"Oh, no?" I heard the smile in his voice.
"No." I twisted a little and rested my chin on his sternum. "It turns that the best remedy for holiday stress is being held by a really hot guy."
Nicky's mouth quirked up on one side. "I assume I still qualify as the hot guy? Even considering my advanced age, and the fact that we've been married for years?"
"Oh, sweetie." I ran my hand down his body until I reached something that particularly interested me. "You will always be my hot guy."
"Well, then . . ." Nicky flipped over, making me shriek as I landed on the sofa, caged by his strong arms. "Let the stress relief commence."
And an hour later . . . I was definitely feeling much more relaxed, indeed.
ChapterThree
"And the linens are all changed on the beds?"
Mrs. Maguire, my long-suffering housekeeper, nodded her head. She stood before me with her hands clasped behind her back as I ran down the list of completed preparations ahead of our guests' arrival.
"Are the new Christmas towels hanging in the bathroom upstairs?"
"Yes, ma'am, and I took the liberty of placing some of those pretty red soaps at the sinks, too." She smiled broadly. "They're peppermint scented. Very festive!"
"Great idea, Mrs. M." I grinned at her. "Thanks for being so patient with me. I know you have all of this covered. I'm just—" I tossed up one hand. "You know. I want everything to be perfect for my sister's visit."
"And Lord Corbyn, too, yes?" Mrs. Maguire raised her eyebrows. "I noticed you had me preparetworooms, but I thought Ms. Duncan and His Lordship were an item."
I barely resisted rolling my eyes. "Yes, Mrs. M, Bria and Rhys are engaged, but that doesn't mean that they shouldn't have the option to . . . to have their own space." I sniffed. "Bria's my little sister. I don't think it's backward or prudish of me to have separate rooms for them. It just means . . . " I cleared my throat. "Options. Like I said."
The housekeeper's lips twitched. "Yes, ma'am. Everything is just as you asked."
"Thank you. I really appreciated it. Did we—"
"Auntie Bria's here!" Alice bellowed from upstairs where she'd been sitting at the window watching the driveway. Seconds later, Mrs. Maguire and I heard her feet running down the steps.
"Slow down!" I yelled, knowing that I sounded very un-duchess-like. "You'll fall. Also, I don't want you to knock over Auntie Bria when she comes in."
We met in the foyer, my daughter frowning at me impatiently. "Auntie Bria loves it when I hug her. I won't knock her down. She's taller than me."
"But still. Please, Alice, let's remember that we're welcoming guests. Mind your manners."
The glance my daughter shot me over her shoulder was a crazy mix of my grandmother Honey and my sister-in-law Daisy—two of the most ballsy, take-no-nonsense women I knew—and I had to hold back a giggle. I was certain that I'd probably worn that same expression countless times during the first few years that I was part of the Royal Family. I definitely didn't want to tamp down Alice's bright, happy spirit, but all the same, she needed to remember how to behave herself.
We'd been very fortunate that the reporters and photographers who covered the royals had, by and large, respected our privacy and rarely followed us around or tried to snap pictures of Alice at every turn. And after our very frightening experience this past summer, when a domestic terror organization had threatened our lives—and one rogue member had actually succeeded at kidnapping Alice, albeit briefly—the press had been especially kind about giving us space. But I knew that at some point, our daughter would have to face the reality of being a member of this very famous, very visible family.
The front door flew open, distracting me from my brooding thoughts, and my sister stood there, her arms wide open.
"Where's my favorite princess niece?"
"Here!" Alice ran headlong into Bria's hug, and to my surprise, I found my eyes misting a little bit as I watched the two of them together. I spotted Rhys slowly climbing the porch steps behind my sister, his gaze fond and affectionate as I imagined my own was. But as he glanced up to meet my eyes, I noted an unusual uncertainty there.
Stepping forward, I held out my hands. "Rhys! Welcome home. Come in—if you can find a way around these two wild women, that is."
Rhys chuckled. He laid one hand on Bria's back as he stepped inside and closed the door. "Hello, cousin." He bent to kiss my cheek. "You're looking very well."
"Thank you. I'd have to say the same." Stepping back, I scrutinized my brother-in-law-to-be. I wasn't lying; Rhys reallydidlook great. He'd always been a good-looking man—not in the same league as Nicky, of course, but then again, who was? But there was something about him now: his skin had taken on a slight golden-tan tone, his hair was just a bit longer, and his eyes had lost that cynical, slightly haunted expression that he'd worn as long as I'd known him. He seemed to be more rested, more at ease with himself and the world.
"America must agree with you," I remarked, patting his arm.
"I'll disagree and say that it's your sister who's made the most impact over the past year." Rhys beamed at Bria, and the look on her face as she gazed back bordered on besotted. "Bria has made all the difference."
