to keep her upright.
We walked her to a side room off the corridor and once in there managed to get her onto a sofa. “You guys are so funny. I don’t want to lie down. I want to dance. When will the dancing start?” Her eyes rolled back in her head.
“I don’t understand this.” I wiped at the back of my neck, ignoring the sticky residue left on my hands. “I was with her all morning. What’s happened?”
John frowned. “She probably got this from your work.”
I stared at him open mouthed before snapping my lips back together. “I work at a rehabilitation centre, not a bloody crack house.”
His lips curved and I wanted to punch him right on the nose.
“It’s not crack.” He shook his head, amusement lingering in his expression, not that I could find anything funny at all. “It’s probably a pill knowing Bella. She’ll sleep it off.”
I couldn’t school my expression. “What do you mean, only a pill? There is no ‘only’ in this situation.”
“Yes, yes, don’t get over excited. She’ll be in trouble with the oldies tomorrow and will be a good girl for a couple of weeks.”
“A couple of weeks.” His words were utterly off the planet of sanity. “Where is she getting these pills? It can’t be outside the palace. Someone wou
ld have sold the story.” I eyed him speculatively. This wasn’t true was it? He had a pretty spectacular story about himself safely tucked away.
“Oh don’t look at me like that, Princess.”
My eyes narrowed at his taunt.
“I helped my brother out of that situation. She would never have kept him happy. I just stopped him making a terrible mistake.”
“So you were doing him a favour?” I lifted an eyebrow, while my fist tightened ready to punch. “You slept with his fiancée, made him a laughingstock in front of the whole world.”
“Bullshit. He never loved her; he was as miserable as sin. I took one for the team, although the fact she fucked like a bunny on speed wasn’t a bad thing.”
“You disgust me.”
“Why?” Bella stirred a little but didn’t wake up. “Because I proved to him that he shouldn’t do what he is told? If I hadn’t done that he would never have met you.”
“You broke his heart, and his trust.”
“Bullshit. Utter bollocks. Oliver didn’t have a heart until he met you. Oh yes,” he warmed to his theme, “We all see him, happy and smiling, gliding around the place. He wasn’t always like that, Princess, I assure you.”
“It’s now that matters.”
John laughed. “Really? You think that? You think you can come along and save the prince? I can assure you, the hold of the family is tight enough you will never truly be enough; he’ll always put the family first.”
“That’s not how he describes it.”
“That’s because he’s a dickhead. Where is he now? He knows Bella is struggling, high as a fucking kite as always, so where is he?” John shook his head. “He’s at Dad’s right side, while Bella and I are left to rot.”
“You’re wrong. He loves Bella. He loves you, although why I don’t know.”
“It’s not love, Leia. It’s responsibility.” He nodded to my ring. “That’s responsibility. That’s giving the people what they want so our points rise. He will never not protect the crown.”
I thought back to Oliver stood in my shabby kitchen on the council estate when he told me he’d give it all up for me.
