Royally Endowed(61)

One minute the back entrance is empty, then a stream of people exit during a shift change—and when the last of them passes, the box is outside the door. There’s no shot of any of the workers placing it there, but every one of them have still been questioned.

Whoever’s doing this is a fucking ghost—a ghost that knows the palace well. He’s on the inside, or used to be, and that makes it so much worse.

It’s betrayal. Treachery—even treason.

Nicholas heads for the door, but his brother blocks his way.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to find the bastard.”

“He’s doing this to draw you out,” I remind him. “To make you slip up, so he can get in closer.”

“Then I’ll make it easy for him!” Nicholas glares. “And when he comes at me, I’ll rip out his fucking jugular.”

Henry holds up his hands, speaking soothingly, as though talking to a man on a bridge, determined to jump. “I know, believe me—if it was Sarah I’d want to burn the world down too. But, Nicholas, if you go out half-cocked, it will only make it worse. It’s infuriating . . . but you know that’s the truth.”

Nicholas’s face twists with frustration. Then he advances so that he’s nose-to-nose with Winston. “Find him!” his voice booms righteously. Like the king he was raised to be. “I don’t care what you have to do—unleash your most vicious dogs, look in every closet, every corner, turn every house in the damn city upside down—but . . . Find. Him.”

Winston bows. He’s a retired killer, an assassin—the kind who could shoot a man in the face while sipping his tea and not spill a drop. And he’s completely devoted to the Crown.

“It will be done, Your Highness.”

Calmer, or maybe just drained, Nicholas nods. “I’m going to be with my wife.”

And today is definitely not the day.





I spend the next day in Winston’s office, analyzing plans for Prince Henry and Lady Sarah’s official wedding, just five weeks away. We look at the measures from every angle, searching for weaknesses and finding ways to lock them down, in the face of the current threat.

I don’t see Ellie once the whole long day and the absence gnaws at me, makes me needy, hungry. I want her near me, with me, in my sights, all the time. And because it’s been hours and hours without a glimpse of her, I’m wound up tense like a hot fucking coil.

Then, just as my shift is ending, I get a text. Telling me to meet her.

The throne room isn’t used for decrees these days. It’s a public exhibit, part of the tour, but at this hour, half past ten, it’s closed and empty. I step into the dim, echoing room, lit only by the electric candles burning on the walls. Ellie stands on the raised platform beside the jeweled throne, running her hand down the smooth golden arm.

When she spots me, she runs. And it’s a joyous thing to see. I catch her when she jumps and wraps her arms and legs around me like a lovely vine.

She sighs against my mouth. “I’ve missed you.”

She feels it too. The craving, the strain, the uncomfortable itch that’s only satiated when we’re together.

“Have you missed me?” she asks.

I groan against her lips. “I burn for you, sweet girl. I dream of you, even when I’m awake.”

Her smile is warm, her blush pink, as she goes after my shirt—working the buttons and kissing my skin.

“What do you dream? Tell me.”

I carry her towards the bearskin rug in front of the unlit fireplace. “An hour ago, I was picturing you in my kitchen, wearing nothing but tiny little knickers and a snug cotton shirt that showed off your perky, fantastic tits.”

She giggles against my throat, leaning down to drag her tongue over the war falcon tattoo on my shoulder and arm.

“And you were dancing,” I tell her, nipping at her plump earlobe. “Shaking your sweet, tight arse like you used to while baking your pies in the coffee shop.”

Ellie tilts her head back, finding my eyes. “I didn’t think you’d noticed.”

I take her lower lip between my teeth, running the tip of my tongue across it.

“It was all I fucking noticed.”

I uncurl her legs from my hips. But when her feet touch the rug, she doesn’t move down to the floor like I thought she would. Instead, with a wicked gleam in her eyes, Ellie backs her way towards the golden throne, pulling me by the hand.

“I had a dream too. That’s why I told you to meet me here.”

She sits down in the royal chair, lifting one foot onto the seat, raising the skirt of her pretty red dress and flashing me her bare, glistening pussy.