Reluctantly Royal (7 page)

I glanced at my watch. I didn’t want to leave until I’d spoken to Meredith again. “Sure.”

“Hey, do you like to fish?” Marty asked as we raced our avatars around the track.

“Yeah.” I was focused on beating the little punk. He had gotten better since the day before. Or he had been taking it easy on me. I really hadn’t been fishing in years, but I remembered it being fun.

“Me too. Wanna go with me?”

I looked over at him, but he was paying attention to the game. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Cool.”

Marty sat back in his pillows and got comfortable while we raced. It wasn’t until his car ran off the track that I realized he was asleep. Chuckling, I turned down the sound and got up from my seat. My back complained from having sat in one position too long, so I stretched the kinks out.

Carefully I pulled Marty’s shoes off and tugged his legs up onto the bed. Slowly I covered him with the blanket on the bed and looked down at his sleeping face. The moonlight that streamed through the window highlighted his cheekbones and cast long shadows of his eyelashes along his skin. It was that moment that I realized just how young the boy was. He didn’t deserve to worry about his mother. He deserved the life he had in England, where he played football with his mother and went to school with regular kids.

As I turned to leave the room, my eyes fell on a sketch pad and I couldn’t help myself. Sitting back down in the chair I flipped it open and smiled at the drawings inside. Marty had promise for such a young kid. Turning to a blank page, I glanced around and searched for a pencil. Charcoal would be best, but pencil would do.

I started with the lines of his forehead, the curve of his impish nose, the roundness of his cheeks. I was lost in the sketch, enjoying the shadows, the tenderness in his expression, working to capture that moment of utter innocence.

“That’s beautiful.” Her voice was soft.

I looked up from what I was doing, not surprised that she had snuck up on me. When I’m lost in a project, the world disappears; the only thing I’m aware of are the layers of the project I’m working on.

“He’s a good subject.” I turned back to the paper and finished up the shading of the blanket.

“Only because he’s asleep and not moving.” Her quiet laugh sent shivers over my body.

“That does help.” I smiled up at her. “But it’s the contrast. The contrast of him awake versus him asleep. He looks so young right now, so innocent.”

“What do you mean?” She leaned closer to look at the picture.

“He’s so mature, quick-witted.” I whispered the words. “But here he is, looking like the child he is.”

“His teachers say that,” she said. “That he’s quick to pick things up.”

“I’d say so.” I turned and handed her the sketch pad. “I hope you don’t mind that I drew him. The light and shadows were too perfect to resist.” Sort of like her right now. The way the moonlight glinted in her eyes and shone along her hair. Her perfect features would make any artist ache to draw them. Her pixie nose, the heavy eyelashes, the curve of her body hinted at by the oversized sweater she had wrapped around herself. It made my palms itch. Partly because I just wanted to touch her, to see if she would taste as sweet as she looked in that moment.

“Thank you for keeping him entertained.” She stood up. “Can I keep this?”

“Of course.” I stood up and stretched. Her eyes swept over my chest and then back up to my face. Maybe I wasn’t the only one tempted to touch. I hated to admit it, but I had a flare of pride. “I enjoyed hanging out with him.”

I was surprised to realize I meant it. I never would have thought spending time with a six-year-old would have been enjoyable.

“Looks like he did too.” She moved away from the door and I followed her into the hallway.

“Did you get everything settled?”

“I think so.” She frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Her expression worried me.

“Granddad would have hated a large ceremony.” She sighed and headed for the stairs. “But I guess that as a duke there are some things that have to happen.”

“I don’t blame your grandfather.” I followed behind her. “I would want a small ceremony, not to be made into a production.”

“I’m starting to think you don’t like any type of production.” She looked at me over her shoulder.

“Not really, no.” I wasn’t going to lie. “I don’t like being the focus, being the center of attention. It makes me uncomfortable.” I wasn’t going to lie, but I hadn’t intended to tell her so much about me.

“And yet you agreed to help me with my grandfather’s funeral.” She turned to me at the bottom of the stairs and set the sketch pad on a table. “Why?”

I stared at her for a minute, enjoying the way her eyes looked up at me, the tilt of her chin, the way her hair cascaded around her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

Unable to help myself, I reached out and touched her cheek with my fingers. Her pupils dilated and she inhaled softly. With one thumb I traced the dip under her plump bottom lip. Her hand reached up to trace my jaw and she took a step closer to me.

“You should be running from me as fast as you can.” She whispered the words. “I’m everything you don’t want.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“I live for the spotlight, it’s my food.” Her eyes were half lidded as she edged closer to my mouth. “And you’ve seen my family. I’m trouble, Max.”

Did I care? I wasn’t sure I was capable of making a real decision as her smell wrapped around my senses. The only thing I knew was that I wanted to taste her, to touch her, to press her against my body. To hear her say my name again.

Dipping my head, I grazed her lips with mine and I was lost. On a sigh, she leaned into me and wrapped her hands around my neck. Tilting her head back, I brought my mouth to hers carefully, softly, tasting. I wanted to deepen the kiss, to hear her moan, to feel the way her body could wrap around mine, but I kept it soft, sweet, and simple. She was in such a hard place, she needed to be protected, treasured by someone.

And right now, I was that person.

SEVEN

D
ECADENT.
T
ENDE
R.
P
ERFECT.

I hadn’t been kissed in so long I’d almost forgotten how wonderful it could be. Or maybe it was just Max. His teasing lips, the soft touch of his hand on my hip, the way he tasted. It was enough to make me forget the stress, the worry, the pain of the day.

I knew it was wrong. Knew that I was bad for him, but there was something in the way he looked at me, the way he touched me, that killed my reasoning. When I slid my tongue out to touch his bottom lip, his fingers tightened on my hip, his thumb rubbing soft circles just above the top of my jeans. The kiss deepened, our breaths mingling together. I couldn’t help the soft moan when he pulled me to his body; feeling his lean muscles pressed against me was more than I had experienced in years. I let one of my hands run down his chest and around to his back.

He pulled away from me just a little, his lips kissing me softly once more before looking at me with serious eyes.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” His deep voice made me want to wrap it around me.

“Good.” I let my hand run along his jaw softly before falling to my side. “I’m not sorry.”

That thought was surprising. I didn’t kiss men. But boy was I glad that I had let him kiss me.

“I should go.” He didn’t move.

“You should.” I looked up at him but didn’t step away. “This is a bad idea.”

“Maybe.” Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Will you be okay tonight?”

His eyes darted to the shut door of the sitting room.

“Yes.” I sighed, the moment broken. Nothing like the thought of my asshole father to kill the mood. “He’s been taken up to his room. I doubt he’ll remember anything from today.”

“I’m coming back tomorrow.” He stated it like I should just expect it.

“No you aren’t. You have other things to do.” I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t need you in the way while I handle everything.”

“You need help.” His jaw tensed.

“No I don’t. Everything has been set up for the funeral.” I took a step away from him. “I don’t need you until then.”

“I’m offering to help you.” His face took on a stubborn cast.

“And I’m telling you I don’t need any.” He wasn’t the only person who could be stubborn.

“You don’t need to take all of this on by yourself.”

“I’ve been doing just fine without you.” My chin jerked upward.

“Like today? When your father tried to beat your face in?” He took a step toward me. “Stop being stubborn and let me help you. You can’t live like this.”

“What are you going to do? Throw Duke Thysmer in jail?” She laughed. “Trust me, he’s been there before, and all it did was make him hit harder.”

His jaw clenched and his head jerked toward the stairs.

“What are you thinking, Max?” I stepped forward and touched his tensed shoulder.

“That maybe it’s time someone hits him back.” He turned to look at me, and I was surprised by the amount of anger in his green eyes.

“It won’t do any good.” I pulled on his arm to get him away from the staircase. “Besides, I don’t want Marty to think that’s how to solve problems.”

His vision cleared a bit, but he looked back at the stairs. “That man is a ticking time bomb. When are you going back to England?”

“I don’t know.” I looked away from him. “I might stay here.”

“What?” Max turned back to me. “You can’t stay here with him.”

“I can’t let him destroy the family.” I willed him to understand. “This is our chance to be more than a poor family with no hopes. I can’t let him ruin that. Not for Marty.”

“There have to be other options.”

“What? Going back to waiting tables? Double shifts?” I put my hands on my hips. “I never saw Marty. He was growing up without me. I was working extra shifts just to pay the babysitters to watch him while I worked those shifts. It took me an extra year just to finish high school. There was no way I’d be able to go to university. This is our chance for more.”

“He’s going to hurt you or Marty. You won’t be able to stop him.” He frowned. “If I hadn’t been here today he would have hurt you.”

“It’s only when he’s drunk.” I shrugged.

“Don’t shrug. We’re not talking about him smoking a cigar when he drinks.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “What’s to say he doesn’t wake up tomorrow and do the exact same thing?”

“He won’t.” I stared up at him. “He’ll sleep it off tomorrow and then go back to normal.”

“Did your grandfather leave you any money?” He let his hand slide to his side. “Did he put any aside for you?”

“I have what’s in my bank account, but I don’t think he had a will. It all goes to my dad.” My breath hitched in my throat. “The title, the house, the money. Even the township falls on my dad. Don’t you get it? It’s not just about me and Marty. I can’t let him ruin all of that. I can’t let him make your family look bad for bringing us back.”

His eyes darted down to my lips and I swear I could still feel his kiss. A breath shuddered out of me.

“Don’t worry about my family. My mother knew what she was doing when she brought you back.” He stepped close. “You’re not the first family that has had a problem with alcohol. There are ways of handling this if you’ll let me help.”

“I . . . I don’t know, Max.” I licked my lips. “Having you around will just make him feel threatened.”

His chest rose in an angry breath. “This is insane, Meredith.”

“Just . . . just trust me.” I put a hand on his chest. “Look, I appreciate you wanting to be my knight in shining armor, but I know what I’m doing.” No, I didn’t. I had no idea how I was going to handle my father, but the last thing I needed was someone swooping in and making it harder.

“I’m leaving, but I’ll be back.” He took my hand. “I have to.” His eyes willed me to understand.

“Give me a day.” Compromise. I could do that. “I’ve got to speak to the township tomorrow.” God, I still had no idea what to say. I could fake it, though. I was good at that.

“When is the funeral?”

“Three days.”

Reaching around me, he pulled my phone out of my back pocket. Quickly he typed into the phone and hit send. His phone beeped and he pulled it out of his pocket and checked something before handing my phone back to me.

“Call me if you need me.” He looked at me earnestly. “Even if it’s just to sit with Marty.”

“Okay.” I took my phone back and slipped it into my pocket. I hoped he couldn’t tell that I was lying. I wasn’t on my best game right now. The last thing I wanted to do was involve a member of royalty in my family drama.

“Meredith . . .” He sighed and shook his head. “I’ll be back.”

His eyes searched my face for a minute and then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him. I leaned against the stair railing and took a minute to catch my breath. That man kept me on my toes. God, I was the wrong kind of woman for him. And what had I been doing when I let him kiss me? Kiss me! I didn’t kiss men. It was too raw, too real.

Sweet Lord, it had been delicious. The kind of kiss that made you feel like a woman.

Dangerous. He was dangerous. I’d broken my main rule for men after two days of being around him. How the hell had he wormed his way where other men couldn’t get with a bulldozer?

I looked over where I had set the sketchbook and felt my breath catch. He had captured Marty in just a few strokes of the pencil. Down to the baby fat still in his cheeks and the way his mouth hung partially open. It was beautiful and he had done it with a child’s sketch pad and number two pencil. I picked up the book and carefully pulled the picture out.

Taking the steps two at a time, I opened the door to Marty’s room and slid the sketchbook back on his desk.

“Mom?” His voice sounded so small in the dark room.

“Yes?” I opened the door wider and looked at my son. “What do you need?”

“Is Max gone?” He rubbed at his eyes.

“Yes, baby.” I walked over and sat down on his bed. “He had to go home.”

“I like him.” He rolled over and reached out for my hand. I wrapped his fingers with mine and squeezed gently.

“Me too.” It was true. I liked Max. More than I had liked anyone in a long time. Which was scary.

“Good.” He yawned. “Will you stay until I fall asleep?”

“Sure.” I kicked my shoes off and curled up next to him.

“Thanks.”

I kissed his head and pulled him against me. His legs were hitting another gangly, awkward phase, his ankles peeping out of his pants. It wouldn’t be long until he was taller than me.

His little fingers gripped my wrist and I smiled. He might be growing faster than a weed, but he was still my baby right now.

It wasn’t until the sunlight streaming through Marty’s window hit my face that I woke up. Marty was sprawled across the bed, his leg draped over mine and one arm thrown above his head. Carefully I extracted my body from his bed and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes.

I tiptoed down the hall and into my room, where I hurried into the shower. I still needed to figure out what I was going to do for the speech later that afternoon. I needed to wake up my father and see if he would be willing to do it, or if he would at least come stand with me in family solidarity.

I closed my eyes and let the water run over my face. There were only three outcomes that I could foresee. One, he would tell me to do it myself and go back to sleep. Two, he would insist on doing it himself and drunkenly slur through the whole ordeal. Or three, he would come and stand beside me while I handled the responsibility and then blame me for something not going right.

Getting dressed, I put on what I considered “lady” clothes. A skirt and blouse, dark, to show mourning, but I couldn’t resist wearing some kick-ass heels. I needed something to make me feel strong and pulled together, and those shoes were just the thing. Looking in the mirror, I nodded in approval. I pulled my hair up into a simple twist and chose very bland jewelry. Simple studs and the ring Granddad had given me.

Taking a deep breath, I walked down the hall and to my father’s side of the house. I could hear his snores before I even got to his room. I knocked on the door and waited. There was no answer so I knocked again. It would be best if he woke up before I went into the room. I’d learned the hard way as a child that you didn’t wake my father up from a bender by touching him. It always ended poorly.

“Father?” I opened the door a crack and knocked louder.

“Wha . . . ?” His groggy voice turned into a snore.

“Dad, I need to talk to you.” I peeked in the room and grimaced. He was sleeping on top of his blankets, still in his suit from the night before.

“Jesus.” He rolled over. “Can’t a man sleep in peace?”

“We have to address the township today about Granddad.” I stepped into the room, but stayed well out of reach.

“What? Why?” He didn’t roll over to look at me.

“It’s tradition for the family to address the township when the duke passes away. A sign of respect and solidarity.” I clasped my hands in front of me.

He grunted but didn’t say anything else.

“I was told that it typically falls to the new duke or duchess.”

“I’m not going out there to tell them something they already fucking know.” He growled and sat up. “You do it. You’re so set on being Duchess of Thysmer anyway.”

“I’m not trying to be duchess. I’m just trying to help.” I eased a little closer to the door. “There’s a lot to do.”

“No one asked you.” He kicked his shoes off angrily.

“It’s my duty as part of the family.” I opened the door a little and he threw his arm up to block the light.

“Listen to you.” He snorted. “ ‘Duty as part of the family.’ What bullshit. You’re from the poor side of town, Meredith. Putting on fancy clothes won’t change what we are, who we are.”

“This could be our chance to do more with our lives.” I took a deep breath.

“You sound like my father. Talking about making the best out of this ‘gift.’ ” He pulled his suit jacket off. “Get the hell out of here. Go do your
duty
.”

“Yes, sir.” I couldn’t keep the disgust out of my tone, but I doubted he heard it. He was already snoring when I closed the door. He would likely not remember any of our exchange. Just another thing for him to be angry about later. But for now I could just focus on the important tasks at hand.

“My lady, Rachel, the palace aide, has arrived.” Gerard met me at the top of the stairs. “I believe that she has put together a press conference to address the township.”

“Yes, thank you.” I looked toward Marty’s door and frowned. I didn’t want him to have to attend the event with me. It was going to be hard enough at the actual funeral.

“Shall I see to your father?” The butler’s face remained blank.

“No, he won’t be attending.” I glanced at a mirror on the wall before descending the stairs.

“Yes, ma’am.” The butler followed behind me, careful to keep his distance.

“Would you make sure that the nanny is available for Marty? I’m not sure how long today will take.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“And would you see to it that breakfast is served in the dining room?” I smiled at him.