Page 79 of The Heir Apparent
“Not me,” said Amira.
“Yes, well…” Richard smirked. “You’ve always been a wild creature from the urban jungle, haven’t you?”
Amira gazed at him for a moment, then she tipped her head back and drained her wine. She rose from her chair and turned to Granny. “I have a headache coming on, so, ma’am, if it’s alright, I might turn in.”
“Of course, dear,” Granny said.
After the bagpiper marched around the table, emitting his ear-piercing whine, we returned to the drawing room for a mandatory round of parlour games. More martinis were mixed, the icy glasses placed into our hands. I texted Amira to ask if she was alright and she said she was going to bed.
“Am I dreaming or are we really playing charades with the Queen?” Finn whispered. The three of us were squeezed onto a velvet sofa as we watched Birdie flap her hands to act out the title of a literary masterpiece she’d never read. The warm, solid length of Jack was pressed against my side.
“Yes,” I said. “Though she only really observes these days.”
“Okay, good—I think I’d pass out if she got up there,” Jack whispered, and we laughed quietly.
After three rounds of charades, which Jenny and Demelza dominated, Granny retired to bed. We all stood as she glided from the room.
“For god’s sake, sit down, it’s much too late for that.” She sighed. “See you all in the morning. It’ll be a good day for fishing.”
With Granny gone, the parlour games ceased by wordless agreement, and everyone sank into their chairs and sipped theirdrinks. Birdie was explaining to a blank-faced Jenny that after a few months in the movie business, she was now considering a career in the art world. It was quite by accident that my hand slipped into Jack’s. Between us, our fingers wove together, though we didn’t look at each other. I pretended to concentrate on Birdie’s professional aspirations, while my stomach did a little flip.
“Well, I might head off to bed,” Finn said suddenly. “The jetlag, you know, ithits. Goodnight, all.”
“Night, mate,” Jack said, and I felt the vibration of his voice course through me, even though there were just two of us remaining on the couch. From the doorway, Finn winked at me and then he was gone. The conversation continued, though I barely heard a word of it. My heart began to thud as Jack squeezed my hand. I ran my thumb along the thin ridge of the splinter scar I had stitched up last year. It was healing well. After a few minutes, I stood up, unthreading my fingers from his as I rose.
“I am… also heading to bed. Goodnight, everyone.”
“Yeah, good idea,” I heard Jack say as I reached the door. “I might turn in as well. Night, all.”
Ignoring the knowing smiles of my family, I left the room and began walking up the stairs towards the guest wing, past the portrait of Barbara who seemed to wink as I passed her. Soon I could hear Jack’s footsteps behind me. We continued through the dark halls, me a few paces ahead, not daring to look over my shoulder. I wondered if I had chosen this dress for this moment, with its revealing back and the tie hanging loosely down my spine. I felt oddly serene, even on the edge of something I had fought against and denied myself for seven years. I didn’t doubt he was following me.
I entered his room and by the time he came through the door, I was standing at the dark window with my back to him. I heard the latch, and then the slide of the lock as he closed us in for the evening. I felt as untamed as the garden outside, where the summer mists swirled under a heavy moon and the heather glowed red in its light. Then Jack’s arms were sliding aroundmy waist. His breath was in my hair and his warm lips against my neck. His hands were surer this time, and when he gripped my hips, I turned in the circumference of his arms, finally ready. That same glimmer of danger I’d felt on New Year’s Day was back, but now I knew the dangerous thing was me. I looked at this man, with his hopeful eyes and his endless patience and all that love he offered with two open palms, and I knew that he was mine to treasure or mine to ruin. As our mouths came together, I did not allow myself to think that this was goodbye.
PART THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
10 October 2023
I was drifting on Mum’s raft under a moonless sky when I felt his hand skim down my back and settle on my waist.
“Time to wake up,” he whispered, and I moaned, the dull thrum of a hangover in my temples. He kissed my neck as his hands crept lower. “Come on. You said 8 a.m. no matter what, remember?”
I opened my eyes. The last red leaves were falling off the row of sycamores that lined the window. There were six more weeks of autumn, but an icy gloom had already descended on London. My crumpled skirt from the night before was pooled on the floor. Two paracetamol lay on his palm.
“You shouldn’t have made me that last gimlet,” I said and popped the pills in my mouth. I took the water glass he offered next.
“But you’re sofunwhen you’re tipsy.” Colin nuzzled my neck. He was crisp, showered and dressed in a dry-clean fresh suit. “Oh, that drab little lady-in-waiting of yours is blowing up your phone.”
I groaned.
He rose from the bed and took his cashmere coat off the hook in the corner. “What are you doing tonight? Dinner?”
“I can’t remember—I might have another reception,” I said, stalling for time. “I’ll check with Mary.”
He smiled, came back to the bed and kissed me. “Don’t go disappearing on me again, Your Highness.”
I lay in the bed for a few more minutes staring at the ceiling. My face was going to be puffy from the gin, and Mary would be annoyed at me. Finally, I got up, put on Colin’s dressing gown and went to the kitchen to attempt to make coffee with his elaborate machine.
