Michelle Celmer - Bedroom Diplomacy

Colin had never put much stock in rumors. In a royal family, even on the outermost fringes, gossip spread like a disease. Which was why, when he heard the speculation about the senator’s daughter, out of fairness and respect, he reserved judgment. And maybe he was missing something, but she’d seemed all right to him. Of course, she could have had two heads and hooves for feet and he would have been perfectly gracious.

This assignment was Colin’s first go as a diplomat, and certainly not somewhere he had intended to be at this point in his life—or ever, for that matter—but he was making the best of an unfortunate situation. He had been warned that when dealing with American politicians, especially one as powerful and influential as Senator Tate, he would be wise to watch his back. The senator was a man who got things done. When he put the weight of his office behind legislation, his colleagues naturally fell in line. The royal family was counting on Colin to ensure that the tech treaty, a crucial piece of legislation for both the U.K. and the U.S., became law.

Too many high-profile instances of phone and internet hacking had been occurring in both the U.K. and the U.S. A tech treaty would give international law enforcement the tools to see that the guilty parties were brought to justice.

Due to illegal hacking, President Morrow had been outed as having an illegitimate daughter by the press at his own inaugural ball in front of family, friends and celebrities. Even worse, his supposed illegitimate daughter, Ariella Winthrop, had been standing a few feet away from him when the news broke and was taken by complete surprise herself.

The U.S. was finally willing to negotiate. It was up to Colin to see it through.

He’d made it nearly halfway up the bricked trail to the mansion when Senator Tate caught up to him, saying, “Again, my apologies.”

“As I said, it’s not a problem.”

“It’s no secret that Rowena had problems in the past,” the senator said. “She has worked hard to overcome them.”

Still, the senator seemed to keep her on a very short leash. It was silly to get so upset over something as simple as spilled paint.

“I think we’ve all done things we’re not proud of.”

The senator was quiet for several seconds, then, looking troubled, said, “Can I be direct with you, Colin?”

“Of course.”

“I understand that you have something of a reputation as a womanizer.”

“I do?”

“I don’t mean to imply that I would hold that against you,” the senator said. “How you lead your life is your business.”

Colin wouldn’t deny that he had dated his share of women, but he was no cad. He never dated a woman without first making it absolutely clear that he was in no hurry to settle down, and he never promised exclusivity.

“Sir, this so-called reputation of mine sounds a bit hyperbolic.”

“You’re young, in your prime, and I don’t fault you for playing the field.”

Colin sensed an unspoken “however” at the end of that sentence.

“Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t even bring it up, but I’ve welcomed you into my home for an extended stay, and I should make it clear that there are certain ground rules I expect you to follow.”

Ground rules?

“My daughter can be very… impulsive and in the past has been a target for unscrupulous men who think they can use her to get to me. Or simply just use her.”

“Sir, let me assure you—”

He held up a hand to stop him. “It’s not an accusation.”

It certainly felt like one.

“That said, I must insist that as long as you’re staying in my home, you are to consider my daughter off-limits.”

Well, it didn’t get much more direct than that.

“Can I count on you to do the right thing, son?”

“Of course,” Colin said, unsure if he should feel slighted or amused or if he should pity the senator. “I’m here to work on the treaty.”

“Well, then,” the senator said, “Let’s get to work.”

After a long day of collaboration with the senator that was encouragingly productive, and dinner out with him and several of his friends, Colin found a quiet, dark corner by the pool to relax. It was blessedly out of view of the mansion, and the only place that he felt truly alone on the estate. And he needed his alone time. He stretched out in a lounge chair and gazed up at a clear, star-filled sky while he sipped a glass of the senator’s finest scotch.

When his phone rang he was surprised to see his sister’s number flash across the screen. It was only 5:30 a.m. in London.

“You’re up early,” he said in lieu of a hello.

“Mother’s having a rough night,” she told him, “so I was up watching television. I just wanted to check in and see how you’re enjoying your stay there.”

“It’s been… interesting.”

He told her about the senator’s warning, and at first she was convinced he was joking.

“It’s the God’s honest truth,” he assured her.

“Her father actually told you that she’s off-limits? ”

“In those exact words.”

“How unbelievably rude and tactless!”

“Apparently I have a reputation with the ladies .”

With Rowena’s flame-red hair and striking, emerald-green bedroom eyes, he couldn’t deny that under different circumstances he would have been interested. Very interested. But he was more than capable of resisting a beautiful woman.

“Maybe you should come home,” Matty said.

She meant to London, of course, and though he’d spent most of his recovery there, it hadn’t felt like home any more than it had when he was a child. Home to him was boarding school, then later whichever country he’d been stationed in.

“You’ve been through so much, and you’re still healing,” Matilda insisted. Twenty years his senior, she had always been more of a parent than a sibling. But more so after the helicopter crash. Yes, he was lucky to be alive, but dwelling on the past was counterproductive. The worst of his wounds had healed and he needed to get on with his life. Not that he could ever expect to forget completely, nor would he want to. He was proud of his service and honored to defend his country. Deep down he would always be a warrior.

“I know you’re doing this for the family’s sake,” Matilda said, “but, Colin, politics? It’s so… beneath you.”

Having spent most of her life distanced from the royal family and isolated from the real world, Matilda couldn’t truly grasp the need for the treaty. “I need to do this. The family’s privacy has been violated countless times, our reputation damaged. This has to stop. We need the treaty.”

“I’m just worried about you,” she said. “Are you staying warm?”

He laughed. “I’m in Southern California, Matty. It doesn’t get cold here.” Unlike Washington, where he’d made a brief stop before flying to the West Coast. There the bitter wind and subzero temperatures seeped into his bones, reminding him, with aches and twinges, that he had a while to go before he was fully recovered.

They chatted for a few more minutes, and Matilda started to yawn.

“You should try to get some more sleep,” he told her.

“Promise you’ll take care of yourself.”

“I promise. Love you, Matty, and give my best to Mother.”

“Love you, too.”

He disconnected, slid his phone back into his pants pocket and closed his eyes, going over in his head all that they had covered this afternoon, and how much more work they had ahead of them. Thorough as the senator was, he insisted they pick the treaty apart, section by section, line by line. It would be a slow and agonizing process. And it would be given the same scrutiny in the U.K. before anything was set in stone.