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Authors: MaryJanice Davidson

BOOK: The Royal Mess
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Chapter 24
T
hey grappled, groped, and danced back and forth on the lawn, their mouths together, their tongues dueling, until Nicole lost her balance, Jeffrey lost his trying to grab for her, and they both rolled all the way down the south lawn.
How steep
is
this hill?
she had time to wonder before fetching up against the trunk of a tree, hard.
She groaned.
“Nicole?” His face peered anxiously down at her, feeling her limbs, the back of her skull. “Are you all right? Do you need a doc—”
“No . . . fucking . . . doctors,” she moaned, wondering if he'd even realized he'd dropped the “Her Highness” crap. “Had my fill while I was watching my mom die.” She sat up and observed the line of pine trees marking the edge of the lawn. “Oh, man, I hope you've got a crane in one of your pockets. I don't think I can get back up that hill on my own.”
“Why—why did you do that?”
“Because I'm clumsy and I don't know the lay of the land.”
“Not that. Why did you kiss me?”
She extended a hand, more to feel his than anything else, and he pulled her easily to her feet. “Why did you kiss
me
?”
“I told you why. Once you're officially a princess—”
“Screw that, Jeffrey. Do you know how long it's been since I got laid?”
He gaped at her.
“Well?”
Still he stared.
“Over two years, buddy boy. And if you think I'm gonna be The Celibate Princess, your tailor's been cutting your suits too tight.”
“I—I—I—”
“Put it this way. You can do me, or you can find someone to do me. Y'know, vet their credentials, make sure they're not a security risk. That sort of thing. Either that or I keep sneaking out of the castle at odd times of the day and night looking for lurrrrrv.”
Even in the gloom, she could see him whiten. “You—you—you—”
“Are you sure you're the smart one?”
“My IQ is 157,” he snapped, brushing pine needles out of his hair, “and you're telling me I've got to fuck you or pimp you?”
“Wow, that's quite a turn of phrase, Big Brain. But, yeah. That's what I'm telling you.”
He threw up his hands and walked around in a small circle. “You're just as bad as any of them!”
“Oh, hey. No need to get nasty.”
“My way or the highway.” Now he was kicking grass. “It ought to be on the Baranov coat of arms.”
“What
is
on the Baranov coat—”
“Nicole, I can't.”
“Oh. Old war injury?” She swallowed a giggle as she saw him flush.
“I didn't mean I physically can't—couldn't—I mean I'm perfectly capable—that is, the ladies have said—not that there have been a lot, but—oh, fuck.”
That was it; it was too much. Overload. She sank to her knees, laughing like a loon on uppers.
“I remind Her Highness,” he said grimly, hands jammed wrist-deep into his pockets, “that I am heavily armed.”
“Prove it, stud. And stop talking about me in the third person; I'm not warning you again. But first get me up this hill.”
“I'll do the latter, but we're not done discussing the first.”
“How about if I make it a royal command?”
“You couldn't issue a royal command if I stuck my gun up your nose.”
“Oooh, is that your idea of foreplay?”
Muttering, he turned his back to her and brushed more pine needles off his suit. She leaped on his back and wrapped her legs around his waist. He was so surprised he nearly fell down again.
“Let's ride, cowboy,” she said, then kissed him on the right earlobe.
He took the gradual slope at a dead run, clutching her legs so she wouldn't fall off, and she rode him all the way to the top, whooping and giggling.
They were having so much fun, in fact, that they nearly knocked Edmund down the same slope they'd just come up.
Chapter 25
J
effrey had his gun out, but whether it was to shoot himself, Nicole, or Edmund he didn't know.
Disgrace. Dishonor. Death?
Edmund's question, “Did you two lose something besides your minds?” was still hanging in the air.
Nicole hadn't climbed down. She just glared at Edmund over Jeffrey's left shoulder. He could
feel
the glare.
“What are you doing out here? It's practically the middle of the night!”
“It's nine thirty,” Edmund said mildly. “Prince Nicholas went looking for you, Princess. He is still looking. So I suggest, Your Highness, that you get back inside. Now.”
It was amazing. He sounded totally polite, even deferential, but she knew it wasn't a request.
Jeffrey, the bum who was
supposedly
watching out for her physical safety, dropped her like she was hot, and she hit the lawn ass-first.
“Ow, dammit!” Nicole reacted. Then, “Fine, we're going.”
“Mr. Dante—”
“Jeffrey, your . . . ah . . . devotion to duty is commendable, but I am perfectly capable of escorting Her Highness back to the palace if you need to . . . ah . . . walk the perimeter. That
is
what you were doing, yes?” He speared Jeffrey with a laser-beam gaze. “Walking the perimeter?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. Good night.”
“Good night,” Jeffrey said glumly. There was no point in wondering whether Edmund had seen them kissing. The man saw
everything.
“Hey.” Nicole was handing him back his jacket.
“You're not in trouble, right? Because I take full responsibility. I was the one who climbed out of my window and—”
“I enjoyed our walk, Highness,” he said loudly, drowning out her confession. “Reynolds will relieve me at the top of the hour, and I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Oh.”
Incredibly, she seemed almost hurt. But that couldn't be right. He was saving her reputation at the cost of his own. It was for her own good. Surely she realized that.
“Fine. See ya,” Nicole said.
She fell into step with Edmund and walked with him without once looking back.
He knew, because he was watching.
Chapter 26
P
rince Nicholas, last in line for the throne, was giving serious thought to playing baseball with the jade chess pieces the emperor had given his great-grandfather when Edmund finally walked in with Nicole.
Edmund, of course, looked as he always did: starched and proper. Edmund was never-ending, like the tides, and never-changing, like the face of the moon, or his father, or Kathryn's aim.
But Nicole looked like she'd been run over by a truck. Her hair was all over the place, there was something sticky (sap? mud?) on her left cheek, pine needles all over her leggings, a bloody scratch on her right arm, and her mouth looked weird, like the lips were slightly swollen or something.
“Holy crap! What happened to you?”
“A midnight hike,” she said. “Thanks for the escort, Edmund. Buh-bye.”
“Highnesses.” Edmund bowed and left.
Nicole looked around the room, noting the several dozen chess boards. “Oh, boy. The boredom generated in this room alone is trying to sap my will to live.” She turned her gaze—so like his other sisters—on him. “You were looking for me?”
This was a pleasant surprise. His other siblings took their sweet time when he needed one of them or were busy on one royal duty or another. He was the baby; he was used to the teasing and, worse, being ignored.
And Nicole was really old, older even than David! Midthirties! That was
old
, man. He couldn't believe he had to wait only ten minutes for her to show up.
“I knocked on your door but you didn't answer, so I thought you were sleeping. But Edmund said he knew where you were. It's kind of cold out for hiking, isn't it?” he asked, puzzled.
“That depends,” she replied, “on who you're hiking with. What's up, blondie?”
“Nothing.”
“That's why I got hauled into the Room of Perpetual Yawns? For nothing?”
“I just—I was just hoping you were doing okay.”
She gave him an odd look and sat down across from him. They both ignored the chess board between them. “As well as can be expected, I guess.”
“If I had to go live in a strange place, I might be scared. And I prob'ly wouldn't tell anybody if I
was
scared. And it's okay. If you're scared, I mean.”
“I'm fine.”
“Also,” he added, holding out a CD case, “there's this.”
She took it and examined it. “What is it? Did you burn me a mix CD? Because I have to tell you, I'm all eighties rock, all the time.”
“Wow, you really
are
old.”
“What a wonderful conversation we're having,” she muttered, and he felt bad because he forgot old people didn't like being reminded they were old. “If this isn't The Greatest Hits of Teena Marie, then what is it?”
“The nineteen ways I've found to get safely out of the palace without being seen. You keep going over the ledge like that and off the pavilion, you're going to break an ankle.”
She stared at him. “Does everyone know that's why I picked that suite?”
“Just me and Edmund. And probably your security detail. And maybe the Dragon. Probably the Dragon.”
“If he didn't, he sure does now,” she muttered, which he didn't quite get. “Does the king know?”
“No,
our father
doesn't know. Are you kidding? He still thinks Kathryn's a virgin.”
Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. “Thaaaat's a bit of an overshare. Let's not do that again, okay? Okay.”
“Now I'm the only virgin in the family,” he added glumly.
“You just did it again!”
“Well, I am.”
“Don't sweat it. Sex is overrated.”
“Really?” His brothers and sisters
never
talked to him about this stuff. Why would they? To him, he was always going to be the six-year-old mischief maker who didn't look like any of them. “You don't like it?”
“I didn't say that, I just said it's overrated. Look, when you're a virgin, losing it is the most important thing in the world. It's all you can think about, right? But once it's gone, once you've got that whole awkward weird first time out of the way, it's never going to be as big a deal again.”
Except she had an odd look on her face as she told him this, almost like she wasn't sure she believed what she was saying.
“Hard to imagine,” he sighed.
“Trust me, this aged ancient knows of what she speaks. Dammit! Now
I'm
referring to myself in the third person.” She bounced the case up and down in her hand like a baseball. “Thanks for this. I owe you one.”
“Damn right! So keep it in mind.”
“Don't sweat it, Curly. I never forget a favor.”
“Of course you don't. You're one of us. And don't call me Curly.”
“Or what?”
“Or I'll blow up half of your personal belongings.”
“Yeah, listen, what is it with you and incendiary devices? Is it the typical youngest-seeking-attention thing? Or do you, uh, need to be speaking to someone? Someone with many degrees in psychiatry?”
“Not telling.”
“You'll tell, Curly.”
“Don't call me Curly.”
“Oh, never again, Curly.” Then she hauled him out of the chair, bounced him to the floor, and tickled him until tears were streaming down his face and he was begging her to stop.
“This might not entirely suck,” she announced as he staggered to his feet. “I never had a little brother before.”
“I'm three inches taller than you are!”
“Yeah, but your muscle mass hasn't caught up with your height. So until then I can beat you with impunity.” She shoved him and he nearly went sprawling, scattering chess pieces like confetti.
“And I shall.”
“This
does
entirely suck,” he informed her, lying like mad. “The last thing I needed was another older sibling.”
“Suck it up, Curly.”
“Don't call me—don't tickle! No! I mean it! Quit! Nicooooooole!”

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