Royals Saga 3 Crown Me (19 page)

Minutes ticked by, neither of speaking. “I don’t see how this changes things. Norris will send for the chaplain.”

“This changes everything,” I whispered. It already had. I could feel the shift between us.

“I still choose you.” His voice softened just enough to draw my eyes to his. For one brief moment the curtain he’d drawn lifted and I knew it was true, and then it descended again.

“Get the chaplain,” he said with a note of finality I didn’t question. “We’re getting married.”

For months, people had discussed the wedding of the century down to the tiniest detail. In the darkest hour before dawn on the eleventh of April, it took place without fanfare or cameras. Six people were present. Alexander agreed to wait long enough that we could call those closest to us to our sides as witness.

His hand stayed closed over mine as he spoke his vows clearly. “I, Alexander, take you, Clara, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part; according to God’s holy law. In the presence of God I make this vow.”

I repeated his vows, pausing after each to absorb the words. It was such a simple thing to recite the familiar promise. It was entirely different to mean them.

When he pronounced us husband and wife, I bent to kiss Alexander as our small audience cheered.

“For always,” Alexander added quietly as we broke apart.

Always would never be long enough.

B
uckingham Palace was empty save for the dead. Despite the frantic funeral preparations occurring behind closed doors, there wasn’t a soul in sight. I’d found myself in the throne room, staring absently at the empty seat I was expected to fill. I didn’t belong here. I never would. Regardless of the splendor and wealth that dripped from the private rooms of the grandiose estate, I was grateful that we would continue our residence at Clarence House for the foreseeable future.

Or so I had been told via one of Alexander’s new private secretaries. I’d have to learn to ignore the frustration that seethed inside me at every turn, even if it meant accepting personal messages about my life from total strangers.

Instead I told myself I should be grateful for the opportunity to leave Clarence House, which didn’t yet feel like my home, after being mandated to remain inside for the last two days. I hadn’t even been allowed to leave to visit Alexander, but the crushing thing was that I suspected this mandate had come directly from him. Norris had driven me here this morning, informing me that Alexander planned to come here directly following his release from St. Thomas’s.

“Excuse me.” I stopped a maid. “Can you point me…” I trailed off. I wasn’t certain where I needed to be.

She curtsied, keeping her head low. “Your Majesty may follow me.”

There was definitely no getting used to this.

“She’s not Queen yet,” a caustic voice interrupted.

I spun around, finding myself face-to-face with Alexander’s grandmother. Her age showed in the fine lines surrounding her narrowed eyes and pursed lips, but it had no effect on her presence. She was a Queen, and she was letting me know it.

I supposed it hadn’t been coincidental that I’d not seen her in the hospital following the shooting.

“I was informed you married my grandson in the hospital. I’m not entirely certain it’s legal to marry someone under the influence of opiates, but you’ve landed your prize”—she shooed away the young girl with a dismissive wave—“
despite
everything. And soon you’ll have a throne, but you aren’t the Queen yet.”

“I assure you I haven’t been running around with a scepter and the family jewels,” I said, my anger getting the better of me. The suggestion that I was happy about any of this didn’t merely irk me, it infuriated me.

I’d been prepared to assume my role as Alexander’s wife prior to the wedding, but I hadn’t learned yet what would happen when the throne fell to him. The possibility had been so remote it hadn’t even occurred to me to ask.

“You will learn your place in this family,” she hissed, spittle flying from her lips.

I bit my lower lip, trying to contain my rage. I might not know all of the etiquette and protocol for the situation I was in, but I did know that I now outranked her in this family.

She knew it as well.

I’d had enough contact with Mary to be quite certain this wasn’t completely a result of grief. Still, I couldn’t divorce myself from the fact that she had just lost her son. Possibly because I had an actual beating heart in my chest and possibly because the mere idea sent my unpredictable hormones into a tizzy.

“I am very sorry for your loss, Your Highness.”

“What do you know of loss?” Her lips drew into a grimace. “You know nothing.”

She left me there and retreated down the hall. A moment later her voice carried through the empty passage followed by another familiar one.

I chose to look on the bright side. At least I knew where Alexander was.

I peeked into the private chapel through the doorway, relieved to see Edward and Alexander standing a few paces away, but remained out of sight when I saw Mary was still there. Alexander and Edward had enough to worry about without me stirring the pot.

“It’s a poor show,” she said condescendingly to Alexander. I’d missed how he had disappointed her this time, but I could guess she’d once again blown something out of proportion. “The Prince’s Vigil is a time-honored tradition.”

“Alexander is still recovering. I will be taking vigil around the coffin as well as the Duke of Sandringham, Elliott, and William.” Edward stepped closer and took his grandmother’s arm. “Alexander should have a moment alone with our father.”

“He never wanted one before,” she accused as Edward led her toward the door. I stepped back and pressed myself against the wall, wishing I could become invisible.

But she caught sight of me as soon as they exited.

“I forgot to tell him his whore was here.”

Edward halted in his tracks and rounded on her. “That is Alexander’s wife and my sister. You will show her the respect she is due.”

She shot another withering look in my direction but didn’t apologize. “I’d like to leave now. I must continue packing.”

I supposed that regardless of Alexander’s decision not to move into Buckingham, she didn’t want to stay here. Her husband had died years ago and now her son was gone as well. Part of me almost felt sorry for her.

Stepping toward the chapel entrance, I paused. Alexander stood before his father’s body with his back to me. His broad shoulders slumped as if carrying a heavy burden. He spoke to him in a low voice that carried through the otherwise quiet room.

I was torn between leaving and staying. In any other circumstance I might have some clue what to do, but this was way out of my comfort zone. His actions this week had suggested he didn’t want me around, but it didn’t change the fact that he needed me. I was certain of that.

The vows I made to him echoed in my mind. This was clearly a for better or for worse scenario. We were in this together, and if he’d lost sight of that, it was up to me to show him.

“Grand gestures are useless when you fucking die during them. If you loved me that much all along, you should have just said, you bastard,” Alexander said. The pain and isolation I’d felt for the last two days also colored
his
voice, sending a pang of regret tightening in my chest.

He stormed from the room so quickly he walked right past me. I moved out from the shadows, but he continued on. If he realized I was here, he was ignoring me.

Alexander pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed. “News?” he demanded without greeting the receiver. “Unacceptable. This situation needs to be contained and sorted. I’ll accept nothing less.”

He paused, obviously listening to a response I couldn’t hear.

My heart was in my throat and I swallowed against it. Whatever was going on, I needed to trust that he would be up front with me. The past few days had been extreme circumstances. Nothing more.

“Then deal with her,” he snapped before pocketing the phone.

Deal with her?
Me? Another woman? Given that roughly half the earth’s population was women, the options seemed endless. Coldness flooded through my limbs, and I shook it off. I was being paranoid, a symptom of being kept alone without information. If I wanted to know what was going on, I only needed to ask.

“X,” I called before he could get any farther away.

He turned, momentarily startled, but his face was unreadable when he saw me standing behind him. His handsome face was drawn with exhaustion and his usually messy black hair even wilder than normal. I longed to go to him, take him in my arms, and give him whatever small reassurances I could.

“How long were you there?” he demanded.

“I wanted to give you some privacy.” My voice was so small that it nearly got lost in the cavernous passage.

“You have no business being here.”

I took a step back, my resolve to stand by him faltering for a split second. Squaring my shoulders, I decided to remind him exactly why I was here. “Your wife and son’s place is at your side.”

“Son?” he repeated, a surprised look darting over the beautiful face I hoped our child would share. “Then you’ve had another ultrasound.”

A brittle edge crept into his voice as he spoke. Pain? Regret? Disappointment? I couldn’t be certain. Perhaps it was all three.

I shook my head, my hand folding over the small proof of my pregnancy. “No. It’s just an instinct.”

“I had no idea you had medical training,” he said coolly. The mask slipped back into place, preventing me from reading his thoughts and emotions.

But his jibe had hit its intended mark. I forced myself to ignore the sting it had caused. I couldn’t expect him to be himself after the dramatic change in our circumstances.

“No one has informed me of the funeral arrangements,” I said, trying to change the subject. “Can I help?”

“It’s being handled.” He dismissed my question as if I’d had no business to inquire regarding the services and continued down the hall. “Funeral plans are always in place for sovereigns. Remind me, we’ll need to discuss our own funerals at the earliest possible convenience.”

The life growing inside of me fluttered in protest, mirroring how I felt about the morbid suggestion. He was distracting me from the issue at hand.

“But I will be walking with the family behind your father’s coffin for the funeral procession.” I had to speed up to keep pace with his long strides.

Alexander stopped once more and faced me. “I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

He could have slapped me and I would have been no less hurt.

“I am a member of this family. I am your wife,” I reminded him, lowering my voice as a few staff members scooted quickly by us.

“I’m only thinking of your condition.” But his eyes stared past me as he spoke, his fingers flexing with pent up energy.

“What about your condition? You were shot!” Apparently Alexander was going to take on all of his late father’s responsibilities—including driving me crazy.

“I’m fine, Clara.”

My name sounded cold on his lips. It was the way one spoke to a stranger—the way one condescended to a stranger. This week had tested my resolve, diminishing my strength, and I needed him to hold me. We needed each other.

“Don’t be this way,” I whispered. “Don’t shut me out.”

His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. He twisted it behind my back in a fluid motion that awakened the hunger I’d chosen to ignore the last few days. Taking my chin in his free hand, he leveled his gaze to mine. “I never shut you out, Clara. Sometimes I wish I could. But you are always in here.”

“Prove it,” I dared him.

He drew my hand over my head, shifting his weight in the same moment to pin me to the wall behind us. My free fingers brushed against velvet and I grabbed on to the drapery as his mouth collided with mine. A leg slipped between my thighs and the toe of his shoe kicked my heel, spreading my legs wider to grant him access. He ground his hips against mine, pistoning his groin so that I could feel the heat of his cock.

He drew back, his lips a breath away from mine.

“Does this prove it?” he challenged me, panting heavy and hot on my face. “This is what you do to me, Clara. You make me so fucking hard that I’m going to have to fuck you right here when it is neither the time nor place for such an act.”

He released my wrist and reached down to unbuckle his trousers. I pressed my hand to the wall, bracing myself as he wrenched my skirt around my hips. Pushing aside my panties, he drove inside me.

I bit my lip to restrain from crying out. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, to hold him as he fucked me relentlessly. But that wasn’t what he needed. He was lost, fueled by a primal urge I recognized from our past. He’d taken me like this before—when he wanted to claim me while remaining detached.

He was punishing himself.

Tears leaked down my face, overwhelmed by the euphoria and confusion forming a volatile cocktail within me as he pushed me to the edge. It was more than I could take, and still not enough.

“Your cunt is squeezing me,” he rasped. The hand clutching my jaw slid lower to cover my neck. My breath caught as he held me gently by the throat. “It’s going to take everything I have—just like you.”

I cracked open, pleasure spilling from me and mingling with shame. Alexander groaned, unleashing a guttural cry that filled the hallway, as hot jets of cum filled me. He held me like that for a moment, his tip still twitching inside me, and then he withdrew without a word. He buckled his trousers, and with one brief glance in my direction, he walked away, leaving me trembling and breathless. Sated—and completely alone.