Page 18 of Royal Catch
Fuck. Maybe she really is a virgin. I have to keep my hands to myself. Back to the shower for me.
Chapter Six
Anna
I’m sipping coffee in the parlor after a huge breakfast, hoping a shiny idea will crack through the muddle of my brain. The other princesses are picking at fruit or eating nothing at all, most of them opting for tea. They’re so dainty and refined. It must’ve been awful to have the spark squashed out of you as a kid. I’d almost feel sorry for them if they weren’t so bitchy toward me. Is it my accent? It’s like they think I’m the lowest princess on the totem pole. Maybe Polly is. I’m not up on the royal hierarchy.
I had a restless night, reliving the wonder of Gabriel. I have never seen such a beautiful man in real life—glistening golden muscles that made me want to run my tongue all over him, lapping up every last drop of water from his shower or join him in there. He’s so comfortable in his own skin that he just stood practically naked in front of me with complete casualness. And that kiss, my Lord, I have never been kissed like that before. Like he wanted to devour me, and it was so mutual. This is the kind of passion I thought only existed in the movies. I flush hot just thinking about it.
So what to do with what I have? The crown prince is hot for me. He doesn’t want to help me win. Or marry me. I don’t know why, but that burns. I mean, it’s one thing for me to decide we’re from two different worlds, I know who I really am, but he thinks I’m a princess. How dare he say I wasn’t raised properly! Just because I show my bare shoulders (gasp!) or because I show up in a prince’s bedroom in the middle of the night? Well, maybe that did give the wrong impression. But I corrected course and told him I was a virgin.
Hmm…the only thing I can think of to achieve Operation Save Polly is to win the treasure hunt today. Maybe it’s for something valuable like a diamond, something I can pawn for enough bucks for a fancy lawyer. I just can’t let a defenseless dove like Polly be trapped in a cage.
The actual butler, Nolan, steps forward (not quite my hoped-for Jeeves, Nigel, or Edwin—another royal fantasy crushed). He’s probably forties with a full head of dark hair neatly parted to the side. Serious and dignified, but not stuffy. At least he wears a black suit. “Please report to the entrance hall. The queen will greet you there.”
I take a last sip of coffee while the princesses take their leave, trailing in a graceful line to the door. All perfect poise and manners. Ha! I saw them in action yesterday. It won’t take long before they turn savage, especially now that Gabriel is the ultimate prize. My gut clenches, and I force my mind back to my purpose here—win the treasure, save Polly.
I catch up with the group in the marble entrance hall. We’re waiting on the queen. I turn to Elizabeth, the red-haired princess. “What do you think the treasure is?”
Her pink lips tighten and she stares straight ahead. “It’s not polite to speak of money.”
“You think it’s money?”
“No.”
“Jewels?”
She shakes her head and lowers her voice. “Nothing is as it seems. Look deeper.”
I nod sagely. “Right.” Clearly she’s trying to help me. What does she see that I’m missing? I’m intrigued by the royal intrigue. Also irritated. I need answers. I need to know if this is worth my time. Maybe I should go back home and beg Polly to call her family for help, even though she doesn’t want them to know. But what if they disown her like she fears? The burden of her potential imprisonment weighs heavily on me. She’s my only family, and I’m all she’s got right now.Hang in there, Polly!
The queen arrives, trailed by the same servants who helped her with yesterday’s competition. It occurs to me a daily competition could whittle down the princess candidates by the end of the week. What happens to the last princess standing in those remaining two weeks? A royal gauntlet of tests? Royal conjugal visits testing compatibility? So many questions I’m not sure I want to know the answers to.
The women instantly quiet and bow their heads, curtsying to the queen. I do the same a split second later. Look at me practically blending, and it’s only my second day.
“Good morning,” the queen says brightly. “You’ll be traveling to the port today, where bicycles are waiting for you on the dock.”
A few of the princesses exchange worried looks.
Marguerite speaks up. “Your Majesty, I thought we spoke of horses last night.”
The queen narrows her eyes. “I am the final judge in this competition, which means I make the rules.”
Marguerite lowers her eyes to the ground. “I don’t know how to ride a bicycle, ma’am.”
“Then you shall walk.” The queen takes in the rest of us. “Anyone else not know how to ride a bicycle?”
Slowly hands go up. Four of them. Poor deprived princesses.
The queen indicates the elderly servant standing close by. “Albert will teach you how to ride, and then off you go.”
Damn, that’s harsh.Suckers.
The bicycle-deficient princesses are quiet and gloomy, but the other three are chattering happily. The queen looks displeased at the noise.
I take the opportunity to ask my question while she’s already irritated at the others. “Your Majesty, what’s the treasure?”
The queen purses her lips like she sucked a sour lemon. Guess that was one question too many. “That is for the winner to know.”
