Chapter 17

Ginny’s POV

“Chrissy, why did you insist that I was leaving at the end of summer?” Ginny confronted her once best friend. “I’d thought of staying, continuing to work for your dad, and going to school here.”

“No way.” Chrissy flounced past her, invading her bedroom. “Why do you want to stay? Is it Alexander? He goes through women like changes of underwear. He’ll move on soon. And you, Missy, don’t you know when to go home? We’re not getting along, and soon daddy will notice. Don’t think he’ll choose you over me. Pack your clothes and get your butt back to Charleston.”

Ginny made one final, futile gesture. “Chrissy, I’m not your rival—”

“Aren’t you? You wheedled me into telling you I wanted the prince, then what do you do but go after him yourself?” Chrissy collapsed on Ginny’s bed, making a show of removing her shoes. When she met Ginny’s gaze, there was nothing of friendship in the brown eyes. “I can’t say I’ll be sorry to see the back of you.”

“You’re being deliberately cruel.” Ginny marched to where Chrissy lay. Staring down at her, she silently asked her to let go of the jealousy. “I didn’t mean to—”

“But you did make a fool of me.” Chrissy jumped off the bed, standing in her stocking feet, glaring at Ginny.

Remembering the good times—confessing the first time she had sex to her best buddy—Ginny suffered a pang of regret. “We were best friends.”

“Is that how you treat your best friend?” The blonde girl grimaced, brushed past her, flounced to the door, and rounded on Ginny. Chrissy’s face a study of misplaced outrage. “Start packing.” She marched through the door, but in total contrast to her behavior, she closed the door softly behind her.

Ginny blew out a long sigh of regret and sank to the bed. She felt too weak and emotionally drained to stand. She sat for a few minutes simply staring into space, then flipped on her stomach, resting her chin on her folded arms. Hot tears stung her eyes. She dashed them away. Chrissy had pronounced a life-long friendship at an end. Over a man, but a man worth fighting for. Fear jolted her as Chrissy’s words replayed, “He goes through women like changes of underwear.” How long did she have? Maybe home was the only way.

When her cell chimed, she rolled over, scrambling for her handbag. At the bottom, she found the blasted thing. “Hello,” came a little breathlessly.

“Ginny, you sound out of breath. Is anything wrong?” Lex’s beautiful voice was like soothing music, and her jangling nerves immediately calmed.

God, she didn’t want to leave Desjardins. Truth, she didn’t want to leave Lex. “Hi there, handsome. Nothing important. I was undressing.”

“Wish I was there,” he said, laughing.

“I’d make you turn your back.” She added a dash of primness.

He groaned. “I see how it is. You would torture me?”

Ginny’s spirits soared, crashing when she remembered Chrissy’s ultimatum. While her thoughts tumbled around like the last peanut in a jar, he talked about the polo match.

“How did you get Eugenie home? And to a polo match at that?” he asked.

She exhaled a laugh. “We exchanged numbers last weekend. Long story short, I called and begged.”

“You’re a miracle worker. Normally, getting her home requires a royal command. Since you’ve achieved the impossible, I might need your help again. Do you have plans for Friday a fortnight away?” Not waiting for an answer, he continued, “Eugenie has some new guy in tow. She’s bringing him home to dinner. I’d like for you to be my companion.”

A private dinner party with the royal family? Lex is willing to seriously confirm our relationship. This time, Chrissy-girl, you’re wrong. He wasn’t going to toss her aside. She was being invited home to meet his mom. A flush of warmth spread through her, followed by a jolt of dread. She had no idea what to say to a king and a queen.

“I may not be here in a fortnight.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Chrissy made it clear she intends to be rid of me ASAP.”

“Why is she misbehaving?” His voice was soft—the iron fist in the velvet glove. “I’ll speak with the ambassador.”

“Don’t please,” she said quickly. “If it comes to a showdown between his daughter and me, I know which side he’ll take.”

“But she’s behaving like a child,” he argued, still not raising his voice though it was easy to tell he was angry.

And I stole her toy. She couldn’t bear to tell him that he was the reason Chrissy had turned into a shrew. She’d always known her friend was spoiled and selfish, but she’d never turned either against Ginny. Until now. Envy was to blame, but Ginny could do nothing to halt the demise of their friendship. She refused to give up Lex.

“You can’t mean to let her force you to leave.” Outrage deepened his voice to a warning Chrissy should have the sense to obey.

But she’d never know. Ginny wouldn’t stoop to using Lex’s influence on the ambassador. Faint music drifted from wherever he was…his bedroom, naked except for a satin robe perhaps. A thrill shimmered over her, her skin tingling to the memory of his touch. Lord, she wished he were here, too.

“You must get a place of your own,” he insisted.

“I checked rents. Going to school and working part-time, I can’t afford anything.” She raked a hand through her hair, glad no one saw her agitation.

“There has to be an answer.” He was silent for a long moment. “Ginny, I don’t want you to leave.”

“I don’t want to go, but Chrissy will torment me until I do.”

“She can’t defeat us both.”

“She already has.” Ginny sighed. “I can’t stay anywhere I’m not wanted.”

“I long to hold you. Kiss you. Make love to you.” There was a long pause. “Trust me. I’ll find a way. I won’t let her run you away.”

Ginny didn’t know exactly when during the conversation her decision had been made, but by the end of the week, she’d cash in her open return ticket and go home. Home was no longer where her heart was. A pang of sorrow and grief stuck her in the guts, the pain a physical thing. A loud rapping at her door roused her from bleak thoughts and silent tears.

She stiffened and called, “Come in.” Aside, into the phone she said, “I have a visitor. May I phone you back later?”

“Of course.” The chill in his voice would freeze water. “If it’s Chrissy, tell her where to get off. Ginny, do you want me to stay on the line?

“Thanks, hon, but no.”

The door opened. The blonde stepped over the threshold, four-inch heels tick-ticking on the old wood. She wasn’t smiling. Neither did Ginny.

“Who were you talking to?” She closed the door with a snap.

Who did that spoiled brat think she was barging into her bedroom and asking who was on her own cell no less? Ginny had had all she could take. She sat straighter, forced a smile, and said, “It was Lex,” purposefully calling him by the name only his family and close friends used.

“Ginny, Ginny.” Chrissy gave a theatrical sigh. “If I didn’t want you gone so bad, I’d like to watch him dump you when he gets good and ready.”

“Thanks for the kind words.” Ginny’s shoulders slumped, her thoughts plunging to defeat and, damn it, a retreat.

“You’re more than welcome.” The blonde shot the open closet a pointed glance. “I came to help you pack.”

“I can manage.” Ginny rose stiffly, feeling very old but not very wise. “You may wish to know your strategy worked. I’d intended to phone the airline when I hung up with Lex.”

“When I hung up with Lex.” Chrissy parroted, her lips curled in disgust. “The Playboy Prince won’t miss you when you’re gone.”

“And that’s where you step in, right, Chrissy? Catch him on the rebound.” Ginny’s footsteps dragged as she crossed the room to the closet—such a short time, so few clothes—her heart gave a painful thump.

“Rebound? You have a high opinion of yourself, Miss MacDonald.” Chrissy leaned her back against the door. “He won’t even glance over his shoulder when you go. He’ll simply choose his next Shag Queen.”

Ginny spun on heel. “You don’t know him. He’s really not like that.”

“You poor, deluded soul.” Her ex-friend pushed off the door and stalked toward her. “Get your suitcase. Or call the airlines.”

***

Alexander’s POV

In my uniform and black riding boots, I paced the twilight courtyard. I was lost, felt I no longer knew myself or my own mind. Thirty minutes ago, the soldiers of the King’s First Mounted Guard had returned to the stables, a groom leading the prince-and-commander’s horse away. I was alone…with far too much time to think, and my emotions were in turmoil. Stoic palace windows looked down on my plight. Ginny had said she planned to return home, but I wanted her to stay. How could I persuade my proud American to accept my help? Half-formed plans scrolled through my thoughts, but none settled.

“Ginny is too proud to accept my help,” I told the moon. Two more strides took me across the courtyard again. “Even if Maman and Papa agreed, she’d never move into the palace.”

Helplessness wasn’t a word people generally associated with His Royal Highness The Prince Alexander. The feeling was not a visitor I entertained, but now I haunted the shadows as the moon climbed the sky, silvering the cobblestones. Like a religious experience, the biggest decision of my life happened. One minute, I swam in confusion; the next I knew what I must do. Beneath a weeping willow, I halted in my tracks, winded by the realization.

“Of course,” I muttered to the evening silence, punctuated only by a bird’s lonely tune. Turning on my heel, I stride to the private entrance with one thing in mind. I must hurry to the Parsonage. The proper thing to do was to ring John and announce my impromptu visit, but I needed surprise on my side.

The future king of Desjardins planned an ambush.

Fifteen minutes later, I hopped into Red Devil and roared toward my destination as fast as the car could handle the curves and traffic—fast indeed. Muttering curses, I drove up and down the street, searching for a parking space. Finally, a gap opened between a Ford Escort and a Daimler. Wedging my car into the tight space, I switched off the engine to a rumble of exhausts. The Parsonage and a game-changing play loomed two doors up. I gripped the door handle.

It was time.

As I stepped from the car, the moon sailed behind a cloud. Shadows pursued me to the door. Resolute now, I knocked. And held my breath. I looked down. My hands actually were trembling. I knew my palms were damp, but trembling?

The door opened, and there was Ginny, looking beautiful in faded black Jeans and a white sweatshirt with College of Charleston scrawled in burgundy across her breasts. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Good evening.” On impulse I did something I’d never done and swept her a courtly bow. “May I come in?” With a smile far braver than I felt, I turned up the collar of coat. I hadn’t taken time to change from my uniform. Must smell of horses. “It’s windy for a summer night.”

“Of course, Lex.” Chrissy somehow appeared behind Ginny. “Sugar melts in the rain.”

I wanted to gag. “It’s not raining.” With a curt nod, I crossed the threshold—two thresholds if you counted the reason for my sudden call. “So, I’m in no danger of melting.”

“In the parlor, it sounded like rain. May I offer you a drink?” Chrissy spoke over Ginny’s shoulder, already tapping down the hallway expecting us to follow.

“No, thank you. I can’t stay long. I’ve come for a word with Ginny.”

She halted in her tracks, a four-inch heel teetering, but she managed to stand straight. “Oh, I see, well, maybe after you have your little talk with Ginny.”

“I’m afraid not. I have duties to attend.” I waved away her suggestion.

Ginny’s spicy cinnamon beauty made Chrissy look overdone, her perfect hair, makeup, and clothes threatening to overwhelm the senses. I glanced aside at Ginny and smiled. Her lips curved in a tantalizing smile I longed to kiss. Desire tried to intrude, but I stilled the thought. That soldier would see no action tonight or for many nights to come.

Ginny’s once-favorite-friend shot her a seething look before stalking away, leaving us alone with too much unsaid. The air vibrated with my excitement…and my reluctance. I was about to take a gigantic step beyond my own boundaries, trespassing in a no-man’s land I’d thought to be a galaxy far, far away.

Chrissy disappeared into a door down the hall. The sound of a popular talk show drifted from the lamplit room, the British speaker criticizing the American president.

I smiled. “I am here to see you. Where can we talk uninterrupted?”

“I don’t know with Chrissy around. She might butt in at any minute. Maybe here.” She indicated the drawing room across the hall. “Why so secretive?”

I stood aside for her to enter, followed, and closed the door. “Not secretive, but it’s something between you and me.”

“What?” Smiling, she faced me, looking as if she’d reach out and touch me. Her arms fell to her sides to my disappointment. “You’ve definitely piqued my curiosity.”

I swallowed hard. “Ginny, I’ve come to ask you to marry me.”

“Marry? Me?” A blush dotted her high cheekbones. “Lex, you can’t mean it.”

Dropping to one knee at her feet, I gazed up into her eyes. “Ginny MacDonald, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“You can’t.” She rested her hands on my shoulders, her soft expression erasing my doubts. “I mean you’re a prince, and I’m, well, no one.”

I kissed her hand. “You’re the woman I love, Ginny.”

“I—I don’t know what to say. I never dreamed…” Tears misted her eyes. She looked away, looked back, biting her lip.

“Yes would be a good start.” I covered her hand with mine. “And you could tell me you love me.”

“I do. I mean I really do. I love you. I do.” A single tear escaped her lashes, drifting down her flushed cheek. “But they won’t allow it, Lex. You won’t be given the chance to marry a commoner.”

“Chance be damned. Ginny, I’m marrying you, with or without anyone’s consent.”

“You can’t mean that.” She shook her head, sadly I thought. “Your future is a throne.”

“A fur-trimmed purple robe and a scepter as well.” I grinned and winked, watching happiness dawn in her eyes. “And a ring of state. All manner of good toys. But they’re nothing…without you.”

I was getting into this art of proposing and, after rigorous training in cloaking my emotions, finally, I let my feelings show. Dare I call her my beautiful Ginny doll? Would she be offended or pleased? Henceforth, her happiness was as important to me as my own.

“Yes, oh, yes.” Her acceptance came in barely a whisper, then squeezing my hand, she urged me to rise, cupped my face in her hands and kissed me. “I don’t know what I’m doing. You don’t know what you’re doing, but I will marry you, Lex. I love you.”

On my way to the Parsonage, I’d made a quick stop and borrowed one of the royal jewels. Taking courage in both hands, I eased the blue velvet box from my pocket, captured her hand, and kissed her fingers. She looked as if she’d stopped breathing. Heart thudding, I opened the box. My grandmother’s engagement ring gleamed in the poor light. The large emerald surrounded by winking diamonds refracted rainbows. Ginny gasped as I placed the box on her palm.

“Oh, my God, it is amazing.” She glanced at me, her eyes wide, then her gaze returned to the ring. “It is exquisite.”

“It was my grandmother’s.” I plucked the ring from its velvet box and slowly slid it down the length of her finger. My parents couldn’t object because Gran Leandres had bequeathed the ring to me.

Burying her face against my shoulder, perhaps not intending me to hear, she breathed, “I love you too much, God help us both.” Ginny held back, gazing deep into my eyes. “You know this won’t be easy.”

I brushed my lips to her quivering mouth. “No one can possibly object. I’m not king yet.”

“Your heirs stand to inherit the throne.” She looked away, a soft sigh escaping her.

“Our heirs,” I said, emphasizing the pronoun.

She captured and held my gaze, dread playing over me. “I’ve been married before. The British government refused to allow Edward VIII to marry Wallis Simpson, not because she was American and a commoner but because she was a divorcee.”

“That was in the 1900’s.” The feeling of disquiet had found a reason. I cared not a tinker’s damn that she’d been previously married, but the King’s Council might. Still, I reassured her brightly. “Ginny, my beautiful Ginny.” I stroked her hair. “You will be my wife.”

Her arms tightened around my waist. “Yes, I’ll be your wife.”

“My queen.” I kissed her hand.

“I’ll make an honest man of the Playboy Prince.” She laughed, snuggling against me.

The soft tapping at the door snapped us apart as if it had been a sudden volley of shots.

“Come in,” Ginny called, grimacing, and saying under her breath, “Chrissy.”

“Hi.” Her prediction sauntered through the door, trying to look innocent but failing miserably. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I just came to tell Ginny her parents called and asked that she phone back.”

“I’ll call them later,” Ginny said, an angry blush creeping up her neck.

I wanted more time to savor this once-in-a-lifetime experience, to kiss my future bride—far more than kiss—but jealousy peeked from Chrissy’s brown eyes. Her long, mascaraed lashes fluttered demurely, a big cat lying in wait. Determined to hear anything we might say, the brazen witch stood squarely blocking the door.

“I think your daddy misses his little girl.” Chrissy said.

Daddy’s little girl was soon to be a princess. The Playboy Prince was soon to be a married man. Fate sat at her wheel, spinning, spinning…a wicked web.