In the Royal's Bed

The first time Kelly had seen it she’d been speechless with delight and it affected her just as deeply now. She stared out of the car window as they left the port city, then followed the river road to the foothills of the mountains, through Zunderfied, the small village which had served the castle for generations and then further to where the palace of Alp de Ciel lay in all its glory.

It was no wonder she’d fallen for Kass, an older and wiser Kelly thought sadly. This place breathed romance. She’d been lonely and awed and in love with this country—Kass must have found her more than ripe for the picking.

She couldn’t let herself be swayed by beauty this time. Nor by words.

Nor by a de Boutaine…

‘It’s not all as beautiful as it looks,’ Rafael told her as she sat with her nose squashed against the window, and she cast him a look that was almost scared.

‘It is beautiful.’

‘Surface gorgeous. You know how Kass financed his latest bout of gambling debts? He allowed logging almost to the edge of Zunderfied. The land here gets saturated with the snow melts. We’ve had two minor landslips there with spring already. That’s just one problem among hundreds.’

She turned and gazed upward and saw the scarred hillside, the jarring ugliness of the leavings from clear felling. But…to allow herself to worry about the countryside…the people…

She wasn’t royal. She wasn’t!

She mustn’t care.

‘You love it,’ Rafael said softly as the car slowed and turned into the palace grounds.

‘Not…not any more.’

‘There’s no need to be defensive,’ he said. ‘There’s no one who wants you to do anything you don’t want. I dare say the villagers can worry about their landslips very well themselves without you worrying on their behalf.’ He grimaced. ‘If you want to cloister yourself in your attic in your remarkable sweater then your wish will be respected.’

‘Does that mean Mama is allowed to wear that sweater?’ Matty demanded, astounded.

‘It’s her business.’

‘Ellen will say it’s not royal.’

‘Ellen will say no such thing,’ Rafael said firmly. ‘Your mother is here as her own person. She can do exactly as she pleases.’

Damn, why was she blinking again? She glanced out of the back window of the car and saw the tiny township of Zunderfied perched below a swathe of freshly cleared mountainside. She’d boarded there when she’d first come here and thought it was delightful—a tiny alpine village that was steeped in history.

But the logging… How could Kass have agreed to such a thing? Even from here it seemed the little town was in peril. She wanted to get out of the car and start replanting now.

No! NMP, she told herself fiercely.

Not My Problem.

There was no hiding in the background when they arrived at the palace. She was expected.

The first time she’d arrived here it had been with the archaeological dig team. They’d worked out of sight of the main castle, sifting through the remains of ancient castle sites. So the only time she’d been in this forecourt had been the time she’d arrived with Kass.

She’d been eight months pregnant. Her pregnancy had been dreadful. She’d been sick all the time, and Kass had hardly been near.

But then his father was dead and he was triumphant. He’d hauled her home, almost as a trophy.

‘This is my wife,’ he’d said, tugging her out of the limousine and not caring that she almost fell. ‘She’s carrying my heir. A son. This is now my country. My country.’

The domestic staff had all been there to greet him—they’d lined up on either side of the castle entrance. She remembered the silence. The silent, cold disapproval.

Kass had swept inside, leaving her to follow.

‘Take care of her,’ he’d snapped to a couple of the domestic staff. ‘She’s to have everything she needs to deliver a perfect child.’

It had stayed with her. The dismay in the eyes of everyone around her. The contempt. Even…pity?

But now…

This was very, very different.

Yes, the staff were assembled. Not as many. It was a pared down staff, maybe only a quarter as big.

Every one of the staff was smiling.

‘Ellen,’ Matty yelled, launching himself out of the car and heading straight for a buxom woman at the end of the line. Then, as she scooped him into her arms and hugged, he turned from her shoulder and whooped as he saw more friends, ‘Marguerite. Aunt Laura.’

They were all beaming at her little son. Rafael was smiling too. A man she remembered…Crater—the palace Secretary of State, more stooped than she remembered and his hair more silver—was stepping forward to grasp Rafael’s hand.

‘It’s good to have you back, sir.’

‘It’s good to be back,’ Rafael said. He turned to hug a woman near him—a lady around the same age as Crater. She was wearing a flowing skirt, a cardigan that reached almost to her knees and a paint-spattered pinafore over everything. Her abundance of silver hair was tied up in a knot and there was paint there too. She was smiling with everyone else but sniffing into a paint-smudged handkerchief.

‘Mama, don’t you dare cry.’ He picked her up and whirled her round as he might have whirled a child. ‘I’ve been away only a week. Kelly will think you’re soppy.’

‘Kelly,’ the lady whispered and Rafael set her down and turned her to face Kelly.

‘Mama, this is Kelly. Everyone, this is our own Princess Kellyn Marie de Boutaine. She’s been sorely wronged but she’s finally consented to take her place where she ought to be. It gives me huge pleasure to tell you all that our Kelly has finally come home.’

And for a moment—for just a moment—Kelly wished she looked more like a princess. The last thing she wanted was to be thought of as a poor relation. She hadn’t thought it through…

But she couldn’t think it for long for Laura gave her no chance. With a cry of delight, Laura abandoned Rafael and took swift steps to where she was standing. Kelly could hardly be self-conscious of her clothes in the face of layers of paint. There was even a daub of purple on Laura’s left eyebrow.

And there was no disguising the sincerity of her welcome. Smiling warmly, Laura took her by both hands and held her at arm’s length, surveying her from head to toe. But Kelly thought she wasn’t seeing the clothes. She was looking deeper.

‘So you’ve come home,’ Laura whispered. ‘Oh, my dear, we are so sorry. This country’s done you such a wrong. I don’t know how you can ever forgive us, but from now on…we’re overjoyed to have you here. Welcome home, Kelly, dear.’

She turned and held Kelly’s hand high in hers.

‘Our Matty has his mother home,’ she said to the assemblage. ‘And we have our princess. Thank you, Rafael, for bringing our Kellyn home.’

But of course she wasn’t ‘our Kellyn’. She’d never been part of this royal family and she had no intention of being slotted neatly into an allocated space now.

The next few hours passed in a haze of shock and confusion and jet lag. Somehow, however, she managed to keep her wits about her enough to insist on her independence from the first.

With the first greetings over, with Matty scampering off to greet his friends, to make sure nothing had changed in his absence and to distribute the myriad of souvenir gifts he’d stocked up on, Laura and Rafael showed her to her rooms. To her horror, she found she was expected to sleep in the same ghastly, opulent suite she’d been confined to while she’d waited for Matty to be born. It had been closed when she left and hadn’t been used since. She glanced through to the bathroom and the dressing gown she’d worn when she was pregnant was folded neatly on a side table. Cleaned and pressed. Waiting for her to return?

She backed out in horror. No and no and no.

Rafael raised his eyebrows in bemusement. ‘These are the best we have,’ he said. ‘Rooms fit for a royal bride. Kass never felt any desire to put anyone else in them.’

‘Then get yourself a royal bride to put in them,’ she said crisply, staring round at the gilt and chandeliers and rich crimson velvet with loathing. ‘I think I get to be described as the royal relic from now on. I don’t want anything to do with this stuff.’

‘You don’t look like a relic.’

‘If she doesn’t want gilt she doesn’t have gilt,’ Laura said stoutly. ‘There’s not a scrap of gilt in the dower house. Not that I’m offering to share. It’s a wee bit cosy.’

‘My mother paints,’ Rafael said unnecessarily, smiling at his mother in affection. ‘The dower house has five bedrooms. Or it did have five bedrooms. Now it has five studios, one of which has my mother’s bed crammed in the corner.’ He hesitated, looking at Kelly’s face and registering her real distress. ‘Meanwhile this lady wants an attic,’ Rafael said softly. ‘Mama, which are our most respectable attics?’

The staff seemed flummoxed but she was then given a guided tour of the place.

Matty had almost a wing to himself—the palace nurseries. Right above was an attic wing—two rooms with turret windows, facing south, with sunlight streaming in through the ancient, hand-blown glass.

The furnishings were faded. ‘I think someone’s maiden aunt might have used these rooms a long time ago,’ Laura said, looking about her at the doilies and antimacassars and overstuffed armchairs. And the tiny narrow bed.

‘It’s fine,’ Kelly said.

‘Only if we can get you a new bed,’ Rafael growled, so she graciously accepted, asked for a desk and a decent reading light and prepared to start being a recluse.

It didn’t quite work straight off. For a start she needed to read Matty his bedtime story. ‘For surely that’s your role now,’ Laura said gently.

It was, and she loved that Laura and Rafael—and Marguerite and Ellen and every one of the palace staff—seemed determined to let her be Matty’s mother in every sense of the word.

So she read to Matty in a big armchair in front of the nursery fire. Halfway through the story he sidled on to her knee and promptly fell asleep in her arms. The sensation was indescribable. It almost made her forget her vow to be a recluse.

So she’d be a recluse who did the odd cuddle on the side.

Then supper was ready. ‘We waited for you,’ Ellen told her and Kelly thought tomorrow she’d figure how she could use the kitchen and make herself toasted sandwiches because that was all she felt like, but tonight she was stuck.

She remembered the grand dining room where she’d been served in the past with pomp and rigid silence. She followed Ellen downstairs with a sinking heart but, instead of being ushered into the grand salon she remembered, Ellen led the way through less formal corridors, down worn stone steps and into…a kitchen. A vast kitchen with a range that took half a wall, with a table big enough to feed a football team, ancient wood, worn with scrubbing.

Laura was sitting at the table buttering bread. Rafael was at the range cooking…toasted sandwiches?

‘I wanted to make you dinner myself tonight,’ Laura said, smiling at her obvious discomposure. ‘I have a much less grand kitchen. But we thought Matty would be asleep here and you might want to stick close.’

‘Close?’ she queried faintly, thinking of the corridors she’d just navigated, and Rafael flipped the sandwich he was toasting and grinned.

‘Close in castle terms. Less than half a day’s march. Can we interest you in a toasted cheese sandwich?’

‘What happened to silver service?’ she said faintly and Laura winced.

‘Don’t say you liked it.’

‘No, I…’

‘The minute Kass died we locked up the dining room. Matty hates it, you see,’ she explained. ‘It was the only time Matty ever saw his father. When Kass was in the palace, at the end of every meal he’d send for Matty and grill him on his lessons. Matty used to shake every time he passed the dining room. So we thought we wouldn’t use it.’

‘My mother’s pretty definite,’ Rafael said. ‘But, of course, it’s your call now. If you want to use the dining room…’

‘It’s not my call. It’s you who’s Prince Regent.’

‘If it’s up to me, I like it just fine where I am,’ he said. ‘Actually, no. I like it better in Manhattan but, since I’ve been blackmailed…’

‘You’ve been no such thing,’ Laura retorted. ‘Kelly, I refuse to let you feel guilty. Rafael’s known from the moment Kass died that his responsibility was here.’

‘You want him to stay?’

‘No,’ Laura said bluntly. ‘Well, no, in terms of no, I don’t want him to have to assume the mantle of royalty. But in terms of having someone round who can cook great toasted sandwiches…’ She smiled, a smile that matched her son’s to a T as he flipped a sandwich on to her plate. ‘I taught him his culinary skills,’ she said proudly. ‘It’s my greatest feat. He’ll make some woman very happy some day. He’ll keep her in toasted sandwiches for ever.’

‘Does Anna like toasted sandwiches?’ Kelly asked before she could stop herself and the two identical grins faded.

‘Probably not,’ Laura said cautiously.

‘You mean definitely not,’ Rafael retorted.

‘Have you broken the news to Anna that you’re relocating here permanently?’ his mother asked.

‘Nope.’

‘Coward.’

‘I am a coward,’ he admitted and he turned his attention back to his pan. ‘You know Anna. You’d be a coward too. Kelly, two sandwiches or more?’

It was a lovely, laughing informal meal, about as different from what she remembered of castle life as it was possible to be. She ate three rounds of toasted cheese sandwiches and a vast bowl of sun-ripened strawberries picked only hours ago from the palace gardens. Then Rafael made coffee using a mysterious Turkish coffee-maker that he swore made coffee that was a legend in its own time.

It was pretty good coffee. It was pretty good company. Kelly said little, content to listen to Laura and her son catch up on castle gossip, on trivial domestic stuff, on a life she was starting to feel maybe wouldn’t be as bad as she’d thought it would be.

‘I need to go,’ Laura said reluctantly after the coffee was finished and the plates were cleared into the sink. ‘Rafael has a deputation to meet at eight and I don’t want to be around when they come.’

‘A deputation?’

‘Just a welcome home committee,’ Rafael said and grimaced. ‘The mayor and the town’s dignitaries welcoming me home. Or, more probably, to make sure I know the deforestation issue is urgent. Plus about a thousand other grievances. They wanted to come in the morning but my gear’s coming so they’ve agreed to come tonight.’ He hesitated. ‘They won’t meet with Crater. They see him as part of the old establishment. Which leaves me. I wouldn’t mind some support.’

‘You’re a big boy,’ Laura said, but she suddenly sounded strained. ‘You can meet them yourself.’

‘Should we wash up?’ Kelly asked a bit too fast, not wanting to think about anyone needing support. A royal welcome… It was all very well eating toasted sandwiches but no one in this family would forget for long that they were royal. Including her?

And Rafael was shrugging. Moving on. He had no choice—he might as well move forward with good humour.

‘If you think I’m meeting dignitaries plus doing the washing-up you have rocks in your head,’ he retorted and managed a grin. ‘There has to be some advantage of being royal. We can leave the washing-up to the staff.’

‘I’m a failure as a mother,’ Laura mourned.

‘If you’re starting to count my shortcomings then we’ll walk you home,’ Rafael told her, smiling across at Kelly. ‘That is if you feel like a walk before bed. If you’re like me, you’ll still be thinking it’s morning. My entire body clock is upside down.’

Hers, too. She’d slept in the plane. She felt wide awake.

She felt…

‘I can walk myself home,’ Laura said briskly. ‘It’s just past the gatehouse.’

‘There are bogeymen out there,’ Rafael said. ‘The ghosts of a thousand royals.’

‘And your father’s one of them,’ Laura retorted. ‘You think any bogeyman would get me when your father’s around to protect me?’ She smiled fondly up at her son and caught his hand, letting him swing her to her feet. ‘Rafael’s father died here when Rafael was fifteen,’ she told Kelly. ‘It’s why I’ve never wanted to leave. It still feels as if he’s here.’

‘You’re just a romantic,’ her son said.

‘And you’re not?’

‘Absolutely not,’ Rafael retorted. ‘What about it, Kelly? Will you help escort my mother home, keeping her from bogeymen?’

‘Are you staying with your mother?’

‘No,’ he said brusquely and Kelly thought he and his mother must have talked about this already. It seemed to have touched a nerve. ‘My mother believes if I’m to do a decent job as Prince Regent then I live here. In the State Apartments.’

Kass’s rooms. She’d never been admitted to them in the time she’d been here, but she’d walked past open doors. She’d never seen so much opulence in her life.

‘You’ll enjoy that,’ she managed and he stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.

‘Plenty of room for toys,’ she ventured and his mother choked.

‘There surely is. See, Rafael, there’s a new way of looking at things.’ She was walking towards the door. ‘I don’t need an escort, thank you, children, but…’

‘But you’re having an escort,’ Rafael growled.

CHAPTER FIVE

SO THEY walked Laura through the magnificent palace grounds, across the manicured lawns and past the extravagant fountains, down through the tiered rose gardens, brushing around the edge of the woodland area, following a path that was worn from years of royal tread. The moon was full. The woodland held night birds Kelly had never heard before, their calls eerie and wondrous in the moonlight. Nightingales? Maybe. She’d never heard a nightingale. She remembered feeling romantic all those years ago, wishing she’d hear one.

Romance was for the past. She was a sensible woman who’d learned her lesson.

She walked silently on the left of Laura. Rafael walked on her right, holding his mother’s arm lightly.

He seemed protective, Kelly thought, and wondered why. Was there a reason he needed to protect her? She seemed a totally self-contained lady.

‘So who gets to support Matty at the coronation?’ Laura asked and there was a deathly silence.

‘Coronation?’ Kelly said cautiously.

‘Uh-oh,’ Rafael said.

‘You knew it was coming,’ his mother said. ‘Didn’t you?’

‘Yes, but…’

‘But you intended to be back in Manhattan. Not possible now. Not possible ever. You need to be part of it, Rafael.’

‘Dress uniform,’ he said with loathing.

‘You like your dress sword,’ Kelly said and he shook his head.

‘I look ridiculous in a dress sword.’

‘You look…’ She hesitated.

‘Magnificent is the word you’re looking for,’ Laura said fondly. ‘His papa looked wonderful in dress regalia too.’

‘And it did a lot for Papa,’ Rafael said curtly. ‘I suppose I have to be there.’

‘Of course you do,’ Laura told him. ‘Crater’s been organizing it while you’ve been away. You need to swear all sorts of things—basically whatever Matty would have to swear if he was old enough.’

‘I think Kelly should do it,’ Rafael said and Kelly winced.

‘Hey, not me. I’m not royal material.’

‘Neither of you sound committed,’ Laura said cautiously.

Kelly said solidly, ‘That’s because I’m not.’

‘You know, this country does need a royal presence,’ Laura said. They’d reached the gate into the dower house and paused. The dower house was a miniature castle—exquisite. The garden here was a mass of wild flowers and shrubbery that seemed almost a wilderness. Kelly could smell jasmine and roses and…gardenia? Honeysuckle? The scene in the moonlight was fantastic.

But Laura wasn’t focusing on gardens. She had a wider picture. ‘This country’s been let go,’ Laura said, speaking earnestly to both of them. ‘Neither Kass nor his father cared a toss about the country. Rafael, it nearly killed your father…’

‘It did kill my father,’ he said bitterly.

‘A fall from a horse killed your father.’

‘And then he wasn’t permitted near the old Prince because disability made him nervous. So he couldn’t do a thing.’

‘Rafael’s father tried to manage the economy of the place,’ Laura explained to Kelly. ‘He did what he could to make things easier for the people of Alp de Ciel. Then, when he was injured, his father, the old Prince, simply took all his royal duties from him.’

‘Which pretty much killed him,’ Rafael said. ‘So why you’d think I’d want to pick up the pieces now…’

‘Your father would want you to.’

‘My father’s dead,’ Rafael said. ‘I’m a toy-maker, Mama.’

‘And a good one,’ she said warmly and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. ‘But the two aren’t mutually exclusive. Prince of the blood and toy-maker on the side.’

‘I’m a toy-maker,’ he repeated. ‘I’ll do what I must here, and nothing more.’

‘See, that’s just the problem,’ she said. Instead of opening the garden gate, she hitched herself up to sit on the drystone wall round the garden. She swung her legs against the stone and surveyed Kelly and Rafael with care.

‘This country is a responsibility,’ she said. ‘A huge responsibility. And Matty’s too little to take it on.’

‘No one’s taken it on for the last fifty years,’ Rafael said.

‘Your father tried to. It wasn’t his job but…’

‘You’re right. It wasn’t his job. It isn’t mine.’

‘It is,’ she said forcibly. ‘You’re Prince Regent. The country needs you.’

‘Don’t you start,’ he snapped. ‘Kelly’s already blackmailed me into staying.’

‘Ah, yes,’ Laura said softly. ‘Kelly.’

‘Hey, don’t look at me,’ Kelly said, startled. ‘I’m not even royal.’

‘I’m sorry, my dear, but that’s where you’re wrong,’ Laura said sternly. ‘You were royal from the minute you married Kass. You were even more royal the moment you bore him a son. This is your country.’

‘It’s not my country.’

‘Someone has to take responsibility for it,’ she said sadly. ‘It’s impoverished. Everyone knows that. The industries need a complete overhaul—the farming techniques are antiquated. There’s money in the royal coffers to subsidise improvements, reform, but nothing’s done. So far there’s been little protest by the people. We have an extraordinarily accepting population. But now…’

‘Now what?’ Rafael said ominously and his mother kicked the stone wall some more and looked from Rafael to Kelly and back again.

‘Now there are three countries leading by example,’ she said. ‘Alp de Montez, Alp d’Estella and Alp d’Azuri. Three of the four principalities created all those centuries ago and almost destroyed by generation after generation of royalty who bled them dry with their own greed. Within the last few years each of these three countries have had their governments transformed. Each royal house has finally taken responsibility for their countries. They’re now run as true democracies with an overarching sovereign. Their industries are thriving. Tourists are attracted in droves and the people here are looking at their neighbours and asking why not us?’

‘They can do it,’ Rafael said nervously.

‘No, dear, they can’t,’ his mother said. ‘They being individuals within this country who want change. There’s no avenue for change. The only way change is possible is with constitutional reform, and with enormous amounts of energy, commitment and sheer hard work by the incumbent sovereign. And, in case you hadn’t noticed, that’s you two.’

‘Not me,’ Kelly said,

‘Not me, either,’ Rafael said and his mother sighed.

‘That’s what Kass said.’

‘Mama, I’m only here because Kelly forced me to be here,’ Rafael growled. ‘To take this all on…’ He sounded bleak.

But there was a trace of acceptance in his voice, Kelly thought. There was more than a trace of his father in him. Despite his distaste for royalty, he’d agreed to meet this deputation tonight. She watched his face and thought yes, he’d do it. And it wasn’t just her blackmail that was making him commit.