Wild King

by Geneva Lee

  “Is that so?” Alexander asked in a strained voice. I saw what it took for him to stay calm. “Thank you.”

  I couldn’t imagine what resource of self-control he’d drawn on to keep his reaction so even.

  Anders’ eyes darted between us. Despite Alexander’s gratitude, it was clear that my husband was on edge.

  “I’m glad I caught you,” Anders redirected his attention to me. That was the second mistake. “If your nanny is feeling better, the guys are going out for drinks tonight. You really should join us since you couldn’t last night.”

  So much for Alexander’s theory that I was intimidating. I wished he was right, if only so this moment could have been avoided.

  “That is…” I couldn’t say sweet or nice. I needed Anders to get the message that I could never be one of the guys.

  “That’s not really appropriate,” Alexander said through gritted teeth.

  Anders cocked a surprised eyebrow and shrugged. “She’s working hard. We thought she might like to have some fun and everyone wants to thank her.”

  “My wife is expecting,” Alexander reminded him.

  So much for best behavior. I elbowed Alexander in the ribs, but he ignored me.

  “We weren’t going to get her pissed,” Anders said with a laugh. “We just thought she might like a little time out. It doesn’t seem like she gets much of it.”

  His words were loaded, and it occurred to me that Anders had been reading the tabloids. He had stepped into the role of knight without any clue what he was getting into.

  “I go out when I want to.” We were no longer talking about a quick walk down to a pub. I wanted to be perfectly clear on this. Everyone—even my closest friends—believed Alexander told me when I could and couldn’t leave. But that wasn’t true. I’d always chosen when to stay and go. He had never stopped me from leaving. “He usually just sends a security escort behind me.”

  No one laughed. Tension stretched between us like a taut rubber band. One wrong move and it would snap. Who knew which of us it would hit?

  “Clara has responsibilities,” Alexander said gruffly, “to this country. To this family. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

  “Yeah, what would a poor kid like me know? Who am I next to you, right?” He took a step closer and I moved between them, lifting Elizabeth from Alexander’s arms and holding her closely.

  “Enough,” I hissed. “You have both proven your point.”

  “Maybe to you.” Anders cast a look in my direction before training his eyes on Alexander. “But I suspect he could stand to be taught a few lessons.”

  “I could stand…” Alexander repeated with genuine surprise. He chuckled slightly at some joke that only he was in on.

  “Your men would take care of it though, right?” Anders backed up. He turned from Alexander and gave me a meaningful look. “If you change your mind, we’ll be at the Dark Horse in the village. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “You don’t need to worry about my wife,” Alexander’s voice was as cold as the edge of a knife.

  Anders took one more look at me and shook his head. “Nah, but maybe you should.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ALEXANDER

  Clara wasn’t happy with me. What was new? It was impossible to explain to her why Anderson got under my skin without telling her the truth. And that would change everything for what she was doing here. I could see that now. Still, it was a risk to ignore the situation developing right under my nose.

  Anderson Stone was falling in love with my wife. My brother was falling in love with my wife. I wasn’t blind. Anyone could see it. It was why Brexton had called me here. Maybe Clara could pretend not to notice. She had a frustrating habit of not seeing herself as the world did. If she could, maybe she would understand why I was so possessive of her. Or maybe she didn’t want to see it, because then she’d have to admit there was a problem. A really big fucking problem. Anderson might not have crossed any lines yet, but he would.

  I knew her heart belonged to me. But would that be the case if a man came along and offered her what I could never give her? Love that came without the price of her freedom? I never wanted to find out.

  She fell asleep early that evening, no doubt exhausted by everything that had happened today. I helped her along, making love to her until her eyes drooped closed. As soon as she was asleep, I left the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind me.

  Our security heads were staying in the east wing of the house. I took a chance and knocked on a door, hoping I didn’t accidentally wake Georgia. I knew what she would have to say about my plans for the evening. Not that Norris and Brexton were going to be any happier, but they were military men, and, as such, they knew how to take an order. Georgia didn’t share that trait unless the order came from someone holding a whip. I wasn’t about to go down that path just to get her on my side.

  To my relief, Brexton opened the door, his gun in hand. “Everything okay?”

  “Stand down, soldier.” I held my hands up in surrender. “I thought we could grab a drink.”

  He hesitated, blinking away confusion before he grinned. “Cool. Let me get my stuff.”

  His stuff included his gun, shoes, and jacket. For Brex those were life’s only essentials. Things had been tense between us the last couple of weeks. I knew he had taken this assignment as a sign of my faith in him, but I hadn’t apologized for blaming him for what had happened that day in Chelsea. I also knew he wouldn’t accept an apology. That wasn’t how it worked with us. When we’d served together, if one of us fucked up, the other held him accountable. And then we let it go. It was how we’d stayed alive.

  “Look,” I began, “I know you did the best you could that day. Clara can be stubborn. I’m sure she didn’t make it easy for you.”

  “I shouldn’t have left her, though.” Regret coloured his words and his eyes darkened as he recalled his choice. He shook his head fiercely. “My job is to protect this family. I won’t forget that again.”

  “You saved a lot of people that day.”

  “Would that have mattered if she’d died?” He was calling my bluff, seeing through the face I wore as King to the heart of who I was underneath.

  Because in truth the only life that mattered to me was hers. Admitting that would be admitting that I placed her above everything. Above myself. Above King and Country.

  “It’s in the past. I trust you,” I told him. He needed to hear it. Our friendship had gotten me through one of the darkest periods of my life. Like Norris, he was more than just a member of my team. He was family. I clapped a hand on his shoulder and forced him to look at me. “I mean that.”

  “She is safe with me,” he promised.

  “I know.”

  “So, is there anything to drink around here?” he asked.

  I paused. It was a poor show to immediately back him into a corner now that we were mates again. He wasn’t going to like this bit. “I thought we would go out.”

  “Go out? Did you hit your head?” Brex looked me up and down.

  “There’s a pub down the way. I heard some of the guys talking about it. Might be fun.” It was best to leave out the particulars of who would be there. Brex would call it off if he knew Anders was going to be there. I’d pay for it later.

  “You don’t really go out to bars,” he said slowly. It was a lackluster appeal to common sense.

  “I used to,” I reminded him.

  “That was before…” he trailed away.

  Before I accepted the crown. When I’d had choices. He didn’t need to say it. We both knew it. We also knew that the right thing to do was to scare up a bottle of Scotch and stay put. But I wasn’t interested in the drink. I was interested in the company.

  “If you’re set on this, we should take Norris.”

  “Yeah, I kinda figured you’d say that.”

  Norris had even more practice at standing by me when I was doing something irrational, but I hadn’t asked him for somethi
ng this crazy in a long time. Still, when he answered the door, he only blinked in response. At least, he was good at putting on a show.

  “This is a terrible fucking idea,” Brex told me, as he turned the car into the village. “I want my objections to be known.”

  “You’re on the record,” I promised him.

  Norris remained silent in the back. I’d refused to sit there and be driven around. I hadn’t been entirely upfront with my motivations for going out, but part of me didn’t want something normal. I thought back to nights I’d spent at bars and clubs before I’d met Clara. I didn’t want that life. But I wouldn’t mind feeling like an average guy occasionally.

  The Dark Horse was a typical English pub. That is to say, it was built sometime in the last 1000 years, give or take, and hadn’t changed much since. The inside was dark and crammed with stools and tables, heavy drinkers and lost souls. I’d added a baseball cap to my ensemble for extra camouflage. I pulled its bill low over my eyes as I scanned the room.

  No one bothered to look at us. We were just a group of guys at the bar. Some deeply ignored knot loosened in my gut. I was buying normalcy with borrowed time, but I would take it.

  “I’ll grab us some drinks,” Brex muttered before disappearing into the crowd.

  Norris and I made our way through the packed bar, looking for a table. A few passersby jostled us and Norris hesitated, instantly alert. I slung an arm around his shoulder and dragged him toward the back.

  “There’s one.” I pointed to one in the far corner that was conveniently located next to a table full of racers I’d met earlier in the day at Silverstone.

  He sighed heavily. I couldn’t hear it over the clamour of the crowd, but I saw it—and I felt it. It carried the weight of deep disappointment. “Is this a social engagement?”

  “Happy coincidence,” I said, peeking out from under my cap.

  He wasn’t buying it, but he followed me as I pushed my way to the empty table and dropped onto a stool.

  The group from Silverstone was having a good time, judging by their boisterous laughter and the number of empty glasses on the table. I positioned my seat where I could keep an eye on them, watching carefully from under my hat.

  “Perhaps, you should talk to him,” Norris suggested, leaning close to me so that I could hear him over the rabble.

  “Not an option.” My curiosity had driven me here tonight. At least, that was probably what Norris thought. Part of me wanted to know more about this stranger who shared my blood. Part of me wanted to assess whether or not he was a threat to me. The truth was that I couldn’t wrap my head around any of it. He was my brother. He didn’t know that. And yet, fate had thrown us together in this strange way. And then there was the issue of Clara. “He sees me as his competition.”

  I didn’t have to fill Norris in on what the prize was. He’d picked up on Anders’s overtures as soon as he’d arrived. It was blatantly obvious to everyone but Clara, and I suspected she was only lying to herself.

  “Perhaps you should finally tell her?” This suggestion was less gentle.

  “I tried to stop it from coming to this. I tried to keep her away,” I told him. “She’s happy hosting the games. If I tell her, it will ruin this for her.”

  Norris seemed to consider this for a moment. “What will happen if you don’t tell her?”

  “She won’t find out?”

  “Secrets don’t stay buried, Alexander, and they have no place in a marriage.” He gave me a hard look that said more than any warning. “It’s time for you to let her help you carry these secrets. You’ve shouldered some burdens too long.”

  “Burdens?” I laughed humourlessly. “Is that how you view family? I thought it was about loyalty, duty, responsibility.” I rattled off the words my father had thrown at me when he’d sent me away to the war. The ones he’d reminded me of when I’d come home. The ones he’d threatened me with before I’d married.

  Brex appeared, juggling three pints of beer. I had never been gladder to see anyone in my life. I needed a drink. He handed them off to us one by one, before dropping down to a chair next to mine.

  “What did I miss?” he asked.

  “We were chatting about our feelings. You’re back just in time to braid my hair.” I couldn’t hide my resentment. Yes, I had come here with an agenda, but I hadn’t come looking for a lecture. I downed my beer in one long draught.

  Brex didn’t say anything. He just shot a disapproving glance at my empty glass. It would take ages to get another one. He looked around, scanning his perimeter and his eyes landed on the table of drivers. More specifically, they landed on Anders.

  “Tell me that’s not why we’re here,” he muttered.

  “It’s a coincidence,” Norris said flatly.

  I hadn’t expected them to buy that one, but I didn’t need to explain my reasons.

  “Look at it this way,” I told them, “I could have come alone.”

  Brex groaned, rubbing his jaw as he continued to eye him. “It’s always best to bring close friends when you’re going to do something stupid.”

  “I knew you’d understand.” I grinned. He shoved my shoulder, and for a moment, that’s what we were. Two old friends, giving each other shit and sharing a pint.

  “To bad decisions.” Brex tapped his beer against my empty one.

  “I’ll never understand how you two made it home alive.” Norris shook his head. I held up my empty glass and he clinked mine despite his disapproval.

  At the table next to us, the noise level rose, and my companions visibly tensed. I, on the other hand, was feeling more and more relaxed. Until one word rose above the ruckus.

  Clara.

  I twisted, wanting to get closer, wanting to hear what was being said. Next to me, Brex had a hand in his pocket. I placed a hand on his shoulder carefully and gave him a small shake of the head.

  “You’re saying you wouldn’t want to hit that?” A man I didn’t recognize called across the table. A few seats down Anders shot daggers at him. Adrenaline rushed through me, setting me on edge. For some reason his reaction made me even angrier. Clara wasn’t his to protect.

  “She’s up the duff, man!” Another one crowed.

  “That doesn’t matter,” the first man cried back. “She’s got that look about her. Like she likes it.”

  “Course she does,” another said. “Gold-diggers always like it. They’re always on their knees—”

  Now I was on my feet.

  Anders was closer. He threw himself across the table, grabbing the man’s shirt and dragging him to the ground.

  “Your Majesty,” Norris said under his breath, his hand hooking my elbow.

  I shook off his gentle grip, my hand clenching into a fist. There were a thousand reasons for me to turn and walk out of here right now. Some felt more important than others. My wife, for one, wouldn’t be pleased if my picture showed up on The Guardian’s front page. Neither would Parliament. It was a mark of my true priorities that Clara’s anger was more terrifying than my government’s. A fight was the last thing the monarchy needed at the moment. I took a step forward anyway. I was tired of being chained by protocol and politics.

  “No way, poor boy.” Brex hauled me back, handing me off to Norris and jumping into my place as soon as he had a firmer hold on me.

  He shouldn’t be involved either, but that didn’t stop him. He was in the fray before Norris had me out the door. At soon as we stepped—or rather Norris dragged us—into the cool, night air, I jerked away. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “You could have fooled me,” Norris grumbled. He brushed a few wrinkles from his jacket, not bothering to hide his disappointment.

  So Norris was disappointed in me. What was new? That seemed to be his perpetual state of being these days. There was a time when our relationship had felt like that of a father and son. Or what I thought that relationship should be like. Lately, it felt too much like my relationship with my true father. How could I explain to Norris that
the responsibility, the endless politics, the constant scrutiny was drowning me? Or that when it came to what mattered most I was powerless to act?

  “I wouldn’t have hit anyone,” I said, hoping that it was true while wishing I could hit someone. One person in particular.

  Brex appeared, nursing bloody knuckles and not bothering to hide how he felt about the situation. “How are we going to explain why you got involved with this?”

  “I wasn’t involved,” I exploded.

  “Simply being there involved you,” Brex shot back, taking a step closer to me. “I knew this was a bad idea. What happens around you…”

  “I’m in charge of the fucking country. There is no separation between man and state. Am I just supposed to sit at home on a throne and not get involved?”

  “No one is saying that.” Norris was infuriatingly calm, as usual.

  “Maybe,” Brex ignored him, “if it means you can keep your hands to yourself.”

  “When did everyone else get to call the shots?”

  “When you stopped being able to,” Brex said.

  My fist flew before Norris could step between us. If Brex had any reservations about me getting into a fight, he forgot them. Knuckles made hard contact with my jaw with a loud crack. Within seconds we were on the ground. I didn’t know if I’d brought him down or if it was the other way around. For the moment, we were both giving it everything we had. A fist jabbed my kidneys and I groaned, shoving Brex off and leaping on top of him.

  We were too much for Norris to take on alone. This would probably be the last time I was allowed out without a full security compliment. He seemed to take a while to break us up. He probably wished he could be the one pounding my head into the pavement. In the end, Norris got hold of me and someone else pulled Brex away. We glared at each other. Blood leaked from a cut into my eye and I wiped it away, turning my attention to the other party.

  Anderson fucking Stone. My knight in shining armour. I had no idea why he’d stepped in. This was what he wanted—to prove to Clara that I was a fuck up.