Page 55 of Royal Darling
His fingers shift, cupping my jaw. “What did you work yourself up about? You nervous about going home?”
It wasn’t that, but, yes, I am nervous.I don’t want to make things worse, my feelings are all tangled up, so I simply say, “I’m fine.”
His eyes narrow. “Define fine.”
“Perfectly okay.”
“Is it the ring? You want to keep it for the memories?”
“No!”
“Right then, I give up, babe. You’re about to cry for no reason that I can think of.”
I let out a shaky breath. I cannot explain without exposing my fear that my deep feelings for him aren’t returned. Maybe his “I love you” was only to lead me to this point of handing over the ring. My gut knots. This is the dark underbelly of love, that clawing fear after so much happiness that the love can be taken away. It’s like that diamond between us, shimmering with beauty yet sharp enough to cut glass.
He pulls me into his arms, and I melt against him, my entire body flooded with relief. His strong arms, his solid chest, his warmth, his sexy scent. This is right. Why do I doubt?
Jackson
I slide a hand under her hair, cupping the back of her neck as she presses her cheek against my chest. I tried to play it cool, but inside I’m in a cold panic. Emma must’ve sensed I was having second thoughts. Meeting her family? Her mother? This is serious. I’ve never committed to any woman. Never wanted to. And they’re going to take one look at me and know I don’t belong. Emma is one of the elite. And though I might have some status as a rock star, I’ve never felt elite. I’m scrappy street and she’s posh palace.
I seriously considered locating my houseboat, which is supposed to be docked in Villroy, and heading home. Not to spend Christmas with my family either. The last thing I want is to visit with my mum and watch her fawn all over my perfect brother and his perfect family. I planned to do my usual, go on a bender and perform at some seedy pub. Charlie used to go with me, which is why it doesn’t appeal. John and Max, my other bandmates, actually like their families.
She draws back and tips her face up to me. Her eyes are clear now, no more threat of tears, her expression relaxed. I actually feel calmer too. It’s strange how powerful a simple hug can be. I can’t resist kissing her, a soft press to her luscious lips.
She smiles. “My mother will die when she sees this dress.” It’s a clingy red halter dress with a deep V cut in front that shows off her lush cleavage, and ends modestly past the knees. It’s so Emma—sexy and sweet. I fucking love it.
I slide a finger along her exposed collarbone and dip into her cleavage. Her nipples harden into points, and she shivers. I love how she responds to my touch. I nuzzle into her neck, breathing in the soft scent of vanilla and honey, trailing up to her ear. “Scandalous.”
Her voice is breathy. “It is. Shoulders and cleavage must be covered, you know.”
I wrap her hair around my fist, loving that she wears it down now. “Will you get in trouble for not following the royal rules?”
She runs her fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck. “It’s the royal protocol. I won’t be punished, if that’s what you’re asking. The new queen, Anna, well, you’ve met her, she’s much more relaxed about protocol. My mother will be disappointed in me, but she’s already disappointed. She took me running from my wedding as a personal betrayal and wouldn’t listen to my apologies. I can’t live my life to please her anymore.”
I still, an alarming thought making me go cold. “Am I part of your rebellion?”
She smiles mischievously. “I suppose when I first met you, I thought you’d be perfect for a rebellious act, but I don’t see you like that anymore. You’re like me, in love with music, deeply soulful, and passionate.”
I can’t help my smile. That is me. And her. “Brilliant. Do you still feel lost?”
“You helped me find my true self.”
Everything in me relaxes. If I just focus on Emma, on the here and now, the agitated gotta-escape feeling eases. I want to be better than that. For her.
I point out the window as Villroy comes into view. “There it is.”
“Home,” she says reverently.
The island is striking with rocky cliffs, sandy dunes along the beaches, and dotted with white cottages with blue doors, shutters, and window frames all along the winding road leading up to the palace. The palace is stunning on top of the hill, an imposing sandstone structure with multiple towers and spires. It’s fairy-tale beautiful.
“Hard to believe you live there,” I say. “It looks like something from olden times.”
She beams, staring at her home. “This version of the palace took shape after a fire a couple of centuries ago. I’ve always loved it. Don’t worry, it’s been modernized. My people have called this island home since way back when the Vikings first settled here, bringing their Irish wives from an early Irish settlement. I’ve always felt such a deep sense of belonging, of taking my place in a long tradition.”
That ugly voice in my head pipes up.This is where Emma belongs. Not you.
“I broke that tradition,” she says quietly. “I’ve changed.” Her voice rises in panic. “What if I don’t belong here in this new version of me?”
