Chapter Twenty-One

JAMES MUST HAVE looked like a picture of perfect, stoic poise for the rest of the world. His legs spread slightly, arms at his side, head slightly bowed as he stood silently alongside his father’s coffin.

But I noticed a tiny tremble in his otherwise steady limbs, the occasional hitch in his breathing, the almost translucent paleness of his skin. He might appear unshakeable on the outside, but James was crumbling on the inside.

Every cell in my body begged to go to him, wrap him in my arms and take all his pain away.

“My god. He looks so…”

“I know,” Harlan murmured beside me. “It’s why I brought you here. Hannah has me, but James is so alone.”

My heart tore clean in half at Harlan’s words. I’d known James wouldn’t have much support, but when Harlan had called, begging me to come to help James through this terrible time, I hadn’t realised how bad things were. I could see it now all too clearly. James’s pain, his loneliness, his fear. Everything he felt he wore for all the world to see.

But no one was looking.

“How could they ask this of him? That’s his father.”

Harlan and I stood at the top of the stairs in a small, out-of-the-way nook in Westminster Hall. We’d come directly here from the airport. James had another forty-three minutes to stand vigil over his father. He looked as though he’d barely make three.

“Has he been eating?” I asked.

“Hardly. He’s not doing well, Presti.”

That much was evident. But how did I help him?

“I don’t… How do I help him, Harlan?”

“Being here is all he will need.” Harlan’s reply sounded far away, muffled as if spoken underwater. I realised then how hard this had been on Harlan too. A man who’d lost his parents so tragically, the memories this must be reviving.

“When Hannah isn’t at the hospital sitting with George,” Harlan continued. “I just sit with her. I’m just there for whatever she needs.”

“Whatever she needs,” I murmured. I could do that for James.

A never-ending stream of people filed along either side of Prince Arthur’s coffin, eyes red-rimmed and wide. Some sniffled and dabbed away tears shed over a stranger, but James’s eyes remained dry while people he’d never met mourned for his father. I did not know how James bore it.

Anger welled deep inside me that James couldn’t mourn like the rest of the nation. It felt wrong and despicable. And I knew there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

“Are you okay, Presti?” Harlan asked, his sad eyes watching me closely. I didn’t know Harlan well, but I was enormously glad James had him in his life.

Never taking my gaze off James, I replied, “I can’t stand seeing him like this.”

“You care about him.”

“I love him.” The words fell easily from my lips.

“I’m glad.” Harlan sighed wearily. How much rest had he had since the accident?

As I turned to ask him, movement caught my eye. James. Something seemed wrong. I felt it even if I hadn’t seen how badly his legs shook now.

Without thought, I moved.

Racing down the stairs two at a time, I heard shouts and whistles as guards reacted to me racing toward Prince James. I didn’t care. I had to reach James. Would they shoot to stop me?

Behind me, Harlan shouted, but his words sounded muffled. I didn’t have enough in me to concentrate on anything more than James. Pushing my way through the line of mourners, I finally found myself at the bottom of the five steps leading up to the casket.

James stared down at me, with no recognition of who I was in his features. His eyes rolled up as his body went limp. I caught him awkwardly before he hit the ground. Balanced between two steps, I couldn’t manage his more considerable bulk, and we sank together, me cradling his body with my own.

“James. James,” I murmured, though I knew he was out cold. Around us, chaos exploded. Guards tried to wrestle me from beneath James. Harlan’s booming shouts tried to warn them off. But they didn’t know who I was. They didn’t realise James had collapsed. Mourners screamed, some ran, and others, no doubt, would have their phones out filming.

I wouldn’t worry about anything but James. “He needs help,” I screamed. “Get him a doctor.”

All I cared about was the man lying askew on top of me. I desperately wanted him to open his eyes and tell me he was okay. But I was a realist—most of the time.

Trying my hardest to ignore the kerfuffle around me, I stroked James’s face, whispering his name, willing him to wake.

Strong hands yanked on my arms and legs. I could only assume security personnel, fearing for the prince’s safety, getting ready to rip me away from him. Didn’t they know I’d gouge my own eyes out before I ever hurt James? Harlan continued yelling and remained ignored. Somebody else began shouting they were a doctor.

And then. Everything faded away.

Because James’s stunning aqua eyes were locked on mine. This time with recognition. This time, he knew who I was.

“Presti?” he murmured.

“I’m here, James. I’m here.”

“How?”

“Ah, a question for later. We’re in something of a situation here.”

Only then did James appear to register where he was and what had happened. Terror shaded the brilliant teal of his eyes; shame reddened his cheeks. And I hated it.

“Oh god,” he moaned. “Oh god. What have I done?”

“You fainted, James. A perfectly human reaction to all the stress and grief,” I soothed. James didn’t seem placated at all. And then, I gently kissed his forehead because I am a fool who forgets anything else exists when I am in James’s orbit.

His entire body tensed before I even caught up to what I’d done. “Oh, Jesus. James, I’m so sorry. Maybe nobody—”

“Ah, fuck it,” James mumbled and kissed me hard and fast right on the lips.

The kiss didn’t last long, and when James pulled back, he rested his forehead on mine, whispering, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

My heart felt so full that I feared it might burst. It galloped in my chest, beating wildly as James held me enthralled in his gaze. There might be a chance people around us missed the kiss, but I knew the princes’ vigil streamed live on YouTube, so… I suppose the entire world had seen or would see Prince James of England kiss another man in the coming hours.

Part of me felt apoplectic about my feelings for James being discovered, while another part didn’t give a damn. James needed me, and I needed him. I needed him to be whole and happy, though I knew that to be impossible right now, given the recent events in his life. I might worry about this public spectacle in the coming hours and days, but at this moment, I had more important concerns.

“Perhaps we should get out of here,” Harlan whispered, looking down at us with a hint of a smile and plenty of concern.

“I should finish—”

“James, nobody will think less of you if you leave here right now. You fainted.” I kept my tone soothing, low, knowing James must be mortified that he’d collapsed so publicly and then, of course, the kiss that followed. He needed a doctor to check him over. But also, selfishly, I didn’t think I could bear seeing him standing so still, so grief-stricken over his father’s casket for a second longer.

“Um, I, ah, agree with your young man, Your Highness,” a timid voice stuttered. “You should see a doctor, which I am. But I’m not your doctor. And I’m a paediatrician, though that doesn’t matter. Your body works the same as a child’s, just bigger, of course, but it works the same…mostly.”

James and I stared up into the reddened face of a young woman who looked very much as though she were fervently hoping the earth would open its maw and swallow her whole right this second. She affected a kind of bob-curtsey as we continued staring, her gaze shifting nervously between mine and James’s. I hadn’t missed that she’d called me James’s young man. I wondered if he’d caught it.

Unsurprisingly, James found his wits before the young doctor or me. “Thank you. You’re very kind, and I shall be certain to see my doctor immediately.” James reached for my hand, squeezing gently as he spoke.

He stood, pulling me to my feet with him. Had he hit his head when he collapsed? First, the kiss, and now he kept my hand in his warm one as he stood before god and everyone. “James? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Perfectly well, Presti. For the first time in a long time, I am perfectly well.” He gently kissed the tip of my nose to punctuate his point.

Who am I to argue with his self-assessment? Smiling softly, I replied, “Very well. But I do think we should get you out of here, following the good doctor’s orders.”

“I agree,” Harlan added.

As I turned to face Harlan, the rest of the room came into focus. Stunned faces surrounded us, a handful of grins but mostly utter confusion. Security had removed much of the public, but a handful still lingered, slowly making their way to the exits under the watchful eye of guards.

My talent for drawing attention seemed undiminished. Unfortunate, yet if it meant I got to keep James, I didn’t care. “I don’t care if everyone watches…us,” I exclaimed. “Well, not all the time. I don’t have an exhibitionist kink.”

“Presti.” James smiled. “I have missed you.”

“Mm. And I you. I just meant…”

“I know what you meant.” James shuffled on his feet, eyes downcast for a moment. “I hope you’ll think the same a week from now when the press and public have torn your life apart.”

“There’s nothing for them to find. Except maybe that one time… Perhaps I’ll tell you about that after we’ve been together for a while and you simply can’t live without me.”

James tipped his glorious head back and laughed, an action so incongruous given where we were, but seeing and hearing him laugh warmed my blood, making those pesky butterflies in my stomach flutter like crazy.

“This way, Your Highness,” a burly guard interrupted. “We’ve cleared the back exit and have a car waiting.”

“Will you come with me, Presti?”

“Astrid would murder me if I did not quote the great Gino Vanelli here. So, ‘wild horses could not drag me away from you’, James.”

“Oh boy,” Harlan sighed beside me. I caught the last of his eye roll as I turned to him.

“People who are not deliriously in love simply do not understand the need to spout quotes from love songs at every opportunity, Har—”

Why had the air suddenly been sucked from the room? Why was James frozen mid-stride? I replayed the conversation in my mind.

Oh god.

Ohgodohgodohgod.

“James, I…”

“You love me?”

“Not quite how I wanted to express my feelings to you, but…yes?”

James smirked. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling. I do. Love you, that is. Very much.”

Before James managed an answer, Harlan said, “I think we should get you two to that car.”

“Quite right,” James replied, the hint of a smile brightening the gloom.

At a slight nod from James, several of the burlier security guards closed in around us, guiding—almost manhandling—us out of the great hall where Prince Arthur lay in state.

The cool air blasted my face as we stepped out the door into the night. I hardly felt it. My senses, my awareness, had been entirely consumed by James. The warmth of his soft hand still holding mine, the hard press of his thigh along mine as we slid into the back of the car, the scent of butterscotch and citrus.

God, I loved him.

The relief in allowing myself to feel it and acknowledge my love for him felt overwhelming. I didn’t know I could feel so…much. I didn’t realise I could be so happy without bursting with it.

But I also knew it wasn’t fair of me to feel such joy when James had so recently lost his father and may still lose his brother. His grief had to be my focus.

As the car purred to life and pulled away, James rested his head on my shoulder, a soft sigh escaping him. “I love you too, Presti.”

He’d spoken the words so softly I had trouble hearing. Or maybe I found it hard to believe he felt the same way about me. This was a prince of England we were talking about. Prestidigitation Jones, a nobody from Kincumber, did not draw the attention of princes.

“I can almost hear you thinking, Presti,” James murmured. “What is it?”

“Well. I was just thinking how utterly absurd it is that you could ever love me.”

“Why?” James asked, sounding entirely perplexed. “You are kind, funny, sweet. You make me smile even when it feels as if the world is ending. Listening to you prattle on, as you once called it, about any subject soothes me. You are my home, Presti. My safe place. Plus, you are smoking hot.”

“James,” I scoffed.

He sat up, turned to me, and gripped my face gently in his hands. “Every word is true, Presti.” James kissed my forehead, cheeks, the tip of my nose, and finally, my lips. “Every word,” he breathed.

As we wound through the streets of London and James settled back into my arms, I thought that was enough. For now, this was enough.