The Heir and the Spare (16 page)

“Do you want to catch a movie?” Theron asked, walking out the door I held open.

“I'm pretty beat and I have a lot of homework. We should call it a night and head back.”

Theron nodded, his mouth a firm line.

Outside, fog had settled in, making it eerie and chilly. I blew out a long stream of misty breath as his hand grazed mine in a move to grab it. I stuffed it in my pocket, cutting off access.

“Brrr, sure is cold tonight.” I said.

Theron launched into another cricket story. Blissfully, the dorm was only a few steps away. It was over.

Finally.

“Evie, I had a splendid time. I'd love to do it again.” Theron blocked the front doors, not letting me in.

I was tempted to say, “Of course you had a good time, you talked about yourself all night.” What I ended up saying was, “Dinner was yummy, thanks.”

“This is good night, then.” He leaned closer to me, smirking. I leaned back and tried to slip around him. “Don't play coy.” Grabbing my upper arms, the threat in his voice was unmistakable.

“I'm not, I'm just ready to go inside,” I said stiffly, alarm bells blaring in my head.

I should've listened.

“Come on, where's my goodnight kiss? I treated you to dinner, you can at least give me a little snog.”

A nervous laugh slipped past my lips. “Really? You're not seriously pulling the I-paid-for-dinner-now-you-owe-me card?”

Theron's grip on my arms tightened painfully as he shoved me into a corner between the wall and a tall rectangular window. A loud thud sounded as my elbow collided with the glass.

Using his body to pin me, he forced his lips against mine in a rough kiss. The stubble on his chin scratched. I pushed at him and tried to pull my face away, but all that accomplished was a painful beard burn. His fingers dug into my arms, making me wince.

“I know you put out for that manky git, Edmund. I'm better at
everything
; I promise you'll enjoy yourself.”

Panic rose in my throat and I tried to scream, but I couldn't escape his mouth. With shock, I realized just how much Theron enjoyed my struggling. I felt it pressed against my thigh.

My heart hammered in my chest. I had to get away.
Why the hell didn't I listen?

“Let her go, now,” a growl came from behind my date.

One minute Theron was there, the next he was ripped off me and tossed back. Slipping on the frosty pavement, he tumbled to the ground.

Edmund stood over him, shoulders squared, fist clenched, and eyes blazing. He looked ready to beat the shit out of Theron.

“Back off,
Your Highness
. She chose me over you. Get the bloody hell out of here.” Theron rose from the pavement and got directly into Edmund's face.

“It didn't look to me like she was choosing anything,” Edmund snarled.

Theron's face contorted with hatred. “She needed a little help to come to her senses. Someone had to show her what being with a real man was like.”

Edmund snapped. He punched Theron in the face and knocked him flat on the ground.

I stared, shocked at Edmund as he towered over Theron.

The clicks and flashes of cameras got me moving again. I clasped Edmund's arm, his name tumbling from my lips. His eyes locked on mine as he slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me to him.

Preston rushed over and grabbed Edmund's free arm, pulling us inside. The palace security team pushed through the doors on our heels.

Two burly men stepped in to shield us and deal with Theron—who was still lying on the sidewalk, his nose bloody and dripping down his face onto his jacket.

“Are you all right?” Edmund turned me to face him as soon as we were inside. His hand caressed the side of my face, studying me, looking for injuries.

“I'm fine. Are you okay?” I reached for his hand. His knuckles were bright red.

“I was on the couch and I saw him touch you. You were struggling. I just lost it,” he said in a rush.

“I'm so sorry.” A tear trickled down my cheek and I buried my face in my hands, unable to look at him.
This is all my fault
. “I'm such a stubborn ass. I should've listened.”

“You're okay, that's all that matters.” He pulled my hands down and kissed my forehead as he wrapped me in a tight hug. It only made me cry harder. “It's okay. He's not going to touch you again. I promise.”

I nodded against his chest, a shaky sob escaping.

Leaning back, his eyes met mine and he gave me a small smile. Slowly his lips lowered to cover mine in a gentle kiss. His hands rubbed my back. I felt safe in his arms.

I needed this kiss. I wanted to erase Theron's touch from my mind.

Edmund must have needed it just as much as I did. His kiss rapidly morphed into something fierce, passionate, and possessive.

“All right you two. We've got to go somewhere else. The paparazzi are outside the window enjoying the show, come on.” Preston tugged at Edmund's arm.

Breaking the kiss, Edmund grabbed my hand and we raced up the stairs to his room. When he opened the door, I was surprised. His furniture matched mine, but the walls were bare. It felt spartan and spotless. So not what I expected. Preston closed the door behind us and went to the couch.

Adrenaline thrummed through me. I ached to grab Edmund, but Preston's presence stopped me.

“Theron's been gagging for a punch in the face for a long time. That was bloody brilliant.” He raised his fist in the air for Edmund to reciprocate the fist bump, which he did, but with less enthusiasm.

“If he thinks he can treat women in that manner, he deserves much worse than I gave him. That arsehole is going to milk this for all he can. It'll be all over the papers.”

“I never dreamed he'd . . .” I trailed off as waves of guilt made my breathing difficult.

Edmund pulled me down beside him on his bed and brushed my hair over my shoulders. “It's okay. It's not your fault he's an arsehole who doesn't understand boundaries. I'd punch him again in a heartbeat if I needed to. You're worth it.”

“I'll never forget how he looked, sprawled out on the sidewalk like that,” Preston roared.

Edmund and I chuckled. Theron had gotten what he deserved. But at what price?

Wanting and needing to be alone with Edmund, I waited, hoping Preston would take off. After half an hour, exhaustion took over and I stood up. “I'm gonna say good night. Thank you both for everything.”

“I'll walk you down.” Edmund came over and placed his hand on my back, making my knees weak.

We walked downstairs in silence. At my room Edmund stopped and leaned in. “Evie . . .”

He gently guided my hips with his hands and pressed me against the door. My pulse leapt in my throat as his lips touched mine.

From my purse, my cell phone trilled. Ignoring it, I twined my arms around his neck, my fingers playing in his hair. He deepened the kiss with a growl.

The second my cell phone stopped ringing, my room phone rang.

Edmund stepped back. “Do you want to get that?”

I shook my head and stood on my tiptoes, bringing my lips back to his. He lightly touched his tongue to my bottom lip. I gasped and Edmund seized the opportunity. His tongue found mine as his fingertips pressed into my back. A tremble coursed through me. It felt like he couldn't get me close enough.

Fingers tangled in my hair. I couldn't breathe; I was drowning in him.

Buried in the depths of my bag, my damn cell phone rang again.
Leave a freaking message already.

“I think you should get that,” he said, breathing heavily between little kisses. “Someone obviously needs to talk to you.”

I pulled my phone out and saw Anton's name on my caller ID. With a resigned sigh, I answered. “Anton?” My hand slid down to rest on Edmund's chest.

“I know it's late, but I'm passing through Oxford right now. I was hoping to catch you and drop off your next letter. Well, assuming you've finished your fourth task.”

“Um, yeah, sorry.” I ran a hand through my hair, feeling guilty for essentially ditching my quest. “I finished it a while ago. I can meet you downstairs.”

“Sounds good. I'll be there in twenty.”

I hadn't called Anton because I wasn't ready to deal with anything to do with Clarice. I was still wrangling with my thoughts of my grandmother most likely being a duchess.

“Anton's coming by?” Edmund's arms were still clasped around my waist.

I nodded, wanting to get back to the kissing.

Slipping my phone into my pocket, I said, “So, where were we?”

Edmund brushed my hair over my shoulder and whispered, “Somewhere around here.”

His lips grazed my neck, sending shivers down my spine. My breath caught in my throat as goose bumps covered my arms and rapidly spread. I wanted to grab him by the shirt and pull him into my room.

“Is he bringing your next letter?” Edmund's voice was muffled against the skin under my ear.

“Mmm hmm.” I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation.

He kissed his way down my jaw. “Did your research uncover anything?”

“I can't think when you do that.” I pressed a palm to his chest and pulled away.

He chuckled. “My apologies.”

Unlocking my door, I grabbed his hand and pulled him in. We sat on the bed, facing each other.

“So, when were you going to tell me?” His thumb trailed circles on the back of my hand.

I tried to focus, but he was making it difficult. “Tell you what?”

“About your research?”

I averted my eyes. “Oh, I, um, I may have found a relative. Nothing too exciting.”

Confident in my conclusion, I still wanted Anton's confirmation before I said anything. Truthfully though, that wasn't the only reason I hadn't told Edmund about Clarice. My real motivation was entirely selfish. I wanted him to choose me for me. Not because I suddenly had an aristocratic relation paving the way.

Him not making a decision after Paris only strengthened my resolve. Jax lurked in the background because her family had a title. I needed him to want me how I was now—a simple American girl. In all likelihood, being the granddaughter of the Duchess of Westminster would change nothing.

“A connection to your mum? Evie, that's great. Are you going to visit them?” He flipped my hand over and lightly traced the lines on my palm.

My eyelids fluttered closed. I felt him kiss my palm. His touch drove me insane. “Haven't really decided.”

“If you decide to pay them a visit I'd love to join you. Where do they live?”

He pressed his lips against my wrist, the crease of my elbow, my shoulder, and back to my neck. Eyes heavy-lidded, I said, “I'd really rather not talk right now.”

The corner of his mouth hitched up. “As you wish.”

Anton stood by the couch in the commons, my letter in hand. He walked toward me with a smile. He put his arm around my shoulder and gave me a little squeeze. “I trust you've been well.”

I nervously nodded and sat. Please let it
not
be Clarice.

“So what did you discover with your research?” he asked, sitting beside me.

In a soft voice, I said, “I think I found my grandmother.”

“I see. And is there anything particularly interesting about her?” His lips twitched.

My hair spilled around my face as I looked at my hands. I didn't want to say it out loud. Speaking the words made it real, made it true. I closed my eyes and spoke in a rush. “She's the Duchess of Westminster.”

“Very good.” He sounded impressed.

I looked at him and tossed my hair over my shoulder with a shake of my head. “So, it's true then?”

He nodded, tapping the corner of the envelope against his knee.

“I was afraid of that.”

Anton's brow furrowed and he slid to the edge of the couch. “I apologize if this is out of line, but from everything I've seen and read, you and a certain prince seem to like each other quite a bit. So, why is this a bad thing? This could open doors for you.”

“That's precisely what I don't want. I want him to like me for me.”

“He does. Trust me.” The look he shot me was reminiscent of Dad. A believe-me-I-know-what-I'm-talking-about kind of look.

“Yeah, well, maybe so . . .” I looked away. “But I don't want him to know yet.”

Anton held up his hands. “I won't say a word.”

“Thanks.”

“I believe I have a letter for you.” He handed it to me and grinned.

“They're leading me to her, aren't they?”

Anton cleared his throat. “I'll only say there's one letter left after this, and that this task might take a little courage to work up to.”

I nodded, wanting to ask questions, but knowing I'd not get any details out of him. “Thanks, Anton.”

“Night, Evie.”

Letter in hand, I went upstairs. With no desire to open it, I pulled out my desk drawer and tossed it in with all the others. Then I stopped. The letter Dad had given me in Paris sat perched atop the pile. I needed Mom—I just didn't need her detailing my next quest.

I picked it up and looked at the Happy Birthday she'd written on the flap of the envelope.
Why did you even start this? What's the point?
I could've gone forever without knowing about Clarice.