Pulling the curtains shut, she pressed her body against his in the near-darkness and gasped with desire. Still kissing him, she felt an immense tingle through her body. As they started to pull at each other’s clothes there was an urgency, electricity sparking between them. She unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hands over his body. His face was in her hair, then he was kissing her neck. He unbuttoned her dress and, as it fell to the floor, he pulled her on to the bed and unhooked her bra. He looked at her with such adoration.
‘Are you sure?’ he whispered.
Her heart raced, the connection between them impossible to ignore.Forget the future, she told herself, staring back at him. Right now, all she wanted was this, his moment, this connection. She didn’t want to wonder what came next or how much time they had left. She just wanted to live for the moment. To feel the thrill of being with him, without second-guessing anything. Her heart overruling her head.
For Clemmie, this night at Royalwood Cottage was shaping up to be one she’d never forget.
‘I’m sure,’ she whispered before Oliver stole what was left of her breath.
Chapter Twenty-One
Clemmie woke to the soft chorus of birdsong. A contented smile lingered as she lay there, savouring the moment. Oliver had slipped out of bed about ten minutes ago. The events of the past few days had felt like stepping into a fairytale, and she wasn’t ready for the spell to break just yet. From her horse-riding escapade to dinner, the discovery of the visitors’ book, and of course last night, every moment had been memorable.
After a quick shower, she slipped into a light floral dress, tied her hair back into a loose ponytail, and headed downstairs. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the cottage, and as she stepped into the kitchen she was greeted by a picturesque scene. Oliver was already there, arranging breakfast on a rustic wooden table beneath the grand old oak tree just outside the door. The garden was a vision of English charm: perfectly manicured lawns, vibrant flowerbeds bursting with colour and a small fountain in the centre that gurgled cheerfully. Butterflies flitted about, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming roses and lavender.
‘Good morning!’ Oliver smiled as he poured her a cup of coffee. He was wearing a casual linen shirt and trousers, looking every bit the relaxed country gentleman. ‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked with a mischievous grin before pressing a kiss to her cheek.
‘I think you know the answer to that,’ Clemmie replied, settling into one of the cushioned chairs. ‘This is stunning. Did you do all this?’ she asked, gesturing at the spread of croissants, fresh fruit, scrambled eggs and smoked salmon.
‘Absolutely. I rose at dawn, milked the cows, churned the butter and baked the croissants from scratch.’
‘You’re a man of many talents,’ Clemmie said, laughing as she helped herself to some fruit.
They ate in a leisurely way, chatting about anything and everything, apart from Oliver’s impending departure to the US. There was no point. She couldn’t change things, and she didn’t want to dwell on it. Oliver leaned back in his chair and gave her a thoughtful look.
‘Have you thought about what you would like to wear to the garden party?’ he asked, swirling his coffee.
Clemmie groaned. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea. I’ve never attended a royal event before and my wardrobe at home is more pinnies and casual stuff, with the odd dress.’ She looked down at what she was wearing.
‘After breakfast, I’ll take you to the best places I know. I’m sure you’ll find something.’
‘Valmont or Rosewood Street?’ she joked.
‘Actually, I was thinking more Whitmore Square. This isn’t just any garden party, Clemmie. It’s Eldenbridge Palace. You need to look the part.’
Clemmie raised her eyebrows. ‘Whitmore Square? That’s absurd. I’ll end up spending a month’s rent on a single dress.’
‘Consider it an investment,’ Oliver said, before sipping his coffee. ‘Plus, you’re going to have your first grand royal experience. Why not do it properly?’
After breakfast, a sleek black Bentley pulled up outside the cottage, its polished exterior gleaming in the morning sunlight. The driver stepped out, a tall man in an immaculate suit, and opened the door with a bow. ‘Sir, madam, your car is ready.’
‘Is this not a little excessive?’ she asked, sliding into the luxurious interior, the leather seats cool against her legs. A chilled bottle of champagne sat in a silver ice bucket between them, and two crystal flutes glinted invitingly.
‘Excessive is half the fun,’ Oliver replied, pouring them each a glass. ‘I want your trip to be as memorable as possible.’
They clinked glasses, and the car glided smoothly onto the main road. As they left the tranquillity of the royal residence, the scenery shifted from sprawling parkland to the bustling outskirts of London.
The drive was a tapestry of iconic landmarks. They passed through Ashford Vale, where the River Elen glittered in the light, and soon the spires of Larkminster Cathedral came into view. Edris Tower stood tall, its clockface an unwavering– and literal– reminder of the passage of time. Clemmie leaned closer to the window, catching a glimpse of Valmont Avenue, lined with Union Jacks fluttering in the breeze. Ahead, a royal convoy of black Range Rovers sped towards Eldenbridge Palace, their blue lights flashing discreetly.
‘Do you think that’s for the Queen?’ Clemmie asked, her voice tinged with awe.
‘Possibly,’ Oliver replied, his gaze following the convoy.
As they entered Whitmore Square, heads began to turn. The Bentley’s unmistakable elegance and the way it moved with unhurried grace through the narrow streets made it a spectacle. Clemmie caught sight of people pausing mid-stride, their eyeslingering on the car. It was a world apart from anything she’d ever known.
The shops came into view, each one more opulent than the last. Glittering window displays showcased gowns dripping with sequins, tailored suits that oozed sophistication, and jewellery that sparkled like a thousand stars. Names like Chanel, Dior and Prada were emblazoned on the fronts.
‘I feel a little out of place,’ she whispered.
