The Forever Royal Match

Chapter 1

Princess Victoria was twerking.

The goddamn heir to the British throne was shaking her arse like she’d personally invented the dance, egged on by a wide-eyed Princess Astrid.

Victoria had promised she’d perform any dare that Astrid (heir to the Swedish throne and professional chaos merchant) threw her way on Victoria and Ash’s hen do, and this was the latest in a long line of things she might regret in the morning.

So far, she and Ash had drunk a tequila shot from each other’s cleavage with no hands: easier for Ash, because at least her bride-to-be had a cleavage.

Victoria had also given Ash a lap dance (Ash was still recovering), then prank-called the Swedish Embassy pretending to be the Queen, and demanded an emergency delivery of lingonberry jam to the Palace.

Victoria’s friend Dexter had footage of the night so far on his phone, which he’d sworn on his life was just for private use, never to be shared. Although he’d also tilted his head, then added, “Apart from maybe at Victoria’s coronation?”

Victoria had punched him on the arm, hard.

“How come you’re not up there dancing?” he asked Ash. “Aren’t you taking lessons for the big day?”

Ash closed her eyes, trying to block out his words. “Please don’t talk about dancing. My feet are still sore from yesterday, but not as sore as Victoria’s because I keep stepping on her feet.”

Dexter turned his head. “Trouble in Strictly paradise?”

“Let’s just say, I will not be accepting an invitation to follow in Chanelle Pickford’s shoes and be a contestant on that dancing show any time soon,” Ash replied.

He snorted, then carried on filming.

“Did you know she had this in her?” Dexter smoothed his thick Italian locks from his forehead. He was so ridiculously good-looking, Ash always expected a sparkle when he smiled, with an added ding sound. “We fake-dated for years, and she never let go like this. Or shook her hips like that.”

Ash’s mouth curled up at the edges. “I believe I might have been privy to some of Victoria’s more noteworthy hip highlights.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not for me to brag, but maybe she just needed the right partner to pull it out of her.”

Dexter stuck up a hand. “TMI!” he screeched, and for the 134th time, Ash wondered how she never saw through the Dexter ruse. Maybe it was because Victoria actually loved him, and the feeling was mutual. It was harder to clock fake couples when they were friends.

However, as soon as she and Victoria began dating, and Dexter got comfortable around her, he’d let his natural flamboyance shine. “I don’t need to pretend to be straight anymore!” he once told her. “Halle-fucking-lujah!”

But enough about Dexter: Ash turned her attention back to Victoria.

Head thrown back laughing at something Astrid had said.

Lurid, if Ash knew Astrid. Thighs spread just enough, hips thrusting, buttocks shaking enough to contravene at least three royal protocols.

Victoria was mesmeric, and she was nearly Ash’s other half officially.

This hen do was in a private room in the Devonshire, Victoria’s preferred Mayfair hangout.

Ash had voted to revisit Marbella, but Victoria only had one night free in her calendar, so Mayfair had won.

When Ash looked left, half the Lionesses were doing tequila shots at the bar, the football season having ended yesterday. The royal wedding was in two weeks’ time, and school was officially out for summer. Ash had four weeks off, and she was getting married. She intended to make the most of them.

The music changed, and Victoria hugged Astrid. They both stumbled towards Ash and Dex. Victoria’s dark hair tumbled around her shoulders, and her sapphire gaze locked onto Ash with naked intent.

The heat of Victoria’s stare rippled through Ash, flames licking through her with every sway of those hips. She readied herself to be enveloped by her fiancée, but instead, Astrid got to her first, nearly bowling her over.

“I don’t know what you did to Victoria this morning, but please do it again. She’s hilarious tonight!” Astrid shrieked into Ash’s ear.

Next to her, Victoria’s smile was wonky. The tequila had clearly struck.

“Great twerking, Vic!” Dexter told her, kissing Victoria’s cheek. “I think you should do that up the aisle for your wedding. Fuck the wedding march, right? Let’s have some Lady Gaga, and you twerking, loud and proud.”

Victoria gave him a smile, then did an adorable hiccup. Closely followed by another one. Uh-oh.

“I could show them, couldn’t I?” She clenched a fist by her head.

“The Church of England – that I will one day be the head of – won’t let us marry in a church.

I say, let’s overthrow all the royal wedding traditions.

I’ll have drag queens for bridesmaids, and drag kings for ushers.

” She draped an arm around Astrid. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?

You’re bumped off the bridesmaid list, and we’ll hire the whole of Drag Race UK. ”

Astrid threw her head back and laughed like a drain. “Bump me off, baby! I want to see those queers in heels click-clacking down the aisle, while royalty from every country in the world looks on in horror.”

Now, Dexter really did snort. “Oh purlease! That lot? And all the dignitaries and politicians? You can’t tell me they all haven’t been to a gay club or a drag show in their lives.

Some of them multiple times. Especially the god-fearing ones.

They’d all be tapping their feet and itching to get up and dance. ”

He had a point.

“It’s decided, then.” Victoria hiccupped again, then looked confused, like she didn’t recall doing it ever before. “Drag queens and kings are in. I’ll tell my mother in the morning. It’s my wedding after all, isn’t it? She can’t decide everything!”

Ash gave her a tiny shake of the head. If only that were true. She reached out and took Victoria’s hand in hers.

“Come on, wife-to-be.”

Victoria shook her head, then pouted. “I’m not going home yet!”

“No, you’re not,” Ash told her, as if she were disciplining a toddler. Which wasn’t far off.

She dragged her to the nearby toilet, and locked the door, as Victoria flattened herself against the back of it, then raised an eyebrow.

Another hiccup, which she chose to ignore.

“I see what’s going on here.” She licked her lips, then grabbed Ash’s fingers and pulled her close. “Is this a ruse to get me alone and fuck me in the bathroom?”

Victoria’s breasts pressed against Ash, and she gulped. “You know how I love sex against a door…”

Victoria grabbed the lapel of Ash’s shirt. But then, just as she was about to kiss her, a particularly aggressive hiccup exploded from her mouth, and Victoria headbutted Ash, plum in the eye. The crack of skull on skull made nausea swell inside Ash, as pain arrowed through her head.

“For fuck’s sake.” Ash staggered backwards towards the sink, hand over her face.

She took her hand away and peered into the mirror.

Her eye was red. If Victoria had given her a black eye two weeks before the wedding, she wasn’t sure how the Queen was going to react.

Or her mum. She could only imagine trying to explain what happened to her wedding stylist.

“Are you okay?” Another hiccup, but this time, Victoria frowned. “Did I hurt you?” She sounded concerned, but also confused.

There was no point being annoyed with her.

“I’ll live,” Ash replied, massaging around her eye. Then she plonked Victoria on the loo, and squatted in front of her.

“I want you taking deep breaths, and then we’ll do the thing where you focus on my finger and try to forget your hiccups, okay?”

But Victoria simply grinned at her words and smoothed Ash’s blonde locks from her face. “Focusing on your fingers has never been a problem before, and I can’t see it being one now,” she told her, lips puckered and heading towards Ash’s.

But Ash wasn’t taking any chances. She pushed Victoria backwards. “I’m serious. I want you to focus. No kissing. Follow my finger.”

Victoria pouted, but did as she was told.

“Take a deep breath, and follow my finger. I’m going to count back from ten. Don’t take your eye off it.”

Victoria squinted as she trained her gaze on Ash’s index finger. Even though Ash’s eye was still smarting, Victoria looked so damn cute, it took all Ash’s effort not to kiss her. Even when she was a drunk, hiccupping mess, she was still perfect.

“Ten, nine, eight,” Ash started.

“My gorgeous Ash, and her gorgeous proposal.”

“Seven, six, five…”

“I was telling Astrid,” she slurred. “My baby is so romantic. Champagne, chocolates, flowers, the works.”

“Four, three.”

Hiccup.

“Stop talking. I’m starting again. Follow my finger.”

Victoria leaned forward and kissed the tip.

Ash felt it everywhere.

“Ten, nine, eight…”

“The way you got down on one knee,” Victoria continued. “I never even suspected it.”

“Seven, six, five…”

“I mean, we’d talked about it, but I never thought anyone would propose to me. I’m hardly a catch.”

“Four, three, two, one.” Ash stared at Victoria. No hiccups for at least ten seconds. Had they conquered it? Maybe. She stared, and neither one of them broke eye contact.

“The love of my life. My soon-to-be-wife. The future Duchess of Cambridge. Always my queen.”

Ash winced, but hoped Victoria didn’t see it.

She was still processing the name changes that came with getting hitched.

Once they were married, they were going to become joint Duchesses of Cambridge.

Ash was going to lose so much of her life once she was swallowed up by the royal machine.

Her professional name was important to her, and she was determined to keep that.

If for no other reason than Duchess Of Cambridge was a bugger to fit on the back of a football shirt.

“I can’t wait for you to be a duchess. Will you be a duchess for me, Ash?”

Ash nodded: she wasn’t going to disappoint Victoria tonight.

“When we get married, I’ll be whatever you want me to be.” She pushed herself up from her squat, and pulled Victoria up, too. “I’ll be your duchess, your wife, and also your chief hiccup-extinguisher.”

Victoria slung an arm over her shoulder and grinned. “My nearly wife. My beautiful fucking nearly wife.”

Ash placed a bruising kiss on her lips, then took her hand. “Let’s get you home. No more dancing for you. You need to save some of that energy for our next lesson.”