Samantha
The hotel was incredibly posh. Colin had booked me into a suite called The Prince's Lodge, which made me laugh and wonder if Colin had a dry British sense of humor. The four-poster bed could have slept four people comfortably, not that I was planning on sharing it with anyone.
I spent most of my time in a tiny little study attached to the suite. I swept the lamp and writing things off the little desk and set up my sewing machine, hoping that the intermittent humming of the machine was not disturbing the people in the suite below.
The butler showed up just as I was getting settled in, bringing a fruit plate and some biscuits. There were pieces of dark blue velvet laid out all over the enormous bed and the study was a welter of blue floral lining, thread, and pins, none of which seemed to disturb him. I guess working in a fancy hotel like that he had seen much crazier things and learned not to show surprise, like the Queen's Guard at Buckingham Palace.
Maybe the butler thought I was a famous fashion designer, working desperately to finish a creation for a rich client. Which in a way I was, except for the famous part. Infamous, maybe. He took one look at my setup and asked some questions, then took away the lamps I had set aside and brought me a proper desk chair to replace the leather wingback chair so I could work without killing my back. He asked me what time I liked my meals and took my orders for dinner and breakfast, and I really began to feel like a pampered princess trapped in a tower...without a prince. So I texted Harry.
Me: At the hotel. Very nice. Sewing like mad. How are the elephants?
It took a while for him to answer, but it made me smile.
H: Elephants settling in. Glad you are too. Hope they are taking good care of you. Don't kill yourself over those coats. E can wait. Rest and relax. See you Monday.
I didn't kill myself over the coats, but I did finish them late Sunday afternoon. Since I had the time and nothing better to do, I added lots of little extra hand-stitched touches while sitting in the comfy window seats of the suite listening to music. The concierge brought up gift boxes and tissue paper and I spent an hour hand writing notes for Eugenie and Beatrice, folding the coats, and wrapping them in layers of exquisite paper and ribbons. I would ask Harry to deliver them to Eugenie.
And then, just because I could, I went down to the spa and had a long massage while Paulo hovered grimly in the waiting room. It was glorious, and I settled into bed very relaxed and looking forward to seeing Harry the next day.
My phone ringing, kilometers away on the night stand since I was in the middle of the giant bed, woke me out of a sound sleep. I figured it was my dad calling about my travel plans, forgetting that the time difference made it 7 hours later in London. I crawled across the bed and snatched up the phone, noticing two things: it was 3am, and the call was from Harry.
"I'm back," he said, without any other pleasantries, "and I'm wide awake. How are you doing?"
"Waking up," I said, somewhat groggy.
"I didn't mean to wake you...well, yes I did. We were driving back from the airport, and I just thought maybe...instead of going back to Nott Cott...I might come up to see you instead. And stay with you until your flight tomorrow. If you wanted."
That woke me up like a cold shower. "Yes. Of course. How long until you get here?"
"Only the amount of time it takes me to get up to your room. I'm parked outside right now."
"Then I hope you don't mind seeing me with bed-head hair and all that," I said.
His laugh was low and inviting. "I'm looking forward to it, actually."
I leaped out of bed with much more energy than I thought I would have and ditched the old t-shirt I was wearing for a silk nightie and dressing gown just as there was a soft knock on the door.
Harry entered the room with a big smile, and it felt like we had not been together in ages. He was sunburned, his ginger hair bleached a bit by the sun, but he was warm and solid and I snuggled into his embrace eagerly.
He stopped smiling as soon as he saw the cut across my left cheekbone. He cupped my chin in his hands and turned my head gently from side to side, studying the damage.
"A few scratches?" he said, his voice almost a growl.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want you to worry about me. The doc said it should heal nicely, without a scar." Actually, the doc had said with minimal scarring and you might want to consider cosmetic surgery in the future but I wasn't going to tell Harry that. Not tonight, at any rate.
"How did this happen?" he asked.
"Do we have to discuss this right now?" I took his arm and looked longingly at the big four-poster bed. "Maybe in the morning...?"
He followed my gaze to the bed and kicked off his shoes. "All the updates first, please...and then we can move on to more fun things."
We cuddled up on the bed and I told him everything that had happened while he was gone, more or less in order—Meg's appearance at the Sleeping Lion and the pub's abrupt closure the next day, the bad press and the haters, my eviction, and the attack. Then I grabbed my phone and played back the recording for him.
For the first time since I began my tale he began to smile again. "That is priceless. I owe Randa big time."
"Yeah, we both do," I said, remembering how Randa had faced off against the people attacking me, called the police, and rode with me to the hospital in the ambulance, assuring me that everything was going to be all right. "Will this help you in your battle against Meg?"
"I have no doubt it will. Meg will not want this released. It would ruin her reputation and the story she has painted of herself as the victim."
He turned to me, his eyes lighting, and I could tell he had other thoughts on his mind. "No more about her," he said between kisses. "The rest of the time is about us."
I slept very little that night, but I didn't mind. I could catch up on sleep later, on the plane and back at my dad's place in Vancouver. For now I was content to run on the excitement of just being with Harry again and spending time together as a couple. We ate a late breakfast in bed, and then, finally, I had to start packing.
"Do you like Paulo?" Harry asked, as I taped up the box with my sewing machine and fabric scraps for the trip.
"He's all right," I said. "He doesn't say much."
"He's going to accompany you to Vancouver," Harry said. "Once there, he'll speak with the security team that will take over. They'll be female security, so you'll have a constant presence with you."
I sat back on my heels. "You mean I won't have any privacy. Is that really necessary? No one in Vancouver will care who I am dating."
"Yes. It's necessary. A look in the mirror should tell you why."
I wrinkled my nose. "My dad is going to freak out at the sight of me with a bodyguard."
"It's for your protection. They don't have to be in the house with you all the time. They'll just accompany you when you go out. You'll get used to it. Half the time I forget they are there."
"Well, you've been putting up with it for as long as you can remember. This is a new thing for me."
"I know," he said, pulling me to my feet so he could hold me in his arms. "And this is not the way I wanted to introduce you to the realities of royal life. Just humor me on this, okay? And try to ignore them."
I exhaled into his shoulder. "All right. I'll try."
Harry helped me pile my luggage by the door, and then we collapsed on the couch together to wait for the driver. "I don't know how this is going to work out but I hope that by the end of the week things will be much, much better for both of us. I've got a lot to work on the next few days, but I don't want you to worry about it. Relax. Have fun. See all your old friends. Hang out with your family."
I hadn't thought much about my old friends back in Vancouver. We'd exchanged texts and emails, even a few phone calls, but the only one who really knew what was going on with me was Randa. Had Iris and Allie read the news about me? What were they thinking?
"What if—" I began, but Harry cut me off.
"I really don't think she's pregnant," he said, knowing exactly what was on my mind. "She's bluffing. I know she's bluffing. Try not to worry about it. I will call you on Wednesday and let you know how the doctor's appointment goes. I'm more concerned about how my father and I will arrange the dissolution of our engagement, and how my grandmother will react, if you want the truth."
"Your grandmother will hate me, won't she?" I said, chewing at my bottom lip.
Harry smiled down at me. "She will love you just like I do. It just might take a while." He kissed me. "Don't worry about that either. I don't want you to worry about anything. And that reminds me..."
He sat up, struggling, and somehow I ended up on the floor, laughing. Of course, I had to tackle him then, to bring him down to my level, and it was quite a while before we separated again.
He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to me. "Here. Use this if you need any money. I want you to have fun on your visit."
"I don't want to take your money," I objected. "I can pay my own way."
"Seriously, Sam? Are we going to argue about this? I just want to make sure that you can do the things you want. Buy some new clothes if you want. Or make some new clothes. Have a nice dinner. Your life is about to change—more drastically than you can imagine. You might as well have some fun."
When I still hesitated, he stuffed the envelope in my bag. "Just take it. If you don't want to use, that's fine. I'll feel better knowing that you have it."
There was a soft tap at the door and Simon's voice said, "The driver is here, Sir."
We let the driver in to collect the luggage. "Give me a few minutes," Harry told Simon, and the guard nodded, stepping out into the hall.
"I'm sorry I can't go with you to the airport," Harry said as I stepped into his arms. "I don't think it would be a good idea for us to be seen together right now."
"I'm getting really tired of saying goodbye to each other," I said, drawing him into a kiss.
"Me too," he agreed.
We parted at Simon's soft, insistent knocking on the door, and I wondered how long he had been trying to get our attention. "I hope there are much fewer goodbyes in the future," I said, picking up my coat.
"We'll make it so," Harry said.