26. Nick
Chapter twenty-six
Nick
W e arrived at Bainbridge Castle around midday.
After giving everyone time to settle in, we met for dinner in the dining room followed by drinks in the library.
After two hours of waiting patiently for my guests to retire for the evening, they’ve all returned to their rooms. Finally.
That director bloke would not stop droning on.
Tomorrow, I might slip a mild sedative into his nightcap to hurry the process along.
When I knock quietly on Willa's door, I'm reminded of the last time I knocked on her door uninvited. It didn't go so well for me that time. Hopefully, she'll answer my knock tonight.
She does. With a smile, she ushers me into her spacious guest room and as soon as the door shuts, I gather her into my arms, burying my face into her silky hair.
Her arms tighten around my torso, holding me close.
We've spent the entire day acting like polite strangers.
I recognize that it's the prudent thing to do, to keep our relationship private until we figure things out between us, but it's tortuous.
Stepping back, Willa watches me thoughtfully. "I still can't believe you're standing here. After you left Saltside, I assumed I'd never see you again, so this…this feels like a fe ver dream." She shakes her head softly, causing the loose waves to sway. "I'm still wrapping my head around it."
I lower my forehead to rest upon hers. "It feels like a dream to me too. A dream from which I never want to awaken."
"You really can do romance," she sighs softly, with a forlorn trace in her voice. "But are you sure that you can do relationships, Nick?"
Without hesitation, I reply, "With you, yes."
"What changed?"
"You. You changed me, Willa," I whisper, the truth slipping easily from my mouth.
Willa steps onto her tiptoes and gently presses her lips to mine.
"Does that kiss indicate that you're willing to give us a second chance?"
She hesitates. "I want to, yes, but I'm scared you'll hurt me again."
I can understand her fear. I hurt her. I broke her trust, and I need to make it up to her, if possible.
God, I hope it's possible.
"Then we'll take it slowly," I placate. Taking her hand, I lead her to the king-sized bed.
One corner of her luscious lips quirk upwards as she teases, "This is your idea of taking it slowly?"
I laugh. "I was thinking that we'd cuddle and talk. Catch up properly, but if you're having other ideas…"
“No other ideas," she admonishes with a grin.
Waving her hand down her body at the dress she wore to dinner, she adds, "Let me change into something more comfortable.” My eyes track the movement of her hand shamelessly, wishing that she was already on board with the steamy ideas rolling through my head.
Willa steps into the en suite bathroom and returns a few minutes later looking more like the woman I fell for in Saltside. Her face has been scrubbed clean, and her hair is tossed back in a haphazard ponytail with a few tendrils escaping, framing her face.
The only exception is her choice of bedclothes. Tonight, she's wearing a deep blue slip edged in lace that hits her at the thigh and barely covers her large breasts. With each step she takes towards me, the alluring swell of her cleavage bounces, taunting and tantalizing me.
I breathe out a stilted sigh and I bite down on the knuckles of my left hand. Not because I'm being dramatic but because I need the pinch of pain to stop my dick from inflating in my trousers. I'm already sporting a semi, but I don't want to go full mast. "You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"
Sassily, she sashays to the bed, curling up next to me. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Nick."
However, the mischievous light in her eyes says otherwise.
"Oh, you know exactly what you're doing, Wilhemina. You can't sleep in pajamas like a normal person?"
"If I'm remembering correctly, you preferred it when I slept in nothing at all, Nicholas."
I can do nothing but groan. I love it when she calls me Nicholas and I fucking love that she's flirting with me.
Even if it means that my penance for leaving her in Saltside is to suffer death by blue balls.
The past few days have dragged on as I've accompanied Willa and the rest of her Hollywood entourage as they explored the castle, its grounds, and the quaint, bucolic village of Bainbridge. But the nights, when Willa and I finally get to be alone, have flown by.
This afternoon, I took Jasper, Hugh, Stewart, and Ricardo, the Belgrovinian Business Insider journalist, out skeet shooting while Fiona and Willa hiked the vast expense of property surrounding the castle.
It's been an enjoyable afternoon of shooting and cutting backyard deals with the studio, but I'm eager for the evening.
It's agony pretending Willa means nothing to me, but word cannot get out that I'm involved with a Hollywood actress—an endeavor made more difficult when Mother insisted I bring a journalist along.
But we've made it work. Similar to the first night, over the past two nights, after everyone has retired for the evening, I've slipped through the darkened hallways and snuck into Willa's room.
We've spent the hours talking and kissing and I don't leave until after she's fallen asleep in my arms. Sometimes, even then, I stay longer than I should just to watch her sleep.
Additionally, I've sought other inconspicuous ways to care for Willa. I continue my habit of sending her a text each morning. I want her to begin her day thinking of me and knowing that I'm also thinking of her.
I overheard her tell Fiona that her room was drafty, so I had extra blankets delivered to her suite. (Though I think it’s less that her room is chilly and more that her choice of bedclothing is absurd, but that’s neither here nor there.)
After noticing how Willa picks at her food at mealtimes, barely eating anything, I asked the chef to prepare meals which include Willa's favorites to entice her to eat more.
It hasn't gone unnoticed that she looks thinner than she did in Saltside.
I love Willa's soft, lush curves, and I don't want her to lose them because she (falsely) believes she needs to be stick-thin to be beautiful.
I ensure that Willa has a pot of British tea delivered to her each afternoon, and I picked some flowers from the garden and left them in a vase on her bedside table.
(Admittedly, horticulture arranging is much harder than it looks, and my bouquet looked atrocious, but Willa said she appreciated the thoughtfulness of the gesture.)
I'm doing what I can to prove to her that leaving Saltside the way I did had nothing to do with her, or my feelings for her, and everything to do with my obligation to the Crown and my family, especially my brother.
Tonight, as we lie entwined on Willa's bed with a movie playing in the background, Willa questions, "Why do you feel so indebted to your brother, Nick?"
"Because I put a target on his back."
"A target?"
I nod. "With the media, anyway."
"Nick, as a member of the royal family, you all were born with targets on your backs."
"Maybe so," I sigh, "but I supplied the bullets that almost took Alex down."
"How so?"
Willa's head is in my lap as I gently comb through her hair, but with her question, my fingers still. Wearing only her nightgown, yet another silky thing that leaves little to the imagination, she looks up at me with her alluring, inquisitive eyes.
She's shared her secrets with me, so I opt to do the same.
“When I was not yet sixteen and home for a break from boarding school, I took a car for a joyride, and I crashed it.”
Twisting in my lap, Willa interrupts me with an incredulous gasp. “Was it one of your parents’ cars?”
“It was not. It belonged to one of Alex’s friends. ”
She hisses in disbelief, “You stole a car!” Sitting up, she slides up the bed to lean against the headboard next to me. The thin strap of her negligee slips from her shoulder, exposing the rounded mound of her breast.
Dragging my eyes from her breasts, I nod, “I prefer the term joyride, but yes, I stole a car after I’d been drinking. Nor did I have a license yet.”
“What made you do it?”
“Boredom. Teenage angst. Adolescent petulance. A desire for an adrenaline high. Any number of reasons.” I shrug.
“So, what happened next?”
“It had been raining, and the roads were slick.
I took a turn too fast and slid off the road.
Luckily, I crashed into a copse of trees, not another car, so I didn't injure anyone. Immediately following the crash, I called Alex. I knew I’d fucked up and I needed his help to cover it up.
He snuck out and had a friend drop him off at the accident site, and only then did we call our security team.
As Alex and I were debating what to tell our parents, another driver stopped to see if we were alright and to let us know that he'd called the police.
" I huff out a breath, still annoyed so many years later.
If only he hadn't called the police, things might have turned out differently.
"Of course, when the other driver realized who we were, he quickly sold his story to a tabloid.”
“Oh no! You must have gotten in so much trouble!”
"Not as much as you'd expect," I grimace. "When the police arrived before our palace security team, Alex took control and covered for me. The official story is that Alex borrowed his friend’s car to run a quick errand, and I went with him. It was raining and we hydroplaned. I sustained mild injuries, but luckily, Alex was unharmed.”
“Did everyone buy the story?”