Granted, after the close call in Scotland, when protestors had crowded my car and put my security officers on high alert, I’d come close to spilling everything. She had been so unhappy at the idea of me keeping her in the dark that the words had been on the tip of my tongue. But in the end, I’d stayed silent.
And now, here I was, sitting at this idiotic stag night, my ears ringing from music that was too loud and my eyes stinging from the cigar smoke that hung heavy in the private lounge. I was frustrated that I’d agreed to come to something like this when there were so many more important needs pressing down on me.
“Ooooh, aren’t you Prince Nicholas?” One of the women who was here at the party as a guest of the groom—which was, of course, a euphemism that meant she was actually an exotic dancer—sat down heavily on the chair next to me. “I remember you back in the day, when you’d be closing down the pubs just about every night! One of my friends had a, em, date with you one time back then.” She winked at me. “You know. She said you were incredible.”
I gritted my teeth. “That was a long time ago, thank God. I’m happily married now.Veryhappily married.” I took a pull on my beer. “My wife is beautiful and smart and frankly, the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met. I don’t need to look at anyone else. She’s my world.”
Some of the mischievous light in her eyes dimmed. “Oh. Well, that’s ... nice.”
At that moment, a flash of light made me jerk my head to the right. “What the hell was that?”
“Hmmm?” The woman sitting next to me widened her gaze. “I didn’t see anything.”
My heart sinking, I closed my eyes.Fuck. I knew what had happened. Someone in this crowd had a cell phone, and that person had snapped pictures. That meant that by morning, those photos would be all over the internet and the papers.
Suddenly, I couldn’t be in this place a moment longer. Pushing back my chair, I stood up and stalked over to where Hector sat at a table, a woman with her huge breasts spilling out of a low-cut shirt snuggled on his lap.
“Oh, look, if it isn’t His Royal Highness.” He spoke with the same slightly mocking tone he always used when he addressed me by my title. My stomach churned. Why was I here? Hector meant absolute shit to me. Why wasn’t I at home with my wife? I should be there, holding her, not here with men whose vague friendships were mere echoes in my past.
Kyra was my present and my future, and all I wanted to do was to get back to her.
“I’m leaving,” I told Hector. “I have a symposium in Brighton tomorrow, and I’ll have to be on the road early.” I held out my hand. “Best of luck. We’ll see you at the wedding.”
Hector was silent, staring at me, and then he shrugged. “Do what you have to. You’ll be the one missing out.”
“Right.” I turned around and headed for the exit. At the door, Hugh Naughton, my security officer, waited for me.
“All set, sir?” His expression was as it had always been, neutral and placid.
“Yes.” I blew out a long breath. “I guess there’s no sense in trying to go back to Kensington at this point, is there? Not at this point.”
He shook his head. “Honestly, sir, it’s past three. Why don’t you get some sleep upstairs in your hotel room, and then we can be on the road by seven? If you tried to get back to the Palace now, you’d end up with very little rest and disturb the Duchess in the process.”
I nodded. “That’s what I thought. All right, then. Let’s go.”
As we rode up in the elevator, both of us quiet, I thought about Kyra and how much I missed her, even though it had been barely twelve hours since we’d parted. Rubbing my chest, I told myself that it would be all right. I’d get through this weekend in Brighton, and then ... once I was home ... we’d talk, and I’d tell her everything.
And we’d be together again, and all would be well.
IT WAS A GRAY ANDchilly morning, complete with the light persistent drizzle of rain that was stereotypically London. A smart woman in my position would’ve been curled up under a cozy blanket in front of a blazing fire, enjoying a good book and maybe even a snooze.
But I’d never been accused of making the best choices in the world, which was why instead, I was dressed in old jeans, a baggy hoodie from my undergrad days and—as a nod to my recent relocation to this soggy island nation—a headscarf knotted under my chin. In this get-up, I tromped around the gardens, walking in circles around the now-familiar shrubbery and rows of dormant flower beds.
Staying inside wasn’t an option for me today. I couldn’t stomach another moment alone in the cottage, where the silence felt particularly loud this afternoon. I didn’t feel like going into the office, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone.
So when I heard someone calling my voice over the soft pitter patter of raindrops, at first I ignored it.
“Kyra!” Alex touched my back to get my attention. “I’m sorry. Didn’t you hear me?”
Lying wasn’t in my make-up, so I merely shrugged. “I’m not very good company just now, Alex. Unless you needed something in particular ...”
“No, I don’t need anything.” She jerked her head. “C’mon. It’s too cold to stand in one place, so let’s keep walking.”
Grunting, I resumed my brisk pace along the path. Alexandra kept up easily, and I remembered that she used to run marathons. This was probably nothing at all to her.
“I’m really all right. You don’t have to baby-sit me.” I spoke without turning my head to look at my sister-in-law.
“I’m not.”
