Royally Screwed - Lynn Van Dorn Page 0,77

Music. It had been Yuri’s favorite movie since he was a child, Austria reminding him very much of Mirea. Some of the countryside footage used, according to Yuri’s mother, had been filmed in Mirea. Watching it was like sipping cocoa while being snuggled up in a warm quilt. That Angelo had known, without asking, that The Sound of Music was exactly what Yuri needed right at that time was yet more evidence that maybe, possibly, he really did love Yuri like he’d claimed.

Despite adoring the movie, Yuri fell asleep somewhere around the time the Nazis showed up and the von Trapps had to escape. It was probably “Edelweiss.” That song always made him feel snoozy because his mother had sung it to him as a lullaby when he was a baby. He woke up on top of Angelo, using him like a sort of human mattress. The room was bright with light and the clock on the wall said it was almost noon.

Yuri stretched and that woke his mattress.

“God,” Angelo said with a yawn. “It feels late.”

“It’s just about twelve.” Yuri peered down into Angelo’s face. He was in desperate need of a shave and a shower. His hair stuck up around his head at amusing angles. Nevertheless, he looked as he always did to Yuri: delicious and perfect. “I love you,” he said, wondering at both his need to say the words and also his freedom to do so.

“Obviously. We’re both pretty rank. Let’s shower then I’ll take you back to Oxford.”

Yuri’s face fell. “Already? I thought we’d go back this evening.”

Angelo shook his head. “No. I was thinking about it during the movie and I want to have things settled with Lord Dickface. He needs to know that you aren’t his property.”

“I’m not yours, either, you know.”

Angelo grinned at Yuri crookedly. “I know. You’re a strong independent prince who don’t need no man.”

Yuri narrowed his eyes. “Watch it, Angelo.”

He reached up and kissed Yuri on the mouth. “You’re not my property, but you do belong to me. You always have and you know it.”

“Then by that logic, you belong to me.” Somehow, that seemed impossible to Yuri.

“Obviously,” Angelo repeated. “Let’s get cleaned up and get this show on the road.”

There were four of them, so they took Angelo’s car, not the train, to Oxford. Roger drove, Yuri’s guard du jour, Tony, sat in the passenger seat, and Yuri and Angelo sat in the back.

“This backseat is huge,” Yuri said. “You could practically ballroom dance back here.”

In the front, Roger snorted. “When his highness bought this car, he didn’t test drive it, but he did sit in the back seat for over a half-hour to see if it would be comfortable enough for him.”

“I had my guards do the test drive,” Angelo grumbled. “It isn’t like they’d ever let me drive the car myself.”

“Well, I, for one, approve,” Yuri said. “If we’re going to be stuck in traffic, we may as well be comfortable doing it.”

Traffic was unusually cooperative, though, and they made it to Oxford just past half four. Yuri’s gut roiled the closer he got to his home because that’s where Philippe would be. Philippe, who was practically a second father to Yuri but who’d been using him as a pawn his whole life.

Which, when you got down to it, his real father had done the same thing.

It was a depressing thought.

Yuri was reluctant to reenter his own home and Angelo ended up taking the lead and opening the front door with Yuri’s key. Once seeing they were safely inside, the guards went next door to do whatever security guards did in their off hours. It was, to Yuri, a complete mystery. Maybe they did a lot of jigsaw puzzles.

“Your highness. You’re back earlier than I thought. Did all go well?” Philippe’s voice carried from the kitchen to the front of the home.

“It… um…” Yuri hung back, unsure of how to act around Philippe now. Angelo gave his shoulders a squeeze then gently nudged him forward into the kitchen. Surely if Angelo thought Philippe was any danger to Yuri, he wouldn’t be encouraging this discussion. Most likely. Probably.

Philippe sat at the table in the kitchen drinking tea and reading a newspaper. The kitchen itself smelled sweet and citrusy. Philippe had to be baking lemon drizzle cake, which was a favorite of both Yuri and Angelo. Was it coincidence, or had Angelo warned Philippe that his secret had been spilled? Was he already pre-braced for confrontation?

When Philippe looked