Playing the Royal Game

‘It is different,’ Alex cut in. ‘Since then, we must be above rumour or reproach.’

‘It’s hardly working though,’ Allegra pointed out. ‘The press are going crazy now with the goings-on. Your family are so busy trying to keep secrets that keep bursting out into the open, so busy trying to prove they’re not human, when really that’s all they are. Your father wasn’t upset about the people—he used that as an excuse to lock her in with guilt. You won’t keep me locked in, Alex.’

‘You can’t just wander off.’

‘I promise not to come back pregnant!’

‘Allegra, I’m serious. There are things that cannot be changed.’ He was silent then, and they both lay still for a moment. ‘Can you hear it?’

She could, the buzz of a helicopter. It might not even be for them, but then again, it may well be, yet she would not give in. ‘They’re here because it’s such a rarity...’ she attempted. ‘Because they’re so unused to your family doing things in a normal way. We’re supposed to be engaged, we’re supposed to be unable to keep our hands off each other—we should be making love in the foothills.’

‘I would never compromise you like that,’ Alex said.

‘I know that.’ She gave a small laugh. ‘Shame...’ And then she winced. ‘I didn’t mean... I wasn’t trying to lead—’

‘I understand,’ Alex said, and he did understand, because spontaneity could not be a part of his life. And it was a shame. ‘I would not be here if I was engaged to Anna.’ She would never have fled the palace; there would have been no near row on the street. He looked over to her.

‘You could have been,’ Allegra said. ‘You choose to live by the old rules.’

‘The people knew we were rowing.’

‘Of course they did,’ Allegra said. ‘They’re not stupid.’

‘It’s not fitting.’

‘It’s a row!’ Allegra shrugged. ‘Couples have them all the time.’

He could hear the helicopter overhead; he had no doubt it was the paparazzi. ‘Would they find us kissing?’ he asked.

‘I presume so,’ she said. ‘Had we made up.’

‘Have we?’

‘We’re talking,’ Allegra said. ‘Surely that’s a start. Please help me, Alex—I can’t stay locked in the palace. I feel like I’m losing myself....’

‘I will try,’ Alex said. ‘Perhaps there can be compromise.’

‘I guess we’ve made up then.’ She wanted a kiss, even if it was for the cameras; she wanted contact, wanted to feel more of him.

And he would never compromise her; she knew that, so much so that she wasn’t offended when he rearranged the set, for he did it with her honour in mind. ‘Pull down your dress,’ he said, for it had ridden up a little. She pulled it down as far as it would go, and it felt wooden, and formal, like two actors on set, even when he spoke of logistics. ‘I will move towards you.’ Except it was a relief to have contact, to revisit him.

It was a duty kiss, and there was nowhere it could go. His hand was on her waist and there it would remain; their bodies suitably apart, just their faces met. It was a gentle kiss, a reunion       kiss, and all she felt were his lips and all he had were hers.

She heard the hum of the helicopter so his kiss did not deepen, and slowly he pulled back his mouth. He did not want to be prince in that moment, a normal man would be so much easier, for all he wanted was to taste her again, and he chose to.

He brushed his lips against hers and still it was gentle. It was not, though, a kiss for the cameras; it was a kiss that wished they were totally private, a kiss just for them. Both knew it even if they dared not admit it.

She could feel his breath and the increase of hers.

‘Alex...’ She pulled back, for it almost killed her not to roll into him. She felt his hand tighten on her waist, felt it bunch the fabric in tortured immobility. ‘I don’t want anything appropriate in the papers.’

‘I told you. I would never compromise you. I thought you wanted us to appear normal.’