I want to promise her she’ll get used to it, but I’m not sure anyone ever does, even someone who’s been around this most of his life.
“Why don’t we focus on today?” I suggest to Bridge as Richard approaches with our plates and sets them down in front of us before silently retreating.
“Certainly.” Nathan smiles politely.
The last thing I need is for my personal secretary to overwhelm Nora. I know what it’s like to wake up in a strange bed and be told to dress in a suit for breakfast when I was used to wearing pajamas. Then to walk into a dining room where everyone addressed me so formally, sitting in the very chair Nora is now as my father’s new private secretary ran us through the agenda for his first public appearance as heir apparent and me as second in line. I remember wanting nothing more than to run away. To disappear. To return to my old life.
I reach under the table, gently squeezing her leg. She shifts her gaze toward me, and I give her a reassuring smile.
“As I mentioned…,” Bridge begins.
We both turn our attention back to him. But I don’t take my hand off Nora’s leg, keeping it there while I eat my breakfast with the other, despite the break in etiquette of only using a fork instead of a fork and a knife.
“The schedule is light today. You’ll arrive at the palace at ten, where you’ll introduce Ms. Tremblay to His Majesty, the king, and Her Majesty, the queen mother. After that, you’ll all go to the royal vault where Ms. Tremblay will select her engagement ring.”
“I already have a ring,” she protests.
“It’s a tradition,” I explain. “Another one of many you’ll learn over the course of the next several weeks, probably years. Wearing a ring from the royal vault is a sign that the monarch approves of the marriage.” I lean toward her, but don’t exactly lower my voice, not caring who can hear. “It’s one of my least favorite traditions. I view it much like I suspect you do. Like you’re marrying the monarchy, not me. Which is why I made sure to propose with a ring I purchased. One that has no ties or connection to the monarchy. Because, at the end of the day, I want you to be my wife, regardless of whether I’m a prince or some schmuck you met in a roadside diner. Okay?”
A smile pulls on her lips, momentarily erasing her nerves. “Okay.”
“Right then,” Nathan says, shooting to his feet in one swift motion. “If you’re finished, I suggest we head to the palace. It wouldn’t be a good first impression for Ms. Tremblay if we were to arrive late on her first day.”
I check my watch. It’s already a little after 9:30.
“Are you ready?” I glance at her plate, noting she’s only had a few bites of toast. “You’ve barely eaten anything.”
“I’ll probably vomit it all up anyway,” she says with a small laugh, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin and placing it beside her plate.
I do the same, then push away from the table, helping Nora to her feet.
“Are you sure? I can have them pack some fruit for you to eat on the drive.”
“I’m sure.” She places her hand on my chest. “I just need to get through this press conference. Then I’ll let you feed me a huge meal of your favorite local foods. Okay?”
“Okay.” I place a kiss on her forehead, then lead her from the dining room and toward a new life she never could have imagined in her wildest dreams.
I hope it doesn’t become a nightmare.
Chapter Eleven
Nora
“Just keep your eyes forward and ignore the circus,” Anderson says, squeezing my hand in the back seat of the SUV as Creed navigates toward the palace.
People line the streets of Montrose, the picturesque capital city of Belmont, hoping to catch a glimpse of the formal announcement today. Or perhaps they’re here to protest the idea of their beloved crown prince marrying an American, some still holding onto hope of a Gabriel-Caroline marriage.
During my snooping this morning, I learned there are some fanatics out there who’ve even given them a couple name — Gabrieline. I try to not allow that inconsequential fact to eat away at me. She was someone Anderson sought comfort in when his life had been turned upside down. I did the same thing after I lost Hunter and Ember. I didn’t realize how passionate some of these people were about their prince. In my eyes, he’s an ordinary man who lives an extraordinary life. To everyone else, he’s their beloved Prince Gabriel. They adore him.
Which will make my job that much harder.
He leans toward me, his fingers lifting the material of my dress above my knee and grazing my skin. “Just think about all the naughty things I’m going to do to you when we get back home,” he whispers, his voice low, dangerous.
It sends a shiver through me, my core clenching. I shift in my seat, squeezing my thighs together as I push down the desire filling me. I don’t know how this man does it. One touch, and all my trepidation disappears. He makes me forget about the world. Forget about everything except us and the love that grows stronger every day.
“Naughty?” I murmur, turning my lips toward his, but remaining out of reach.
His leering stare skates over my body, his pupils dilating. “Very.” He brushes a gentle kiss to my cheek, at odds with the carnal heat in his gaze. He pulls back as the SUV slows outside a pair of wrought-iron gates, an imposing, brick building looming in the distance.
From the research I’ve done, Lamberside Palace is over 500 years old and boasts several hundred rooms. It functions as the primary residence of the monarch, as well as the executive offices of the monarchy and royal household.
Cobblestone lines the vast courtyard leading up to the sprawling estate, two smaller wings jutting out on either side of the main building, each impressive in its own right. I’ve seen large houses before. Hell, Evie’s husband, Julian, is one of the wealthiest men in the United States. Or he would be if he didn’t donate a huge portion of his annual income to charity. But his stately home in Rye, extravagant villa in the Hamptons, and lavish Columbus Circle penthouse pale in comparison.
And this was where Anderson spent the majority of his formative years.
And once his father voluntarily abdicates in a few years, this will be where I live.
Holy fuck.
If I was nervous before, my anxiety about today just increased tenfold. Hell, a thousandfold.
“So… This is where you grew up?” I say as nonchalantly as possible.
Anderson looks at me, then breaks into a throaty laugh. “Not much to write home about, is it?”
“Doesn’t everyone grow up in a building that’s featured on postcards?”
His laughter only increases as he slings an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer and kissing my temple. If I don’t make light of this situation, I’ll lose my mind.
“If you look closely at one of those postcards, perhaps you might see me giving the photographer a show.”
“Is that right?”
“There may have been a few times I invited a few of my mates over and we all decided to go streaking through the gardens and swam in the reflecting pool.”
“Gardens? Reflecting pool? What… No orchestra shell? This really is subpar.”