Page 58 of Royal Darling
She kisses me roughly before sliding to her knees in front of me, reaching for my zipper.
I groan. I’ve got my Emma back.
I’m on my way to an evening service at the palace chapel, feeling completely out of place again. First, I’m not a chapel kind of guy. I haven’t been to church since I was a kid. And, second, I didn’t pack anything nice enough for a royal Christmas Eve service. I don’t know why I didn’t think to pick up a suit in Italy, and Emma didn’t mention it, but now I’m wishing I had something better than a long-sleeved gray cotton shirt, black trousers, and black motorcycle boots. Emma changed into a dress from her old wardrobe, a modest long-sleeved pale green sack that ends way past her knees. You can barely tell she has a waist let alone fantastic tits in this getup. Her hair is pulled back into a bun. I’m getting whiplash watching her morph from sexy vixen to proper princess. I’m not sure which one is the real Emma anymore. Is she just putting on a show for me and being herself with everyone else? I can’t help but think I’m a novelty for her, a plaything to try out stuff she normally can’t do. My gut churns at the thought.
I follow her out the door of her suite, and she loops her arm in mine as she leads us through another maze of hallways. I’m not sure I could get out of here without a map. We’re nowhere near where we came in. A staircase comes into view. At the bottom are more servants lining the way, for what purpose I have no idea. Greenery wraps around the ornate wooden banister. There’s another large Christmas tree in the downstairs hall, which is not the main hall. This tree is decorated all in blue and silver with numerous balls, icicles, and snowflakes.
“Look what the rock star dragged in,” a familiar masculine voice drawls, “my errant sister. Tsk-tsk, Emma. What would Mother say?”
It’s Lucas, grinning up at us. Her brother is always taking the piss out of her. He’s dressed in a navy blue suit, somehow seeming more relaxed in it than Emma in her formal clothes.
“You tsk-tsk,” Emma returns with good humor. She told me she used to get very worked up over her older brothers’ teasing, but plans to be more relaxed about it.
“Lucas, good to see you, man.” I shake his hand, and he pulls me in for a bro hug.
“So it must be serious if you’re here for the family Christmas,” Lucas says. “I’m surprised—” He catches Emma’s glare and turns back to me. “I mean, glad to have you here.” He leans in and lowers his voice. “Didn’t think Emma was your type.”
“I heard that, Lucas,” Emma snaps. “Mind your business.”
Lucas mimics her, mouthing the wordsmind your business. Emma ignores him and walks ahead of us.
“Emma’s cool,” I tell him. “She can sing like an angel. We’ve been making music together.”
Lucas elbows me in the ribs. “Is that what the kids call it these days?”
Emma stops and turns a murderous glare on her brother. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
He scratches his beard, giving me a sideways look. “It’s Christmas Eve service. You don’t want me to be a sinner, do you?”
Emma lifts her chin and grabs my hand, walking quickly, working hard to outpace her brother. He keeps up with us. I’m starting to understand why Emma bonded with her mum if she had four older brothers harassing her like Lucas. She has a younger brother, too, but she says Adrian isn’t much of a teasing type.
Lucas is firing questions at her, questioning her angel status since I said she sings like an angel. My bad. “Is your halo gold or silver? Who’s polishing it? Are your wings primly taped under your matronly dress?”
It’s clear he loves her, even though he gives her a hard time.
Emma shuts him up with one question. “How’s Mother?”
Lucas gets serious. “Not good. Still holed up in her room.”
“Is she coming to service?”
“I don’t know. Anna and Gabriel begged her to join us, but she didn’t say one way or the other.”
Emma entwines her fingers with mine and whispers, “It’s our first Christmas without Father.”
“Ah. Sorry.”
She nods solemnly and turns to Lucas. “If she’s not there, I will visit with her after. I know she’s very unhappy with my behavior, and we should clear the air.”
“Good luck,” Lucas says.
A few minutes later, we arrive at the chapel, where two men in suits wait, who must be Emma’s brothers. Like Gabriel, they have short dark brown hair, angular cheekbones, and clean-shaven square jaws. Lucas is the only one with a beard.
Emma beams. “You two cleaned up nice. No scruff.”
They both rub their jaws like it’s something new. “Temporary for Christmas,” one of them mutters.
Emma makes the introductions. “Jackson, these are my brothers Oscar and Adrian. Adrian’s my younger brother who has a twin, Silvia, whom I told you about.”
