Princess in Training (Prince Harry #3)

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Harry rolled over to see the naked and sun kissed body of his wife, Meredith Rogue, Duchess of Windsor. Her eyelids yet stayed closed, not even her eyes shifted underneath. Yesterday's makeup hadn't worn off, even though she scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was red. Somewhere an airplane waited to take them somewhere mysterious and wonderful, where the next month was just destined for them only, but Meredith didn't stir.

Her blonde hair shimmered in the sun light, like her skin. A radiant glow reached every cell. Somewhere in the night-- or rather early morning-- Meredith had thrown off the blankets. She had gone to bed cold, but wrapped in the arms of Harry, she warmed. In the early morning, she rolled away to lay in the rising sun. Her hair covered her face in hope to block out the rest of the blinding sun. After the long yesterday, she needed the sleep.

When she finally got to sleep, she hadn't been soundless. Her snores didn't keep Harry up though; he was used to her snoring by now, which only happened when she overly tired or had a bad cold. If Harry snored last night, Meredith didn't complain either.

Harry watched her carefully, like she might stir-- but no, she was in deep sleep.

Rolling over, Harry sighed. As he stepped out of bed, his bones creaked, and suddenly he wanted to jump back in. Coldness made goosebumps arose. Glancing in a mirror, he saw how his hair stood on end. His nickname Spike was earned again. Grabbing clothes, he went downstairs, where he started to make food. Hopefully Meredith smelt it in her sleep and woke her.

Even with the smell of bacon grilling, Meredith didn't stir. Harry brought the food up to her, and Meredith didn't move.

A kick from Harry made the bed jerk, and Meredith groaned and put her hand to her head. Harry let out a deep breath.

"Did you think I was dead?" Meredith flipped her hair back, and it glinted in the light. "Barely one day in, and it already sucks."

"It doesn't." Harry put down breakfast on the dresser and climbed back into soft bed. She shuddered, and he pulled the sheets up around her. "Do you feel that it already sucks?"

"No, I'm sorry." She kissed him deeply. "That's not what I meant."

"I know." His fingers ran through her hair. "You get this way, you know, Mere. Something starts to go right, and you get scared. You try to distance yourself. You try to make people believe that you're strong. It's okay to be weak."

She chuckled. "I'm not weak."

"You also can't take a compliment."

"I know. Jessica's been working on it with me." She curled into Harry, feeling at home in his arms. "Apparently the correct answer to someone saying, Your hair looks nice is not My hair hasn't been washed in three days and it's extremely greasy."

"You're beautiful."

She rolled her eyes. "You're only saying that because you want to get into my pants."

"What pants?"

Laughing, Meredith shook her head, and the whole bed shook too. Her giggles of tired laughter bubbled in their bedroom, echoing like little fireworks. Her chest went up and down. Her toes stretched and flexed. Coming closer to Harry, his breath stank and every part of him was cold. Most mornings, he was naturally cold, but Meredith welcomed him anyway.

"At least I'm awake now," she said, "and there are no pants already; we're halfway there."

"Dirty mind." A mysterious grin crossed his face, but his intentions were well known by his wife.

"Oh, but the food." The smell filled the room, and how was she supposed to ignore it? Surprisingly, Harry was a good cook, and Meredith liked to burn things because she didn't have patience for them. On their first morning as a married couple, not even leaving Kensington Palace yet or their nice warm bed, Harry made a very nice breakfast for them-- well, Meredith planned on eating all of it, so for her.

"Food or sex, Mere?"

That wasn't even a question. "Food all the way." She bit into some toast, and the butter and jam coated her lips. "It's amazing, like usual. Thank you, Harry."

"I know another way you might thank me."

"I know what you're thinking as well, buddy, and a whole month," Meredith reminded him. "You have a whole month of me to come. I don't want you getting sick of me now." Carefully she sat down on the white colored sheets, which she preferred not to have. Now that this was home, she welcomed the switch up of colors. The sheets were one thing: Meredith wanted to eat in bed.

Harry arched an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry. Did you want some?" She held the buttered toast to him. Coming closer, she held it right in front of his face. "Come on now. Take a bite."

Harry did as he was told.

"It tastes good, doesn't it?"

"It tastes like toast." He swallowed it. "If I knew it was that easy to get you, I would've done it long ago."

"Whoa-- I haven't even gotten to the eggs yet." Laying down in bed next to him, Meredith sighed and continued to eat. "I hope the maids don't mind the mess."

"I think this is cleaner than they might think." Some butter stains were probably the nicest to find on a wedding night. "Another bite please?" Meredith did as he asked, and Harry settled back. "I do make very good toast."

"Don't let it all go to your head." She finished that piece up and forced herself to leave the comfortable bed. "Do you want breakfast, Harry?"

"Are you serving it to me?"

"I can."

"But?"

"But... you have to tell me where we're going for our honeymoon?"

"I can get up myself."

Meredith grabbed the platter. "Harry, tell me, please, come on. I'm dying to know. Just tell me."

Harry watched as his new wife begged with a smile. "No."

"Harry!"

"Surprise, Mere." Before she could utter another word, Harry responded, "I know, Mere: you don't like surprises. Too bad."

She groaned. "Please?"

"No."

"Damn it." Trusting Harry, she climbed back into bed with him, and they shared breakfast.