Her Royal Highness (Royals #2) - Rachel Hawkins Page 0,53

youngest granddaughter, Lady Tamsin Campbell, daughter of the Duke of Montrose. There were hopes of a match between the duke’s daughter and Princess Flora’s brother, Prince Sebastian, but they seem to have been scuttled last year, and Flora and Tamsin’s friendship was rumoured to be a casualty of the breakup.

(“Scotland’s Poshest Families,” from Prattle)

CHAPTER 24

“So do I need to bow to these people like I do your mom?”

Flora shakes her head, pulling out that little mirror with the pink glittery back to check her makeup. “No. Well, yes, sort of, not as deeply. A tiny curtsy will do, and Lord Henry is not all that formal anyway, if I’m honest.”

We’re in a black SUV, making our way north to Skye. Flora told me that up until the ’70s, the only way to get to Skye was on a boat. Now, thank god, there’s a bridge. Me and boats do not mix well.

Of course, there’s a chance me and this entire weekend won’t work, anyway. It’s not like I forget Flora is a princess when we’re at Gregorstoun—I couldn’t if I tried—but this is my first taste of the actual royal life. I’ve felt weird in Darcy’s house for years, and she’s just Regular Person Rich. Not this kind of fancy.

Sighing, Flora stashes the compact again and settles deeper into her seat. “You’re nervous.”

I hold up my thumb and forefinger. “Little bit,” I admit. “But I know I call Lord Henry ‘my lord,’ and Lady Ellis ‘Your Royal Highness,’ because she was born a princess and got to keep that title. And that there are different glasses for water and wine, and there will be a whole bunch of forks to use.”

Flora gives me one of those smiles I like so much, reaching over to pat my leg.

“By jove, I think she’s got it!”

I roll my eyes, but my cheeks are warm, and the place where she’s got her hand feels even warmer.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, I remind myself. A crush on Flora is the stupidest thing I could possibly do, for all kinds of reasons, but ever since the Challenge, things are different between me and Flora. Not just because I know she likes girls, too, but that’s part of it, I have to admit. My brain wants to remind me that sexuality aside, Flora is not a romantic option for me, but it’s hard to remember it when she’s looking at me like that, when we’re tucked away in the back of a fancy car, speeding through some of the most beautiful scenery I’ve ever seen. The whole princess thing had never really appealed to me as a kid, but this?

Yeah, this I could get used to.

Then the car is pulling up a long gravel driveway, and I twist my hands nervously.

The Lord of the Isles lives in the first Honest-to-God Castle I’ve seen since I got to Scotland. I might have thought Gregorstoun was a palace the first time I saw it, but as I climb out of the back of the car and take in the structure in front of me, I realize Gregorstoun is just a really big school. This?

This is a castle.

It’s not like something out of a fairy tale, all lovely and delicate. Weirdly enough, that’s kind of what I’d been picturing. This is more a medieval fortress, with turrets and high walls, slits cut into the rock for arrows.

“God, it’s beastly, isn’t it?” Flora murmurs at my side, and I look up at the place.

“It’s . . . amazing,” I finally say, and she looks over at me, lips slightly pursed. I wish I could see her face better, but she’s wearing another pair of those massive sunglasses she likes since, for once, the day is actually bright and sunny.

Reaching down, she takes my hand. It’s a friendly gesture, one I’ve seen her make with other girls at school, but when her fingers curl around mine, a little shiver sparkles through me.

Luckily I don’t have too much time to focus on that because there are two very furry horses suddenly bounding down the front steps toward us.

I make a sound that is probably deeply unattractive, a kind of “Yeep!” as the animals approach, but Flora drops to one knee there in the gravel, arms already outstretched.

The dogs—because that’s what they are, not some freak species of pony—happily dance around her, pink tongues lolling, and Flora makes all sorts of high-pitched noises and kissy sounds at them as they bask in her attention.

Laughing, she rises

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