The Unlikely Heir (Unlikely Dilemmas, #1)

by Jax Calder

“I bet that is a fun job title to give anyone who asks you at the pub,” I say. Nicholas arches his eyebrow, but Edward gives a bellowing laugh. “It’s definitely a mouthful,” he agrees.

Elizabeth I was known as the Virgin Queen, as she chose not to marry, declaring herself married to England instead, despite the many rumors of affairs throughout her life.

Unfortunately, he takes that moment to demonstrate that his digestive system works impeccably. I don’t move fast enough, so my shoulder receives a direct hit.

I’d made the news because I’d eaten dinner with an attractive woman. Oliver had made the news because he’d had to make life-or-death decisions to save the citizens of this country.

I probably shouldn’t tell Raymond and Maudie I’m in love with Oliver before I say the actual words to him.

I just see my grandmother, who looks tired but concerned for me. “Is it serious?” she asks quietly. I don’t hesitate in my reply. “Yes.” Gran’s blue eyes lock onto mine. “Oliver is a good man, Callum. But it’s not possible for you to be together if he remains in politics.

The thought of asking Oliver to quit politics for me makes my whole face go numb. Being a politician is such an essential part of who Oliver is. I think of the passionate way he talks about all the reforms he wants to pass, the people he wants to help.

Until now, Oliver and my relationship has been messages exchanged in the late hours of the night, whispers on pillows, and intimate moments in privacy. Now it feels like our relationship is spread out on the table to be dissected under harsh fluorescent lights.

“What does this do to us?” he asks quietly. “I want you, Callum. Not your title.” He raises an eyebrow. “In fact, it’ll be easier for you if I don’t have a title, right?” I owe him honesty. “Yes. It would be easier.”

But I immediately store the fact I’ve got a song about me to tell Oliver later. My heart clenches. That’s right. I won’t be talking to Oliver tonight. I miss him. The last week has boiled down to that. I miss him more than I thought it was possible to miss anyone.

I’d look like the ultimate fool. I know Oliver loves me, but ultimately, he’ll always love his job more than me. Recent events have proven that.

history made and remade.

“I know I can create a family with someone else,” I say finally. “What’s the problem then?” I raise my gaze to meet Toby’s. “My problem is I can’t imagine ever wanting anyone but him.”

I can feel Oliver’s dog tags against my heart. How can I wear his dog tags when I’m about to give him up? My hands shaking, I reach up and yank them off over my head. But as I stand clutching them, I can’t bring myself to put them down on the table.

Raymond leans in and whispers, "This is your destiny." Raymond is normally about as comforting as a blanket made of cacti, but today his words actually achieve their aim.

Oliver, who is the most handsome, cleverest, kindest man I’ve ever met. Oliver, who loves me for me.

Suddenly, Callum’s history lesson flies into my head. The last Welsh Prince of Wales, Llywelyn ap Gruffydd, died in 1282. I watch the woman lean forward to pick up her handbag.

And my gut is churning right now. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. The woman puts Amelia’s handbag onto her lap as another random fact enters my head. The only people exempt from security screening are the royal family.

“I love you,” I say frantically, but Oliver can’t hear me. The strong arms continue to rip me from Oliver, but I’m struggling against them, fighting them off to get back to Oliver.

“The Rose is secure. The Thistle is secure. The Leek is secure.” Vaguely I realize they are talking about Gran, Nicholas, and Amelia.

Mateo fixes me with a hard look. “The prime minister just threw himself into the path of a bullet to save your life. Do you think he’d want you to risk it now?”

“Princess Amelia, I am a member of the Metropolitan Police. You are formally under arrest for conspiracy to murder. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you fail to mention when questioned something which you rely later on in court.”

“I couldn’t stand by and watch a man become king.” She says the words almost calmly, like we’re having a normal, everyday conversation. A chill goes down my spine. “What’s wrong with having a king?” Even as I say the words, memories slide into my mind. Amelia’s Boudica brooch. Her Yennenga pin. Her fascination with Cleopatra. I suddenly remember one of the interesting historical facts about Cleopatra. She was involved in the death of three of her siblings as part of her attempt to cement her power.

Amelia meets my furious gaze with a cool one of her own. “I believe I would have made a better sovereign than you,” she says. Nicholas moves closer to me, his shoulder resting against mine. “No, you wouldn’t have,” he says. “You can cloak it in as many justifications as you want, but really, you just wanted the power and glory. Callum doesn’t want it, which is why he’ll make a great king.”

As Amelia is escorted out, one of the obscure rules of royalty slips back into my head. No one is allowed to be arrested in the presence of the monarch.

“He’s just gone to get a coffee. He spent the night in that chair over there.” Toby nods at an upholstered chair in the corner.

“Is he all right?” “He’s doing as well as you can expect, given he’s been shot at, been frantically worried about the man he loves, and has discovered his sister betrayed him.”

He continues on before I have a chance to answer. “You weren’t thinking about all the laws you want to pass and the reforms you want to push through, were you?” “I was thinking I can’t live in a world without him.” My voice is quiet.

Staring at the painting also reminds me of the portraits lining the staircase at Downing Street. How if you asked the average person to name the prime ministers, they’d manage half a dozen if they were lucky. History will eventually forget us. Even prime ministers and royalty become a small footnote if we’re lucky.

I make my voice light. “You mean to say the whole world heard you say those words before I did?” Callum’s mouth quirks. “I was trying to tell you. You just happened to be unconscious. That’s not my fault.”

“You don’t have to step down. I’ll resign.” His eyes fly to mine. “You can’t. You love your job.” “I do love my job,” I say. “But I love you more.”

Oliver offers me a grin. “Nothing like a few ghosts watching us get hitched.” Because that’s why we’re at Westminster Abbey. To plan our wedding.

It’s actually a good thing Westminster Abbey belongs to the sovereign rather than the Church of England because although the Church of England will now perform blessings for same-sex couples in their churches, they won’t conduct marriages.

He’s wearing his glasses, and he absentmindedly rubs the stubble of his jaw with one hand. He’s so sexy that I have to exercise all my self-control not to slide down the couch to touch him.

“What’s my best headline for today?” I ask lazily. Oliver and I still play the game of checking out who has generated the most outrageous headline. “Well, there is one from The Daily Chronicle about you attending the netball game, Prince Callum Demonstrates his Interest in Balls.”

The only stumbling block was who would walk him up the aisle. Which was where my grandmother stepped in.

To try to do something to help, I hosted an auction for the naming rights of the minor characters in The Unlikely Heir. I was overwhelmed by the generosity of people around the world who bid for characters and raised money for my community.