Tangled Up in Princes (Royal Romances Book 1), page 5
"No," Jamie laughed, "Not one of us. Just feel free to take a scenic route back if you please."
Jamie was buying Edward some time. That or he was hoping their meandering would lose Dinah and Daniel. Either way, Edward was grateful. That was new. How many times had he found himself grateful to Jamie? None that he could recall, not since they were boys. Although his brother was a good sort, he was hardly the type one depended upon for help.
Edward took Carrie's hand. He leaned in closer to her.
"I'm sorry for all this…the walk earlier, and the dance, it was--"
I felt like myself and not just a member of the royal family. But he couldn't say that. She'd think him mad. One simply did not say such things to someone you'd only met a few hours ago.
"I think it best that Jamie and I leave, lest we turn Phillip's wedding into a spectacle. We're needed back at the palace now, but I'd like to see you again."
"I'd like that."
"I shall try to return for the wedding, but I can't promise you that. I wish I could, but this is a difficult time for my family just now."
After a pause, she said, "I understand."
She didn't understand, and he couldn't make her understand. For all that he'd rather be here with her, his life wasn't his own. His time belonged to his family. Ultimately, he was the property of the British people. There was no way he could make her comprehend that, but perhaps he could make her understand how very much he wished things were different. He pulled her in for a kiss, one that had his heart pounding and his mind dulling. He didn't care who was watching. Her lips were warm and eager on his. He wanted to sink into this moment, to drown in it.
"Right there," Jamie said, seemingly from far away.
"That black Porsche, that's Edward's car. Have you ever seen a Porsche up close before?" he asked their driver, "Come on, I'll show it to you."
"Might I take a photo of you?" the driver asked. "Maybe one of the two of us? My friends at work will never believe me otherwise."
"Of course."
Jamie was trying to give him and Carrie some privacy. Edward appreciated the gesture, but he couldn't allow Jamie to be unattended without a security detail, not exposed out in the open like this. There was more he wanted to say to Carrie, but there was also nothing left that words could clarify. With one more kiss, a kiss that claimed her entirely, Edward got out of the car.
***
It was a cliché, the whole thing about poorly bred people, say, those from Kentucky, not knowing which fork to use. As is often the case, clichés are overused for a reason; it's because they're true. Claire sipped from her water glass because she had no idea how to eat with the dizzying array of silverware in front of her. Across the table, her father was also on his second refill of water. Her mother and Amanda seemed to be faring better: Amanda likely because she seldom ate anyway, and her mother because she'd simply chosen a single fork and gesticulated with it. Carrie looked down at her plate. It was fish, probably very expensive fish if the way it was looking at her was any indication. Call her a redneck, but she'd take a filet from Red Lobster any day over a fish that still had its head. Her dad raised an eyebrow at her. He was tugging at his starched collar. Carrie gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile.
The wedding rehearsal had gone well. The rehearsal dinner, on the other hand, was going on forever. She liked Phillip. She was thrilled he'd be her brother. But if she never saw the rest of his family again, well, that would be just fine with her. She heard the buzz of her phone vibrating inside her purse. She reached for it surreptitiously, happy for any distraction from her leering main course. She looked at the number. It was unfamiliar, but she recognized it as a London number. She excused herself from the table, giving her father an apologetic smile as she went.
"Hello?"
"Carrie? Is that you?"
"Edward. Oh God, but I'm glad to hear from you." She heard nothing from the other end of the line.
"Hello? Edward?"
She'd sounded too eager. Stupid, she chided herself.
"Yes, I'm here. It's good to hear your voice as well. How are you?"
She went to the alcove where she'd first met him.
"I'm hungry."
"Excuse me? Aren't they feeding you?"
"I don't mean to be insulting if it's a British thing, but I really prefer my dinner not to stare back at me."
He barked a laugh.
"What?"
"It was fish. I'm at the rehearsal dinner, and the fish still had a head. And eyes. And it stared at me."
"I bet you look beautiful. I reckon that was one happy fish."
"I doubt it. I'm pretty sure it was dead."
"Only pretty sure?"
"I repeat; it had eyes."
He laughed at her again.
"You probably think I'm some unsophisticated bumpkin. And well, you should know that I sort of am."
"I don't think you unsophisticated, and I'm not sure what a bumpkin is. But I do know that I've missed you these past few days."
She leaned back in her chair. He missed her. There went her heart, galloping off to Happytown again.
"Really? You missed me?"
"Every second. I've been trying to find a way to get back there, but ... it's a difficult time just now."
"Oh? Is everything okay?"
She heard him sigh, a sad sound that made her worry for him.
"Edward?"
"It's been a tough few days. I find my thoughts returning to the walk we shared."
So, he wouldn't tell her what was going on. Well, why should he?
"I miss you too," she said.
"Do you?"
”Of course."
"Have thoughts of me kept you up nights?"
If he only knew.
"Nah, I sleep like the dead. Amanda's keeping me busy."
"I can only imagine. So tell me, you're the maid of honor, correct? Aren't those gowns supposed to be hideous confections of pink ruffles?"
"This shindig is far too fancy for pink ruffles. I'm wearing navy blue silk. Very tasteful."
"You'll be lovely. I'm doing my damnedest to get back there for the wedding. How long are you staying?"
"We'll be leaving Monday morning."
"So soon? I'd have thought you'd stay for a bit."
"Amanda and Phillip are leaving Sunday for their honeymoon, and, um, there wasn't really any reason for me to stay longer than that."
"And now? Have you a reason to stay now?"
"Edward," she whispered his name.
For all her cavalier manner toward him, the truth was that she'd hardly thought of anything but him since they were last together. Was he keeping her awake at night? He was in her dreams. But she couldn't tell him that. Nothing drove a man away faster than a clingy woman. Besides, this was just a fling. One did not get all moon-eyed and heartsick over a fling.
"I love the way you say my name," he said in a voice like stubble rubbing against silk.
And she loved everything about him.
Dinner was over. Guests started filing out of the dining room. Her father came out loosening his tie and looking uncomfortable. Then came the Rhys-Coopers, looking poised and superior. Then Amanda and Phillip came out holding hands. They did look amazing together. Carrie hoped they would be happy. They could be. Unlike herself and Edward. Edward was royalty, and Carrie was just a girl from Kentucky. She'd do well to remember that.
She stood and started walking to her room.
"Dinner's over. I should go."
"But you didn't eat anything."
She forced a dry laugh, "That's okay. I lost my appetite."
"Carrie, I will get back there. I will not allow you to leave without seeing me again. I'll stop your plane if I have to, and don't think I haven't the authority to do it."
"There it is, all that vanity again."
"Of course, I've a reputation to uphold," he said, his jocular tone dwindling, "Make no mistake, I will see you again."
"Edward."--This was the wrong thing to say. She shouldn't say it--"I hope you can make it here. I really would love to see you again."
"I promise," he said, and they hung up.
She wanted to believe him. Oh, how she wanted it! But he was a prince. His world was completely foreign to her.
She snuck back into her room, glad that her absence had gone unnoticed. She needed a few hours alone. But a few hours was too much to hope for, she realized when a knock sounded on her door. She opened it, expecting to see Amanda. Instead, a young man in a leather jacket stood there.
"Are you Carrie MacCallum?"
"I am. Who are you?"
"I work at the pub down on High Street. We got a call from a bloke, said we was to deliver this here dinner to you. You ain't going to believe it, miss, but the man said he was Edward, the Prince of England."
He handed over a paper bag. Disbelief must have shown on her face.
"I didn't believe it either, but he charged the meal on a bank card issued to Edward Wales, and he gave me a hundred pound tip for the delivery. Anyhow, here's a supper for you."
She thanked the man, closed the door behind him, and opened the paper bag. The unmistakable smell of fried fish and chips wafted out. She laughed as she shoved fries in her mouth and fell a little more in love with her prince.
Chapter Four
Carrie sat at the old-fashioned, probably antique, dressing table brushing out her hair. She missed Edward. She wanted to see him again so badly there was an actual, physical ache from the longing. And she was pretty darned pissed about that.
"It was just supposed to be a fling, you idiot," she said to her reflection.
Carrie yanked her hair, separating it into sections, and began braiding. She should have known better. She just wasn't fling material. What did she know about a fling? Amanda was the one who knew about flings. Look where it got her -- getting married to a gorgeous, rich, impossibly kind man. Where did it get Carrie? Sitting alone in her room, waiting for Edward for the second night in a row, that was where.
"He's not coming," she told herself, "He's probably in London, or maybe even Paris, with some size triple zero supermodel. For all I know, he's engaged to some gorgeous princess from ... from ... from some country that still has princesses. Here I am pining away for a guy I barely know. I am such an idiot!"
"Actually, you're not, not from what Edward says."
Carrie let out a scream as a portion of the wall behind her moved, and a beautiful woman stepped out.
"You must be Carrie. I'm Lizzy, Edward's sister."
"You just came through the wall," Carrie gaped.
"Secret passage. My ancestors couldn't let something like propriety keep them from much-anticipated nighttime excursions."
"Your ancestors?"
"They built this castle. Of course, that's been hundreds of years ago."
She dusted cobwebs from her hair.
"And I bet it's been nearly that long since anybody used that passage."
"You're a princess."
Carrie jumped to her feet. Again with the whole curtsy question. What was proper protocol when the Princess Royal popped out of the wall in your room?
Lizzy bent to look in the mirror and adjusted her very expensive sweater, silk and cashmere if Carrie was any judge.
"You're wrong about Edward. He isn't some international playboy. He isn't out with a supermodel or a princess. He's utterly responsible in every particular, probably the best of our lot," Lizzy grinned, "And he isn't a jerk or a bridge troll."
"Oh man, he told you that?"
"Jamie told me. Actually, Jamie has told everyone. You've quite endeared yourself to my brothers."
"I'm sorry for calling your brother names."
"Are you really?"
"No. He had it coming, but I don't want you to have me thrown in the dungeon or something."
Lizzy laughed a wide, open-mouthed laugh.
"I like you, indeed, I do. I will tell Edward that I approve."
"Could you also tell him that I'm through waiting for him, and I don't care if I ever see him again?"
"If you're quite serious on that count, it would be a shame. He sent me here to deliver a message. He wants you to meet him on the rooftop later. I think he's arranged for a dinner up there. He'd have called, but he's afraid someone is tracking him using his mobile."
Lizzy rolled her eyes as though she found this possibility preposterous.
"He didn't want to risk having you hounded by paparazzi."
Carrie put a hand to her temple. Two princes, a princess, and paparazzi-- it made her head spin. She was only a knitting shop owner from Kentucky, after all.
Lizzy rested a hand on Carrie's shoulder.
"I know it's a lot. If you aren't used to it, it can be overwhelming. Just give it a bit of time. Edward really likes you. I've never seen him this way about a woman before. Try to get past the title and the family to see what he really is."
"I don't care about the title,” Carrie said.
"That's why you're so perfect for him. Only try to be patient with us."
"He's really coming later? You're certain?"
"He told me, and Edward is nothing if not a man of his word."
Footsteps coming down the hall stopped outside the door.
"That'll be my sister, Amanda."
"Phillip's bride?"--Lizzy darted back toward the passage--"I'd better be going."
"Wait. Will I see you at the wedding?"
"At Phillip's wedding? I hardly think so."
She vanished into the wall just as the door opened. Amanda gave one quick knock before barging right in.
"I heard voices."
Carrie picked up her phone and gestured with it.
"How is Jeannie? A shame she couldn't come."
It was just like Amanda to assume Carrie was on the phone with her best friend. Of course, if Carrie had been on the phone, it would have been with Jeannie because -- let's face it -- Carrie had no life. Not yet. Not until later tonight.
"So? What's up now?"
Amanda flounced onto the bed. Why simply sit when flouncing was so much more dramatic?
"Do you think I'm making the right decision?"
"Absolutely. I don't care what Mrs. Rhys-Cooper thinks, crystal candle holders will completely disappear on the table settings. The brass ones will look better, even if they are cheaper."
"I'm not talking about that."
"What are you talking about then? The color of the linens? The flowers for the bouquet? What? I'm having trouble keeping up."
"I'm talking about marrying Phillip."
Whoa. Carrie sat down rather abruptly on the antique padded stool.
"Where's this coming from?"
Amanda blew out a sigh, "Oh, you know."
"I promise you, I don't know. Why don't you enlighten me?"
"Phillip is great. I mean, look at this place. I'm getting married in a Scottish castle."
"But you're not marrying the Scottish castle. You're marrying Phillip. We talked about this once already. You said you were sure that even if Phillip was as poor as a church mouse, you'd still want to marry him."
"And I would. I do. It's just ... he's so solid and steady."
"Solid and steady are good traits in a husband."
"They are. But I'm not solid or steady. I'm flighty and prone to distraction."
No use arguing that one.
"I think acknowledging that shows great personal growth." How was that for diplomatic?
"I'm just not sure I'm good enough for him. And I'm not talking about the money or class. I just mean me. I'm not sure I'm good wife material, not for somebody like Phillip."
Carrie rubbed at her temples. Hadn't she voiced the same concerns to Edward just a few days ago? Edward, who wanted to see her again, who sent his sister to give her a message, who was planning a romantic dinner for her this very night. Focus, she ordered herself. Right.
"Phillip knows you. He knows that you're flighty and prone to distraction, and he loves you anyway. He wouldn't have asked you to marry him if he didn't. And you love him. If you didn't, you wouldn't be worrying about whether or not you're good enough for him."
Amanda sat swinging one leg over the edge of the bed, her designer pump dangling from her foot. "I guess."
For all that she was boastful and pretentious, Amanda was insecure inside. She looked like an abandoned puppy sitting there on the massive four poster bed, staring off into space. Carrie had always had a soft spot for puppies. She pulled her sister into a fierce embrace and kissed the top of her perfect blond head.
"Thanks, Sis. You know, I don't deserve you either."
"I know."
Amanda gave Carrie a big smacking kiss on the cheek. She stood, head held high, and walked to the door.
"And you're absolutely right about the candle holders too. Thanks."
Amanda blew Carrie a kiss as she left. Carrie slumped onto the bed. She really hoped she'd done the right thing just then. For Amanda, but also for Phillip.
"I'm sure it was just last minute jitters," she said aloud, "Totally normal. Happens to everybody."
She may have convinced Amanda, but she was having trouble convincing herself. Thoughts of Edward drove her concerns underground. When would he come? What if he got held up again? She grabbed her phone and read to take her mind off him. It didn't work. Her thoughts kept straying from the words in front of her, drifting back to Edward and replaying their every moment together. She gave up on reading and turned to Facebook for distraction instead. When that failed, she gave in and Googled Edward to ogle sexy pictures of him.
"Mmmm," she purred over one particularly luscious photo, a candid, probably snapped by paparazzi, of him sweaty and shirtless at a beach somewhere.
When a knock sounded from the hidden passage Lizzy had come through, Carrie was feeling more than a little forgiving toward Edward. She checked her look in the full-length oval mirror. She looked horny. Flushed cheeks, glazed eyes, erect nipples -- he'd think she was a slut. Her reflection quirked an eyebrow at her. And what was wrong with that? Hadn't she started this whole thing just wanting a fling?
The knock sounded again. Was she going to stand here all night contemplating how to behave or was she going to invite the man--the incredibly sexy man--in? No contest, she slid back a cleverly disguised panel.
