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“Let’s go.”

“Wow,” said Kensington, running her hand over the supple leather once we were inside and seated. “It’s almost like a plane.”

Angel delivered us safely to the palace’s helipad. “Thanks, Rile,” she said, looking back over her shoulder one more time before we walked away.

“You’ll get to fly it again in a few days’ time.”

Her eyebrows went up.

“How did you think we’d get back?”

She shrugged and laughed.

The Palacio de la Zarzuela was one of nine “official” residences of the Spanish monarchy and certainly not the grandest.

The Royal Palace of Madrid held that title and was the main residence of the rulers of Spain beginning in 1735. It was the largest palace in all of Europe, with 3,418 rooms and 135,000 square meters. Since the deposition of Alfonso XIII in 1931, it had been used solely for official and state functions.

It was constructed after the Spanish War of Succession, which ended the reign of the Habsburg monarchy—from whom the wretch Konstantine descended—and began the Borbón monarchy, from which I descended.

In the two-hundred and fifty years that followed, Spain experienced great turmoil. The monarchy was abolished, reinstated, and abolished again—many times over.

It was Generalissimo Franco who’d restored the monarchy last, when he named Juan Carlos I de Borbón, my grandfather, as his successor in 1947.

Rather than live in the Royal Palace, he chose the far less ostentatious Palacio de la Zarzuela as the site of his main residence. It had been built originally as a hunting lodge in the 1630s and suffered extensive damage in the Spanish Civil War in the 1930s. Abuelo Juan, as my brother and I called him, had it rebuilt into the compound it was today.

There were several residences on the grounds, including the King and Queen’s—known as the Pavilion—as well as that of my parents, which sat virtually next door to one another on the five-thousand-acre grounds. My brother and his wife also lived within the compound but in a slightly more modest residence than that of our parents.

My father, Juan Cortez DeLéon, and his older brother, King Ferdinand, were two years apart in age, had always been close, and remained so now. My father served as the king’s confidant and advisor since his coronation.

Thus, our relationship with my aunt and uncle had always been like that of any other family. From the stories she told about spending holidays with her great-aunt, Kensington’s relationship with the Queen of England didn’t appear much different than mine with the King of Spain.

My mother and father greeted us warmly upon our arrival, both appearing giddy, looking upon Kensington as a woman with whom I was in a relationship and brought home to celebrate Christmas with my family, as opposed to someone under my protection.

My brother, Osvaldo, and his wife, Maya, along with their two sons, Luis and Alfonso, greeted us as well. I was astounded at how much my nephews had grown since the last time I saw them. Then, they’d been toddlers; now, they were little boys with faces full of mischief, just like Osvaldo and I had been.

While Kensington and Angel appeared relaxed with my family, Casper remained tense and rigid. I was at a loss as to what to do to ease her discomfort when I saw my brother’s wife, Maya, approach her.

Soon, the two were in an animated conversation while my mother monopolized the other two women.

“She’s lovely,” said my father, motioning in their direction. “I’m pleased to see the change in you in only a few days’ time. Astounded, but happy.”

“I am astounded as well, Father.”

“There’s something about her… Does she remind you of anyone?”

“Only of herself.”

My father poured us each a brandy. “Here’s to the miracles of the season.”

Kensington turned to look for me, and our eyes met. I raised my glass to her, and she smiled.

“Few greater beauties on this earth other than your mother.”

“I would agree.”

Shortly before I knew dinner would be served, I put my arm around Kensington’s waist. I led her around a corner, pushed her against the wall, weaved my fingers in her hair, and kissed her. Her arms were immediately around my neck, pulling me closer. I rested my pelvis against her, and she quietly moaned.

“I’ve missed you,” I whispered, kissing down her neck. When her body began to move against mine, I knew she’d missed me just as much.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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