The Controversial Princess (The Smoke & Mirrors Duology #1)(117)

Our descent is a little hair-raising, the wind whipping through the moors capturing the chopper and swinging it like a pendulum as the pilot brings us in to land. The sensation of the feet meeting the ground kick-starts my breathing again, a voice through my hearing-defenders declaring our landing.

The staff of Evernmore await me, the impromptu visit sure to have sent them into a tailspin. Damon disembarks first, dipping and taking my hand to help me down, and we jog beneath the blades until we’re clear of the spinning metal. I nod my hello to the line of people ready to greet me, one taking my coat, and breach the entrance of the castle, breathing in hundreds of years’ worth of history. The echo of my boots hitting the stone floor is only slightly muffled by the tapestries suspended from the brick walls.

I head straight for the stairs that take me to my suite, Damon following, giving orders to the footmen who have my bags. For the thousandth time, I check the time on my phone, and again mentally calculate Josh’s flight time and landing. If I’m correct, and I’m sure I am, he should have landed over an hour ago. Why hasn’t he called?

“I’ll leave you to settle in,” Damon says, backing out of the room as I remove my boots.

“Thank you, Damon. I’m sure the cook will fix you something if you are hungry.”

“I’m heading straight to the kitchen.” He smiles, and I return it. I know he loves it up here, especially the haggis that is served like tea.

Although I’m listening for it, I still startle when my phone rings, and I scramble to answer. “Josh.”

“What’s going on?” he asks immediately. “I’ve landed in London, and you’ve left the fuckin’ country.”

I smile to myself. He’s affronted, and I can’t blame him. “We need to talk.”

There’s silence for a few moments. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“God, no.”

“Then explain why you’ve hauled ass to Scotland.”

“Because if I didn’t, they would have had me engaged to Haydon Sampson and told the world before I could think to argue. I’ve bought myself some time.”

A growl. Such a deep, hostile growl. “Tell me you’re fuckin’ with me.”

“I’m not fucking with you.” I wander to the window and stare out across the Loch. “I thought, what with everything that has happened, my life—and me—would drop down the King’s priority list. I was wrong. I’ve shot to the top. They’re planning on using my engagement to Haydon Sampson as a decoy, as such. A distraction from the negativity surrounding the royals and Eddie’s accident.” I hear Josh choking down the phone on a cough, my barrage of information obviously hard to swallow.

“You’re really not fuckin’ with me, are you?”

I sigh, feeling the invisible pressure weighing down on me. “It’s now or never, Josh.”

“It’s now, that’s what it is.” He’s absolutely seething, and while part of me is grateful for his devotion and commitment, the other part is full of dread. I just wonder if he truly appreciates the shitstorm we’re about to create. “Where are you?” he demands. “Tell me exactly where you are.”

“The Evernmore Estate. It’s in the middle of nowhere. I have two days grace from the King before I have to return to London to announce my engagement.”

“I’ll be there by this evening.”

“How?”

“I’ll charter a plane. A fuckin’ rocket if I need to. Where’s the nearest airport?”

“Glasgow.”

“I’ll call you when I’m there. I’ll need directions.” Loud, muffled thuds pound in the background, the bustle of the airport getting louder. “I’ll call my people. Don’t speak to anyone before I’m there, okay?”

“Shouldn’t be hard. There’s no one here, except Damon, the staff, and me.”

“Or calls. Please don’t take any calls.”

“Why? Who would be calling me?”

“Your father. Davenport. Sir Don. Fuckin’ Haydon Sampson or his prick of a dad. I don’t want you speaking to any of them until I’m with you. Tell me you understand, Adeline.”

He’s worried that I’ll be brainwashed. Or, worse, followed to Scotland and dragged back to London. That’s not going to happen. At least, not for a few days. Yet I confirm what he wants to hear anyway, imagining he is feeling helpless. And I can understand why. There are so many facets to being royal, so many obligations and protocols to follow. It would be largely unknown to the general British public, let alone an American. He must think this is all far too archaic and nonsensical. Yet it’s not. “I understand. Please, just hurry up.” Part of me hates needing him so much, yet I don’t feel strangled by that need.

But rather … soothed.

We say our goodbyes, and I spend endless hours familiarizing myself with Evernmore, roaming the castle corridors alone. Josh texted me not long after our call to tell me he had chartered a plane from Heathrow to Glasgow, and from there he has a helicopter waiting to bring him here. I’ve never been more grateful that he has more money than God. My ears have been listening for the sound of chopper blades while I’ve roamed, and I’ve checked the horizon out of every window I’ve passed, searching for him. It’s been over two weeks since I’ve seen him. Two weeks of pure misery. Two weeks of constantly reliving every moment we have shared, frightened I might forget. Two weeks of falling asleep with his picture on my phone next to my head on the pillow. I’ve missed his fun-loving yet cocky presence. Two weeks of Helen’s moaning about the stress for the baby. Two weeks of Mother’s stoic silence. Two weeks to think about how I nearly lost a brother. What would I have done without Eddie? We’d Skype when he’s on tour, naturally, but I haven’t feared losing him because after each deployment, he comes home. And two weeks ago, he nearly didn’t.