Tangled Up in Princes (Royal Romances Book 1) (3 page)

"Don't you think you're overreacting just a teensy bit here?"

"This isn't an overreaction," Jamie said from his crouch on the floor. "This is typical Edward. How did you know I was here?"

"I make it my business to know where you are."

" You have that in common with the paparazzi."--Jamie grinned, a heart-stopping sight--"Have you ever thought of that?"

"If you'd behave in a manner befitting your station, then I'd have no need to keep tabs on you. The last thing Father needs is to have the family embroiled in scandal just now."

Jamie turned to her, "Was I behaving scandalously?"

"Not at all." Carrie said, trying to yank her arm from Edward's grip, "I'll just get my phone, then the two of you can duke this out in private."

"Duke it out," Jamie laughed, "That's funny. You're a clever one. I found your phone. I am sorry about knocking into you."

Edward grabbed the phone before Carrie could take it.

"Hey, that's mine."

"And you may have it once I've deleted any photos you may have taken recently."

"You can't do that! This is my sister's engagement party. I'm planning on making a scrapbook for her. Don't you dare delete my photos."

"Really. You're sticking with that story, are you?"

"It's no story. It's the truth. And you're an asshole."

Jamie laughed, "She's got you pegged for sure, Edward. When was the last time a woman called you an asshole?"

Edward scanned the room.

"Get up, Jamie. You both are coming with me."

"I'm not going anywhere with you." She tried again to yank her arm free, but his grip was solid.

Jamie stood, brushed at his suit, and shrugged. "When he gets like this, there's nothing for it but to go along. He's harmless, really. Only a mite intense."

Both men looked over their shoulders as they left the main parlor.

"I think we're safe," Edward said.

"Maybe you're safe, but I am not going any farther down this hallway with you. I'm not some too-stupid-to-live girl from a horror flick."

"Fine. You don't have to come along." Edward released her. "I'll just keep your phone, and we'll part company right here." He met her glare with condescension. "I'm an asshole. I know. You mentioned that already. There's no need to repeat yourself."

"In here." Jamie ducked in a doorway. "It's a laundry closet."

Carrie's apprehension grew as Edward pulled her into what was, in fact, a closet, albeit a large closet. The smell of lemon cleanser and laundry soap made her eyes water.

"You've got my phone. Go ahead and flip through the photos. When you get to whichever one has got you so upset, I'll delete it. Fine. Whatever."

Jamie patted her hand, "Let me do it." He took the phone from Edward and began flicking and swiping.

"Quite well played, Ms. MacCallum," Edward said. "Ordinarily I can spot a fraud quite readily, but you--you fooled me utterly. However did you find out Jamie would be here?"

"I didn't even know Jamie until he nearly knocked me down."

"My apologies again for that," Jamie said, not looking up from Carrie's phone.

"You just happened to be taking pictures in my general direction?" Edward asked in a tone that made it clear he didn't believe her.

She felt color rising in her cheeks.

"I've taken lots of pictures tonight. Like I said, I'm going to make a scrapbook for my sister. It's kind of a big day for her, a day that I should be at her side for, and not in a janitorial closet with two strangers."

Even as she said it, she was becoming more anxious. She inched toward the door. No one stopped her.

"There's nothing here," Jamie said. "No pictures of me anyway, and only one of you."

She narrowed her eyes at Edward, "Told you."

Edward's brow knitted, "Let me see."

He reached for her phone, but Jamie jerked it away.

"The messaging, though, is most intriguing."

"Oh God," she said.

"I knew it." Edward jabbed a finger at her. "Did you tell Dinah Adams and Daniel Bryant we were here? Of course, you did. Which other paparazzi did you set on our trail?"

"Ahem, I think not, brother," Jamie handed the phone to Edward.

Still scowling, Edward studied the screen.

"Who is this Jeannie Simms? Another scandalmonger?"

"Forget it. Keep the phone. I'm sure my mom got plenty of pictures," She reached for the door, but Jamie's hand, gentle rather than demanding, on her shoulder stopped her.

"Really, you should stay to watch this. It isn't often my stalwart brother makes a comprehensive ass of himself. For myself, I feel I owe you an immense debt of gratitude. Quite the finest entertainment I've had these many weeks."

She watched color creeping up from Edward's collar. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He hit the screen lock button on her phone and spoke without looking up.

"Jamie, would you leave us please?"

"If there's to be groveling and profuse apologies, I believe I had rather stay."--at a look from Edward, he raised his arms in a gesture of surrender--"Fine. Fine,"--he bowed to Carrie--"It has been an absolute pleasure to meet you."

As he squeezed past her to the door, he whispered, "Excellent thing that I knocked you over. This lad's harmless. The bark is far worse than his bite."

"Do try and stay out of trouble," Edward called as the door closed.

He didn't think twice about letting his errant brother out of his sight. He thought of nothing but Carrie. Only then did he look at her. He took off his sunglasses, stowed them in his coat pocket, and turned those blue eyes full on her.

"Miss MacCallum, I owe you an apology of the highest order. Forgive me."

Sorry that he had hassled her? Sorry that he stole her property? Or sorry that he had no interest in what those text messages to Jeannie which detailed explicitly what she had been prepared to offer? She'd rather not know.

"Forget it. Now if you'll please return my phone, we can put this whole matter behind us and forget we ever met.”

***

Forget they'd ever met? No, Edward didn't think that would be possible. She was quite genuine. He had proof of it, right there on her mobile. She was the first, the only woman who had ever been interested in himself alone, not his title, his position. Rather, she had been--until he'd made a total muck of things. He laid the phone in her hand but kept his own hand atop it.

"You really have no idea who I am, have you?"

She squinted at him. The high color in her cheeks had nothing to do with her earlier desire and everything to do with sheer anger. "Given how worried you are about the press, you're clearly a celebrity of some kind. You look like a Greek god, but you have the disposition of a bridge troll, so it doesn't tax my imagination to suppose you're a movie star. Are you on some British television show that I've never heard of?"

"Do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Just say whatever is in your head, and good manners be damned?"

"Seriously? Are you lecturing me on manners? Mr. Stole My Property and Abducted Me Into a Closet?"

"I didn't abduct you. You came willingly, as I recall."

"You were holding my phone hostage. Maybe you can afford to buy smartphones like they're candy, but I can't. Those things aren't cheap, you know."

"The phone. Yes, the phone."

He still held her mobile in his hand atop hers. She was waiting for him to return it, along with the apology she deserved. That's what he ought to do, of course. But if he did that, she'd leave. He didn't want her to leave.

"I'm sorry," he said because he truly was.

"Then release my phone."

He found himself wishing Jamie hadn't left. Jamie could charm his way out of anything. Maybe Jamie could have talked Carrie out of being so angry.

"I'd like to make this up to you."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Listen, I remember very well what I wrote in those messages to Jeannie. Yes, you are without a doubt the hottest man I have seen in person, but any interest I had in any further contact, of any kind, with you is long gone, so if you were thinking to have a -- what do you call it? -- a shag, here in this closet, you are about to find yourself sorely disappointed."

He hadn't been thinking of that at all, but he was certainly thinking of it now.

"No, I don't want that. I mean. Of course, I do, but—bloody hell. This isn't going at all as I'd hoped."

"Give me my phone."--she gripped her phone and yanked--"Let go."

"I will. I intend to. Just don't leave."

"What?"

"The phone, it's my only leverage right now. Promise me you won't leave, and I'll let it go."

"I cannot believe I am in a Scottish castle in a laundry closet with a man who is holding my phone hostage. Of course, why shouldn't I believe it? This is my life after all. Fine. I promise I won't leave. For now."

He opened his hand over hers and released her phone.

"There. See. I kept my word."

She stuffed her phone in her purse and crossed her arms in front of her.

"Now what?"

Now what?
indeed. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He hadn't the slightest idea what to say to this woman. For God's sake, his father was the King of England. Surely, Edward could manage a simple conversation with a woman, even if she was the most intriguing one he'd ever met.

"If I could convince you to go back outside and continue our walk and forget this part of our acquaintance ever happened, I would gladly do it."

"I have no intention of going anywhere with you."

"Of course not. I understand that, but that puts me in the unfortunate, to my mind, position of being forced to tell you who I am."

She drummed her fingers on her elbows.

"Right. You have your phone. Search for
His Royal Highness Prince Edward of Wales
."

She stared at him incredulously. She narrowed her eyes, studying him. Then her jaw lowered and she covered her open mouth with her hand.

"You can't be."

"You must not read the tabloids. Get out your phone and check. Go ahead. I'll wait."

She withdrew her phone and thumbed in her request. He leaned against a shelf, waiting. Had he ever waited for a woman before? He didn't think so. Why was he so smitten with this one?

Her eyes went wide as she stared at the screen. She looked up at him, and a blush stained her cheeks. That, that was why he was so smitten. Everything she said, everything she did -- it was so honest. Manipulation was entirely foreign to her.

"How could I not have recognized you?"

"People see what they expect to see."

"I can't believe Amanda didn't recognize you. She's lived in London for two years. I once accused her of stalking Jamie."

"People often don't recognize me without some scandalous headline over my head."

She swallowed audibly.

"You're a prince."

"Yes, but I'm not
the
prince. That would be Jamie."

"But your father is, in fact ..." she trailed off as though she couldn't bring herself to say it.

"His Majesty the King. Yes, he is."

"I called you an asshole."

"Quite rightly."

"Can I be arrested for that here?"

"Here? No. If you'd said it in Buckingham Palace, then perhaps. Or at least, ejected from the premises by uniformed security."

"Jesus," she said.

She rubbed the hand not holding the phone over her face.

"You could have just told me you know, right from the beginning.

"Just blurt it out? You'd have thought me vain."

"I think you're vain anyway."

"I've been called many things, but never vain."

"Well, maybe not vain. Maybe self-important is a better description. Or overbearing. Or presumptuous."

"This isn't going well at all. What I mean to say is, Miss MacCallum, forgive me. I spend a great deal of my time trying to stay a step ahead of the paparazzi. When I saw you take that picture," he shrugged, "I thought I'd been fooled."

"I'm really not that crafty."

"I know that now."

"Or devious."

"Entirely my mistake."

"Or into royals."

"And I'm quite possibly in love with you for that."

He gathered up her shawl where it had slipped off her shoulder and dangled, it's fringe touching the dusty floor. He draped it over her.

"The walk we shared in the garden, that was the most authentically enjoyable time I've had in--in I can't remember how long. I was a bastard, as you say, but I'm not often like that, despite what my elder brother would have you believe."

"Jamie," she said, her eyes wide, "he'll be the king someday!"

"Indeed, he will, and God help Britain."

He'd made her smile. Her face was open and warm. He drew a finger down the line of her jaw.

"You have a beautiful smile."

Her chest rose and fell. He saw the pulse at the base of her throat jump. Could she want him as much as he wanted her? Her phone, her damnable phone, chimed in her hand.

"It's Amanda. She's looking for me."

He lowered his hands and stepped back from her.

"Of course. I'll find you. You'll be with the bride, so it shouldn't be difficult."

She nodded her head, then looked puzzled.

"Am I supposed to curtsey or something?"

"Do you know how to curtsey?"

"No clue."

"Then don't worry about it. I think proper protocol demands only that you allow me a good night kiss after dinner."

Her eyebrows shot up.

"Or we could do that now and have done with it, get the pesky formalities out of the way, as it were."

She held back a laugh, but he saw the signs of it all over her face. She stopped at the closet door and faced him.

"The kiss thing, that was a joke, but the rest of it-- you're really for real, aren't you? I mean, I didn't just dream you up?"

"The ass with the manners of a bridge troll? No, I'm most assuredly real."

He allowed his hand to rest on the small of her back as he followed her out the door. Except he didn't follow her. She slammed the door in his face the second she got through. What the bloody hell?