Читать книгу My Royal Sin - Riley Pine, Riley Pine - Страница 10

CHAPTER THREE

Benedict

I HAVE NEVER laid eyes on this woman in my life, so why does a strange recognition thrum through me? Ruby’s golden hair tumbles over her narrow shoulders, loose curls that skim the swell of her breasts as they rise and fall. Her unease is palpable, a problem when my own instincts are hardwired to provide comfort. I flick my gaze to the wall where a discreet intercom system blends into the sumptuous red-and-gold wallpaper. Never once have I summoned for the help of those who wait around the clock for my beck and call. But this woman is causing me to break all of my rules.

I cross the room, press and hold the small button. “X, I have need of you.”

“Very good, sir.” My bodyguard’s response is cool, clipped and unsurprised. He had guarded my brother Nikolai for years but asked to be reassigned to me after my brother’s engagement to his matchmaker, Kate. The request came as a surprise. X joked that he had grown tired of being surrounded by all the newlywed romanticism. If that’s true, he came to the right place in heading up my security detail.

At least, until tonight.

He appears a moment later, seemingly conjured from thin air. His suit is impeccably tailored, his implacable features revealing no shred of shock to find a seminarian alone with a scantily clad lady of the night. Nor does his mouth so much as quirk at my next order.

“This is Miss Ruby. Please escort her to the gardener’s cottage within the maze and see to it the quarters are well provisioned. It should go without saying that I expect a high degree of discretion.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” He is the consummate professional. No hint of incredulity. No second glance at the young woman’s thigh-high boots.

“Spare no expense on food, beverage, clothing. Her wish is your command.” I offer no further explanation. None is required. Being a prince of the blood means never having to give a reason.

“Understood.”

He turns and offers his arm. “Miss Ruby.”

Her hand trembles as she accepts his gallant gesture.

“But what about my things at my...workplace?” she asks. “I don’t have much,” she admits, and I wince at the thought—at the excess in which I was brought up—and suddenly I want to give this stranger everything she lacks.

“I see.” X’s steely eyes hold a hint of a twinkle. “Well, it just so happens that Monique Mantissa is an old friend.”

She gapes. “The designer Mantissa?”

He inclines his head. “I believe her fashion line is rather popular.”

Ruby’s laugh deepens, a husky melody that makes my skin sing. “Um, if by popular you mean appreciated by those who shop at Versace, Chanel or Prada. You know Monique Mantissa. She is rock-star famous. Her shoes are... There are no words.” Her eyes take on a glow that I’ve seen only in nuns after a rapturous spiritual revelation.

The fact X knows such a person is of no surprise. He worked for years as my brother’s personal bodyguard before his abrupt reassignment after Nikolai’s nuptials. That reminds me.

“Also there is to be no mention of this arrangement to my brother or the king,” I command.

“Not a word. Perhaps it would ease your mind to know your father has decided to expand his current travel to fly to New York for a United Nations summit, and Nikolai and Kate left for the Hawaiian Islands on honeymoon this morning.”

“I see.” If a man deserves happiness, it is my elder brother, who finally found true love in a most unlikely place, with the matchmaker assigned to find him a wife. I do not resent his position. His future crown has never been my ambition.

And yet...

And yet nothing.

I swallow hard, refusing to allow any of my true dreams to float to the surface.

“It appears that you have the run of the place. Will you need anything else, Highness?”

“That will be all,” I snap, my tone gruffer than intended. “Wait. Take my Black Amex for the shopping spree. And, Miss Ruby, I shall see you in my bedchamber tomorrow evening when the sunset fades from the evening sky.”

Her expression loses some of its innocent pleasure. After the sound of their footsteps fade, I return to my room, guilt eating at my stomach.

They don’t exactly teach “Obliterating Sexual Urges 101” in the seminary. I am a man with a man’s needs. But I’m also a prince, a second son, who has a duty. I can’t let Father down. Especially when my face is the one that looks nothing like his. I was raised surrounded by the whispers that my mother, the queen, rest her immortal soul, grew lonely during a long absence from my father twenty-eight years ago and took comfort in the arms of the Captain of the Guard. A man some might say is my true father, except to voice such a claim in public would invite charges of treason.

But my blood runs with hidden lust, and in my heart I know that is my legacy. Born in sin, forged by an act of fornication. Father has never acted on these rumors, but he has always kept me at a kingly distance, his touch always a little cold, a little distant. To admit me a bastard would be to admit himself a cuckold.

So I am allowed the titles, the acceptance, the palace life.

Now it is time to pay the piper.

I fall to the unforgiving floor. “Oh, Lord, please grant me the strength to face this challenge.”

Ruby

A knock sounds on the cottage door promptly at eight in the morning. I lie in the unfamiliar bed, blinking away the best night of sleep I’ve had in ages. I burrow further into my pillow, hoping I imagined the sound, and let out a blissful sigh.

I think I want to marry this pillow.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

This time it is loud and unmistakably real. I rise from the bed and wrap the sheet around my naked frame. I know it will not be Benedict. He said my days were my own. He will not require my...services until nightfall. Whoever dares to wake me at such an hour is not worth the time it would take to get dressed.

“I’m up. I’m up,” I groan as I unlock the door only to find a young man dressed in what I assume is the attire of a palace servant—a black double-breasted tuxedo coat and tails, a vest and white bow tie. Wow. I wonder what they’re required to sleep in if this is day wear.

“Miss Ruby,” the man says, wheeling in a silver cart with covered plates on top of it. “X has requested you eat and dress so that you are ready to meet him at the palace gates at nine. A groundskeeper will pick you up in a golf cart just outside the maze in fifty-five minutes to bring you to the car.”

After being told I was free to do as I choose, I open my mouth to protest. But that’s when I smell the buttery sweetness of baked goods, the aroma of fresh coffee. My mouth waters, so I close it before speaking a word and swallow.

“What does Mr. X need me for at nine in the morning?” I ask.

The man uncovers a platter of scones and croissants, another of fresh fruit. He then pours coffee into a porcelain cup and bows his head.

“Shopping, miss. That is all I was told.” He smiles softly. “And you may call him, simply, X.”

My eyes widen as I remember X’s mention of Monique Mantissa, of Benedict offering his credit card. I have never been the kind of girl to get worked up over material things, especially now that I must do whatever I can just to make ends meet not only for me but for my niece and my brother’s wife. But I just slept in a bed fit for a queen and am about to eat a breakfast fit for a king. Is there anything wrong with living like a princess for a day?

To avoid the guilt that threatens to take away my moment of joy, I remind myself that this is all part of earning triple my fee, all of which I will use to support Camille and Lola. Camille’s teacher’s salary alone barely covers their rent, let alone the legal fees piling up since my brother’s arrest. With this job, I may be able to hire a proper advocate to represent Jasper—to prove his innocence.

“Thank you,” I say. “And you may call me, simply, Ruby.”

It’s strange to speak this name, especially to this man who looks at me as if he knows me, as if he senses that behind this name and position is a whole other life, a whole other story.

He smiles another of his enigmatic smiles and bows before exiting the cottage, and I jump up and squeal at the sight of the feast before me. I lose my grip on the sheet, and it falls to the floor as I laugh and shrug. “When in preparation for seducing a priest yet not having to bed a stranger...” I joke to myself, and then I indulge in a chocolate croissant and the most decadent strawberries I’ve ever tasted—and try to forget the fact that I haven’t seen a painting of an angel or what Madam will do if I don’t find it.

I fire off a quick text to The Jewel Box messenger service, asking if Madam will allow me to spend more time on the palace grounds to find what I’m looking for. The response is almost immediate.

Enjoy your stay, Evangeline. I expect this means you will have good news for me soon, or else you know what to expect from me.

My palm flies instinctively to the cheek she slapped the first time I questioned her.

“Whatever it takes, Jasper,” I say aloud. “I will not lose you, too.”

* * *

When X extends a hand to help me from the golf cart and into a Rolls-Royce, he raises his brows.

“What?” I ask, skimming the length of my own body, afraid I’d forgotten to dress myself after my feast.

“Nothing, miss. It’s just—I’m looking forward to finding you something more befitting a palace guest.”

I lower myself into the car as my cheeks flame and my eyes prick with tears. I try to swallow it all back, to not let him see his judgment get to me. But when X situates himself in the driver’s seat, the first thing he does is speak to me via an intercom.

“My apologies, miss,” he says. “I meant no offense. It is just that if we are to be discreet, it is necessary that you do not stand out in a way that will make the staff ask questions.”

I knock on the glass partition that separates us, and he lowers it as he turns to face me. His salt-and-pepper hair lies in neat waves, and that square, rugged jaw is both attractive and reassuring. Somehow I know that whatever happens today, X is on my side. Still, I need to set the record straight.

“I get it,” I say. “I’m here to do a job. And I might not be entirely proud of what I need to do to earn a living right now, but I’m not ashamed of the way I look.” It’s a half-truth. Even if this wasn’t always me, I look and feel sexy in these clothes—in the boots. I just wish I was wearing it all for me and not as a means to an end.

His brows draw together, and his jaw tightens. When he looks at me, it is as if he wants to say many things but holds himself back. “If my comment elicited shame, miss, then again, my sincerest apologies. I am your ally. I do hope you see me as such.”

I swipe away a tear. “Thank you, X. And can we please cut it with the ‘miss’?”

He smiles. “Of course, Ruby. You remind me of Princess Kate.”

With that, he turns back to his steering wheel and leads us away from the palace grounds.

* * *

Belladonna Square is not unfamiliar to me. I’ve driven past it. Walked through it. But never have I stepped foot into one of the shops. It was nothing more than a tourist attraction the few times I’d been in these parts.

“You know,” I say as the car rolls to a stop, “even when things were good, they were never great. My father died when Jasper was fifteen and I was only twelve. Jasper grew up and found work doing research at the art museum and I—Well, there aren’t many jobs out there for a girl who likes to paint.” Especially when her résumé basically reads like a telenovela.

X nods.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” I add. “I guess I’m just a bit overwhelmed is all.”

He exits the vehicle and opens my door, offering a hand as I climb out. Then he holds out a black credit card.

“You’re not coming with me?” I ask, eyes wide.

He offers a soft smile and nods toward the closest boutique, a place called Cheri Cheri. “I called ahead and had them put aside all their Monique Mantissa pieces for you. Just go in and tell them who you are, and they will take care of you. This is your day, not mine. Go enjoy.”

I can’t help but grin, a giddy electricity pumping through my veins. I reach for my bag and realize in all the excitement that I forgot it in the cottage, so I slip the credit card into the cleavage of my bustier.

X chuckles, and I shrug.

“Here goes nothing!” I say and let my confidence buoy me in the direction of the store.

As I enter, my boot heels click on marble floors, and the place smells of jasmine. I close my eyes and inhale, a smile spreading across my face when I’m greeted by a soft, lilting voice.

“May I...help you?”

My eyes open, and there she is, a tall, lithe woman with a chic pixie cut, her ebony hair shining like satin.

“Everything in here is Monique Mantissa,” I say, stating the obvious.

She looks me up and down, her painted-on smile morphing into something more like a sneer.

“Are you lost, miss? The Mantissa knockoffs are on Market Street. This is Belladonna Square.”

Heat seeps into my veins.

“I know where I am,” I insist, trying to still the tremble in my voice. “I’m here to shop.” I pull the credit card from my top and brandish it at her. “See?” I say, the volume of my voice escalating. “I have money to spend. On...on Mantissa. On whatever the hell I want.”

She backs toward a marble counter, which must be where the transactions take place. “Miss, you have fifteen seconds to leave before I press the security button. After that, you’ll have just as long before the Edenvale Police arrive.”

My eyes widen. “You’re serious. Aren’t you?” I ask incredulously.

She snakes behind the counter. “You’re down to five seconds, miss.” Her eyes narrow. “Four...three...”

I stumble back through the door and bolt to where X dropped me off, pulling at the handle of the door. It’s locked. Tears stream down my face as I yank at the door again and again until I feel strong hands grip my shoulders.

I scream as X spins me to face him.

He is my ally. He is my ally. He is my ally.

“I’m done shopping,” I gasp between sobs. “I want to go home.”

He nods and unlocks the door, helping me inside. When he is back behind the driver’s seat, he speaks in a calm, soothing voice.

“When you’re ready, Ruby, I want you to tell me what happened.”

But I shake my head.

“I will fix this,” he adds, and then he picks up a mobile phone. He doesn’t close the partition between us, so I hear every word.

“Your Highness, something unexpected has occurred.” Pause. “Yes, I did exactly as we’d discussed.” Pause. “No, she is too upset to speak. But I know how to make things right. Miss Mantissa owes me a favor. If she is in town, I can have her bring over a collection of samples.” Another pause. “Yes, Highness. To the cottage this evening. It shall be done.”

The call ends, and X pulls away from Belladonna Square, his eyes focused on the road.

“They treated you poorly in the store, yes?” Rage is clear in his voice.

I sniffle. “Yes.”

“You told them I had called ahead, that you were on official palace business?”

“She didn’t give me a chance.” My tone is biting. “Maybe you didn’t mean to shame me, X. But she did. I had money to spend, and her only intention was to make me feel worthless.”

His jaw tightens. The muscle flexes at some deep, hidden emotion.

“I am deeply sorry, Ruby. You of all people did not deserve such treatment. I did not think...” He sighs. “Prince Benedict will join you this evening in the cottage for a private shopping spree of sorts.”

I force a smile at this while wondering what he means by me of all people.

“It’s okay,” I say. “If she’s not in town or whatever. I have other clothes back at my place...” My voice trails off. Because I was looking forward to this, to being a princess for a day.

But it took only seconds for that woman to remind me that she saw me as nothing more than a whore.

“You deserve better than what happened just now,” X says in his mysterious tone.

I used to think that, too, but it’s getting harder and harder to believe.