“Ah, buddy, it’s late and I’m in my fancy togs.”
“Please,” said the handsome kid with the cowlick, big blue eyes, and perfect smile, the grass stains on his white shirt, proof he’d already been playing.“You promised.We’re all in our dress togs too.”
Michael clapped him on the shoulder and sighed, pausing for a final excuse.“All right, but pay attention, because I’m only going to show you once.After that, you’re on your own.Remember that practice is key to every man’s success.”
He peeled off his jacket and tie, handing them to Scottie as if it were the most natural thing.She followed him toward the makeshift pitch, folding the jacket over her arm and neatly tucking the tie into the breast pocket.
“First rule?”she heard Michael say.“Relax.It won’t feel natural at first.Second?Eyes on the ball.”
Yes, Scottie, eyes on the ball.Don’t get caught up in the magic and wonder of Lauchtenland, of the castle, of the people…and Michael.
Tonight she saw the man behind the protection officer, and when their eyes met, or when his hand brushed hers, the feelings he stirred were the most honest she’d felt in years.Maybe ever.
On the pitch, Finn crossed the ball to Michael, and as it sailed overhead in a perfect arc, Michael hopped on his nearest leg, whipped his other across his body, and sent the ball flying through a goal made of chairs and a tablecloth.The boys erupted in cheers, clamoring for more, each desperate for his own try.
Michael grinned back at her as she settled under the savories tent, where skewers of roasted beef, lamb, and chicken continued to dwindle.There was a new energy about him as he unbuttoned his collar and rolled his sleeves.
“All right, lads, pay attention.”
“Have you watched him play?”Jeanette pulled a chair forward and sat beside her.“He’s brilliant.”
“He’s certainly mastered the scissor kick.”
“The Port Fressa Capitals scouted him for years, then called him up during his uni days.But his father, and the Cross duty, won out.”Jeanette slipped a cigarette from a pearl-studded clutch.“Do you mind?”
Scottie shook her head.
“The football, the fame, the real money—lost to almighty Cross and Crown.”
Jeanette drew on her cigarette, then blew the smoke aside.She was captivating in her gold-sequined gown with its V-neck and gathered waist, blonde hair in an intricate updo, her complexion flawless in the party lights.
“I don’t smoke as a rule,” she said, stamping it out after a few puffs.“Just sometimes.”She laughed softly.“Probably to irritate my mother.Isn’t that a sad tale for a sixty-something woman?”
“We’re always our parents’ children.My dad still says, ‘Don’t tell Shug.’”
“Shug is your grandmother?I just love your southern endearments.”She cheered as one of the boys attempted the scissor kick, landing awkwardly on his back only to pop up, grinning, ready to go again.“Michael’s probably told you he and I don’t get along.”Scottie looked over but without reply.“I have my regrets—”
A shout from the pitch drew their attention.Scottie welcomed the diversion, half expecting Jeanette’s next question to be “How’s it going with your mother?”
“Well done, Finn,” Jeanette said, rising to applaud as her grandson performed a near-flawless scissor kick.She looked down at Scottie.“Thanks for indulging me.If you’d like a ride to Perrigwynn, let me know.I’ve a feeling Mick isn’t heading home anytime soon.”
“We’re heading back to Hadsby Castle tonight.But thank you.”
Jeanette perched on the chair’s edge.“Do you realize the similarity in your stories?You’re heir to an old, established clothing line.Michael’s heir to an old, established international printing company.You have royal roots.And as a Cross man, he’s as close to royalty as one can come without being an official aristocrat.You never knew your mother.His mother walked out on the family.”
Scottie regarded Jeanette, trying to discern the purpose of her confession.“Where are you going with this?”
“O’Shay is your future, Lady Royal.It’s all well and good to play princess for a season or a holiday visit.Your mother is our queen.You’ve every right to your place.But you and I both know your future’s back home in Tennessee.Maybe, in the course of things, you can help Michael see the world through your eyes.He’s done his Cross duty and served the Crown.Now it’s time to step into his future.One that will provide a good living, carry on his Pratt legacy, and lead the next generation.I’ve nothing against the Cross family, nor the Crown, I just want my boy with me.”
“You want me to persuade him to join Pratt Printing?”
“You sound dubious, Lady Royal, but he’s my heir, just as you are your father’s.While the whole family’s involved, the helm always passes to the eldest grandchild.Michael’s Cross and military training make him the perfect leader.I just need him to see it.”She motioned to the field.“Here he comes.It was nice to meet you, Lady Royal.”
She kissed Michael’s cheek and patted his shoulder.“I’ll ring you for teatime.”
“What’d she want?”Michael asked, helping Scottie to her feet.
“To tell me you’re heir to Pratt Printing the same way I’m heir to O’Shay.You never said.”
