Tangled Up in Princes (Royal Romances Book 1) by Molly Jameson Read Free Book Online Page B

like that."
    "I shall try to return for the wedding, but I can't promise you that. I wish I could, but this is a difficult time for my family just now."
    After a pause, she said, "I understand."
    She didn't understand, and he couldn't make her understand. For all that he'd rather be here with her, his life wasn't his own. His time belonged to his family. Ultimately, he was the property of the British people. There was no way he could make her comprehend that, but perhaps he could make her understand how very much he wished things were different. He pulled her in for a kiss, one that had his heart pounding and his mind dulling. He didn't care who was watching. Her lips were warm and eager on his. He wanted to sink into this moment, to drown in it.
    "Right there," Jamie said, seemingly from far away.
    "That black Porsche, that's Edward's car. Have you ever seen a Porsche up close before?" he asked their driver, "Come on, I'll show it to you."
    "Might I take a photo of you?" the driver asked. "Maybe one of the two of us? My friends at work will never believe me otherwise."
    "Of course."
    Jamie was trying to give him and Carrie some privacy. Edward appreciated the gesture, but he couldn't allow Jamie to be unattended without a security detail, not exposed out in the open like this. There was more he wanted to say to Carrie, but there was also nothing left that words could clarify. With one more kiss, a kiss that claimed her entirely, Edward got out of the car.
     
    ***
     
    It was a cliché, the whole thing about poorly bred people, say, those from Kentucky, not knowing which fork to use. As is often the case, clichés are overused for a reason; it's because they're true. Claire sipped from her water glass because she had no idea how to eat with the dizzying array of silverware in front of her. Across the table, her father was also on his second refill of water. Her mother and Amanda seemed to be faring better: Amanda likely because she seldom ate anyway, and her mother because she'd simply chosen a single fork and gesticulated with it. Carrie looked down at her plate. It was fish, probably very expensive fish if the way it was looking at her was any indication. Call her a redneck, but she'd take a filet from Red Lobster any day over a fish that still had its head. Her dad raised an eyebrow at her. He was tugging at his starched collar. Carrie gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile.
    The wedding rehearsal had gone well. The rehearsal dinner, on the other hand, was going on forever. She liked Phillip. She was thrilled he'd be her brother. But if she never saw the rest of his family again, well, that would be just fine with her. She heard the buzz of her phone vibrating inside her purse. She reached for it surreptitiously, happy for any distraction from her leering main course. She looked at the number. It was unfamiliar, but she recognized it as a London number. She excused herself from the table, giving her father an apologetic smile as she went.
    "Hello?"
    "Carrie? Is that you?"
    "Edward. Oh God, but I'm glad to hear from you." She heard nothing from the other end of the line.
    "Hello? Edward?"
    She'd sounded too eager. Stupid, she chided herself.
    "Yes, I'm here. It's good to hear your voice as well. How are you?"
    She went to the alcove where she'd first met him.
    "I'm hungry."
    "Excuse me? Aren't they feeding you?"
    "I don't mean to be insulting if it's a British thing, but I really prefer my dinner not to stare back at me."
    He barked a laugh.
    "What?"
    "It was fish. I'm at the rehearsal dinner, and the fish still had a head. And eyes. And it stared at me."
    "I bet you look beautiful. I reckon that was one happy fish."
    "I doubt it. I'm pretty sure it was dead."
    "Only pretty sure?"
    "I repeat; it had eyes."
    He laughed at her again.
    "You probably think I'm some unsophisticated bumpkin. And well, you should know that I sort of am."
    "I don't think you unsophisticated, and I'm not sure what a bumpkin is. But I do