Majesty (American Royals, #2)(86)
“Exactly,” he reasoned. “I can wait one more night.”
“Well, I can’t.” When he opened his mouth to protest again, Beatrice brushed a finger against his lips. “Teddy,” she said, very slowly. “I’m sure.”
She thought back to that night at Walthorpe, when she’d thrown herself at Teddy, out of loneliness and confusion, and perhaps a drunken hope that it might make things simpler between them. It felt like a long time ago, now.
Some of her nervousness must have flickered over her expression, because she saw comprehension dawn in Teddy’s eyes. “You haven’t ever…”
“No, I haven’t.” She and Connor had never gotten that far—had never really gotten the chance.
“I love you,” Teddy said again, and it set Beatrice ablaze. She answered him in the same words, drinking in his love and his kisses and the way his hands slid over her.
Beatrice tore her mouth from his only to tug his blazer impatiently from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Teddy fumbled a little with her dress, struggling with tiny hooks that ran down the back, until Beatrice gave a breathless laugh and just tugged it over her head half-fastened. His breath caught when he saw her in nothing but her ivory lace underwear.
“I love you,” she repeated, simply for the sheer joy of saying it. She wondered if either of them would ever tire of it.
They stumbled back together toward the bed, their kisses wilder and more feverish. Beatrice could taste the rain on his skin. The pearls from her hair were falling loose, gleaming on the pillows around them like tiny fragments of moonlight, but she didn’t care. Her breathing was wild and fast, and she felt a tingling sensation spreading all the way to the edges of her fingers. No matter how many parts of her body touched his, it didn’t feel like enough.
Distantly, with the part of her brain that was still capable of thinking, Beatrice knew that something monumental had changed—that she and Teddy were both changed—here, in this room that had seen two centuries’ worth of history. Where her ancestors had loved and reigned and grieved and found joy.
The steady drumming of the rain echoed their heartbeats, the new rhythm between them.
Outside, the storm might be raging—but here, in the pocket of warmth they had created, Beatrice felt safe. And loved.
It had stormed the entire night before the royal wedding, prompting a last-minute flurry of activity as harried staffers began to carry out the contingency plans. But by dawn the rain had fallen off, the only sound the occasional drip of water from the shingles of a roof. Now the sun was out in full force, leaving the world sparkling and new—and utterly transformed.
Nina hadn’t seen the city like this since King George’s coronation, when she’d been just a child. The streets were hung with miles of triangular pennants, printed in the red, blue, and gold of the American flag. Even the lampposts had been draped in ribbons and crepe-paper streamers.
“You know we need to leave soon,” Ethan warned, though his voice held an unmistakable note of amusement.
“Ten more minutes. Please?” Nina’s eyes darted to the artist who’d set up at the nearest street corner; he was painting children’s cheeks with miniature hearts and tiaras, free of charge. “I wish I could get my face painted,” she added, almost to herself.
“You’d get a few looks when we walk into the throne room,” Ethan joked, then seemed to fall silent as he realized what he’d said. The two of them would attract plenty of stares as it was, showing up to the wedding as a couple.
It was the reason Nina had begged Ethan to come out onto the streets with her—because she wanted one last moment of normalcy before the chaos descended.
Right now she wasn’t an object of fascination or revulsion. She was just another anonymous member of the buoyant crowds that lined the parade route through the center of town. The wedding would begin in a couple of hours, but the celebrations had been going since early this morning—or, in some cases, since last night.
Enormous projection screens had been set up at major squares and thoroughfares, to air the live wedding coverage. Discordant music blared from various directions: pop songs from portable speakers, a piano bar playing the wedding march. Now and again groups of friends spontaneously burst into the national anthem. Those who were lucky enough to live along the parade route were hosting parties on their balconies, everyone already jostling along the railings in search of the best view. The city was at max capacity: hotels fully booked, friends hosting friends as people poured in from all over the country—all over the world, really—to celebrate Beatrice and Teddy.
Each storefront they passed seemed full of more wedding merchandise than the last. Nina saw foil balloons, tote bags, Christmas ornaments, puzzles, jewelry. Not to mention dozens of “official” cherry cake mixes and cherry brandies. She wondered how much money the government was making off all this.
“Bottled water, two dollars; beer, one dollar,” shouted a guy who was walking through the street, wheeling a cooler behind him. When Nina met his gaze, he grinned and lifted the cooler’s top. Beneath a jumbled assortment of beer cans were a few plastic bottles of zinfandel rosé, labeled with a sticker of Beatrice’s face that he’d definitely made on his home printer.
Nina laughed. This was exactly why she’d wanted to come out here—to see the aspects of the wedding celebration that were decidedly not palace-approved.