Chapter 59
GIFT FOR A GIRLFRIEND
ELOISE
London Daily Times
The Prince of Wales wrapped up his American East Coast tour at the Virginia Air and Space Museum where he met with its lead curator and two female fast jet pilots.
This event was a fun experience following the Prince’s important meeting with President Harrison.
That meeting may have cemented the Prince as a formidable diplomat.
If he can behave himself, he will walk away from this tour an asset to his mother and a viable future monarch.
St. John’s was an idyllic little place in the Canadian Maritimes. However, it was a far cry from where I wanted to be. As I worked to be cleared for a flight to California, Monique fed and helped me around the rental home on the water.
I missed my job and Duncan. He texted regularly and rang every night.
It wasn’t the same. We shared this formative sort of moment only to be ripped apart by necessity.
And, sadly, I gathered this wasn’t the last time it would happen.
I was dating a prince. And when one dates a member of a royal family who is about to become the primary oversees diplomat, one signed up to occasionally be left in the lurch.
“Oh, it made it!” Monique announced from the porch.
“What did?” I asked.
She entered with a great big white box.
“A present.”
“From whom?”
“Who do you think?” Monique sat the box on the couch by me.
“You shouldn’t have.”
“I didn’t. The Prince did. I may have helped him a bit, but he wanted to send this—via courier even.”
“What?”
“Don’t ask. He’s magical.”
I would dispute that. Duncan was great, but not magical. No one was magical. Clearly, Mo was mystified by The Prince Effect. I refused to fall for it.
She peeled the outside box open, revealing the beautifully wrapped second box from Delphine’s.
“He may have gone a little wild, but I figured you could get most everything here. And this was his idea. I simply helped him orchestrate it.”
I was confused. In the ribbon was a note.
“He literally sent this from DC?”
She nodded. “Yes. Wild, huh?”
Maybe he was magic. I opened the letter. It was on Ritz-Calton stationery.
Mistress Mills,
Missing you fiercely on this day and feeling as if I might die of over-exposure without you to do the countdown with me about how much more time I have to greet people.
I giggled. It was true. I always reminded him of the next break and did a little countdown when I felt he was drained and needed it. I started doing the same but also reminding him how long it was until we could slip away and do something naughty.
A little more than a week, right? And we’ll be reunited in California, I hope?
I told Monique I wanted to get you something to relax in properly.
And given your predilection for very expensive silky and lacy things, I hoped this would suit.
I know you feel a bit shit and still pretty battered. I hope this is a cheer up.
I was interested now. I gathered this was lingerie and I wasn’t opposed. No wonder he needed Mo’s help. Men had no business purchasing such things for women on their own.
Don’t worry, I rang a personal shopper. No one has a clue about the shopping and where it was going. We’ve not been found out—yet—no matter how tongues wag. However, you are very missed and we cannot wait to have you back. And selfishly, I long to have you in my bed.
That made two of us.
I’m going to go down on you relentlessly. I deserve great punishment for the awful things I think about daily without you. I cannot help but get off thinking about you sitting on my face and punishing me properly.
Good. At least it wasn’t all sweet. I couldn’t handle that, even if I’d admit now I fell for Duncan like a brick.
Let me make up for lost time and my indiscretions when we next meet.
Love you,
Your Humble Servant
I handed the letter to Mo, who was curious. What the hell! Why not? She knew everything else. I pulled back the neat tissue paper to reveal a lovely blue chemise, then a lavender one, and finally, an expensive silk robe. They were luxurious. Yes, he did know me well.
“He didn’t know what anything was called. Couldn’t call it a chemise but did most of the choosing. I had to inform him that with your bust measurement alone, there was no way you were fitting into an extra-small.”
“Hopefully he wasn’t appalled having to order me an extra-large?”
“No,” Monique said. “Men don’t understand it or that sizing makes no sense for women.”
“I have massive tits and great big hips.”
“And it would seem he appreciates it, so don’t fuss. The thing about lingerie is it should be comfortable for all. You know my mantra on this. The size doesn’t matter as long as you feel good. And these were lovely.”
“They are,” I said.
“Now, this note. Girl, what?”
I giggled.
“Does he always do this?”
“Always,” I said. “This is his thing. I told you he’s a bit kinky.”
“I like it. A freak in the sheets isn’t a bad thing. And that works for you?”
I shrugged. “It’s kinda hot. Honestly, I’d rather it work this way than for him to infantilize me. That wouldn’t do it for me. But he does take care of me. I struggle to let him.”
“Let him. He can. And he wants to. You tend to not—”
“Trust,” I said. “I know. And it really bothers him. His ex never let him in. I made a big leap of faith and told him everything. I worried it would scare him off. It hasn’t.”
“Because he loves you. But how do you feel about that?”
“I think I’m in love with him. I dunno. I just… I feel so good when I’m with him. I do trust him now. More than ever. It’s frightening, of course. The life he leads and my own feelings of inadequacy don’t just fade away.”
“Fair. I cannot even imagine.” Mo shook her head. “But I think it is good for you. To end up with someone older who can keep up with you? That’s good. If you were with someone our age, you’d be miserable. I know because that’s how we both feel.”
I laughed. “Of course. It’s a waste of time. But dating a prince? A little crazy.”
“He’s just a guy—a guy who doesn’t know what a balconette is.”
Everything was luxurious, beautiful, and classic. I rolled the expensive fabrics through my fingers, considering why he would have bought me these like five minutes after they wheeled me out of surgery. Did he just expect me to jump back into it?
“What?” Monique asked.
“I have scars from surgery and I’m still far from being myself, Mo. And he just... wants me to hop right back into bed?”
“No, no,” Monique said. “I wouldn’t read it as that. I explained to him that you’ve been living in pajamas and such since you came home because waistbands on trousers are a no-no. He just wanted you to feel loved and beautiful.”
“Oh,” I said, considering that. “But his words—”
“Just him, I think,” Mo snickered. “I assume this is your version of pillow talk, but as much as I want to be suspect, he really does care about you, Eloise. A lot.”
I hoped that was true because this wasn’t going to be a thing I could just switch on. I recently had my body opened to remove an organ which tried to kill me. He would have to wait. But could Duncan be patient?