My Prince Read Online Free PDF Page B

way, though, even back when it was just George and his brother at home. Before all the girls turned up.
    George set Felicity on a chair that had been pushed up to the counter and gave her a preloaded bag of icing, then hoisted himself up onto the kitchen counter to watch the carnage unfold. His mum had always been good at this sort of thing: baking cakes, sewing clothes, making amazing roast dinners—proper mum stuff. He watched as she picked a chocolate fairy cake from the rack, delicately iced it with a swirl of chocolate, then handed it to George.
    “Thanks, Mum,” he said with a grin.
    “So, you going out with anyone?” she asked, turning back to the girls, who were spilling sprinkles all over the counter.
    “No,” he said, rolling his eyes. He carefully peeled back the wrapper, then took a big bite of the cake. “Itsh good,” he told her with his mouth still full.
    “I’m just interested,” Mum said, holding her hands up in surrender. “You know I worry about you.”
    “Worry about me not getting any? You’re too kind.”
    She laughed. “I’m sorry. I’ll stay out of it.”
    “Nan gave me a grilling,” George said.
    “About not bringing a nice… person home?” She amended her words at the last moment. George hadn’t come out to the youngest kids yet. He wasn’t sure they’d understand, and he didn’t want to be the one to explain the concept of sexuality to them.
    “Yes, about bringing a nice person home,” he echoed. “I don’t mind. She cares.”
    “I care too!” his mum protested.
    “I know you do.”
    “Mum!” Felicity yelled, far louder than necessary, considering her mother was standing two paces away.
    “What?” Mum yelled back at the same volume, making George laugh.
    “I think I did it wrong.”
    When she turned around, Felicity had chocolate icing all around her mouth, and George laughed harder. It was good to be home.
     
     
    Six months later
     
    M ARCH IN Edinburgh meant weak sunshine and plenty of rain.
    This year it also meant humidity that the city didn’t often experience due to her proximity to whipping sea winds. George hated the humidity. It stuck his shirt to his skin and turned the bow tie he was wearing into a noose that he was itching to loosen.
    Speaking of itching… George had made a few mistakes in his life. He was a man, he could own up to that.
    Buying a tux from Asda was one of those mistakes.
    The reasoning behind his purchase had been sound: he’d never worn a tux in the previous twenty-eight years of his life and had no intention of doing so again in the near future. His income was precious and limited, and the budget supermarket was doing an offer for a whole suit for less than fifty quid.
    Two hours into the charity gala his boss had forced him to attend, George was regretting being such a cheapskate.
    His day job had only the loosest connection to the fundraising that was going on for some children’s charity that was promoting healthy eating and exercise in Scottish kids. It was the Olympic connection that had drawn his boss in, since they’d had several gold medal winners endorsing the company in London, and they were hoping for even more in Rio.
    George never thought of his job as particularly sexy, though it was something he loved. He was a sports engineer, designing and building protective clothing used in a variety of sports.
    He sidestepped Tony from accounts, turned his back, and snagged another glass of champagne from a passing waiter. He’d pay for it in the morning, but it was the only free alcohol going, and George definitely needed alcohol to get through this evening.
    The gala was being held in the National Museum of Scotland, somewhere George had never bothered to visit the whole time he’d been living in Edinburgh. He was regretting that now, and snuck off at one point to go and have a look in the Natural World Gallery. The room was impossibly tall and had animals suspended in midair all the way up the four-story building. A