Page 43 of Cross Me

The closer we came to the actual event, the more nervous I became. I didn’t want to admit it, but I wanted to impress those watching. For every person who had accepted and blessed me as their Queen, it felt like there were two who saw me as some kind of Royal Yoko Ono.

“Not quite. Your part comes after the ceremonial lap,” Henry explained. “It signifies that we come here in the spirit of brotherhood.”

“And tomorrow we come in the spirit of kicking each other’s asses?” I clapped my hand over my mouth, horrified I’d let that slip. I backtracked quickly. “Sorry. The philosophy behind competitive sports has always eluded me.”

“You really are a breath of fresh air.” He waved off my apology with a smile. “Most of my family acts like they have a scepter stuck up their arse.”

“Including Alexander?”

“You can’t blame a king for being on edge,” Henry said wisely, “especially given how young he is. I do wish you two would have had more time before you had to tackle this responsibility.”

That made two of us. But there was no use in wishing. I could only focus on what we did have—a lifetime together. That was all Alexander had ever promised me, and all I could ever want.

Engines roared in response to a marker, and the lap started. The cars zoomed around the track at breakneck speed. It might have been thrilling if my mind wasn’t elsewhere. This was what I wanted—what I’d worked for—but part of me wished I was back in London. It was the part of me that had known Alexander wouldn’t come.

“They’re ready for us.” Henry called my attention back to the present. The drivers had returned. Most had climbed out of their cars, depositing their helmets in their seats and were making their way toward us. They slapped each other on the back, laughed, waved—they were having so much fun.

The stands were entirely full, roars of applause deafened me as I stepped onto the track. Anders reached us, his hair mussed from his helmet, wearing a white track suit emblazoned with a bunch of sponsors. He looked like a walking advertisement. He seemed to know that because a goofy grin had replaced his usual smirk. We made our way over to him and I realized he looked a little shaky. I placed a hand over the mic pinned to my coat. It would be turning on any moment.

“Are you shy?” I asked. Maybe putting him in the spotlight had been the wrong call.

“Not if I can help it,” he said a bit too smoothly to be believed. His hands were trembling.

Still, there was no mistaking the boyish gleam in his eyes. I wondered what it must be like for him to be here, fulfilling his dream. I had never wanted fame nor fortune. I’d stumbled into this life by accident. He’d worked for this. A lump formed in my throat, a strangely maternal pride coming over me. I really was pregnant. Everything seemed to be sending me into mom mode. I’d probably cry during every race, too.

Next to me, Anders gave me a searching look, his hand landing lightly on my arm. I gave him a reassuring smile. Later, when I wasn’t wearing a microphone, I would confess that my hormones were getting the better of me and turning me into a blubbering mother hen.

The ceremony went off without a hitch, even if I felt a bit silly tossing him my scarf. He caught it easily and tied it around his arm. Camera flashes went off all around us as we waved obligingly. At least I only had to do this bit once.

“Are you hungry?” Anders asked as we all made our way to the paddock. “Some of the guys are going out for a bite. We thought we could show you a good time. I mean, not too good of a time.” He gestured to the bump visible under my coat. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I think I already got myself in trouble.” I laughed as I patted the proof. “That’s really sweet, but…”

“But she has other plans,” a rough voice broke in.

My heart leapt, already knowing what I would find when I turned. Alexander was dressed down in a pitiful attempt to blend in, but there was no mistaking him. Even in a worn, leather jacket, hands shoved in his jeans, he was a king. My body responded to his presence, drawing me toward him. I locked my knees in place and tried to think. But I didn’t have to concentrate for long. Alexander wasn’t looking at me. His burning gaze was directed at Anders. X took a step around me and held out a hand. It was a friendly gesture, but his shoulders were rigid. He had his guard up. If Anders noticed, he didn’t show it. He took the outstretched hand and shook it as Alexander moved so that his body was between me and Anders. It was a subtle marking of his territory, but one I wasn’t going to ignore.

Pushing past him, I stepped between them. Formal introductions were in order before things got less civilized. “Anders, allow me to introduce you to my husband.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CLARA

The family estate we were staying in had three wings, sixteen rooms, a stable—and I was pretty sure none of it was big enough to house my husband’s giant ego. Security saw us in, parting ways with us to head to the kitchens or to their rooms. No one made eye contact. Not even Norris. I could have sworn the antique portraits lining the corridor walls were studiously avoiding looking our way.

”I can’t believe you,” I exploded as soon as we made it to the bedroom. That proved to be a mistake because a piercing wail rent the air a second later. I groaned in frustration. Now I’d woken up Elizabeth. Could this get any worse?

“I’ve got her.” Alexander stopped me at the door. He went across the hall, pausing to wave a bleary-eyed Penny back to bed. “I’ll see to her.”

The poor girl’s eyes popped open. Alexander had that effect on women. Of course, I imagined finding the King of England in your hallway when you are half-asleep was a little startling.

I fumed, pacing across the bedroom and trying to think of what to say. I’d left London on bad terms, and I hadn’t expected him to follow me here. Now he’d shown up and planted his proverbial flag for all to see. If he thought he was going to get away with it, we needed to have a serious conversation. I made up my mind to tell him that and went across the hall. Peeking into the nursery, I hesitated at the sight that greeted me. Elizabeth was in his arms, one sleepy hand reached out to hold her father’s chin. Alexander rocked on his heels, bending and swaying with gentle movements. He was dancing her back to sleep.

I softened instantly. It wasn’t playing fair to follow up his spectacular display of cockiness with proof he was an amazing father. Because he couldn’t seem to be both an arrogant king and this man at the same time. The trouble was that this was what I wanted. I wanted a husband who rocked our children to sleep. I wanted a normal life. It was something I could never have. I stole back to the bedroom without saying a word. Our argument could wait. Regardless of the troubles Alexander and I faced, I would never allow Elizabeth to be placed between us.

I’d come down considerably by the time he returned to me. My anger had dropped to a low simmer. As long as he didn’t up the heat, I wouldn’t boil over again.

He shuffled into the room, his eyes cast to the floor as he shucked his leather jacket and tossed it on a chair.