Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Oliver
My chauffeured car crosses the bridge and sweeps through the ornate wrought-iron gates propped open to allow our entrance.
I’ve been to Balmoral every summer since I became prime minister. But even on my first visit, nerves weren’t clamping down in my stomach like they are now.
I’m about to see Callum.
There have been so many moments in the last month when I’ve picked up my phone to video call him. Just to see his face, hear his voice. I’ve started so many different messages to him, only to stop myself from sending them.
Because the craving I have to communicate with him reinforces how important it is that I don’t.
Cold turkey. Detoxification. Staying on the wagon.
I always judged my mother for her addiction to alcohol and drugs, and there’s been a spiteful tinge to my successful resistance to contacting Callum.
See, Mother, I can do it. I can resist the thing I want the most in this world because I know it’s bad for me. It just takes willpower.
Balmoral Castle comes into view. It is truly the definition of a fairy-tale castle. But as the car stops outside the main door, the turrets and majestic spires of Balmoral don’t inspire anything but trepidation.
My heart thuds. My mouth goes dry.
I step out of the car. A small welcoming party is waiting for me.
Callum, in worn corduroy trousers and a woolen pullover that matches his eyes. Callum, whose handsome face seems to be a torrent of emotions.
For a long second, we just stare at each other. I snap my attention to the Queen and force myself to greet her first before turning to Callum.
“Nice to see you, Your Royal Highness.” It takes every ounce of the skills I’ve learned over the years to keep my greeting benign and neutral.
“Always a pleasure, Prime Minister,” he replies. He gives my hand a small squeeze before letting go. My hand tingles at the aftermath of his touch.
Fuck. This whole weekend is going to be an exercise in extreme frustration, being so near to Callum, but yet so far.
I’d just been congratulating myself on having the willpower to resist contacting Callum. But my challenge just got so much harder.
Now I have to resist him when he’s right in front of me.
I stagger down to breakfast the next morning after a fitful sleep. I managed to keep my distance from Callum the night before, only to have him invade my dreams.
That kiss. Over and over again, my subconscious replayed exactly how it felt to kiss Callum. The softness of his lips. The warmth of his face when I cupped it. The taste of him.
Thankfully, I’ve had so many years of experience choking down my emotions that I greet Callum cordially at breakfast like he’s just another member of the royal family, like he hasn’t been the feature of a night’s worth of my fantasies.
I don’t let my gaze linger on a freshly shaven Callum sitting across from me, his hair slightly damp from the shower.
Instead, I glance at Queen Katharine, who reads the newspaper while eating her eggs and toast. I’ve always enjoyed watching the Queen at Balmoral.
She’s more relaxed here, surrounded by her family.
But this visit, there’s an edge to her. She’s trying so hard to pretend everything is normal with most of her family missing, but there’s a brittleness to her like she could shatter at any moment.
She seems to sense my gaze on her and puts down her cup of tea, regarding me over her reading glasses.
“Now, Oliver, I know you don’t enjoy hunting, but I was wondering if you’d like to go fishing today.”
“Fishing would be brilliant,” I reply.
The royal family loves their outdoor life, as I’ve learned from previous visits. My first year, they took me hunting for a stag, and I couldn’t really hide my revulsion for blood sports. I have enough blood sports in my day job.
“Callum, Nicholas, why don’t you go with Oliver too? Bruce can accompany you as your guide and show you the best spots.”
At her words, I can’t help my gaze shooting to Callum.
A tinge of pink rides up Callum’s cheekbones. He sneaks a quick glance at me, then diverts his gaze back to the cereal in front of him.
“Okay,” Callum says to his plate. “That sounds like fun.”
“That sounds like a marvelous plan,” Nicholas says. “I would love the chance to talk to Oliver more about the policy initiatives his government plans to roll out this term.”
Is this Nicholas playing pretend heir? Trying to show Callum up by his interest in the government of Britain. Or am I too suspicious and cynical after spending so much time in the quagmire of British politics?
After breakfast, we head to the gear room. I know from my last visit here that fishing is a serious endeavor where we get kitted out with waders, boots, and vests.
“So, are we going to ride out or drive?” Nicholas asks as we all leave the gear room armed with supplies.
“My vote is definitely for the Land Rovers,” Callum says swiftly.
“What about you, Oliver? Do you ride?” Nicholas asks.
“No, I don’t. There weren’t many pony clubs where I grew up,” I say.
“Land Rovers it is,” Nicholas says in a jolly voice. “I’ll go find Bruce, and then we’ll get this show on the road, shall we?”
He leaves Callum and me standing on the cobbled courtyard.
Callum shuffles his fishing gear into one arm so he can bend down to pet one of the dogs constantly underfoot at Balmoral.
“So, you’re not a horsey person like the rest of your family?” I ask.
Callum straightens and quirks an eyebrow at me. “I’ve told you about my attempts to learn to ride a bike. Do you think substituting a living creature with free will would increase my chances of success?”
I can’t help the laugh that falls out of me. It’s a laugh I didn’t know I was capable of producing. A free, joyful sound. A smile lights up Callum’s face in response.
This is what Callum and I do.
We animate each other.
Nicholas and Bruce come clattering across the courtyard together.
Nicholas tilts his head, his gaze shooting between Callum and me. “What’s the joke?”
“I was just telling Oliver about my incredible lack of talent on a horse,” Callum says.
“Well, I imagine that could keep someone laughing for days,” Nicholas says. “Shall we get this gear loaded up?”
Bruce, a rangy guy in his fifties, has no problem bossing the prime minister and two princes about the best way to load up a Land Rover with a day’s supply of fishing equipment.
When we’ve finished, Nicholas brandishes two sets of Land Rover keys. “Shall we shove off? Prime Minister, do you want to ride with me?”
“All right,” I say.
I settle into my seat next to Nicholas, and the Land Rover jolts to life, tailing the one in front with Callum and Bruce.
It’s a relief not to be in the same vehicle as Callum because close proximity to him is not what I need right now.
But as Nicholas expertly navigates the bumpy track, chatting away, all his clever words and smooth charm do is underscore the difference between him and his brother. Reminding me how talking to Callum brings a lightness I’ve never felt before.
Bloody hell. I’m not even spending time with Callum, yet my feelings for him are deepening.
I run a hand through my hair and look out at the spectacular Scottish scenery, the hills soaring up to the sky.
The loch in the distance shimmers like a sheet of glass against the backdrop of bracken and heather.
It’s the type of landscape that puts human worries into perspective.
“Right, this is us.” Nicholas pulls off the side of the track next to where Bruce has parked.
We focus on getting the equipment out from the cars, and then Nicholas and Bruce set off confidently down the path towards the river. I head after them, listening to Callum’s soft footfalls behind me. When they suddenly stop, I spin around.
Callum’s crouching and examining something in the tall blades of grass.
“What have you found?” I ask, retracing my steps up the path towards him.
When I reach him, I see the spider web that has captured his attention. It hangs suspended between two small branches of bracken, glittering with dew drops in the early morning light. It’s like delicate lacework shimmering with tiny crystal orbs.
“It’s a small thing of beauty.” He grins at me, and the delight on his face causes an extra beat of my heart.
I have my own definition of a thing of beauty.
It appears I can’t completely conceal my thoughts from my gaze because Callum’s smile flickers, then fades.
For a few seconds, we remain locked in each other’s gazes. My hand twitches to reach out and touch his beautiful face, his golden hair lit by the morning light.
I clear my throat, moving my gaze back to the spider web. The strands of sunlight hitting the droplets cause an intricate dance of colors.
“I actually agree that deserves to be somewhere on the spectrum of magical,” I say. Despite my best attempt, my voice retains a rawness that betrays the emotions swirling inside me.
“Magic is everywhere when you look for it,” he replies softly.
“You two all right back there?” Nicholas’s voice comes from the other side of the trees.
“Coming,” Callum calls back, straightening.
I try to swallow down my emotions as I fall into file behind Callum on the narrow track. I can’t help watching his shoulders, the way his muscles hunch and relax under his shirt, his steady stride.
Bloody hell, who knew you could find the way someone walks so attractive?
The noise of the burbling water grows closer. But as we edge towards the wooded thicket between us and the river, the sound of loud swearing causes Callum to swing around to look at me, eyes wide, before we both speed up our steps through the shaded path.
We arrive on the riverbank to find Nicholas sitting on one of the boulders clutching his ankle while Bruce fusses around him.
“What happened? Are you okay?” Callum immediately heads over to his brother.
“I just twisted my ankle.” Nicholas’s face is screwed up in a scowl. “I was wondering what was taking you two so long, so I headed back to find out and stood in a rabbit hole.”
“Can you put any weight on it?” Bruce asks.