HAVING SURVIVED THE impromptu shopping spree, which really meant shop owners bringing product to Fiona’s house, and which included an extremely personal bra fitting by Marie, one of the royals’ stylists, Payton returned home and headed to her room, hours of homework in her near future. She stalled at the door, noticing a stack of envelopes on her dresser.
Throwing her backpack onto her bed, she grabbed the letters and fanned them out in front of her. Six letters from the prince. All in his strong and surprisingly neat handwriting.
She forced away her immediate desire to commit matricide and closed her door. Checking the stamp dates, she opened the oldest one. It was dated three weeks ago. A picture fell out as she unfolded the pages and she couldn’t stop a quiet hum at the tiny polar bear cub walking behind its mother.
Dear Payton, I hope this note finds you well. I thought you’d like to see some of the sights we are lucky to witness when we have down time. I think of you often, Brodie.
That’s it? She slapped the paper against her forehead.
She opened the next letter and then the next and then the next, frowning with each rip of the envelope. They were all much the same. She let out a frustrated groan and stretched out on her bed. What had she been expecting, really? She shouldn’t be surprised. He wasn’t interested in her romantically. He was just a nice guy who wanted to send her photos of baby polar bears apparently.
Her phone buzzed in her jeans pocket and she glanced at it before answering. “Hi, Niall.”
“Hey. Did you “find” the letters?”
“Yep. They magically appeared on my dresser.”
“Good. I’ll send Brodie an email.”
Payton sat up. “He’s allowed email when he’s on assignment?”
Pause.
“Nye? Are you still there?”
“Yep. Sorry. Um. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that.”
Payton giggled. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Thanks. So what did Brodie have to say?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay.” He chuckled. “Keep your secrets.”
“No, really. He had nothing to say.” Payton shook her head. “I don’t know why Mum felt the need to hide them. I think in total the six letters maybe had twenty lines not counting Dear Payton and his signature. He did send a photo of a cute polar bear cub, but honestly, I think he forgets I’m not fourteen anymore.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“Whatever.” Payton snorted. “I hate to cut our chat short, but I’ve got homework.”
“Okay. Hey, if Brodie wants your email address, can I give it to him?”
“What is up with you and Brodie Gunnach, Niall?” Payton sighed. “Yes, of course, if he wants my email address, give it to him.”
“Thanks.”
Payton smiled. “I have to go. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay, ’bye.”
Niall hung up and Payton went to the secret place she kept her treasures. Knowing Payton’s love of history, her father had given her an antique armoire from the seventeenth century when they’d moved to Edinburgh. She’d discovered a false bottom in one of the drawers, and started to hide things in there, hoping her parents wouldn’t find them. No one had said anything to her, and if her father knew anything about the drawer, he didn’t mention it. Payton slipped the letters into the notebook she’d kept from her first year at school in the new city. The one that had Payton Gunnach written a thousand times in various different scripts, little girl dreams of practicing her new name if she was ever so lucky as to be bound to the prince.
“Payton?”
Closing her drawer quickly, she turned to find Aileen standing in her doorway. “I was just getting to my homework.”
“You’re not in trouble, lass, although, remember to keep your door open a bit, eh?”
Payton chuckled. “Yes, of course.”
The nanny smiled. “I found one more letter that your mother ‘misplaced,’” she said, and handed Payton an envelope.
“Oh, thank you.” Payton felt her cheeks heat.
Aileen left Payton alone and she kicked the door gently, leaving it open just a smidge, the way her mother decreed. She sat on her bed and tore open the letter that had been sent less than a week ago. A photo of an old car, an Arrol-Johnston, if she wasn’t mistaken, fell onto the duvet. Upon closer inspection, she saw Brodie in the driver’s seat. She couldn’t stop herself from running a finger over his gorgeous face. She set the photo aside and unfolded the letter.
Payton, I remember promising to show you my first car, and since I’m not there at the moment, I thought you might find a photo entertaining. I do intend to keep my vow to take you for a ride one day. Until then, forever yours, Brodie.
She held the letter to her chest. Forever mine? Really?
Payton wasn’t sure it would be wise to allow herself to dream that far in advance. She’d seriously questioned her vision years ago after Brodie left, especially as time went on with no word from him. Life would be much easier if she were old enough to know who her mate was. Payton groaned. What did it all mean? She couldn’t fathom.
With a sigh, she dragged school books from her bag and settled in for a boring night of no thoughts about Brodie Gunnach. None. At all.
* * *
Brodie had a few hours before lights out, so he grabbed his phone and dialed Niall’s number. Faster and easier than email.
“Hey Brodie,” Niall said after the first ring.
“Hey. What happened with the letters?”
“Her mother miraculously found them. She got them today.”
“Good,” Brodie said. “Did she say anything?”
“Maybe you should email her,” Niall suggested.
Brodie leaned against the locker. “I thought she’d appreciate a written letter instead.”
“Okay.”
Brodie frowned. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Spit it out, Nye. What happened? What did she say?” Brodie suddenly felt like a teenager waiting to find out if a girl he liked felt the same way.
“She just said they were short, and she wondered if you had forgotten she wasn’t fourteen anymore.”
“Shite.”
“Brod. She’s your mate. It doesn’t matter if you’re not Shakespeare. Why not wait until you’re home to do this wooing thing?”
“Wooing thing?” he snapped. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I’m just saying that she’s smart, bro. She’s funny and far older than her years, and I think you’d do better with her face to face.”
“You think I’d do better?” Brodie rubbed his forehead. “Did she say I wasn’t doing well?”
“No.” Niall’s heavy sigh sounded through the phone. “Look, I know she likes you, but you left so soon after you met her that I think she may have made you up in her mind a little.”
“So, you’re saying the reality isn’t as good as the fantasy.”
“No. That’s not what I’m saying.” Niall swore. “Brodie. You’ve got two years left. You’re going to drive yourself mental if you don’t quit trying to figure her out without getting to know her. Fiona took pictures today, so have her send you some.”
“No. If I see her, I won’t survive the next two years.”
“Well, there’s that. She’s growing into a pretty stunning woman.”
Brodie scowled. “If you try anything with her, Niall, I will end you,” he threatened into the phone.
“Whoa. Calm the hell down. We’re friends. She’s not my mate and I’m not my brother. I don’t shag my way through town. I would never touch her.”
Brodie took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. Niall was right. He didn’t sleep around and he respected women too much to make a move on someone who wasn’t his mate. This is why Brodie trusted him. This is why he asked Niall to look out for Payton. He didn’t just trust him with his own life, he trusted Niall with his mate.
“Sorry,” Brodie grumbled.
“Okay. Look, I’ve gotta go. You decide if you want to email her or whatever. I sent you the address… with her permission of course.”
“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.” Brodie hung up and made his way to the tech room. He hoped no one was in there, so he could check his email in private.
Just as Niall had said, there was an email waiting for him from his sister. He clicked on the letter and hovered the cursor over photo attachment, debating on whether or not he should open it or ignore it. Against his better judgment, he opened it… and tried not to react.
Payton’s long red hair was now past her waist, the blue of her eyes visible even behind her thick glasses. It appeared Fiona had caught Payton unaware, as she was laughing at something out of the frame.
Probably something Niall was saying, he thought ungraciously.
Brodie sighed and flopped back against his chair. Damn it! She was stunning. Not that he was surprised, necessarily. Of course he’d find his mate beautiful. It would just be better if he was the only one who did.
He shouldn’t have looked. He fired off a quick response to Fiona, took a look at other correspondence he’d received, and then shut off the computer and headed for his bunk. The next two years were going to be hell.