Chapter 20
20
It’s dark by the time I drag Alistair out of the house and away from my parents’ adoring clutches. Safe to say they like him. There was a discussion on Nietzsche with my dad, a heated debate on the rejection of the euro by Denmark in the year 2000 with my mom, the swapping of stories regarding trips to the white cliffs of M?ns Klint with both, and the perusal of many photo albums. Given that he told them we were engaged, I made no effort to save him from this dire fate.
From baby photos to my college years, he has seen it all. He didn’t even mock the unicorn costume I made myself for Halloween when I was five, which was basically just an empty toilet roll attached to my forehead and some sparkles stuck to my face. Maybe he is the perfect man after all. He even backed me up when Mom tried to get me to try on her heavily beaded wedding dress with organza ruffles. Of course, he did this by saying I wasn’t wearing any underwear.
We wave one last time at my parents, step into the garage, and close the door. Moonlight shines through the mottled glass window in the door. There’s enough light to see.
“Explain it to me, Ali.” I push him against the side of the Cadillac. “And use really small words, because my mind is worn out from chasing itself in circles for the last five hours trying to figure out what the hell you were thinking.”
“Why didn’t you stop me?”
“I asked you a question first,” I say. “Answer it.”
“Won’t they be wondering why we’re taking so long in here?”
“Don’t change the subject,” I order. “Why did you lie to them and tell them we were engaged?”
“Is it really a lie?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t want to marry me, then?” he asks. “Do you think maybe you didn’t stop me because you secretly like the idea?”
I make a growling sound low in my throat. “Ali.”
“Sorry,” he says. “But you saw your mother’s eyes. They were full of the hope and worry and love for you and I just couldn’t let her down. Telling her it was all bullshit would have hurt her more than finding out the way she did.”
“Oh, really?”
“She wants you to be happy so badly. And between you and me, I actually quite enjoy making you happy.”
“Don’t be cute. We haven’t even been dating for twenty-four hours!”
“But you can’t say they haven’t been the best almost twenty-four hours of your life,” he says. “Right? Lilah? I’m waiting for your answer. Still waiting.”
“How to put this... They’ve certainly been the most interesting twenty-four hours of my life.”
“That’ll do for now. Furthermore, in my defense, what was it you told my mother? That time is just a construct?”
“I don’t remember saying that.”
“You had been drinking absinthe.”
“That explains it. Don’t quote me to me.” I poke him in the ribs.
“Your parents are great, and they care about you so much. This house and the life they’ve built are all wonderful. I didn’t want to tell them I dragged your name into the media again and that assholes online are picking you apart and it’s all my fault.”
“Fuck what random strangers online think of me. It’s not your fault.”
He frowns. “It wouldn’t be happening if you weren’t with me.”
“Are you aware that we both have a habit of worrying in common?”
“Can’t say it comes as a surprise.”
“Ali, we talked about this. Several times, in fact. I am fully aware that there are consequences to dating you. But telling them we’re getting married... What were you thinking? Please help me make it make sense!”
“As I mentioned previously, I think if you’re honest, you’ll admit that part of you really likes the idea of us getting hitched and that’s why you didn’t stop me.” He sighs. “Look at it this way. You can always call off the engagement later. Tell them I snore or smell funny or something.”
“Because we’re not really getting married, right? I mean, that would be ridiculous, right?”
“What would Good Witch Willow say?” His mouth skews to one side. “I lack her supposed powers of prediction. But I feel like it would be something along the lines of ‘Who knows what the future may bring?’”
I just groan.
He cocks his head. “Why did you go along with it, for that matter? Come on. Tell me the truth.”
“I don’t know. Your general hotness lulled me into a false state of calm regarding the topic of our fake nuptials. It’s not my fault you’re a walking, talking thirst trap. And we were all having such a good time. I guess I didn’t want to burst their bubble.”
“You didn’t want to let them down either. They did seem really excited about it all, didn’t they?”
“Yeah. You’re the first man I brought home that they actually liked instead of just pretending to. Now that I’ve seen the difference, it seems so obvious.”
“I’m honored.” His cell buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out. “It’s my mother. I’ll talk to her later.”
“No. You should answer it. It might be important.”
He does as told, putting the call on speaker. “Yes?”
“Thank goodness you picked up, my sweet boy. Your father is on his way,” says Lady Helena in a harried voice. “I just heard from his people. It’s an unofficial thing. Top secret. No firm ETA given, but we’re to expect him within the next two to twenty-four hours. We need to plan our defense or attack or whatever the hell it is we’re going to do. How quickly can you two get here?”
“He’s coming to see you?”
“No, my darling. He’s coming to see you .”
Alistair gazes into the shadows of the garage in shock. “Shit.”
“Indeed,” she says. “I suggested this would be the perfect time for us to all disappear and avoid him entirely. Tanzania is lovely this time of year for a family vacation. I have a friend with a beach house in Zanzibar. Such a great spot for a wedding. But Dougal said no. Then he made some long-winded speech about how you deserved the chance to meet your father and settle things between you once and for all. At least, I think that’s what it was about. I tuned out halfway through. You know how he can go on.”
Alistair says nothing. He just keeps blinking.
“Lady Helena, we’re on our way,” I jump in, and hang up the call. “I think it would be best if I drive.”
Nothing from him.
“Ali?”
This time, he blinks in my direction. “Lilah. Sorry, I...”
“I know. It’s okay. I’ve got you. Get in the car.”
It’s weird to be making the drive up the Pacific Coast Highway again under these conditions. And in a different prestige vehicle. A lot has changed since Monday. Just about everything.
Alistair doesn’t speak again until we can see the sea. All the charm and clever talking from the last few hours with my folks have disappeared without a trace. He is an entirely different man. The blank face that hides every last one of his feelings reappears for the first time in a while. “I met him once...the king. Though to say I met him is misleading. There was no introduction or anything like that.”
“When was that?”
“I was about six or seven. He and my mother were arguing in the billiard room. She always hated that room, said the glass eyes of Grandfather’s hunting trophies followed her around.” He smiles briefly. “The king wanted me sent out of the country for schooling, and she refused. Said that I was too little to be sent away just because he wanted to hide his dirty secret. She told him he could fuck right off.”
“I do like your mother.”
He grunts.
“Did he say anything to you?”
“He told me to move,” says Alistair, his brogue thickening. “I’d been standing in the doorway listening. I was in his way, and he wanted to leave.”
“That’s all he said to you? ‘Move’?”
“Aye.”
“What an asshole.”
“He just seemed so tall and angry. I didn’t even know who he was until the housekeeper curtsied and a groundskeeper called him Your Highness .” He sighs. “I’ll never forget the look on Helena’s face when she saw me there... She hadn’t meant for me to hear her call me that. His ‘dirty secret.’ For years, she’d been telling me I didn’t have a father and I didn’t need one. That we were better off on our own. She felt so bad about it she drove us to an ice cream parlor two towns over and let me order whatever I wanted.”
“Did you make yourself sick?”
“You bet I did,” he says. “Then she told me the same thing she always did. That we don’t need him. But also that he didn’t deserve us. I believed her that time.”
I steer the Cadillac through the nighttime traffic. It’s a heck of a vehicle. Huge and stately.
Out of nowhere, he says, “I’ll tell your parents the engagement isn’t real. Say that I just got carried away or something.”
“Decided you don’t want to marry me after all?” I ask, glancing at him. “That’s disappointing. I’ve been mentally shopping for my wedding dress for the past hour.”
He gives me a long look but says nothing. Then he fiddles with the radio until he finds some music. Then we sit in silence.
The tall gates swing open as we approach the beach shack. The palms and olive trees are lit to perfection from below, and a cool salty wind is blowing. The sprawling midcentury mansion is as impressive as last time.
There are a lot of differences between Alistair and me, with our families and lifestyles and finances. But I’m not sure much of it matters. Maybe it’s like Mom said: either you care enough to be there and do the hard work or not.
Lady Helena and Dougal stand waiting by the door. Her tousled hair is piled atop her head as always, and she’s wearing an ornate floaty cream silk evening dress with diamonds around her neck and a pair of flip-flops on her feet. Because of course she is. “Hello, darlings!”
Alistair nods.
“We’ve received an update. There was some sort of holdup and he’ll now be here in time for breakfast. I believe the menu will consist of lumpy porridge, tepid weak tea that’s been strained through an unwashed sock, and cold burnt toast with no butter. What do you think?”
“You’re in a right state all wound up, aren’t you, lad?” asks Dougal, placing a hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you sorted and give you a chance to clear your head.”
The two men head off to one of the two smaller buildings at the back of the property.
Lady Helena frowns. “I wanted to talk to my son. Am I allowed to come?”
Dougal looks back and says “No” over his shoulder.
“How rude.” Her Ladyship turns to me with an unperturbed grin. “What will you have, Lilah? Gin and tonic, brandy, a glass of red, perhaps?”
“Do you have any coffee?”
She clicks her tongue. “You Americans. Honestly.”
“Tea is also fine.”
“I should hope so,” she says. “There’s plenty of crab wontons and lobster left over from the dinner delivery if you’re hungry. A lovely wedge salad too with blue cheese and bacon and walnuts. That is one thing this country actually does well. Though the first time I was served a half a head of lettuce, I wondered what the hell was going on.”
“There’s only one thing we do well?”
“There might be more. I just haven’t found them. But you never know.”
I snort.
She smiles. Then her expression turns serious. “How is he taking the news of his father’s visit?”
I don’t know what to say. Or if I should say anything. Their mother-son relationship is complicated enough without me getting involved.
“Never mind. Dougal knows how to handle him,” she says, staring at the stone path leading through the gardens. “When I found out I was with child, it was Dougal who saw me through the pregnancy. He even held my hand and let me yell at him while I was giving birth. And some of the things I called him... Oof. A lesser man would have been brought to his knees. It would have been funny had I not been quite so preoccupied with pushing out a baby. He had such a large head. But I digress. When the press descended on us, it was Dougal who helped us move and settle here. I never would have thought he’d leave Scotland, but he’s never left my side. Apart from that time I stayed at a nudist beach resort in the Caribbean. Such a shame. Between you and me, I wouldn’t mind a look at what he’s been hiding under that kilt all these years. You can usually tell, can’t you? Some men just have a strut about them. A certain way of walking. I believe they call it big-dick energy these days?”
Her smile is knowing. Mine is the opposite. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Probably for the best.” She smiles some more. “Come along. I have a bottle of a century-old port my father was hoarding. This feels like just the occasion to finally open it.”
“I thought we were having tea.”
“You are endlessly amusing, Lilah. Just a constant delight to have around.”
“Oh, good,” I say, following Lady Helena into the house.
I hang out with Her Ladyship for an hour or so. Then I go looking for Alistair. The first building I see, half hidden behind trees, is a smaller version of the main house, a midcentury wooden construct with lots of floor-to-ceiling windows. The sliding glass door opens onto a large central room with an open lounge/kitchen/dining area, though the only furniture is a punching bag hanging from a rafter and some weights and a surfboard discarded on the other side of the room.
Dougal is bracing the bag while Alistair does his best to pound it into pieces. He’s like a machine, slamming his fists into it over and over again. The only sounds in the room are his labored breathing and the thwack of each impact. And the only item of clothing on him is a pair of basketball shorts. His skin glistens with sweat beneath the low lighting.
It’s Dougal who notices my presence first. “That’ll do,” he says, stepping back from the bag. “Hit the shower. You stink worse than a rank goat in summer.”
Alistair nods and cracks his neck. Then he picks up a water bottle and chugs down half of its contents.
“Where is Her Ladyship?” asks Dougal. “Asleep on the settee?”
“No. She said she felt like baking some shortbread. Though it took her a minute to remember where the kitchen was located.”
“Shit.” Dougal heads for the door in an almighty rush. “We’ll be lucky if she doesn’t accidentally burn down the house. Good night.”
“How are you?” I ask Alistair.
Alistair unwinds the tape or whatever it is from his hands. “As rank as a goat, apparently.”
“I’ve never actually sniffed a goat, so I can’t compare. But I guess you better get in the shower.”
“Good idea. How is she?”
“Your mother? She’s worried about you.”
He just frowns. “Talk to me while I clean up.”
“Okay.” I follow him down a short hallway. There are two other rooms, one set up as a bedroom. The other is a sort of lounge, with an old game console and screen sitting on the ground, a beanbag chair and some surfing magazines nearby. Connecting the two rooms is a large bathroom with a walk-in shower and ginormous tub. “What is this place, a guesthouse?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I moved out here soon after we arrived. Wanted my own space.”
“Understandable.”
He turns on the shower and tests the water with his hand. Then down go his shorts and boxer briefs as he steps beneath the spray. The man is a work of art, and I would be more than happy to wash his back or any other part of his anatomy for him. Or to just give him a hug. But he specified he wanted to talk, so I keep my hands to myself. He rubs a bar of soap briskly over his skin. I don’t think I’ve ever watched someone bathe before. Not without me being naked and wet as well. He handles himself in such a matter-of-fact manner. There’s none of the care I take with his dick.
It’s a privilege to be given access to these private moments. To be permitted to be a part of his everyday life when he guards his privacy so carefully. One I don’t take for granted.
“Dougal lives in the other cottage,” he continues. “It’s not like I was all alone out here.”
“How did your mom take it?”
“She hated it. We fought about it constantly at first.” He washes his hair, then stands beneath the showerhead, letting the spray pound his back. “But she’s not the sort to try and force you to do something. That’s how I wound up living on only fish and chips for a week when I was a wee lad. Then my gran visited and insisted I eat some fruit and vegetables. Anyway, eventually Mom got used to me being out here, and her mind turned to other matters. Like where we could go on the next holiday and who was her latest famous friend.”
“Dougal might have been nearby, but you were all alone.”
“Back then, I wanted to be.” His blue eyes watch me thoughtfully. “But I’m not alone anymore. You’re here.”
My smile is weak. It’s been a long day. And then there’s the clock ticking down to tomorrow that I am trying so damn hard not to think about. “We should get some sleep. Who knows what time the royal cavalcade will appear? Have you decided what you’re going to say?”
“That’ll depend on why he’s here. I’d rather not get ahead of myself and start guessing.” He turns off the water, and the sudden silence fills the humid air. “Tell me, Lilah. What are you going to do when you find yourself still alive on Monday?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Because you will be.” With the same brisk motions, he dries himself off with a plush white towel. “I’ve been meaning to ask, that wallpaper on your phone... It’s the Bibliothèque in Paris, isn’t it?”
I nod. “I change it every month or so to a different library I’d like to visit.”
“Another wish-list item.”
“You could say that,” I agree.
“Cold in France this time of year. You’ll need a good coat, gloves, and scarf. Some decent boots too.”
“Is that your way of suggesting we take a trip?”
“Is that your way of saying yes?” He wraps the towel around his hips and stares down at me.
It’s an effort to keep my arms by my sides. My hands get grabby around him. What can I say? He gets to me. But the man needs his sleep, what with his father turning up tomorrow morning.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, stepping closer.
“That we should get some sleep.”
“We should go to bed. You’re right about that.”
The bedroom has a large king-size bed made up in navy linens. And the wardrobe door is half-open, showing various items of clothing, tees, and jeans he left behind way back when. But there’s no sign of dust or the scent of stale air in here. Everything is pristine, as if he only left yesterday.
“Your mother keeps this room ready for you?” I ask.
Evidence of a younger version of Alistair is hidden here and there. A skateboard lying forgotten at the bottom of the wardrobe and a Foo Fighters poster on the back of the bedroom door.
“Yeah. Just in case.” He gazes at my face. “You look like you want to say something.”
“I don’t know the full story of what happened between you two. Therefore, I am keeping my mouth shut.”
“That’s a pity. You have such a lovely mouth. Why, I like your mouth almost as much as I admire your—”
I slap a hand over his lips to smother what he might have said. What he definitely said. With a laugh, I ask, “That’s not very princely language, is it?”
“As I told you at the start, I’m not really a prince. And thank goodness for that. I never wanted my life mapped out for me. For the whole world to feel they have a right to know everything about me. As if being born to that family means I have no choice. My privacy is sold to the highest bidder as is—and now yours is too,” he says, cupping my face. “Not that it wouldn’t be fun to call you princess and fuck you wearing only a tiara.”
“I think you’d look very fetching in a tiara.”
“I meant you, smart-ass.” And he backs up the statement with a sharp slap to my butt cheek.
“Ouch.”
“Give me your mouth.”
“Say ‘please.’”
With a feral grin, he presses his lips hard against mine. Each time we kiss, there’s this flood of happy hormones. He has fast become my addiction. His hands on my body and the way he doesn’t hold back. I know how much he wants me. It’s impossible to ignore in the way his tongue sweeps into my mouth and the taste of him hits me. Then he gentles the kiss to something sweet and sincere.
“Did you really want to just go to sleep?” he asks in a harsh whisper. “Because it’s okay if that’s what you want.”
In response, I push the towel off his hips and toe off my fancy new red flats. He shows how helpful he can be by lifting the hem of my top and carefully taking it off me. We both fumble for the button and zipper of my jeans until he’s sidetracked by my boobs.
“This is new,” he says, inspecting the lace of my bra as he fills his hands with my breasts. “I approve, Leannan.”
“The lingerie alone cost you a small fortune. I should hope you like it.”
His thumbs toy with my nipples, the fine fabric an intriguing sensation against sensitive skin. Because whenever he touches me, my whole body lights up. In no time at all, I’m panting and he’s groaning about what a good girl I am, and we’re heading for the bed. Removing my underwear while stroking his thick cock along the way is a challenge. But I am 100 percent here for it. He smells like soap and shampoo and himself. A scent I cannot define but could find in the dark if necessary.
Maybe it’s the looming threat of my doomsday tomorrow. I don’t know. But we’re frenzied. Both of us feel the urgency. His hands grasping and groping. My teeth nipping at the cushion of his bottom lip. We seem to want to mark our territory tonight. To be more than a little possessive. I am not usually rough like this. As much as I want to touch him with all the tenderness in the world, to treasure him, this moment calls for more.
He allows me to push him back onto the mattress. And his strong hands are there, urging me to straddle him. To hold the blunt head of his cock in position and sink down and take all of him in one brutal move. Oh my God. Forget about tomorrow. I am dead and gone tonight. How his wide cock stretches me. It is sweet and sharp and so damn necessary. With this much emotion involved, with the way he gets me, sex with this man is on another level. I did not have a damn clue what I was missing up until now. There’s every chance I could forgo my next breath. But not him and not this. Not ever.
He hisses and bares his teeth. “The feel of you... Fuck.”
I just nod. With my synapses firing the way they are, words are way out of reach.
His fingers dig into my hips, holding me down on his hard length. But suddenly his gaze clears and his face blanks and oh, shit . I know exactly what he’s thinking. “We forgot to use any protection.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Wait,” he says, still holding me in place. A bead of sweat slips down the side of his face. “Fuck, it’s hard to think, what with being inside you bare. But I get tested regularly. Haven’t had unprotected sex in the meantime. How about you?”
“I, um...”
“Think, Lilah. Have you been tested?”
I squeeze my eyelids shut. “Yes to testing. No to unprotected sex. I’m also on birth control.”
“Okay. What do you want to do?”
“You...” I lick my lips and try not to rock. Holding still has never been this hard. “You feel so good. This is a hell of a time to be having this conversation.”
“Do we stop and suit up or stay as we are? What do you want?”
“You’re fine with bare?”
“Yes,” he says with no hesitation. “It’s your choice.”
With my palms flat against his chest for purchase, I finally give in and gyrate my hips. His eyes roll back in his head. It’s gratifying to see. His grip on my thighs tightens, and then he moves his hands higher. All the better to lift me and slam me back down. And I am more than happy to go along with it. Heck. I’m happy to ride him all on my own. Having him between my thighs is always a guaranteed good time. And feeling how hot he is, the ridges in his cock, the way he grunts like a caveman as he urges me on. Faster. Harder.
The thick length of him rubs me just the right way. Every nerve ending in me is paying attention to what we’re doing. It’s an elemental combination of heat and electricity. A thrilling magical thing. That’s how it feels to have him inside me and beneath me and grabbing hold of me.
“Fuck, this is going to be fast. Eyes here, Lilah,” he says, and grabs hold of my throat. His hand is like a brand against my skin. And he looks at me like he never wants to let go. I know exactly how he feels. Sheer sensation spreads out from my sex and takes me over. From my flesh and skin right down to my bones. I’d like this to last longer. But my orgasm races through me like there’s no time to lose. Like every second matters.
My whole body spasms. All those inner muscles tighten on him, milking him dry. Watching him coming would have been nice. But I am lost to the stars and some deep inner or outer space. I don’t know. Orgasms don’t usually send me interstellar. It’s like my world got spun around and around, leaving me with no idea of up or down. All I can do is cling to him, to hold on tight. And he does the same.
His hand soothes up and down my back for I don’t know how long. I stay collapsed on his chest where I landed. It’s all his fault anyway. I don’t know how to think or feel or anything. How dare sex with him be this good.
“About the soulmates idea,” he says eventually.
“Ali,” I mumble, “don’t even go there.”
“I’m just saying, it’s an interesting thought. It would certainly explain how we got so entangled so quickly.”
“We’re entangled?”
“Amongst other things.” He wraps a strand of my hair carefully around his finger. “If it wasn’t tied to the bollocks prediction about you dying tomorrow, which is still absolutely not fucking happening—thank you very much—it might be worth looking into.”
“That’s a big change of attitude coming from you.”
He just grunts.
“Is that your way of saying you like me?” I joke.
“You could take it that way, Leannan. Though I would have thought telling your parents we were engaged would have given that away.”
“Guess I’m slow sometimes.”
“Great sex will do that to you.” He presses a kiss to my head. “Go to sleep, Lilah. You’re safe with me. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know that.” I climb off him and collapse onto the bed at his side. “Do you think they leaked the engagement story to the press to try and scare me off? Then when that didn’t immediately work, your father decided to visit?”
“I honestly have no idea,” he says. “But whatever happens tomorrow, we’ll deal with it. Together.”