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Arrival At The St. George Hotel

One of the men standing next to David looked at Clara sympathetically. He appeared to be in his mid to late 40s and was clean shaven with close-cropped, salt and pepper hair. He was just a tad bit shorter than David. “Miss, please trust His Highness. I’ve known Leeds for over twenty years, and his intentions are entirely honorable. There is no finer gentleman, if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you, George,” David said. “Now you see, you can trust me.”

“Whoa, wait a second. David, Mr. Boring British Businessman is a prince?” Clara breathed out in disbelief. “I knew there was more to you than meets the eye, but I pegged you as a millionaire or a philanthropist. Not a prince!” Clara shook her head in disbelief.

“‘Boring British Businessman?’ That’s a new moniker for me. I’ve been called the ‘Boring Royal’ before, however, never by a person to my face. Just in the press.” David flashed Clara a million-watt smile.

Not looking to argue any more, Clara eyed both George and David. “I should have known this was too good to be true. I can’t get involved with royalty.” Clara’s mind raged war. She knew this was too good to be true! Why would she want to get super involved with someone who had never had to work hard a day in his life? Why would she want to risk having her private life become public? Amanda wouldn’t hesitate. She would hunt Clara down if she didn’t take a chance. Then again, Clara wasn’t being fair to him. Maybe there was more to him than met the eye. She did want to get to know him. Why do I have to make such a big decision when I’m tired and have a massive headache?

“Why not?” David asked.

“I’m not looking for any trouble. I’m a normal person who you probably wouldn’t give a second glance to normally. I’ve had a horrid day. I’m tired and all I want to do is sleep, but I have to be somewhere at three o’clock.” Clara huffed.

David held up his hand. “What changed just now? I am being serious. All that changed is that you found out I have a royal title, and now you want nothing to do with me? Won’t you even give me a chance? Maybe I’m a ‘completely boring’ person. I’m just like you. I have been up nearly twenty four hours straight and would give anything for a lie in.”

“Basically yes,” Clara answered.

“She’s a keeper, sir. You need a woman who can put you in your place and keep you from your perpetual, workaholic habits.” George laughed.

“I have to agree with George on this one—even if he was a relatively bad influence growing up. I want nothing more than to get to know a woman who wants to know me for me and not my title. What if I can show you I’m just a regular bloke?”

Something about the clear, bright cerulean blue eyes behind the thick glasses made her relax and know that she would be in safe hands. Her heart melted at the sight of David’s pleading eyes.There is no way I am going to be able to say no to him.She played coy.“I guess I have to be fair and give you a chance to impress me before we decide on a date. I know I was right about the workaholic assumption. I suppose I’m not much better.” Clara paused. “This won’t be made public in any way, shape, or form?”

“You have my word,” David promised. “Thank you.”

“Let me help you stand, and George will have my car brought around to the front. We are headed to the Saint George Hotel over in Mayfair. Myles over here will sort out my cousin. He isn’t in any fit state to motor over to his apartment just yet. I’ll have my family physician meet us there to check you over. Dr. Evans delivered me and will vouch for me if asked.”

As she attempted to stand, Clara moved to test her foot.Come on, Clara, it’s just a simple bruise. How bad can it be? You’ve had worse, suck it up.Gingerly, she placed a little weight on it; it appeared to hold up just fine. Putting her entire weight on the foot was her mistake. A pain akin to a sledgehammer being dropped onto her foot resulted in Clara almost crashing down to the ground. How would she be able to get through tonight’s performance? David didn’t miss a beat and swept Clara up into his arms, carrying her as if she weighed next to nothing.

“We’re going to need to take some ice with us. George?”

“On it, sir.”

Clara tensed at first, then relaxed into his arms and allowed her head to rest against his shoulder. It was a position that felt so natural. His strong arms and defined muscles held her close. It felt so warm and cozy, she closed her eyes to rest for a few moments.

Somewhere between being carriedfrom the café and put in the car, Clara fell into a deep sleep. It seemed the jet lag and exhaustion from the long trip from L.A. to London finally caught up with her. She had been awake enough to be placed into the car and put a seat belt on in the back seat. David didn’t have the heart to wake her up. He was smitten by the vision in front of him and gently brushed a stray bit of her long, dark brown hair off her face.She looks like she could sleep for a hundred years.

“Sir?” his driver asked. David was stirred from his thoughts as the head of his security team, George, tried to capture his attention. David nearly jumped out of his seat. George had a difficult time containing his laughter.

“Do not under any circumstances tell my mother, George. God only knows what she’ll do if she gets wind of Miss Little and myself.” David continued to watch Clara sleep. He hoped she didn’t have a head injury. Dr. Evans was going to be on him if she did. He should’ve asked her the concussion protocol questions Dr. Evans ingrained in him when he did his military duty. She looked so tired; Clara really did need the sleep.I wish I could join her right now.

“Your mother has the nose of a bloodhound, she does. I’m hurt you think I’d let your secrets slip, Leeds.” George looked into the rearview mirror from his position in the front seat.

“Sir, ol’ George is right about that one. I reckon your Mum will sniff out the possibility of a romance and have a confirmed, thirty-year-old bachelor like yourself married before the end of the year.” Michael, David’s long time chauffeur, agreed. “I’d be willing to bet your uncle is the one you should really be worried about.”

If there was ever a staunch traditionalist, it was Uncle Reg. He would never let David get involved with an American. Mother would do anything for grandchildren and to see David marry. Which was the lesser of two evils?“Uncle Reg won’t like this one bit. Gents, I will leave it up to you to keep this one under wraps from Mother. I’ll deal with the king.”

The remainder of the car ride through town was quiet to allow Clara to sleep peacefully. He had never been so intrigued by a woman. Clara didn’t seem impressed with his being a prince. Come to think of it, he’d never even had a woman say no to him, or even consider saying no. Could he have found a person who wanted to know David and not Prince David?

“About time you found yourself a young lady, Leeds,” Michael whispered under his breath.

As if notime had passed, Clara felt her body being shaken. The dull throb from earlier was now a splitting headache, and her vision took a moment to clear. Her dream had been so pleasant, standing atop the dome of Saint Paul’s, looking out on London. Why did it have to end?

“Miss Little, I need you to wake up,” David said. “Dr. Evans is waiting to see you. You’re in the Rose Suite at the St. George. The suite is available to you for as long as you’re in London. My family always has a standing reservation at this property.”

“I thought we decided you should call me Clara.” She yawned and stretched. She was sitting atop the softest bed she had ever encountered. It felt so good after the long trip.Wait! I have to start getting ready. No time for a nap now.Clara’s adrenaline kicked in as she startled herself completely awake. Still wearing David’s jacket around her shoulders, she wondered when she had fallen asleep and when they had arrived at the St. George Hotel. The St. George was one of the ultimate five-star luxury hotels catering to the rich and famous, as well as being one of the most historic hotels in the city.Two amazing properties in one day. I could get used to this.


Tags: Tomi Tabb Historical