Something in the Heir (It's Reigning Men, #1) (23 page)

Soon after that the flight attendant served them Peking duck and Szechuan beef proper. They ate till they were nearly ill, saving just enough room for the yule log cake that simply needed to be eaten by someone. It
was
Christmas, after all.

The girls began to nod off as
It’s a Wonderful Life
drew to a close.

“This has been like the best slumber party ever,” Emma said as she drifted off to sleep. “All that was missing was cotton candy and snow cones. But I don’t even like cotton candy or snow cones, so who cares?”

“Don’t forget the unicorns. The good news is the party’s only just begun,” Caroline said, just out of Emma’s earshot.

They both awoke with time to shower and refresh themselves. And before they knew it, their plane was touching down in God only knew where. All Emma could tell was it was snowing. Fat chunks of snow gathered strength as the jet slowed down and finally stopped at yet another private terminal.

The pilot opened the cockpit door and greeted the women.

“Welcome, ladies. I understand I’m not to disclose where you are, so my lips are sealed,” he said.

There was a long, black limousine parked near the jet, and a driver with a black cap and crisp leather gloves and long black camelhair coat got out of the car and scurried to collect their bags. The girls were directed to the back of the limo, where fresh pastries awaited them with fresh-squeezed orange juice and yet more champagne.

“I don’t know why but this good stuff doesn’t give you headaches,” Caroline said.

“I’m not one to drink at breakfast but considering I have no bloody idea where I am, what have I got to lose?” Emma said.

“You might just gain something,” her friend said, leaving Emma with a quizzical look on her face.

They drove for about twenty minutes past rolling countryside. Emma couldn’t help but notice all of the adorable cozy farmhouses peppering the fields, with smoke whorling from chimneys, looking straight out of a Christmas card. The snow was falling heavier now, and a layer of white covered the roads and surrounding pastureland. The hillsides were dotted with black and white cows looking decidedly chilled as snow mounted atop their backs.

Soon the countryside yielded to more dense development, with beautiful old gothic buildings coming into view. Here and there were statues of Greek and Roman gods and war heroes, and for the life of her Emma couldn’t figure out what the hell this was all about. And then the car came upon a mammoth building that looked like a castle, with spires and turrets and crenellations and all sorts of old battlements. No moat, that’s for sure. But there were gorgeous gargoyles, a personal favorite since reading
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
. She wanted to be sure she wasn’t going to have boiling oil poured on her head, were she to get closer. They drove alongside this large castle-like building, which was surrounded by a tall black wrought-iron fence with gold flourishes, the tops of which were garnished with gold fleurs–de-lis.

Emma stared out the window at this structure, so regal and palatial, and then the truth dawned on her.

She gasped. “Impossible,” she said, turning to Caroline.

Caroline pretended to zip her lips shut and swallow the key.

“It can’t be. Can it?”

Caroline shrugged her shoulders and turned to keep looking out the window. Even though it was daytime they could see fairy lights covering the building and even the gorgeous fence surrounding it. The limousine was ushered through two very tall gates, each bearing an enormous crest in gold leaf, in the shape of dueling griffins. The car pulled up the pebbled drive to the front of this palatial estate and came to a halt.

A few minutes later, two men standing guard in front of a grand marble staircase, wearing military attire that clearly required a whole lot of ironing, polishing and buffing, opened the door and greeted the women.

“Welcome to Monaforte, madame,” one said to Emma, who became weak at the knees as he spoke the words she dared not ever expect to hear.

She stared at Caroline. “Monaforte?” she mouthed to her.

“Yeah, so maybe I told you Darcy made a deal for me to come to a big party here, right?” she said. “Well, I couldn’t do that without my best friend, now could I?”

Emma deflated for a minute. So it wasn’t for her that she was here. It was her friend, summoned here by Darcy. It had nothing to do with Adrian.
Oh well, it is what it is. Might as well make the best of things, enjoy this for what it is. After all, there weren’t many Americans who get to party at a palace in Europe, right?

E
mma
and Caroline were escorted by a footman in a morning suit into the, well, what would it be called? Foyer? Lobby? Front hall? Giant bloody damned space designed for nothing but standing around feeling inadequate?

Before them were two red-carpeted spiral staircases, one to the left and one to the right, the kind you would descend if only for dramatic effect on your wedding day with a fifty-foot embroidered Belgian lace train held aloft by a team of virginal bridesmaids while small maidens led the way scattering rose petals for your Christian Louboutin-clad feet to tread upon. The railing — a gleaming gold, with an intricate pattern worked throughout — looked like it would be a real bitch to polish.

The footman, who Emma expected at any moment to launch into a lesson on proper grammar and pronunciation, beginning with
the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plains
, escorted them up the stairs and down a hallway he said was the Corridor of Elders, filled floor to ceiling with historic artwork, and opened a panel in the wall that was actually a door. A secret door!

A lovely woman with a somber, starched gray dress, a pressed white apron, and one of those poofy white maid’s caps on her head greeted them and then asked them to wait while she disappeared into an inner sanctum. Emma and Caroline stood by nervously for a few minutes until a woman dressed in a stylish crimson satin suit jacket and skirt who looked a bit like Julie Andrews from the
Sound of Music
, her brown hair cropped short to her face, with soft blue eyes and a welcoming smile, greeted them. She extended her hands.

“Emma from America?” she said with just a hint of curiosity as she sized her up and down.

“Yes, ma’am. Emma Jamison,” Emma said a bit hesitantly, sizing her up right back.

Caroline introduced herself as well.

“You can call me Ariana,” the woman said in reply, nodding in acknowledgment at the nearby maid, who looked surprised at her informality.

And Emma’s mouth went dry, and she went even weaker at the knees. "Ariana, as in
the queen
?” she said, gulping just a little bit.

“One and the same, I’m afraid.”

“Nothing to be afraid of with that, ma’am. After all, who doesn’t want to be queen? By that I mean queen of
peoples’ hearts
. Or princess. Or whatever it was Diana was. Not that I’m looking to be queen, I mean,” Emma said, mentally kicking herself the moment she launched into her jibberish. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit confused. How do you know who I am?”

“I understand you housed my little boy when he chose to run away from home,” she said with a wink. “Further still I was told you took very good care of him, and for that I am eternally grateful.”

If she only knew how much she actually failed to meet the man’s needs— make that
desires
— this lady would be over the moon, might even owe her a steak dinner.

Emma nodded. “It was nothing, really.”

“Why, it must have been something, as you seem to have left quite an impression on my son.”

Which was news to Emma, especially considering she hadn’t heard boo from him since he’d left. Even though she did tell him to not reach out to her, since it would only make it harder. Could it be possible he really did miss her?

“I just helped him to feel at home.” Emma summoned up the image of Adrian in that Statue of David apron, which made her smile at the thought of how much fun they had together.

“I assume you’re well aware of what Adrian was running from,” his mother said. “It seems that in so running, he ran right into what he didn’t know he wanted all along.”

Emma squinted her eyes, trying to digest what she was hearing. “And that would be?”

“You, my dear.”

Emma felt her palms get all sweaty and she was sure she was hearing ringing in her ears. It almost felt as if her surroundings were swimming before her eyes. She took a handful of cleansing breaths, trying to get a grip.

“I’m still not exactly clear how I ended up on that completely sweet ride over the Atlantic,” Emma said. “By the way, thanks for that. I will remember that for the rest of my life. I can’t believe we didn’t even have to go through security! I can’t tell you how much better it is flying that way.”

Caroline elbowed Emma in the ribs to shut her up. Ariana began to laugh.

“My dears, you are most welcome. I’m so glad you enjoyed your flight and hope that they took exquisite care of you.”

“It was perfect,” Caroline interjected before her friend could babble for even a second more.

“I should explain my intentions, why I summoned you on Christmas day, of all things,” the queen said. “Please, come join me for a hot drink while I tell you what’s in store for you.”

~*~

A
half hour later Emma and Caroline were ushered to their rooms — complete with large beds with goose down comforters that would swallow you whole, and pillows, and pillows that had pillows. The room was hung with seventeenth century tapestries and decorated with antique silver so brightly polished you’d have thought it was new. There were two Labrador retrievers who followed close on their heels and if they hadn’t felt at home till that point, that surely set the pace.

“Would it be weird if I asked if one of the dogs could sleep with me?” Emma asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Caroline said. “Besides, with a bit of luck, you might have a much bigger dog to tussle with in that huge bed.”

Emma blushed. “Stop it!”

“Stop nothing! You rubbed the magic lantern and here we are. You’d better enjoy that genie while it lasts.”

“Come off it, Caro. You know I’m not here for Adrian, per se,” Emma said. “The queen —can you even stand that I just said that, like we’re buds or something —merely invited us here as a thank you for taking such good care of her son. Nothing more. He’ll probably run for the hills when he sees me.”

“Yeah, I see two hills he’ll be heading straight for,” Caroline said, pointing at Emma’s chest with a laugh.

“You’re a creeper.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Okay, just calling it as I see it. The guy’s hot for you, and I’ll say that to infinity so you can’t negate it. Just accept it and move on.”

“Fine. Whatever. On a more immediate note, then, I can’t believe they’re providing clothes for us to wear. I feel like Cinderella or something.”

“Yeah like that Dress Shack dress you packed wasn’t fancy enough or something.”

“It wasn’t from the Dress Shack,” Emma said. “I got that at Klothing Korner.”

“My bad. Much higher-class establishment.”

“Who knew you’d have to wear a ball gown to eat a gingerbread house?” Emma said. “Speaking of, I cannot believe we get to pig out at a party. Is this a great country or what?”

“Champagne, cookies and candy. I could be persuaded to stick around,” her friend said. “Kidding! I know my carriage turns into a pumpkin at midnight. Yours, however...remains to be seen.”

“Seriously, Caro. Things like this don’t happen to girls like me. So don’t start concocting crazy fantasies about this. I’m sure it’ll just be two friends catching up and having fun eating till we throw up.”

“You’re such a romantic.”

~*~

B
efore she knew it, Emma was practically stitched into a sapphire blue velvet ball gown with a crisscrossing bodice, a sweetheart neckline and coordinating fitted shrug. Her hair had been blown-out and was pulled back in a high ponytail. A lady in waiting or some such thing had even put fake eyelashes on her. Emma was going to ask Caroline if they should expect ten lords a-leaping to show up soon, but she decided not to break the spell with her smart-aleck jokes. She felt as close to a princess as she would ever be. Caroline had chosen a burgundy satin v-neck gown cut on the bias that hugged her curves and flared out below the knee like a Spanish dancer.

“Damn, we sure do clean up nicely,” Caroline said.

“We’re almost like those women I photograph all the time.”

“Just like ’em, if you ask me. Make that better.”

They fist-bumped and slipped into their amazingly comfortable too-tall designer heels, all part of the fairy-tale wardrobe courtesy of the queen. Clearly she could get things done, if she could slap together outfits for the two of them, on a national holiday, no less.

“We’re off to the ball, then,” Emma said, gritting her teeth from nervousness.

“Correction,” her friend said. “We’re off to pig out.”

“That I can relate to. Thanks for the reminder,” she said as they followed their handler to the great ballroom.

~*~

“C
heers, mate,” Darcy said, tipping his highball glass of scotch to clink with Adrian’s. “Here’s to the soon-to-be new year full of freedom.”

Adrian offered a weak smile. “Yeah, to freedom.” He gave his friend a nod as he took a slug of his drink.

“Just think about it. You could have been about to be dragged down the aisle with a ball and chain locked to your ankle. Saved by the bell.”

“Indeed.” Adrian frowned.

“Come on, man,” Darcy said as he chucked him in the bicep. “This is the biggest party of the year. You’ll have your choice of women tonight. Why not suffer through and make the best of a bad situation.”

“Funny,” Adrian said. “I know you’re trying to amuse me, but I’m not in the mood, thanks.”

“You’re still mooning over that American girl?”

“Mooning sounds so pathetic,” he said. “But yes, I miss her. Perhaps more than I even thought I would.”