soft leather knee boots, tugging them up over her jeans and zipping the side. A bright purple pea coat went over her sweater and a wispy purple and pink scarf around her neck. Checking her appearance in the mirror, she left the master suite of the yacht. The one she had planned to share with him . Part of her wished she shared it with Alexander. The rest of her was glad he had not pushed.
As she walked down the hall, he emerged from his suite. Tan slacks, and a button down, open collared shirt. He wore boots of his own, though she could only see the lower portion. A brown leather jacket hung open around his broad shoulders.
Christiana had to admit he looked wonderful. Hot, she believed was the vernacular. He did not belong with her. He belonged with a supermodel who would help raise money for starving children in Africa and with his other charities. One of the women who had accompanied him to more than one ball. She did not want to think about what may have happened after they left palace grounds.
“You look lovely.” Alexander reached out and touched her cheek with the back of his index finger.
Why did he say such things where no one would overhear? “Thank you. You look very nice yourself.” Did he have an ulterior motive?
The yacht had docked a few minutes earlier, and she knew the plank would be down and waiting for them. Alexander stayed a step behind as they walked down the gangway. When she reached the bottom, the mayor of Whisper Cove, who she had met twice before, waited. He bowed slightly at the waist.
“Good morning, Your Majesty.”
Christiana inclined her head his way. “Good morning, Mayor Giusseppe.” She gestured to Alexander. “Have you met my husband, Alexander, Duke of Testudines?”
The mayor held out a hand, and Alexander took it. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness.”
“Likewise.” Alexander moved to her side and rested a hand on the small of her back.
The mayor led the way off the dock. “We have a car waiting for you and a bit of a parade route through Whisper Cove.” Most of the towns had. “Our first stop today is an orphanage the royal family has supported for many years, then the city hall where you’ll meet with the reporter from TCBC, and we’ll finish up with a ribbon cutting at our newest bed and breakfast.”
“Wonderful.” He stopped to let her get in the car first. She and Alexander sat forward facing while the mayor rode backwards. The route took them about two miles through town.
Christiana’s heart swelled as the crowds cheered and waved. More than once she saw someone in the crowd holding up a picture of her and Alexander from their wedding. The most common was the one of him kissing her forehead at the end of the ceremony. She needed to get a closer look at it. There seemed to be two versions - a full color one that most people held - and a backlit shadow one a few people did. Though reliable Internet access was available on the yacht, she had avoided anything to do with the wedding. Perhaps it was time.
The car pulled to a stop in front of a nondescript building with a welcome sign hanging over the door. With a deep breath, Christiana emerged from the car.
Time to get her happy on.
* * *
Alexander found himself twitterpated.
The word from the childhood movie was the only way to describe how he felt. Queen Christiana sat on the floor of the orphanage, a little girl sitting on her lap and a little boy at her side, as they listened intently to the story the twelve-year-old was reading.
He watched as she turned her head just enough to brush a kiss against the hair of the little girl. A glance to the other side told him the official photographer, the one that traveled on the yacht with them but rarely spent any time with them while on board, was immortalizing the moment. So was the cameraman flanked by the reporter they’d meet with later.
Alexander had figured out why their first interview was scheduled for today.
By this time, the
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