"Superheroine? Is that even a word?"
As they walked toward Amanda, Edward mussed his hair, loosened his tie, and shrugged his suit coat askew. He even slumped a little. How strange.
"Probably not," Carrie said, "but it should be."
Edward stopped just outside a circle of light. He and Carrie stood in the shadow cast by a stone arch. Amanda spotted Carrie and hurried toward her. Yes, she hurried. In heels. While still managing to take provocatively long strides.
"There you are. I needed you ten minutes ago. What were you -- --oh, hello,"--Amanda gave Edward her thousand-watt, pageant smile--"I'm Amanda MacCallum, and you are?"
He took her hand and bowed -- actually bowed -- to her.
"I'm a friend of the groom. And you're his charming bride. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."
Amanda stared at him, spellbound. Her Phillip was an attractive man to be sure, but Edward, even disheveled as he now was, inhabited that category of man that most women believed existed only on movie screens and in their fantasies. Yet here was Edward, in the flesh.
"Where is Phillip?" Carrie asked.
So yeah, maybe she was getting a little jealous of how close Amanda was standing to Edward, but really, hadn't this been inevitable? She sighed. Of course, it was.
"Ladies, I bid you farewell. My apologies that I kept your sister from you. The fault lies entirely with me. Carrie, you have my gratitude for keeping me company. " He bowed to her, then brought her hand to his lips. Slowly, so slowly, he pressed his lips to her skin. It was a moment, just a touch, but it was erotic. There was no other word for it. Her pulse sped up and her breathing became shallow. Oh boy. If he could do this to her with only his lips on her hand, just imagine what sleeping with him would be like. Where had that thought come from? She took back her hand when she felt the blush again creeping up her neck. Men like Edward did not sleep with women like her. And a good thing too -- the orgasm would probably kill her.
She returned to her familiar, all business tone.
"What about your brother? Do you want me to ask around inside for him?"
"No. That won't be necessary. I'll find him. Excuse me."
Carrie and Amanda indulged in a moment to watch his departure, "Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick, who was he?" Amanda fanned herself.
Carrie shrugged.
"All I know is that he's a friend of Phillip's, and his name is Edward."
"And he's hot for you."
"Hot, absolutely, but not for me."
"Honey, I know what men look like when they're hot for a woman. Trust me, he wants you."
"You're wrong. We were thrown together by circumstance and took an enjoyable walk around the gardens, nothing more."
"Whatever."
"Don't say
whatever
. You aren't fourteen anymore."
"Oh, quit being such an old woman, Carrie. You know, it wouldn't hurt you to have sex while you're here."
"What? It was just a walk! Now you're already thinking I should have sex with him?"
"I'm not the only one thinking it. He's thinking it, and I'd be willing to bet you were thinking it, too."
"Thinking it? Sure. You saw him, how could any woman not think about it? But you know me, I'm not going to just jump into bed with a total stranger."
”I'm not suggesting you become a hooker, Carrie. I'm just saying that we'll be here for more than a week, what with the rehearsals and wedding and all. That's plenty of time for Edward there and yourself to get to know each other better. You deserve a fling. How long has it been since you had good sex?"
"Kevin and I have only been broken up for about four months."
"I said
good
sex. Kevin was a nice guy, but you told me yourself, you never felt any sizzle with him."
"I can't believe I am having this conversation with you right now."
Amanda pulled her into a hug.
"You take care of everything and everybody. I just want to see you do something for yourself for a change. I happen to think that the something you should do is Mr. Hot. Jesus, Carrie! When he kissed your hand, are you telling me you didn't feel something from him? My panties started slipping down of their own accord just watching it."
"Voyeur much?"
"I'm not saying you should marry the guy. I'm just saying why not have a fling? You can have sex without having to crawl out of bed and plan a wedding, you know."
"Speaking of a wedding, what's this big emergency you have?"
"There was nothing. I was just tired of smiling and being pleasant. I wouldn't have called if I'd known you were so alluringly engaged. Since I did ruin your fun, though, now you have to go back inside with me and help me endure the next hour without crushing some of Mom's Xanax in Phillip's mother's drink."
Would that he had been named after some character of fiction, even a vampire. But no, His Royal Highness Prince Edward of Wales had been named after ancestors -- ancestors revered by some, despised by others, but familiar to all Britons down to the youngest of school children. Fortunately for him, the lady in question was not English. She was decidedly American, and one of only a few people at this party who wouldn't recognize him. That surely explained her appeal. He wasn't a complete idiot. He knew that her long legs had been more than a small part of that appeal. Despite press reports to the contrary, Edward wasn't the sort to go off his trolley for an attractive woman. This girl promised to be a highly dangerous exception. Damn, but it had been a long time since he'd enjoyed a woman's company. He'd never spent a night with a woman without wondering whether it was himself or his title she fancied. Princesses, what was it about women wanting to be princesses? His sisters could attest that the distinction held far less glamor and more work than people might think.
Even as he ducked behind a potted fig to avoid being seen, he recognized the absurdity of his plight. Poor Edward, being forced to live in a palace and have servants see to his every need, every whim. Yes, he knew how spoiled he was to think of his lot in life as a travail. He was lucky, damned lucky, and he knew it. Most days, he remained vigilantly aware of that fact and never let himself take it for granted. It just so happened that this wasn't one of those days. On this day, he was forced -- again -- to chase down his brother and prevent, if not an international incident, then, at least, a minor scandal and an embarrassment to his family. The last thing his father needed right now was a scandal involving Jamie. Peering around a corner, Edward deemed it safe, and he set out to find his brother. He was attempting the impossible, finding Jamie while not being recognized himself. Jamie was probably also trying to remain anonymous in the crowd. At least, he would for a time. Too much drink or too attractive a woman made him abandon all caution, behavior that usually infuriated Edward. However, he found himself feeling uncharacteristically generous toward his brother tonight. Hadn't he himself just forgot his duty in coming here in favor of a twilight stroll with a beautiful woman?
There was an alcove up ahead. Beyond it was a secret passage, or so Martin, the security consultant in the family's personal employ, had informed him. Martin was adept at procuring such information. Just how he managed it was a mystery, but Edward was grateful. Whenever he was obliged to set off in search of Jamie or endure some interminable event, Martin always equipped him with a map of the area and a blueprint of the venue in question.
Given that the royal family consisted of seven children between the ages of twenty-four and thirty-three, all as yet unmarried, the possibilities for scandal were myriad. Even where there was no scandal, the press would create one. The modern media's version of turning a slow news day into gold. Technically, Martin's job was in security, but his real duty was to protect the family's reputation rather than to safeguard them physically. As such, he was paid handsomely by the king and queen personally, rather than from the public coffers. As Edward was, in fact, his brother's keeper, and that brother happened to be the direct heir to the throne of the United Kingdom, Edward had developed a healthy respect for Martin over the years.
Now, he followed the schematics of Drummond Castle that Martin had supplied. The blueprints were old, but castles had a way of changing very little over the centuries. Drummond Castle was no exception, Edward found as he flattened himself against the wall in the alcove. There it was, the handle that would force a narrow opening in the wall behind him. Judging by the groan of protest from the hinges, this passage hadn't been used in some time. He traveled narrow passages and dusty stairs until he reached the guest quarters. In an empty corridor, he stood still, listening. He expected to find that his brother had left the party with a woman. It wouldn't be the first time he'd discovered Jamie in a compromising position. Edward explored hall after hall, listening at closed doors like a thief and expecting the worst.
Jamie wasn't in this part of the castle. Edward muttered a curse under his breath. It was a castle! He simply couldn't search every inch of a castle on his own. He went up a set of stone steps and turned down one corridor then another before he finally got enough signal on his mobile to make a call.
"Vera," he said when the palace's long-time operator answered, "It's Edward. How's Father?"
He leaned against the wall. Only when his shoulders relaxed did he realize just how worried he was.
"Splendid. That's fine news. No, don't rouse him. Let him rest. I'll be back in residence tomorrow, the day after at the latest. Please tell Father that I have matters well in hand, and he needn't worry.”--A lie, but in a good cause--"Say, Vera, could you put me through to Martin?"
He paced tapestry-hung hall as he waited, "Martin, it's me. I'm at the location. I'm having a spot of bother finding him. Are you certain he's here?"
He didn't doubt Martin's information. The man had an uncanny knack for knowing where all members of the royal family were at any given time. Edward suspected tracking devices. He vacillated between thinking that was absurd, and being grateful for it. Whatever his tactics, they rendered Martin almost always capable of intercepting his brother ahead of the paparazzi. The
almost
bit still kept him up nights.
"No, no need for that. I'll find him. It is rather crowded. I'll be in touch."
In order to find Jamie, he might well have to reveal his presence here. He cringed. Mrs. Rhys-Cooper would set him upon in earnest. She was an annoyance of the highest order, but her husband was loyal to the crown. That selfsame husband was likewise a billionaire several times over, and their only son, Phillip was a mate of Edward's and Jamie's all the way back to Eton. If Edward made his presence known, he'd have to stay in the castle for the duration of the wedding festivities. Thoughts of Carrie had him thinking that wasn't an altogether bad idea, but then he remembered his father, who was recovering from a surgical biopsy. He needed to be at his father’s side. As ever, duty called, often in the most onerous form.
He heard footsteps and ducked around a corner, holding his breath. A couple passed without looking his way. He recognized Dinah Adams even from behind. He recognized her frantic gestures, her too-fluffy blond hair. She was a presenter for Celebrity Buzz, a regrettably popular goss program on television. Jamie was a favorite target of theirs. At Dinah's side was Daniel Bryant, the worst of the photographers for hire. The odious man had a nearly reptilian sense for uncovering secrets. Edward had long suspected there was an insider feeding Bryant information on the royal family, and this as good as confirmed it. Regrettably there was little he could do about that at the moment.
As discreetly as possible, he followed the pair through into the ballroom. Head down, he kept to the shadows, but it was difficult to keep his quarry in sight.
"Edward, is that you?"
He felt a hand on his upper arm. Damn it. He was caught. He watched the pair of reporters swallowed up by the crowd.
"It is you," Phillip Rhys-Cooper, looking relaxed in the face of his pending nuptials, slapped him on the back. "I'm honored that you came. Jamie rang to say he might, but I haven't seen him here."
Phillip was nothing like his mother. He was friendly and open, and Edward had never known him to boast of his fortune or connections. Edward couldn't stay irritated with the man. He was genuinely glad to see his old friend.
"Congratulations on being the first of us to tie the noose-- I mean knot. I believe Jamie is here though I haven't managed to locate him either."
"I'd introduce you to my fiancée, but she seems to have vanished on me."
"I did meet her actually, in the garden on my way in. I believe she was searching for her sister."
"That explains it. She doesn't make a move without checking with Carrie first."
"Oh? Had you better make sure the guest house is well supplied?"
Phillip laughed, "It isn't like that. Carrie's a lovely girl. I consider her a friend myself. My bride is exquisite and my sister-in-law is charming. I am a lucky man indeed."
Edward took a champagne flute from a passing waiter and charged his glass to his old friend. Edward remembered Phillip's bride in the garden. She was indeed beautiful. Edward hoped she appreciated Phillip for more than his money. Phillip was, without a doubt, the most guileless person Edward had ever known. As for his impression of Amanda--she seemed anything but guileless. Had Phillip been marrying Carrie instead, Edward wouldn't have had a moment's hesitation over the match. Except that he felt his brow furrowing at the mere idea.
"Are you all right, mate?"
"Of course. Fine."
Edward tossed back the rest of his champagne and motioned for another, "It's been a tiring few days," he said by way of explanation, "Actually, I spotted the paparazzi and I'd like to find Jamie before they do."
"If we'd known for certain you and Jamie were coming, we'd have tightened security."
"Don't make a fuss. I'd just like to find Jamie before ..."
"Say no more. I'm well aware of the trouble our lad can get himself into."
"Let's try and keep it quiet."
He and Phillip split up, Edward looking for Jamie while Phillip ferreted out the paparazzi. Edward made a circuit of the room, careful to keep to the shadows as much as possible. He spotted three more reporters. Clearly there was a mole among the household staff. Or else Mrs. Rhys-Cooper had blabbed that Jamie might be in attendance. That was another likely scenario. He was on his third lap around the room without a trace of Jamie, when he heard the click of a camera shutter.
***
A fling, how absurd! She was the sensible one, the responsible one. She simply did not have flings. She had mature relationships that developed over time, relationships that were completely respectable and would hold up to public scrutiny. Relationships that were, in short, incredibly dull. She'd ended her engagement to Kevin for that very reason. When she'd thought about living the rest of her life with him, she practically yawned from the sheer boredom of it. Maybe Amanda was right. Maybe practical, sensible, and predictable were highly overrated.
Carrie found a private corner where she could text Jeannie about the idea of a fling. Jeannie Simms, her best friend since childhood, would give her great advice. Actually, Carrie knew that Jeannie would tell her to go for it. However, Jeannie herself was back home in Kentucky taking care of a toddler, the unexpected result of a one night stand. Her surprise case of single motherhood made Jeannie's advice on the matter suspect at best.
Then Carrie saw him. Edward. He was slinking behind an arrangement of chairs set up as a conversation area. He must not have found his brother yet. She drank in the sight of him before getting back to her conversation with Jeannie. She was just about to hit send on her text when she had a thought--As fate would have it, here I am with my handy dandy camera phone and a clear sight line on the most delectable man I've ever seen. One candid of him would be worth way more than a thousand words. She could just imagine Jeannie's jaw dropping. Carrie got up from her chair and followed him around the room, dodging waiters carrying silver trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. He dipped and ducked behind groups of people as though he didn't want to be seen. Odd behavior in one's potential fling, she had to admit. He walked in front of an open door and paused, awash in moonlight. A Greek god--that was her thought. She was so transfixed by the sight of him that she almost forgot to snap the photo. Almost. At just the last instant, she took the picture. It was a profile shot, but it was enough to make Jeannie understand just how Carrie, ever the good girl, could be suddenly tempted by casual sex.
Someone bumped into her just then, sending her phone skidding across the polished wood floor and nearly knocking her flat on her backside.
"Dreadfully sorry. Totally my fault. Let me get that for you."
Strong hands steadied her. She was glad of those strong hands when she looked up into the face attached two them. It didn't seem possible that she would encounter the two most gorgeous men on the planet in one evening, but here she was, staring into the face of yet another sinfully attractive man with a British accent. Considering her location, the accent, at least, was to be expected.
"Forgive me. I hope I didn't hurt you."
"Fine."
Was that her voice sounding all airy and dreamy like that?
He patted her on the shoulder before dropping to hands and knees to fish her phone from beneath a settee.
"Oh no, I wasn't watching where I was going. Really, don't trouble yourself. I'll get my phone."
A man like that, clad in a very costly bespoke suit, should not be crawling around on the floor in search of her phone.
"Stay put, Jamie."
A firm hand clamped on her arm. Edward scowled down at her.
"Jamie? This is your brother?" Talk about your good genetics.
"As if you didn't know."
The earlier familiarity was gone from his voice, replaced by a coldness so palpable she felt like pulling her shawl more tightly around herself.
Jamie popped up from behind the settee.
"Edward? What are you doing here?"
"Stay down, I said!" Edward hissed. "Dinah Adams is here and she's teamed up with Daniel Bryant. I saw them skulking around the castle. Unless you want Phillip's engagement party turned into a media circus, I suggest you stay out of sight."
Carrie's sisterly protectiveness kicked in. "What are you talking about? Why would there be a media circus? Has something happened? Where is Amanda?"
"You can drop the American country girl act. I'm onto you."
Onto her? He knew she'd been plotting a fling with him? Surely he'd be used to that kind of thing, given his appearance.