Not Your Prince Charming Page 18

  “I don’t care,” he said, and put the tablet aside to cup her cheek with his palm. “I don’t care what I wear or where it is. Just so long as I can have my family there.”

  “All of them? We might need Westminster Abbey.”

  He kissed her. Westminster Abbey, one of the great holy sites of the Church of England. Jamie had explained that the monarch was meant to be in communion with the Church, and Clodagh had gone on to detail the series of wars, deaths, and horrendously high infant mortality rates that had befallen various royal houses in the past, necessitating succession rules that covered all eventualities.

  The throne had been passed down to people much further removed from it than Eliza currently was. If the wrong thirteen people died, she’d be Queen. And then her child would be the heir. And that child had to be Church of England. There was apparently no wiggle room on this.

  Eliza could be Queen. And he, Xavier, could be Prince Consort. Holy crap. He still couldn’t quite fit the magnitude of all this inside his head.

  And yet, those rules had been set down when it was perfectly feasible that the wrong thirteen people could die, or be deposed or have their heads cut off. It was tremendously unlikely that it would ever happen to Eliza—although, her cousin Edward had gone and proved them all wrong by dying in that helicopter crash, and only recently another cousin had been injured on active service in the Navy. Xavier supposed anything was really possible.

  I liked not being a princess with you. He was beginning to see why.

  “Any advances on the whole Catholic thing?”

  Eliza shrugged awkwardly. “No. I can’t ask you to give up your faith. It’s just not fair.”

  And he couldn’t ask her to give up her place in the Succession, which apparently was the alternative. Xavier was what he’d personally call a lapsed Catholic, but his family would be horrified if he converted.

  “I should speak to my family,” he sighed. Maybe they’d believe in the triumph of true love.

  As Eliza snuggled under the covers and switched the TV on, he went to brush his teeth and found himself staring at his reflection. True love? Was that what this was? A marriage of convenience, sure, and sexual attraction, sure, but did that equal love?

  The thought of not having Eliza in his life even after so short a time made his chest contract.

  Well, shit.

  His phone pinged in his pocket and he fished it out, thumbing open the email. Ah, his lawyer.

  “Marisol really wants to know why.”

  There was a lot of other stuff, but that was the bit that leapt out. If he told her why, she’d have a field day with the information. He couldn’t let that happen. He had enough problems without a couple of bad decisions from his past fouling everything up.

  He typed back, “She’ll find out soon enough,” and went back out to Eliza.

  She didn’t feel great the next day. Xavier teased her about the rain taking its toll on her, but Eliza thought it might have been something she ate. Or maybe morning sickness making the transition to all-day sickness. She’d heard of women for whom it got so severe they couldn’t keep any food down at all and had to be hospitalised before they starved.

  The last couple of days she’d been feeling better. She was nearly at three months now, and everyone said it would start to get better then. Also that she’d start to show, which meant she’d have to be careful about what she wore. Nothing too clingy, and she should be fine for a while. Enough to get through the next weekend at Windsor, and then if their plan worked, she and Xavier could just skip the summer season, maybe visit his family in Florida, and keep a low profile until they were ready to announce the baby.

  “Tomorrow is the cross-country part,” she explained to Xavier as they made their way to her father’s pavilion, trying to distract herself. “The best view is over by the lake. It’s very exciting. They get absolutely caked with mud. Drina said it took her three days to get her hair clean last time.”

  She didn’t eat much lunch. Probably, following Xavier’s suggestion of bacon and maple syrup this morning was what had disagreed with her. Indigestion was making her really uncomfortable. When Xavier left her to find the gents, she plucked at her waistband, trying to get comfortable.

  “Oh my God, Eliza! How are you! I kept trying to come and see you but I was soo busy. How’ve you been? Did you get my flowers?”

  Dread clutched Eliza as she turned. Melissa Featherstonehaugh. Maybe that was why she’d got indigestion. Maybe it was an early warning system.

  The security services had investigated Melissa, just like they’d investigated everyone Eliza had been in contact with that day. Mel had tearfully claimed she had no idea there would be traffickers at that party and had been trying to keep Eliza safe despite the princess’s wayward behaviour and she rather thought someone had spiked her own drink so maybe she’d been the intended victim all along…

  Melissa had been found innocent. Eliza found this didn’t make her like her any more.

  “Hi Mel. I’m fine. How are you?”

  Melissa flicked back her hair, which was glossy and dark and tonged into perfect curls despite the damp day. Her navy gilet was immaculate and showed none of the fraying Eliza’s ancient one did.

  “Oh! I’m having such a ‘mare. Rupert turns out to be the younger brother of Barty—remember Farty Barty? And he refuses to buy proper ‘poo. Says he can’t tell the difference between that and prosecco. Prosecco, darling! As if I’m from… Essex or somewhere.”

  Clodagh was from Essex. Eliza tried to find a polite smile as she looked around for an excuse to leave. Maybe she should go looking for Xavier, although she didn’t think it would be a good idea to mention him to Melissa and let the gossip start flowing from that toxic direction.

  “Oh my God,” said Melissa, staring over Eliza’s shoulder. “Who is that divine looking man?”

  Oh, bollocks.

  “He’s coming right over. He looks familiar. Is he famous? No, don’t look!”

  Ugh, she’d probably flirt with him anyway. Eliza tried to give Xavier a warning look.

  “Hello, darling,” she said, as Xavier smiled his movie star smile at Melissa, whose eyes nearly fell out.

  “Oh my God, is that like a darling darling, or a regular darling?”

  Eliza slipped her arm around Xavier’s waist. In for a penny and all that. “A darling darling,” she said. “This is Xavier Rivera. He saved me from the guys who drugged and kidnapped me at that party I went to with you.”

  Melissa gazed up at Xavier adoringly.

  “But it was totally worth it to meet you,” she breathed.

  Xavier gave Eliza a look that asked if Melissa was for real. Eliza returned it. She really was not in the mood to deal with this woman.

  “Yes, totally worth nearly being raped and murdered, then drowned and starved, just to lay eyes on a handsome man,” said Eliza, and Melissa nodded eagerly, the sarcasm bouncing off her. “Mel, I could have died. I could have been sold into sexual slavery. There really isn’t anything that’s worth that.”

  Melissa laughed flirtily. “Yes, but none of that actually happened! Everything worked out fine!”

  Eliza couldn’t even think of anything to say to that. But Xavier, the dear sweet man, swept off his shades and said, “So, you’re the one who persuaded Eliza to ditch her protection detail and put herself in mortal danger, right?”

  Mel giggled. “You can thank me later,” she said. “Maybe I can be a bridesmaid!”

  “Wow,” said Xavier. “Hey, Melissa? Fuck off, huh?” He turned away dismissively and kissed Eliza, who had never loved him more.

  I’m in love with Xavier.

  Well, duh.

  “Thank you,” she murmured against his lips. “Has she gone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re my hero.” Her fingers curled into his shirt. “I really can’t stand that woman.”

  “Didn’t you go on vacation with her?”

  “An experience I will not be repe
ating.” She looked around for a chair, her back aching from standing too long. “I could really use a sit-down…”

  Xavier found her a chair, and Eliza sat down gratefully. She really didn’t feel great at all. Was it seeing Melissa again? Memories of that party, of the loud beats and strobing lights and laughing, dazed faces, danced in front of her eyes. The sickly taste of the test-tube cocktails. The sour taste of vomit. The stink of the ship, the bone-crushing fear—

  “Eliza? Are you okay?”

  She felt terribly hot. She fought off her gilet and dropped it on the floor. “It’s warm in here. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

  He frowned, offered her a glass of water, and stayed close by her side. Eliza concentrated on breathing and ignoring the cramps in her stomach. Okay, she was going to have to go to the toilet soon, or—

  Xavier’s phone rang. He glanced at it and winced. “My lawyer. It’s just some…” he glanced around. Her security staff were close by. “Divorce stuff. Will you be okay if I take this?”

  “Yes. Fine. Go.”

  He did, and Eliza waited until he was out of sight before lurching to her feet and heading to the Ladies. Thank God there were private ones here and she didn’t have to stumble halfway across the grounds—

  Her stomach was really cramping now. Eliza made it to a cubicle and swore at the trousers she couldn’t unfasten.

  Then she pushed them down and saw the blood.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “So she won’t do it unless I actually give her a reason why? Jesus Christ. That woman should have horns on her head.”

  “What can I tell you? She wouldn’t do it when you got divorced, why would she do it now?”

  “Because I want to get married again—”

  “You can do that! I sent you copies of the paperwork—”

  “Yeah, but how’s it going to look when it comes out I’m still paying my ex-wife child support? I need her gone, Abe. I need her out of my life.”

  Xavier had moved quickly away from the hospitality area to talk to his lawyer. The last thing he needed was someone overhearing this conversation.

  “How hard can it be?” he asked, pacing outside the catering area. “One blood test. A finger-prick. The kid has worse when he gets his vaccines.”

  “He doesn’t get vaccines. She says he’s afraid of needles.”

  “Jesus Christ. Is he?”

  “How would I know? It’s not like we can get evidence of him playing with hypodermics and send that to court.”

  “Then can’t they use a mouth swab?” Hell, they could use hair or fingernail clippings if the need arose.

  “She says he’s a biter.”

  “She’s making excuses, Abe. She made them then and she’s making them now. Can we get a court order?”

  “You want to take it that far?”

  “I want to take it that far.” He thought about Eliza, so warm and trusting in his arms. Hearing Marisol’s unsubstantiated lies would destroy her. It would sure as hell destroy any chances he had of her family letting him in. The press—so kind to the hero cop—would have his head on a pike.

  “You know they’ll probably turn it down on grounds of having left it too long? You’ll still have to pay even if the test comes back in your favour.”

  “It’s not about the money,” said Xavier, which wasn’t strictly true, because eventually everything came down to money when you didn’t have a lot of it, “I just want to make it clear.”

  “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. But it doesn’t look good, wrestling a kid to the ground for a DNA swab.”

  “I don’t care if you have to steal his sippy cup. Just get it done.”

  He checked his DNA was still on file—he’d asked for the damn test years ago, and she’d made up excuse after excuse—and hung up. Ran his hand through his hair. This was cutting it all too close. Eliza wanted to talk to her grandparents next week. He supposed if he called in every favour he had, he could get the results back by then, but he didn’t like it.

  Something was going on back at the pavilion when he returned. Had Drina won? He didn’t even understand what she was competing in. Some kind of horse dancing, and a thing where you scored points for having the horse’s tail braided neatly.

  Eliza had gone from the chair where he’d left her, and so had her security team. He looked around for her father, but he too was absent. In fact the tent was nearly empty. “What’s going on?” he asked the staff. “Where is everybody?”

  “You missed all the drama, sir. Someone was taken ill. It’s all right, she was taken off to the ambulance people. It’s not anything she ate here,” the waiter rushed to reassure him. “Our food and hygiene standards are of the highest—”

  “Who was taken ill?” interrupted Xavier, fear gripping him. Eliza hadn’t looked well. He shouldn’t have left—

  “Well, sir, I’m not really sure. There were a lot of rumours swirling around. I think she might have been a friend of the Royals.”

  Hell, please say it was Melissa. “Right.”

  “Or perhaps it was one of them. I’m not sure. The Princess Elizabeth was in here earlier, did you see her?”

  “Yeah, I saw her,” said Xavier, frowning.

  No, he was being paranoid. She’d be fine.

  Nevertheless, he called to see where she was. Her phone rang out. Well, maybe she’d silenced it and couldn’t hear…

  He didn’t have anyone else’s number. “Excuse me,” he asked the waiter again. “How do I get in touch with the guy sponsoring this pavilion?”

  The guy made a face as he collected up champagne glasses. “Well, that would be the Duke of Suffolk, sir, and I don’t think—”

  “Or his assistant. Or anybody. I just need to speak to… somebody.”

  He told himself he was overreacting. He told himself Eliza would be fine. He did not believe himself.

  It took forever to find a contact number, call after endless call to someone who put him in touch with someone else, and Xavier was nearly at screaming point when Melissa wandered back in.

  “Melissa! Do you know where Eliza is?”

  She grabbed a glass of champagne. “No idea. Sorry. Maybe her hotel…”

  “What? She left?”

  Melissa gave him an odd look. “Well, yes, of course she left. She wasn’t going to stay here like that, was she?”

  He wanted to shake her. “Like what?”

  “Well, all covered in blood. So embarrassing. I mean, we’ve all been surprised by our special lady time, but you’d think she’d know better—”

  “What? Bleeding?” Oh God. Oh Christ.

  Melissa made a scandalised face. “I know! So many pictures, too. Poor Eliza,” she added, without much sincerity. “But come on, I mean getting a stretcher is a bit of overkill, isn’t it? Who has period pains that bad? She was being a real—haha, I nearly said she was being a real Princess!”

  Xavier wished, he really wished, he had his gun. “Where is she,” he demanded.

  “I don’t know, probably in her hotel with a hot water bottle and some Feminax. Hasn’t she told you where she’s staying? I don’t think you’ll be getting much tonight, loverboy. I’m not seeing anyone, though,” she added flirtatiously, and how Xavier didn’t hit her he never knew.

  “Where. The Fuck. Is she.”

  His demeanour finally seemed to shake something loose in her. “I don’t know! They said something about hospitals. Probably Bristol. You won’t find out,” she called as he strode out, shaking. “They’re not going to give it away…”

  RoyalGossip.com: Princess airlifted to hospital covered in blood!

  Dramatic events at the super-posh Badminton Horse Trials, where Princess Elizabeth was seen being carried to a helicopter covered in blood and airlifted to Bristol’s Royal Infirmary. At this point it’s not known how her injury was caused, or even if it was an injury. As we’re sure you recall, the princess was kidnapped a couple of months ago and Badminton was her first public event since. Eyewitnesses say
she was seen heavily in the company of her rescuer, the devastatingly handsome Xavier Rivera. We await further news…

  She was back in a room of bleeping machines again. Just like when this whole thing had started. Sounds and sights seemed to come from a distance, muffled, as if she was underwater.

  “Darling, why didn’t you tell us?” said her mother for about the tenth time. Her eyes were red.

  “We’d have understood. We wouldn’t be angry,” said her father. He blew his nose on a soggy handkerchief.

  “Lize, I’m so sorry,” said Drina. She’d changed out of her riding gear, at least. Eliza’s concept of time was a bit fuzzy. “I’d have liked to be an auntie.”

  Eliza wanted them all to go away. “Did you win?” she asked.

  “Win? No, darling, it’s over for today. Cross Country is tomorrow, but I’ve told them I’m pulling out.”

  “No, you should ride.” She felt listless, but then apparently she’d lost a lot of blood and she suspected there might be some morphine drifting around her system.

  “I won’t. I can’t.” Drina looked at their parents. “Any luck finding Xavier?”

  If Eliza had been at all herself she might have noticed the look that passed between her mother and father.

  “I don’t think so. Eliza was the only one with his number.”

  That was the worst part. Well, it was one of them. That Xavier wasn’t there with her. She needed him to hold her and kiss her and tell her it would be all right. That he still wanted to be with her even if there wasn’t a baby any more.

  But he didn’t come, and no one seemed able to find him, and it wasn’t until the next day that she found out why.

  RoyalGossip.com: Huge scandal as princess loses baby!

  Royal insiders say the reason Princess Elizabeth was airlifted from Badminton Horse Trials last night wasn’t illness or injury, but miscarrying a baby. We know! We can’t believe it either! We didn’t even know she was dating anyone!

  Who is the father? Could it be the gorgeous American, Xavier Rivera, who rescued her from a desert island three months ago? The two of them were certainly seen cosying up together at ‘Badders’. Check out the picture, below, of the princess buying tiny baby boots ‘for her cousin’s baby’. Yeah, right! See how adoringly Xavier is looking at her?