Something in the Heir (It's Reigning Men, #1) (19 page)

“A woman’s prerogative to change her mind,” she reminded him. “Believe me, it’s not what I’d choose. But it’s all just too complicated. It’s making me exhausted trying to figure it all out. And now you’ve got that Serena girl putting the full-court press on you.

“Tell you what: I’ll make a deal. After you clear up all this engagement stuff and you’ve convinced your mother that you would like nothing better than to have a little trans-Atlantic fling with the likes of me, and she provides her unequivocal stamp of approval — and it needs to be a royal stamp, maybe even an official royal decree, for authenticity’s sake — then talk to me about continuing this, this, whatever it is this is.” She held her hands out to try to encompass her confusion over it all.

Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose as if staving off a migraine. In all his years he’d never met such a steadfast rejecter of his advances. It was like she was some bizarre force of nature, a hurricane pressed up against his own gale-force winds of momentum to the contrary.

“It’s a good thing I’m an honorable man,” he said. “But I can’t be held accountable for anything that might transpire while I’m sound asleep. I might develop a sudden sleepwalking habit, for instance. And with your bed right there...”

“I’ll risk it," she said, handing him his T-shirt and shorts. “Now, off to bed with you.”

~*~

E
mma was the one who was unable to sleep, however, and found herself before dawn curled up on the sofa, working on her grandmother’s quilt.

“Hey,” Adrian said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he entered the living room thirty minutes later. “You so anxious to work on that thing before the wedding you’re never going to allow yourself to have that you got up in the middle of the night?”

He sat down next to her.

“Ha. Ha. You’ve got me in stitches. Get it?”

Adrian leaned forward and inspected her handiwork as she slid the tiny needle through the layers of fabric and batting.

“I don’t know how you can even see what you’re doing there,” he said as she dipped the needle up then down five times before drawing it through.

“Trust me, at this hour I can’t see it so well,” Emma said. “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to commune with my grandma. It’s what I do when I need to think. It soothes me.”

“You needed soothing? I could’ve taken care of that, you know.” He patted her knee.

She reached over and scratched his head. “I know you could. But it’s not quite the same.” She took a deep breath and released a long sigh. “As long as I could remember, I would sit next to my grandma as she worked away on those tiny stitches, for hours at a time. It was a testament to her commitment, that’s for sure. Of course she was alone, so she had a lot of time on her hands.”

“Your grandfather wasn’t around?”

She shrugged. “He died when I was a baby so I never knew him. I guess my grandma sort of latched onto me as a coping device back then.”

Adrian waved his hands. “I’d hardly call you a coping device. I’m sure she adored you.”

Emma nodded. “Of course she did. I didn’t mean it like that. I guess I was a really good distraction for her in her loneliness.”

“What about you? Were you lonely?”

“Me?”

“You didn’t have brothers or sisters, so perhaps it was a bit lonely for an only child?”

“Heck, I don’t know. I guess that’s why I found comfort in my grandma —she was always there for me. My parents always seemed to be so paired up with each other. But me and Grandma, we were a team.”

Adrian glanced over at here. “You miss her a lot?”

“Like mad, sometimes. She was my calming influence. She’s the one I’d talk to — oh, never mind.”

“What?”

“When I’d have boy troubles. My grandmother always reminded me it was them, not me. When I got another puncture in my self-esteem, she was there to plug up the hole.”

“So you watched your grandmother being alone all those years and it didn’t make you yearn to have someone yourself?”

Emma set down her needle for a second. “Huh. I hadn’t thought about it that way. Now that you mention it, my grandmother was all about wanting me to settle down at some point with the man of my dreams.”

“Wise woman, your grandmother.”

“Yeah but it’s all an illusion. Don’t you see that? That’s why I’m just not interested in the pursuit anymore. For what? To get my hopes up, only to have my heart crushed yet again as some man steamrolls over it?”

“They don’t all end that way, you know.”

“For me they do.”

“Maybe you’re just frontloading your statistics so it appears skewed. Perhaps you’ve rid yourself of all the bad luck and from here on out it will be only good. Did you ever think of it that way?”

Emma just stared off in the distance. If that were the case, then she’d end up with Adrian. And she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not in this lifetime, anyhow.

“Can I interest you in a cup of tea?” Emma asked. “I’ll put the television on quietly so you can keep busy while you’re wide awake at the wrong hour.”

She stood up, revealing that she was draped in a cheap-looking, too-long, zebra print straitjacket of sorts. Adrian just sort of stared at it for a minute, furrowing his brow.

“You think this is strange?” she said, her arms spreading across her coverall.

Adrian chuckled. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever seen whatever it is you’re wearing before. It’s just, I guess I’d say it’s, um, interesting.”

Emma spread her arms and gave a twirl. “You don’t like my zebra Snuggie?”

“Snuggie?”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s a super tacky trend from a few years back. To be truthful, I never cared for the things, but my grandma bought me this for Christmas one year, so it’s something I’ve held onto as part of my collection of all-things-grandma. Usually no one sees me actually wearing the thing.”

“Consider yourself fortunate.”

She popped him jokingly on the head. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a matching one.”

“Keep reminding yourself of that while I happily go on about my life not looking like a zebra about to be hauled off to a mental institution.”

Emma stuck out her tongue at him as she disappeared into the kitchen to make him tea.

A few minutes later she handed him his cup of tea and then scrolled through channels until she found Nick at Night, which was hosting a
Beverly Hillbillies
marathon.

“What kismet! This is perfect. For you, good sir, no better taste of Americana than this, for your viewing pleasure.” She rubbed her hands together with glee. “It’s is the stuff of my childhood; it’ll give you great insight into who I am. And not necessarily in a good way.”

They sat quietly, the television turned very low, for a few hours, she working on her quilting project, he engrossed in Jed and Elly May, Jethro Bodine and Granny Clampett.

When Ellen awoke a while later, she suggested they invite Darcy and Caroline for breakfast. Adrian tried to contact Darcy, only to realize he must have turned the phone off the night before, so Emma texted Caroline, telling him Adrian wanted Darcy to switch the phone on for emergency purposes.

A short while later there was a knock at the door.

Since Emma was helping in the kitchen, Adrian answered it.

“Well, well, well, it sure took the two of you a long enough—” Adrian said as he started to look up, only to gasp at what stood before him. “Serena?”

“Adrian! It’s about time I tracked you down!” she said, wrapping her arms around him in a tight squeeze. As she loosened her hold and her hand dragged down his arm to grab his hand, Adrian glanced down to notice a gleaming rock on the third finger of her left hand.
My God
,
it’s even worse than I thought! She is so desperate to be engaged to me she got the ball rolling with an engagement ring of her own choosing?

“Serena?” he stammered. “What might I ask are you doing here?”

“I could likely ask the same of you,” she said, smiling in a devious way as she tapped him on the tip of his nose with her well-manicured pointer finger. “Not exactly your usual hangout.”

He pulled her out onto the front porch. “How the hell did you find me here?”

“Let’s just say I have a close friend in the national intelligence service,” she said. “I told you it was urgent and we needed to talk but you kept dismissing me.”

“Because I didn’t want to be disturbed!” he hissed.

“Calm down. Now, now, no need to get snippy,” she said, looking around at the modest house, assessing his new digs.

“This part of your world domination tour?” she asked, arching her eyebrow.

“What is it you so desperately need from me, Serena?”

Just then Bob opened the door wearing one of those nightshirts you see the dad in
'Twas the Night Before Christmas
wearing. Could things get any stranger?

“Son!” he said to Adrian. “Well, er, is son okay to say? I’m not sure about your type, if you prefer something a little less, uh, masculine?”

Serena’s eyes bugged open and she nodded in query to Adrian.

“By all means, son is perfectly fine,” he said. “Though I suppose it would be inappropriate to call you Dad?” He winked and forced a laugh, trying to deflect the entire conversation.

“Who’s the little lady here?” Bob asked. “More company for breakfast I see?”

“Why breakfast would be lovely,” Serena said, reaching out her hand to introduce herself. “I’m absolutely famished. I’ve been flying all night!”

Adrian glared at Serena. Geez, if Emma thought things had been complicated before, now they were in quicksand up to their thighs.

“Are you another friend of Adrian’s?" he asked. “Though I’m sure you’re not that kind of ‘friend.’” He made air quotes around the last word.

Serena squinted at him, first wondering who this strange man in a dress addressing the future king of Monaforte so casually was, and secondly what in the world he meant.

“Serena is an old friend from back home,” Adrian said. “We’ve known one another since childhood.” He nudged her to just play along.

“Well, come on in and sit down, then!” Bob said as he ushered them both inside, his cheery voice booming in the early morning quiet.

“Adrian, would you ask Darcy and Caroline what they’d like to drink?” Emma shouted from the kitchen.

“I would, but they’re not here. I can ask
Serena
what she’d like, however,” he said, putting heavy emphasis on her name.

“Serena?” Emma said. “Good one! Are you trying to torment me or something?”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever known anyone to consider me a torturess before,” Serena said as she stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her arms crossed authoritatively.

Emma’s ears perked up at the posh, accented voice of a woman a few feet behind her, and she spun around and took in all five feet nine inches of lithe, blonde and loathsome Lady Serena Montague. Thoroughly unwrinkled and very nearly perfect in an expensive-looking red silk poplin dress that made her look like a huge ribbon tying up an early Christmas gift for Adrian. The contrast to Emma’s schleppy get-up was downright mortifying.

Emma dried her wet hands and tried to fluff her hair, realizing too late she still hadn’t even brushed her teeth. And at least she could’ve looked cute in her adorable pajamas but instead had on that wretched Snuggie. It would hardly be a toss-up as to who showed better at this little smackdown.

“I’m sorry. Please forgive the way that came out,” Emma said, stammering. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Which led you to feel tormented upon my arrival?”

Adrian interrupted. “It’s a long story. It really has very little to do with you, Serena, and much to do with my mother.”

Serena nodded her head. “Indeed, which is what brings me here.”

“Hup two,” Ellen piped in before Serena could continue. “Let’s everyone wash our hands and get seated. I wonder where the others are? Their food is going to get cold.”

“Hup two? You’re a drill sergeant now?” Emma muttered, withering just a bit more in embarrassment.

They all took turns washing their hands like good little children after further introductions were completed, and finally sat down to a most awkward breakfast.

“Dear, would you start passing the scrambled eggs,” her mother said. “I’ll send the pancakes the other way. That way no one has to wait.”

Her mother had made pancakes in the shape of rudimentary animals, just like when Emma was a girl.

“Mrs. Davison, your breakfast-making skills are fantastic,” Adrian said before tucking into his plate of food. He was desperate to steer the conversation clear of anything potentially life-altering. Like everything.

“Take this dog, for instance,” he continued, holding up a pancake. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen someone craft animals into breakfast food before. Or should I call these vittles?”

He was clearly coming down from Granny Clampett overload. Emma chose to ignore that comment.

“Oh that’s not a dog,” her mother said. “It’s a kangaroo!”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Just go with it,” she whispered to them.

Before Emma could think of an appropriate reply, they heard a loud rap on the door. Adrian couldn’t jump out of his chair fast enough to answer it. Which led Serena to wonder into what universe she’d been transported, with His Royal Highness being reduced to servant boy.

“Sheesh, mate, no phone,” Darcy said, shaking his head as he walked into the living room. “I sure hope you’ve got it on you somewhere.”

Adrian pushed the two of them back out onto the porch as he tried to explain about their unexpected visitor.

“Serena? What’s that slag doing here?” Darcy asked upon hearing the news of their special visitor. “She’s hunting you down, is she? Gonna drag you back by your hair, right down the aisle. She’s a veritable cavewoman.”

He started whistling “Here Comes the Bride” and Adrian was ready to clock him one.

“I don’t know why she’s here or how she even found me, but I do know she’s got an engagement ring on! She’s trying to rope me into this so badly she bought her own ring!”

“Oh, God. And you had the phone. Which meant it was traceable. How could we have let that happen. Though never did I think she’d be the one hunting you down. I thought your mother would be front in line for that honor.”