Royals (Royals #1)(17)
He gives her a hug, then, one arm still wrapped around her, opens his other arm to me.
Aren’t royals supposed to be all closed off and dead inside? Isn’t emotion embarrassingly common? Why do I now have to join a three-way hug with my sister and her fiancé?
But I do, letting Alex briefly press me against his Ralph Lauren and my sister’s Chanel, and then he pulls back, looking at us both before smiling hesitantly.
“It was a surprise,” he says, and Ellie, her hand still on his arm, looks past him to the pipers and the twin boys who are now no longer bowing but using their bagpipes in some kind of vaguely phallic swordfight.
“You planned this?” El asks, eyebrows raised, and Alex swallows so hard I can see his Adam’s apple move.
“Actually—” he starts, but then a voice interrupts him.
“I’m afraid it was all me.”
WHO ARE THE ROYAL WRECKERS?
Prince Sebastian of Scotland may only be seventeen, but he’s already on every girl’s Dream Date List. And while not many of us can hope to land a prince, there are other options in Seb’s circle! Ever since his primary school days, he’s had a cadre of similarly well-heeled boys following him around. But who are these fellows, and are they interesting past their involvement with Prince Sebastian? Let’s find out!
Andrew McGillivray, “Gilly” to friends, second son of the Duke of Argyll. Of all the Wreckers, Gilly is the richest, his family’s net worth said to rival the royal family’s. Only eighteen, Gilly has an appetite for expensive horses, good wine, and an assortment of “Instagram models,” whatever that means. I guess all that money helps them overlook his weak chin.
Thomas Leighton, Marquess of Sherbourne, son of the Duke of Galloway. He’s the most highly titled of the Royal Wreckers, “Sherbet,” and also probably the best looking. We actually think he gives Prince Sebastian a run for his money in the Handsome Department. Those eyes! The cheekbones! Sadly, ladies, it’s well known that the marquess does not, shall we say, play for our team. He’s said to be dating Galen Konstantinov, son of shipping magnate Stavros Konstantinov.
The Fortescue brothers, Stephen and Donald. If they have nicknames, we haven’t heard them, but these two brothers are always paired together, seems like, so I suppose they’re just grateful if no one calls them Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Both are the sons of the Earl of Douglas, and while they’re not twins, they’re only thirteen months apart in age. Recent additions to the Royal Wreckers, the Fortescue brothers are the only ones who didn’t attend Gregorstoun with the prince. They’re Eton boys and proud of it.
Miles Montgomery. Interestingly enough, Miles is the lowest on our list in terms of title and wealth. He’s the son of a baronet, Sir Peregrine Montgomery, and rumor has it that the family has fallen on hard times. Not a manor home to be found in this family’s portfolio these days. But in spite of that (or maybe because of it), Miles is Prince Sebastian’s closest friend, and frequently found at the ne’er-do-well prince’s side. Most intriguingly, there were rumors he was briefly involved with Sebastian’s twin sister, Flora. Was that weird for the Gregorstoun chums? We’d have to think it’s just the slightest bit awkward.
(Prattle, “The Royal Wreckers,” September Issue)
Chapter 8
One thing I’ve learned from being around Ellie these past couple of years is that no one is actually as pretty or handsome as they look in magazines. Even El, who is awfully pretty in real life, is like ten times more glamorous in the pages of magazines.
The boy stepping out of the farmhouse now?
I’ve seen him in magazines and on websites and acknowledged that he was good-looking, sure. I like boys, I have eyes, there’s no doubt he’s an attractive example of his sex.
But that does not prepare me in any way at all for seeing Prince Sebastian in the flesh.
He’s tall, his entire upper body is so perfectly v-shaped that I think geese probably study him to get their flight formation just right, and he’s wearing a gray long-sleeved shirt and jeans that were clearly crafted just for him, possibly by nuns who’ve devoted themselves to the cause of making boys look as sinful as possible so the rest of us will know just how dangerous they are, and he’s . . .
Just a dude, oh my actual god, get ahold of yourself.
Ellie glances over at me, her eyebrows drawn together, and to my horror, I realize I just whispered that last sentence out loud to myself.
Luckily, Prince Sebastian didn’t overhear me because the pipers have started up again, the real ones this time. Just a handful, so it’s not as overwhelming as it was when we drove up, and this time they’re playing “Isn’t She Lovely?”
Seb comes to a stop in front of us, clasping his hands together, and as the last note dies away, I swear to god, the clouds part and a sunbeam shines down on his head, making the red glints in his dark hair shimmer.
“Ellie,” he says, stepping forward to give my sister a quick hug.
And then he turns his blue eyes to me. “And you must be Daisy.”
I get a handshake instead of a hug, which is probably for the best as I think a hug with this boy might count as sexual contact. Still, his hand is warm and strong, and yeah, this is the same as third base with a regular boy.