Tangled Up in Princes (Royal Romances Book 1) (13 page)

"Yes, she was."

"I thought so. I spoke with Inga."

Inga was Astrid's mother, and a long-time friend of Edward's mother.

"She told me how you and Ms. MacCallum came to be caught in such a compromising position."

"You've a knack for ferreting out gossip. I never suspected it of you. In another life, you might have made a name for yourself on the other side of the tabloids."

She gave him one of her rare genuine smiles.

"A mother does what she must to look after her children. Don't forget, my son, that whatever else I am, I am foremost a mother."

This was very nearly a display of compassion from her. He couldn't remember the last time she'd spoken so gently to him -- to any of them.

"Thank you, Mother."

He didn't know what else to say. He wasn't one for expressions of emotion either.

"I know my children better than they think I do, and I find this behavior from James perplexing."

"Do you really?"

Jamie groping a woman in public perplexed her? Clearly she didn't know that particular offspring as well as she thought she did.

"I believe you care for this woman, and if I've managed to glean that information, I feel certain James has as well. That he would actively pursue a woman for whom you are known to have feelings, that's the part I find difficult to comprehend."

"I'll own I'm rather stumped by that one as well."

"It is her in that video? You're sure?"

"It's her."

He'd have that image, Carrie and Jamie kissing, burned into his memory for all time.

"Your father is livid. He's demanding Jamie be brought home immediately. It was one thing for you to be photographed in such a way with an American, but for Jamie, the heir, and with the same woman--the scandal will top the headlines for weeks."

"Indeed, it will. Such behavior warrants the full force of Father's fury. Personally, I propose we renew the practice of putting miscreants in the stocks and make Jamie our first example."

"Would you really have your own brother punished so?"

"You shouldn't ask me that just now, Mother. Ask me tomorrow instead."

"No matter how angry you get, you always forgive him. You always have. I know it, and he knows it."

"He might have overplayed his hand this time."

She tapped a finger against her chin. "No. No, I don't think he did."

"Then you both give my forgiving nature more credit than it deserves. I could merrily throttle Jamie just now."

"Is that what you really want to do?"

"What I want to do is ..." He wanted to get on a plane, cross the Atlantic and make love to Carrie until she forgot all about Jamie's kiss, until he was certain she'd never again want to be touched by anyone but him.

"Well?"

"I want to go to the United States. I want to handle this, not Martin."

"Imagine that. I'm sure your brother had no idea this would be the result of his actions." She pulled him down so she could kiss his cheek. "You clean up Jamie's messes. We all know it. We all know too how unhappy you've been since returning from Scotland. I could wish he'd have chosen a more discrete manner in which to reunite you with your American, but I can't argue Jamie's effectiveness. Do be careful, son, and send your brother home in one piece."

Carrie dragged Jamie into her house by his shirtfront and slammed the door behind him. Amanda was standing in the middle of the living room.

"Did you have to kiss her?"

Amanda had her hands on her hips, pissed off cheerleader persona in full force.

Straightening his jacket, Jamie took a step away from Amanda.

"I thought it was the best way to bring Edward here in a hurry."

"What the hell is going on here? What were you thinking back there? Don't you think I've had enough of being in the limelight? And you”--she swung around to glare at Amanda--"whatever is going on, you're in on it. I want some answers, and I want them now."

Amanda, gesturing toward Jamie, said, "It was his idea. He called me from a plane over the ocean late last night and said he was going to get you and Edward back together. I had no idea he was planning on such a public display."

Both women crossed their arms over their chests and faced Jamie.

He was looking at his phone instead of them, but he moved so that the couch was between him and the women.

"Look here. It's just like I thought."

He held up his phone where a video of their kiss outside Josephine's played.

Carrie rubbed her temples. She did not need this, not again.

"I appreciate that the two of you meant well. I feel compelled to add that you're both idiots, but I do appreciate the effort. Tell me how a video of me kissing Jamie is going to make Edward come running to the United States?"

"I started a fire. Putting out fires is Edward's job in the family. He'll want to come if for no other reason than to beat me to a pulp."

Carrie raised an eyebrow at him, "Edward hardly seems the beating type."

"You wouldn't think so, but he's a right nasty temper," Jamie said, "no, not really. But this time, I've provoked him at least to his limits if not beyond. Either way, I don't want to be here when Edward arrives. I'm perfectly content to be on my way back to London by the time Edward touches down in the States."

"You came all this way just for a bowl of grits and to kiss me? That hardly seems worth the trouble."

"Don't underestimate yourself"—the cheeky devil gave her a wink—“but there was a lot to make up for in that kiss. You'll just have to trust me."

Carrie peeked through the mini blinds.

"I don't know how you'll get out of here. More reporters are arriving every second."

"Hmmm. A flaw in my plan. Always the way. Ladies, any ideas?"

"I have one."

Amanda went into the kitchen and returned with a bag of garbage.

"I saw the garbage truck a block over, so you'll have to hurry."

"You'd toss me out in the rubbish bin?"

"I'd think about it real hard, but no, I wouldn't. Probably."

"You American women are vicious."

"Relax. I accept full responsibility for what happened in Scotland. I don't blame you."

"I wish Phillip felt the same."

Amanda chewed her lower lip and sighed, "How is he?"

Jamie looked uncomfortable.

"He'll be fine. Time and other fish and all that."

"So you two," Carrie waved a hand from Jamie to Amanda, "There's really nothing going on?"

"No," they said in unison.

"Just working together to right a past wrong, that's all," Jamie said.

Carrie was glad. She hugged Jamie. She held out no hope that this cockamamie plan of his would work, but she loved him for wanting to try.

Amanda hefted her bag of trash.

"Come on. You don't want to miss your ride."

"You're really going to throw me in with the rubbish, aren't you?"

"No, silly. I'm going to pay Jimmy, the garbage truck driver to give you a lift out of town. He'll do it for me. We dated in high school."

"You dated a garbage truck driver?"

"He wasn't a garbage truck driver then. He was the star quarterback and drove a tricked out Ford F250."

"I don't understand anything you just said."

"Just trust me."

Amanda hooked her arm around Jamie's and towed him toward the back door. Jamie paused long enough to give Carrie a quick kiss on the cheek before letting himself be unceremoniously dragged from the apartment.

With them gone, the apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet that got too close, the kind that invaded your space like a drunk admirer at a bar. She hummed to force some space between herself and that quiet. It was dangerous, this silence. If it went on too long, she might let herself begin to hope, to hope that Edward really would come. Then where would she be? She'd be waiting, day after day, and she'd go to bed every night disappointed and hurt. And day after day would turn into week after week and month after month, and soon, she'd be a hollow shell of herself. There'd be nothing left of her but hope, hope that ate away at her until it took over her life. The pain of losing Edward was bad, but the pain of hoping she could have him again could destroy her.

"No," she said aloud, "no!"

She clicked on the TV, but couldn't sit still long enough to find something sufficiently engaging to watch, so she went to the kitchen and, one by one, removed every dish from the dishwasher and hand washed it instead. Then she dried them and put them away. She'd just shelved the last coffee mug when the phone rang.

"Good news," Tonya chirped, "What'd I tell you? We got an offer."

"That's great," Carrie said through a throat that seemed about to close up.

Her shop was gone. Everything she'd worked for, gone in less than a single day.

"I'm in the middle of something just now, can I call you back in just a bit?" She didn't wait for a reply before disconnecting.

She tried to hold back the tears. Eventually, though, she just gave up and sobbed. It was inevitable anyway. Might as well get it over with now. But the thing was, it didn't feel like it would ever be over. It felt like she'd be in this place of misery and despair forever.

***

"Damn it!"

Edward banged his fist against the steering wheel of his rental car. The paparazzi were still camped outside her house. You had to be skilled in spotting them, and Edward was certainly that. He phoned Martin.

"I need a distraction, something to draw the remaining press away. Plant a leak or something. I don't know, leak that Lizzy and Magnus, that sideshow nutter she's been seeing, are planning to elope."

Edward listened to Martin's response.

"Of course, she'll be angry. I'll deal with it when I get home. Lizzy's a big girl. She can take care of herself. Just be prepared to tell father it's a complete media fabrication."

He watched her house for a while, inconspicuous in his rented Ford Fusion. Fearing he might still draw attention to himself, he drove around the small town of Spring Valley. It was quaint, understated. He completely understood how a place like this could have produced Carrie. He liked the town. Well, excepting that they drove on the wrong side of the road of course, but he couldn't very well hold that against the town itself. He drove down Main Street and was pleased to see that the FOR SALE sign had been taken out of the window of Carrie's shop.

"Jesus," he muttered to himself. He'd very nearly ruined her entire life. He wouldn't blame her if she refused to ever see him again.

Near nightfall, when he could stand it no more, he drove back to her house. He was fully prepared to remove—bodily if necessary--any remaining reporters. He was already later than he'd intended to be. First, his plane had been delayed because of weather, not once but twice. Then he'd got himself lost on the road from the Louisville Airport. He hadn't figured on Spring Valley being a two-hour drive from the airport. All this space in America--it was nearly vulgar, not to mention damned inconvenient. He needed to get to her. He didn't know how he'd managed to stay away from her so long. Now, with her so close, he couldn't stand it.

Reporters be damned. He parked and jogged to the front door. He was practically vibrating with anticipation when the door opened, but the woman standing before him wasn't Carrie.

"Pardon me. I seem to have made a mistake."

"Given your accent, I'd say so," the woman said.

"I'm looking for Carrie MacCallum."

The woman, red hair corkscrewing in all directions and freckles across her nose, but looking fierce for all that, looked over her shoulder inside the house before stepping out onto the porch and closing the door resolutely behind her.

"You're Edward I guess."

"Yes, I am. And you are?"

"I'm someone who cares about Carrie a hell of a lot more than you do."

Taken aback, that's what Edward was. No one had ever spoken to him this way before. Well, no one but Carrie.

"You must be her friend, Jeannie."

She cocked a suspicious eyebrow.

"I can see why the two of you are close. You're very like her, like Carrie. It might be that you've cared for her longer, but I challenge that you care for her more."

"Yeah, I can tell just how much you care for her by how often you've called, texted, and emailed since she got back from Scotland."

"I'd prefer to explain my actions to Carrie if you don't mind."

"I'm sure you would, but as it happens, I do mind. I mind very much. You see, I encouraged Carrie to get involved with you. Actually, I only encouraged her to have sex with you, but I should have known she wasn't capable of keeping her feelings in check. You used her for your little press stunt, then abandoned her to deal with the fallout alone. As far as I'm concerned, you're a royal asshole."

"I didn't abandon her. You've no idea how the tabloid press can be. Had I remained close to Carrie, it would only have served to heighten their interest in her. She'd never have had a moment's peace from them."

"It wasn't exactly peaceful around here last night."

"That is down to my brother who created a circus. I had nothing to do with it. In fact, I feel confident in saying I'm even angrier than you are about it."

"As far as I'm concerned, you can both go back across the pond and never look back."

The door behind Jeannie opened. Carrie peered out through the screen door.

"Is everything okay out --" She stopped speaking when she saw him.

Edward's heart pounded so hard he was becoming dizzy. There was a whooshing sound in his head that could portend nothing good.

"Carrie, oh, God. I'm so sorry."

She put her hand on the door handle but didn't open it. "Edward, you're here."

"For now," Jeannie said, "I was just telling him he's come at a bad time. Maybe you could come back some other time, Mr. Prince, like maybe in time for that skiing trip in hell."

"Jeannie, you can't talk to him that way," Carrie said, sounding appalled.

"She can, actually. She cares for you, and she's right to blame me for your sadness."

Tears were welling in Carrie's eyes.

"Please, only let me in. You can kick me out whenever you wish. I won't put up a fight. Only let me apologize."

He hated himself right now. He really ought to let Jeannie have a go at him, which is what she looked prepared to do.

"She's not sad over you, you self-absorbed, arrogant shit," Jeannie said, "she's upset because she just lost her store."

He felt color rising up from his collar.

"Oh, um, actually, that's my fault as well."

Carrie shook her head, "No, I can't blame you for that."

"Yes, you can, as it happens. I bought your store."

A baby started crying inside the house.

"You get Cooper, and I'll escort our guest here back to his car," Jeannie said.

"It's okay, Jeannie. I think I have to talk to him some time."

Jeannie looked at each of them in turn. She squinted her eyes at him.

"I still mean to kick your ass, just so you know."

"I consider myself forewarned."

As looking down, Edward could see the top of Jeannie's head, he doubted her ability to follow through with her threat, but he didn't doubt for an instant that she would try.

Carrie opened the door to let Jeannie inside. Instead of inviting him in, she joined him on the front porch.

"I think inside might be more prudent. I can't be sure there aren't still photographers out here."

Carrie took a seat in a wooden swing at the end of the porch.

"There's nothing of mine they haven't seen already."

Even wearing faded blue jeans and a t-shirt, obviously depressed, she looked beautiful to him. Should he tell her so? He feared she might never want to hear such words from him again.

"Did you really buy my store?" she asked.

He took the seat beside her on the swing.

"I did."

"Why?"

"I thought I owed you that much."

Her back straightened and her body went rigid.

"You don't owe me anything."

He ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm making a muddle of this. Can I start over?"

"No, you can start by telling me why you bought my store."

"When I finally got in town, given the hour, I thought to find you at your shop. When I drove by, I saw the for sale sign in the window. I wondered at that because you hadn't mentioned selling. Just the opposite in fact. Aside from your family, your shop seemed like the most important thing in your life. I was afraid that what happened in Scotland, with the pictures and everything, had caused you to lose your business. I called the number on the sign and spoke to your real estate agent. She's very chatty, by the way."

"She's a nosy gossip is what she is."

"Yes, that's likely a more accurate assessment. She told me that your father had taken out a mortgage to pay Phillip's family for the wedding. Your father seems a practical sort, but that is absurd. I'm not sure one of my family's homes would fetch enough to pay for that wedding"--he risked touching her, just a brush of his knuckles against her arm--"and the nosy realtor said you were selling your store to help your father pay back the money."

She looked into his eyes.

"What would you do in my place?"

"The same, I reckon."

She nodded but looked away from him.