Royal Baby (A British Bad Boy Romance) (8 page)

BOOK: Royal Baby (A British Bad Boy Romance)
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Keira laughed and shook her head. “Members of the British royal family really shouldn’t say ‘that’s my jam’.”

I nodded. “Word.”

“Or that.”

“I know, I was just trying to make you laugh again.”

Keira smiled. “I appreciate it.”

“So you were telling me how this was partially my fault.”

She sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

Keira shook her head again, retreating back within herself. “No, I really don’t want to complain. I brought it all on myself, really.”

“I doubt that’s true, but I have an idea,” I said. “How about we talk about some other things for a while, and maybe then you’ll feel comfortable enough to tell me? And I’ll start by telling you the dumbest thing I ever did. How does that sound?”

I saw a hint of a smile turn her lips up. “I guess we could try that.”

“Okay, good. But you have to promise you won’t go to the tabloids about this particular scandal. Let’s just say I’d be very embarrassed if the story ever went public.”

“So I should turn off the recording device in my pocket, and all the secret cameras I’ve got on you right now?”

I smiled, glad to see she was already feeling comfortable enough to at least make silly jokes, just like she had on the first night we met. “Very funny. Anyway, when I was about nine, I developed a crush on one of the maids. This was when we were staying at Wellington Castle for a while.”

Keira’s eyes sparkled with humor. “Why did I know this would be about a woman?”

“Shh. I’m not finished,” I said with another grin. “She was one of the live-in staff members, and one day I followed her around and figured out which room was hers.”

“Oh no…”

“And I remembered seeing some movie where the main male character stole his crush’s underwear. I can’t remember why, but I thought ‘
oh yes, that seems like a great idea
,’ and I managed to get into her room—can’t even remember how—and I stole a rather slinky silk camisole and a pair of knickers from her dresser.”

“Well, that’s creepy, but not
that
bad,” Keira said. “You were only nine.”

“That’s not the end of the story, regrettably.”

“Oh, god…well, go on, then,” she said, settling back on the sofa and looking far more relaxed now. “I feel like I need a box of popcorn while I listen to this saga.”

“Okay, so after I stole the things, I decided that the only thing to do with my stolen goods was to hide them somewhere on the grounds so no one would find it in my room. So I ran out onto the grounds and headed beyond the stables and over to the grove of trees that’s nearby. I don’t know why, I suppose I was going to hide them in a hole in a tree or something. But it suddenly started bucketing down, as it tends to do in England, and I thought, ‘
I don’t want her lovely silk cami and knickers to get all wet and ruined. What was I thinking, bringing them out here?’
So I stripped down and put them on underneath my clothes to protect them from the rain. She was a very small woman, probably about four foot ten and maybe ninety pounds, so they actually weren’t too loose on me despite my age.”

Keira nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“I figured I’d return to the castle and find somewhere else to stash them. But it was
really
pissing down with rain now, and by the time I got inside, my mother and some of the staff were deeply concerned that I might catch pneumonia or something, so they insisted on immediately taking off my clothes so I could dry off and get into dry, warmer clothes.”

“Oh no...”

“Of course I pitched a fit, saying they couldn’t undress me, but my mother insisted, and as soon as my clothes came off…there it was. A pink silk camisole under my clothes, with a matching thong worn over my boxers. And the maid who it belonged to? She was right there. She saw everything.”

She clapped a hand to her mouth. “No…really?”

I nodded, still grinning. “Pretty stupid of me, huh?”

“Yeah, although knowing you, I was actually expecting something much worse.”

“You flatter me too much,” I said, playfully jostling her. “Anyway, enough about me. The other day, you mentioned that this is a gap year for you? Tell me more about that.”

She nodded. “I wanted to see some of the art in Europe, and I figured this is a good way of doing it. There really are a lot of amazing museums here.”

“Yes, there are,” I said with a nod. “So how’d you settle on applying for this specific job?”

“Cleaning doesn’t exactly take too much experience, so I figured it’s an easy enough job to do, and the palace maids are paid better than any other cleaning jobs in the country.”

“Indeed. Although to be fair, it’s not
that
easy. I probably wouldn’t have the first clue how to turn on a vacuum cleaner,” I said with a self-deprecating smile. “Unlike some people here, who know very well how to use one early in the morning when I’m hungover as hell...”

She arched an eyebrow and smiled, and my heart soared. Christ, I’d finally managed to get her to crack a real smile.

“Yes, well, no doubt you’ve never had to use one,” she said. “But I could always show you if you really wanted to learn.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But another time. Right now I’d like to know something else about you. Why’d you lie on your CV?”

The smile faded as her body stiffened, and I waved my hand and grinned. “It’s fine, it’s fine. You’re not in trouble at all. I’m just curious. I honestly thought it might be because you wanted to see me again, but I made a right dick of myself in assuming that, didn’t I?”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Well, I guess I felt like I needed to embellish it a bit to stand out, because I imagined there would be hundreds or even thousands of other applicants. I did have
some
experience at an after-college job I had for a while, but that was only for three years. So I added in an extra two years for all the time I spent cleaning up at home when I was younger.”

“Messy siblings?”

She chewed on her lower lip and suddenly seemed very interested in picking at a split end in her hair. “Alcoholic parents, actually,” she finally said. “I had to help clean up after them a lot when they were drinking, not to mention take care of my younger brothers.”

“Shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine. I’m okay with talking about it now. It was hard at the time, because they would lie all the time about getting help and then leave us in the lurch to go on another bender.”

Jesus, no wonder she couldn’t stand liars. Her own parents—the two people who a child was meant to trust most in the world—had screwed her up by constantly lying to her when she was younger and making her assume responsibility for all their shit. It sounded like she’d really had a lot on her plate from a young age onwards, and it was no surprise that she’d become so independent after such an experience; something I so admired in her.

“I’m sorry. That’s awful.”

She gave me a brave smile. “It’s okay. They finally got serious about sorting themselves out a few years ago, and they’ve gotten much better.”

“Well, it’s good to hear they finally got help,” I said.

“Yeah. I’m actually much closer with them now that they’ve sorted themselves out. They’re really proud of me for getting my degree, and I’m proud of them for getting better.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” I said with a nod. “And if you’re comfortable sharing that story with me…do you think you might feel comfortable enough to tell me why you were crying when I walked in?”

I hoped I wasn’t pushing her too far, because her body stiffened again, but she nodded anyway. “Your brother said some things.”

“Michael?” Anger flared in me; I might have guessed. I loved my brother to the extent that biology demanded and a little beyond that, but I also knew him to be a jealous and petty little shit-stirrer. “What did he say?”

“Nothing major.” She obviously didn’t want to cause trouble.

“You just said he said some things.”

“They were nothing. I think I just overreacted.”

“The things he said made you cry. That’s not nothing.”

“Well, it wasn’t just that.” Keira looked away.

I didn’t want to upset her further, but if my brother had hurt her, then dammit, I wanted to know the details. “What else?”

“I guess your mother…”

“My mother?”

“It was nothing.”

“Dammit, Keira, it can’t all have been nothing!”

“Sometimes,” Keira raised her own voice now, matching my intensity, “a lot of nothings add up to something. You think things are fine and then a bunch of stuff happens that’s meaningless in itself but gradually wears you down. So you have a good cry, you put it behind you, and you get back to work tomorrow.”

“What did they say?”

“Well, apparently everyone in your family thinks I’m sleeping with you,” she snapped. She probably hadn’t meant to say it, but it was out now.

“What?”

For a moment Keira paused, clearly frustrated that she’d said what she’d said, but now that it was out there, it seemed like she’d figured that she might as well fill me in on the rest. “Your brother thinks you picked me as your maid to be your little whore. Apparently it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“That’s a flat out lie.”             

“And your mother…well, I thought we were getting along—looking at paintings—and then I happened to mention that you and I had met in New York, and suddenly it seemed like she thought I was just another of her son’s bimbos. Someone who’s never going to be good enough for him.”

“Okay, wait.” I held up my hands. “For the record, what Michael said: that is completely untrue. All of it. I did not pick you to be my…I won’t even say that. And I have never,
ever
slept with any of our maids. As for what my mother said: you and I both know better. You weren’t one of those girls and you never would’ve been. You were different. They had no right to say any of that to you. They’re both completely out of line.”

Keira sighed. “Yes. And then again, no.”

“What? You’re defending them?”

She shrugged. “I’m just saying, I don’t blame your brother for thinking that you chose me to be your sexual stress-ball, because I thought the same thing. I thought it when you picked me as your personal maid, and then you…well, we both know what you did, which seemed to back that theory up pretty strongly…”

My shoulders slumped. “Fair enough.”

“Maybe he was lying about you sleeping with the staff before, but maybe he thought it was true, because if this is how you usually behave then that’s a mistake that anyone could make. As for your mother; again, you can’t blame her for thinking that, because that’s what you’ve conditioned her to think. How would she know that I’m ‘different’?
I
don’t even know that! You say I never would’ve been just another of your bimbos, but really, how do I know that? How can I believe that, when you told me a false name and were about to take me back to your hotel room on the night we met? How is that different from what you do with any other woman?”

“It’s not,” I admitted, looking Keira right in the eyes. “But you are different.”

“I don’t feel different.”

“Well, that’s my fault then, for not making you feel it,” I said. “I can only apologize for the other morning. I could write it off as my terrible sense of humor or the fact that I was brought up with a real lack of boundaries—comes with the job—but the truth is, I was scared. I’ve never met anyone like you before, I’ve never felt like this about anyone before, and it’s insane to me that I should be feeling anything on so little acquaintance. So I acted out. I acted like a dick. I think part of me was trying to drive you away so I wouldn’t have to deal with how I still felt about you after our brief meeting in New York. Or maybe I was trying to reduce you to the level of my usual ‘relationships’. I don’t know.”

Keira listened, her eyes wide, and I continued. “None of this is an excuse, by the way, and none of this is me trying to get you to forgive me. You shouldn’t. And you’re right: my mother and my brother reacted the way they did because I’ve given them every reason to think the worst of me. Which doesn’t excuse their behavior either. I guess that’s just the family we are: a bunch of dicks. But I’ve changed. And I’m still changing. And it scares me, but it’s kind of cool too. And it’s happening because of you. I’ve somehow changed since I met you, and I want to keep changing until I can by some miracle change enough to become worthy of a girl like you. If such a person could ever exist—which I’m not convinced they could, because you are absolutely and in all ways completely and utterly perfect.”

What reaction Keira would have to that little speech, which had been rambling, off the cuff and in no way planned, I couldn’t have guessed. But if I’d been presented with a list of possible outcomes and been asked to rank them in order of probability, then Keira kissing me would have been right at the bottom of that list…which made it even sweeter when it happened.

It was a tender kiss, gently brushing against my lips, and I wasn’t even sure that Keira had even known she was going to do it. She looked as surprised as I probably did as she drew back from me.

BOOK: Royal Baby (A British Bad Boy Romance)
9.65Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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