Tangled Up in Princes (Royal Romances Book 1) (12 page)

"Oh no. If you want to keep a low profile in this town, Josephine's is not the place for it. You British have the tabloids, and here in Spring Valley, we have Josephine's."

"Brilliant."

Before she could stop him, he pushed through the door.

Stifling a groan, she followed him inside. Conversation died away the moment they entered. Instead of at least choosing a corner booth in the back, Jamie chose a round table smack in the middle of the restaurant.

"What's good here?" he asked, scanning the laminated menu, "Old-fashioned grits with bacon," he read aloud, "Do you know, I have never in my life consumed a grit. Don't even know what a grit is, actually, but I'm keen to find out. One should learn as much of the world as possible, especially if one is to someday be the ruler of a vast kingdom."

"Shhh. I don't know what you're playing at here, but you're getting in way over your head."

The waitress took their order, staring at Jamie the entire time. It was amazing really, how she managed to write, flirt, and drool all at once.

"Spill it," Carrie demanded when the waitress had gone.

"You first. Tell me how you are."

"I'm fine. What are you doing here? Did Edward send you?" She asked, her voice pathetically hopeful.

He took off his sunglasses and stowed them in the pocket of his leather jacket.

"No. Edward is --"

"I've seen the papers. I know what Edward is doing. Or rather, whom."

Jamie raised an eyebrow, a gesture so like Edward that it had her heart lurching.

"Are you talking about Astrid?"

"Tall, blond, busty Swedish Princess?"

"That sounds like her though I confess I've never heard her described in quite that manner. If you ever happen to meet her in person, I'd refrain from using just those words were I you. Astrid can be--proper."

"I wouldn't worry. I'm not likely to encounter Edward's princess. I'll probably never see Edward again. I'm not even sure why you are here."

"I told you, I'm taking responsibility for my actions. As for Edward, I suspect you will be seeing him again, likely very soon."

The waitress brought their meal, and Jamie became involved in flirting once more, giving Carrie time to have all the feelings over what he'd just said. Alone again, Carrie ignored her B.L.T. In favor of giving Jamie the squinty eyes over her plate.

"What are you playing at?"

"What is that?"

He stuck a spoon in his bowl of grits.

"It's grits. You said you wanted to try them."

"They look repulsive."

“They're not, but you should have ordered them with cheese. They're better with cheese."

"You couldn't have told me that before?"

"I could've, but I'm not feeling particularly charitable toward you just now."

He put on his most innocent face, one that had doubtless got him out of many a scrape.

"Whyever not?"

"Seriously, Jamie? After the debacle in Scotland, you have to wonder why you aren't tops on my list of favorite people?"

To his credit, he grimaced as though the memory pained him.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself?" She asked.

"Nothing except I'm sorry."

Carrie stirred sugar into her coffee and studied him over the cup.

"Amanda said you didn't actually have sex."

"No, we didn't."

"I'd have thought you'd be defending yourself. Instead, you aren't saying anything."

"What's to say? Regardless of particulars, I behaved badly. I should never have let it get as far as it did."

No arguing against that, but he did look truly penitent. It was probably an act, but she believed it anyway.

"It wasn't all your fault. Amanda was mostly to blame."

She sipped her coffee during the silence.

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

"No, I'm not. I'm not going to besmirch your sister's reputation."

She nearly spewed her coffee, "A little late for that."

"It is never too late for chivalry."

"You weren't looking real chivalrous when I caught you in bed with your best friend's bride."

"Ouch. And to think, I came here to do you a favor."

"What favor is that exactly?"

"I'm going to help you get your prince back."

She shook her head, "If he wanted me, he could find me. You did."

Jamie gave a humorless laugh that was at odds with his usual jovial demeanor.

"You don't know much about being a member of the royal family. We are every last one of us, the property of the British people. Having our own wants, plans, and desires is something to be overcome, a weakness like drinking too much or biting one's nails. Edward was not at liberty to pursue you. I know my brother well, better than anyone, and he wanted you more than he ever wanted anything."

"I don't want to be pursued. I just want --"

She just wanted Edward. She wanted to be back on that rooftop laughing and talking with him. Sure, she wouldn't mind being alone in a bedroom with him either. Jamie reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

"The press and the cameras, that's all part of Edward's life. You were drawn into that without understanding the ramifications. Edward won't forgive himself for that."

"I knew what I was doing when I took off my clothes and hopped in bed with him. I knew that horrible Dinah person was right behind us. It wasn't like I was some damsel in distress waiting on Edward to save me. I made a choice, just like he did. I knew what I was getting myself into."

"Did you? Did you really?"

"No. You're right. I didn't know it would be as bad as it was. I didn't know the press would treat me with such disdain."

"They're sharks. They're vicious beasts who thrive on destroying lives. That's what Edward wants to protect you from. But I think you can handle it."

He tried a spoonful of grits, looked pleasantly surprised, then took another bite. She folded her napkin and laid it atop her barely touched plate.

"It doesn't matter what you think. Apparently, it doesn't matter what I think either, because Edward certainly never asked me."

"It's a character flaw, perhaps his only one. He's the family fixer. When one of us starts a press fire -- and Lizzy and I alone have fanned more than our share of flames -- Edward is the one who rushes in to put out the blaze. By now, he just can't help himself. He probably didn't even realize he was treating you like he treats his siblings. It's become such a part of who he is."

"I don't want someone to fix things for me."

"Of course, you don't, because you're a fixer, too. I knew it from the moment I laid eyes on you. I think Edward knows it too, deep down. Kindred spirits and all that."

"It doesn't matter what I am if every time there's trouble Edward vanishes. If that's part of what he does, then ..."

"Then what? Then you don't want any part of him?"

She dug in her purse for money to pay the bill.

"Carrie, it's important. Would you rather be shot of him and all the difficulties that come along with him?"

Damn it. This was not the time for her to have another cry over Edward, and yet, a single traitorous tear slid down her cheek.

"No. I'd rather have him, press and overbearing tendencies and all."

"All right then."

He laid a hundred-dollar bill on the table and stood. He took Carrie's elbow as he led her to the door.

"Get ready."

He pushed open the door to the diner and immediately backed her up against the wall.

"Make it look convincing," he said, an instant before he covered her mouth in a crushing kiss and put his hand up her shirt."

What the hell? Over the buzzing in her head, she heard the unmistakable sound of cameras clicking.

***

"They've infiltrated us somehow. They have a plant among the staff. I know it."

Edward paced during his weekly security briefing with Martin.

"It isn't a coincidence that the press is always one step ahead of me or Jamie."

"There's no plant. I vet every candidate personally, and there's been no turnover in the staff closest to the principles in the last six months," Martin assured him.

"A bug then. They've planted listening devices."

"Don't be absurd," Martin said, then added a hasty, Your Highness. We sweep for bugs constantly. The residences and cars are all clean."

"When Jamie and I were in Scotland, the paparazzi kept turning up. Everywhere we went, they were lying in wait. How do you explain that?"

Martin started to speak, but instead he shifted uncomfortably.

"If you've something to say on the matter, please feel free to speak your mind."

"As you wish. Your sister, Georgiana, goes through mobiles at an alarming rate. She leaves them, forgets them, loses them, gives them away -- one or more a month. And Lizzy has been known to leave hers just lying about in view at a club while she spends hours on the dance floor. My people are charged with the safety of the members of the royal family, not the royal family's mobiles. We'd need more people if we're to expand our duties in such a manner."

Edward dropped into a chair across from Martin.

"Could that be it, do you think? Are they using our own mobiles to track us?

"In my opinion, it is the most likely explanation."

He forced himself not to grind his teeth. "All right then. Can you see to procuring new mobiles for everyone? And I want you to collect their old ones."

"Certainly, Your Highness. Shall I have another discussion with each of them about the necessity of keeping their mobiles in hand at all times?"

"No. I'll do that myself."

"Very well. I wish you better luck in the endeavor than I've managed."

They had both risen to leave when Edward's father, looking as angry as Edward had ever seen him, stormed into the room, the queen following close on his heels. He shoved an iPad at Martin.

"Fix this."

Looking as confused as Edward felt, Martin tapped on the iPad screen. His eyes went wide over what he saw on the screen.

"Oh my," was his only response.

"What is it?"

Edward felt the urge to grind his teeth.

"I don't understand all the fuss over this American woman," the king fumed. "This is unacceptable behavior."

"I'll attend to this immediately," Martin said.

He started to put the iPad in his briefcase, but Edward stopped him with his hand outstretched.

"If it’s to do with Carrie, I want to know. Now," he added with ice in his voice.

Martin's look was sympathetic as he reluctantly handed over the device.

Edward tapped the screen to start a YouTube video. It showed Jamie holding a door open for Carrie. Carrie, his pulse pounded at the sight of her. He'd managed to keep thoughts of her at bay -- mostly -- but there she was, on the screen right in front of him. She was amazing. Her simple beauty--unadorned, effortless--took his breath away. His grip on the device tightened when he saw what came next. Jamie pushed Carrie against the wall and ravished her -- that was the only word for it -- right there on a public sidewalk in the clear light of day.

"Bloody hell!"

"Precisely," his father said.

"Where was this video taken?" Edward demanded, "And when."

Martin had pulled out his phone and was tapping furiously.

"Earlier today, according to the gossip rags. In the United States."

"Fool boy!" the king raged. "Did you arrange a security escort for Jamie?"

"I did not, your majesty," He said, the color draining from his face, "I knew nothing of this, I assure you."

Edward's mother led the king to a seat. She spoke soothingly, and in vain, to him. The king was livid and wouldn't settle anytime soon. He pointed a finger at Martin.

"Get there. Now. Bring James back. I don't care if you have to drag him and return him to British soil in a sack. Just get him here."

"Of course."

Edward saw his mother give Martin a meaningful glance before Martin left the room. Edward walked a few paces away, giving his parents some privacy as well as putting some distance between himself and his father's ire. He replayed the short YouTube video. Carrie wasn't smiling. For just an instant, the camera caught her eyes going big and round when Jamie kissed her. Was that --? Did his own brother just put his hand up Carrie's shirt? He did, the bastard. Jamie would answer for that. If his answer came through a split lip, so be it. That's all the video showed, just the groping kiss. He did a web search. The video was the new hot topic of all the scandal sites. They said horrible things about Carrie. Edward rubbed the back of his neck. He felt a knot of tension forming there. How could Jamie do this to Carrie? Had they been conducting a liaison this entire time? While Edward had been trying to put Carrie out of his mind, had she been dallying with Jamie? No, he couldn't believe that of either of them. It made no sense.

The sound of the door slamming pulled Edward out of his contemplations. He found himself alone with his mother.

"I didn't know anything about this. I'm sorry."

"If you didn't know about it, why are you sorry?"

She rested her head against the chair back as she stared at him.

"I know how hard such things are on Father, particularly now. I would have him spared such anxieties."

"Edward, noble as the sentiment is, it isn't your responsibility to spare your father anxiety."

"Isn't it?" He said with a sharpness to his tone that surprised them both.

"You're right, of course. It's a responsibility you took on yourself and we've all come to rely on it. Perhaps I'm the one who should be apologizing."

I don't mind it. Usually."

"That video--what do you suppose it to be about?"

"It seems rather clear what it was about."

"Does it? Did your brother show a particular interest in the girl, this Ms. MacCallum, while you were in Scotland together? I hate to bring up unpleasantries, but her appearance in the papers prior to this was with you, was it not?"

Edward felt his cheeks burning. Christ, he was no schoolboy caught in an inappropriate dalliance. His mother was certainly more approachable than his father, but she still was his mother. And the Queen Consort of the United Kingdom -- not a circumstance to put one at one's ease.