William & Mary: A Royal Tryst

Story Info
Mary Talbot finds herself at the mercy of the prince.
4.7k words
26.1k
2
0
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

The crowd surged on all sides against Mary’s back as she excitedly checked her watch for what must have been the hundredth time that morning. Half past ten. Ten more minutes before the procession started, then, a few minutes after that, she would be able to see Her Royal Majesty, the Queen! More importantly, she hoped to catch a glimpse of Prince William, that handsome royal to whom girls the world over had pinned their hearts.

Mary Talbot’s tiptoes were on the edge of the designated walkway. She had been camped there for two days, hoping to get such an advantage when the time came. The Queen’s Golden Jubilee wasn’t something that happened every day, and this was one of the rare occasions where the public was allowed the chance to see their monarch, as she and the rest of the royal family passed through London from Buckingham Palace to St. Paul’s Cathedral. Mary could see around the corner, straight into the carriages as they came toward her, and then into them again once they passed the spot where she stood.

Mary was an American, but had only been so for the past 18 years. She had been born in Britain, and her family had moved when she was two. They had made frequent visits back, of course, but this was the first time Mary had taken the trip alone. Her grandmother had invited her, as the eldest child in the family, to take part in the Jubilee festivities that were engaging all the kingdom in a thrall of excitement and royal honour.

She checked her watch again, and then elbowed a couple of people in the ribs as they tried to jostle in front of her. At one point, she had to actually step off the sidewalk, she was shoved so hard from behind, but she maintained her position.

All at once, a cheer rose from a few blocks away, and Mary knew that the procession had begun. She hadn’t thought that her heart could beat any faster, but, of course, as is usually and properly right in these sorts of situations, she was proven wrong.

Mary craned her neck to see if she could see any motion from the direction of the shouts, and presently her efforts were rewarded by the sight of a carriage. Mary grinned. This was the carriage carrying William. Oh, Will. She knew she never even had a chance of him glancing in her direction, but she desperately wished that he even knew she existed.

The carriage gracefully made its way toward where Mary was standing and rounded the corner. Cheers and scores of Union Jacks rose, and as the carriage moved toward Mary, the crowd pressed forward, trying to get closer to their beloved monarchy. Mary, too, raised her flag and began to shout praises. Suddenly, she felt a shove from behind. Because her arms were raised, she pitched forward, stumbling, into the street and fell face-down only a few feet in front of the horses.

The crowd gasped and fell silent, and before Mary had time to think, she began to crawl backward toward the sidewalk. The people nearby somehow managed to clear a space for her, and she sat down, wiping her hands over her face to clear the smudges. She realized she was bleeding.

She sighed. So much for seeing William. Because of her intense pain and humiliation, Mary hadn’t realized that the carriage had stopped almost directly in front of where she was standing. The procession had been halted! Police were flying up and down the parade route, trying to discern who had given the order to stop and why, and if the monarchy were in any sort of danger, when more orders were heard coming from inside the carriage. At once, a guard stepped over to Mary.

“You’ve been instructed to come with me, Miss,” he said quietly to the bewildered girl. “Follow me.”

Mary glanced quickly over to the carriage, her face red with embarrassment, and received in return the pitying gazes of the five occupants of the vehicle: William and Harry, of course, as well as the Duke of York and his two daughters. The guard began to move through the crowd, and a path somehow was made for him and Mary as they hurried along. Mary tried to catch up with the guard, to ask him what this was all about, but he moved too quickly, and Mary found that she had to concentrate on staying close to keep from losing him in the mob.

Soon, Mary and the guard passed to a side street out of sight of the procession, and Mary heard the shouts and cheers resume. She assumed that the carriages had begun to move again when the guard opened the door to a waiting car.

“Get in, Miss,” he instructed her, and Mary did as she was told, climbing into the back seat. She hardly had time to think before the guard slid into the front passenger seat and the driver took off. There, she had time to breathe. She rubbed her hand over her face again and realized that the blood had dried, but she knew she must have looked a fright. She reached for the mirror in her purse, which customarily sat beside her in a moving car and realized that she had left it back at the parade route.

“Oh, well,” she sighed softly to herself. “I suppose it’ll still be there when I get back.”

She looked out the window to try to figure out where she was being taken. She knew London well, but she couldn’t work out where the car was going. The parade route had shut off many of the main streets, and the side streets wound through the city like a snake with a bad sense of direction. She peeked at the guard and the driver, but they didn’t look like they wanted to talk, so Mary sat back and decided that if she was being taken somewhere on royal orders, it couldn’t be too bad.

A few minutes later, Mary sat up a bit to look at her surroundings. She recognized the tall brown building up ahead as St. James Palace, the place where Prince William lived when he wasn’t in Scotland. She wondered if that was where they were headed. Her suspicions were confirmed when the driver pulled into the driveway and halted in front of one of the buildings.

“Come along, Miss,” the guard said, alighting and waiting impatiently for Mary to do the same. She was beginning to tell that he wasn’t at all thrilled about being relegated to the role of baby-sitter when he could have been escorting the Queen through London. That thought put Mary in a very uncooperative mood, and she took her time crawling out of the car. By the time she closed the door, he had already walked halfway to the palace, so Mary took her time, dawdling and acting like a tourist, gazing up at the impressive architecture and spying into dark corners to see what she could see. After the guard opened the front door for her, though, she hurried to keep up with him, because she didn’t want to be lost in a place she wasn’t sure she was welcome in. The guard had a hurried, whispered conversation with an older lady, obviously a servant, who immediately walked toward Mary with a smile.

“Tsk, tsk,” she said, looking Mary over. “You come with me, young lady, and we’ll get you all fixed up.”

The guard raced back for the front door as Mary started following her new escort (she was sure he wanted to see if he could regain his place before the parade got to the cathedral), and the older lady whisked Mary upstairs and around a few corners to a vacant bedroom. A bathroom adjoined the bedroom, and the older lady pointed to it.

“You can wash up in there, Miss, and then I suppose you’re just to stay in here until someone sends for you.”

“Thank you,” Mary answered quietly, and the servant curtseyed and left, closing the door behind her.

Mary stood in the middle of the room, looking around. She wasn’t sure which of the St. James buildings she was in, or even where she was within the building. She began to actually digest some of the information her brain was telling her and moved into the bathroom. One glance in the mirror had Mary stripping down and climbing into the shower. She had known she was bleeding, but she hadn’t realized how much dirt was on her skin as well. Ugh. She scrubbed until she was red, but she felt much better. She dried herself on a towel – very soft, she noticed – got dressed again, and began to wander around the small suite that was her home for the time being.

The bedroom wasn’t a terribly large one, although the large, dark bed against the main wall did take up a lot of space. A rug decorated the floor, and pieces of antique furniture – a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a nightstand, and a writing desk – were pushed up against various walls. Mary walked to the wardrobe and opened it, but, naturally, it was empty. She took closer looks at some of the art on the walls and found them to be wonderfully suited to the majestic mood of the room, all framed in dark wood. The bathroom was equally opulent, with a large claw-foot tub acting as the focal point.

Mary wondered if she was allowed to sit on the bed. Every time she had ever visited a palace, there had always been ropes across the bedroom doors to prevent visitors from more than a peek inside, and she felt uneasy about possibly ruining something. On the other hand, she was sure she didn’t want to sit on the floor. She compromised with her conscience by pulling out the desk chair and gingerly resting on it.

She waited.

An hour later, there was a knock at the door. Curious as to who might be visiting her, Mary quickly rose to open it. The guard who had so lately brought her to this place was standing there, all Mary’s gear in tow. Mary moved aside to let him in.

“Your things, Miss?” he queried, setting them down in the far corner of the bedroom. Mary walked over to inspect the pile.

“Yes, that’s everything. How did you know what was mine?”

“I asked around,” the guard replied, his eyes smiling behind his stern visage. “Seems you had been waiting there for some time.”

“Mea culpa,” Mary admitted. “Thank you for getting this.”

“No problem, Miss. Oh, I had to take your ID and your phone out of your purse for security reasons. You’ll get it back as soon as we’re done with it.”

“All right,” Mary nodded. “Thanks for telling me.”

The guard nodded back and disappeared out of the room, again shutting Mary into what was quickly becoming more of a dungeon than a hotel room. At least this time, Mary thought, she had that little portable TV she had packed for those boring nights parked by the curb. She turned it on, hoping to catch some more of the Jubilee goings-on, since she had missed the parade. Presently, she turned to the BBC for the news just in time to hear a recap of the day’s events.

“The Queen’s Golden Jubilee procession was brought to an unexpected halt today after an unidentified woman threw herself into the path of the carriage carrying the Duke of York as well as Princes William and Harry,” the reporter began as footage of Mary tumbling into the street graced the screen. “The incident prompted Prince William to order the carriage stopped, and the woman was escorted away from the scene. The procession then carried on as planned. No word yet on who the woman is or what her motives are, but we’ll keep you posted. In other news…”

The reporter’s voice trailed off in Mary’s mind as she chewed over what had just been said. She had never thought that perhaps she was being thought of as someone attempting suicide or even a possible terrorist. She had just wanted to watch the parade! She began to wonder if she was being held here in lieu of being arrested, at least until someone could determine the “motive” of her falling into the street. She suddenly had an urge to open the door and see if she was being held under guard, but she resisted. She didn’t want anyone to think she was trying to escape. She also began inspecting the corners of the room and the ceiling more closely. She knew that surveillance cameras covered nearly every street corner in London, and she was suddenly sure that someone was watching her while she was in here as well.

A few hours later, exhausted and bored, Mary decided she no longer cared to watch television and sure as hell didn’t care if she messed up the bed. She pulled down the covers, kicked off her shoes, and fell asleep.

A knock at the door woke her. Rubbing her eyes, Mary checked her watch. Half past eight. She stumbled to the door and opened it. The pleasant older lady who had shown Mary to her room was standing there, and she bustled in, her arms full of unidentifiable objects, as soon as there was room for her entrance. Mary flipped on the light as the maid whisked to the bed and began arranging some of the objects on it.

“Goodness me, Miss, have you been sleeping?” she asked.

“Yes. It’s been a long day.”

“Well, I would imagine it has been,” the maid agreed. “But come on, then, let’s get you dressed a little better. You’ve been invited to the Prince’s quarters for a late tea.”

“I’ve WHAT?” Mary asked incredulously. “I thought they thought I was a terrorist.”

“Oh, they thought that, yes,” the maid went on as Mary began to undress. “But then your grandmother apparently saw you on the news and called your phone and assured them that you were nothing of the sort. Plus, from what I gather, the tape also showed that someone pushed you into the street.”

“That’s right,” Mary nodded. “But why couldn’t someone just ask me what was going on rather than keeping me here all day?”

“If you had been a terrorist, would you have told them the truth? Besides, William already thought you were innocent, or you would have been put in jail rather than brought here.”

“This is true, I suppose,” Mary admitted, then turned to look at the attire she was to don for the evening. “Good Lord!”

“What is it, Miss?” the alarmed maid asked.

“Isn’t this a little fancy just for tea? And how do I know it’ll fit?”

The outfit was stunning. A cream-colored high-necked knit sweater was laid on the bed next to a beautifully sequined emerald green skirt. Some low-heeled cream shoes sat on the floor, and obviously the maid was planning to arrange Mary’s short brown hair into some sort of fashion, as well as apply make-up to her scratched face.

“Well, it is the Prince, Miss, and we checked the sizes on the clothes you had in your bag,” the maid answered softly, and suddenly Mary was frightened. She had been schooled in all the proper tea etiquette by her grandmother when she had been a small child, but she hadn’t ever used any of the rules and she wasn’t sure she would remember them all. Plus, she had an American accent, and what if she said something improper? The maid saw the look on Mary’s face and began to smile.

“Don’t you worry, Miss,” she said, handing her the sweater. “He’s as wonderful as his mother.”

Twenty minutes later, Mary was dressed and done up, and though her heart was beating like mad, she left the room and began to follow the maid through the maze of hallways and stairways in the palace. Soon the maid stopped before a large wooden door.

“Here we are, Miss,” she said. “You’ve been instructed just to go on in and have a seat.”

The maid disappeared, and Mary slowly turned the knob and opened the door. It opened silently, though it must have been hundreds of years old. She walked into the room, where a table for two had been laid. One attendant was bustling about the room, and when he saw Mary enter, he swiftly walked to the table and pulled out a chair. Mary sat, and her chair was pushed in for her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and the attendant nodded and left through an exit opposite the one Mary had entered.

Mary was on her own again, and she around. The entire room seemed to have an atmosphere of anticipation and longing, like it was waiting for the focal point to appear before it could be complete. Mary quickly looked at her place setting, relieved to see that she recognized all the utensils and such before her. Unfortunately, she had never been instructed on royal etiquette, so she decided to simply wait until he did something before she did the same. She figured that was a fairly safe bet.

The door opened, and Prince William, looking as delicious as ever in a white shirt, blue slacks and a tie, strode in. Instantly, the room felt whole. Mary felt her heart rise in her chest as William walked toward her, and she cast her eyes to the floor, frightened at being able to look her idol in the eye. William walked over to her, took her hand and bowed over it. Mary bowed back in her chair, afraid to speak. Luckily, she didn’t have to.

“Mary Talbot, correct?” William asked as he released her hand and was seated across from her.

“Yes, sir,” Mary spoke quietly. William smiled his world-famous smile.

“Don’t be scared of me, please. Think of me as a chum from school.”

Now it was Mary’s turn to smile.

“It’s a little hard to do that when I’m sitting in a palace,” she replied.

“I suppose so, but do try. I can’t abide it when people get all formal on me just because I have a title.”

“When the title is prince, what do you expect?” Mary almost couldn’t believe what had just exited her mouth, but William seemed to appreciate the honesty.

“I expect I’m still human, after all.”

The tea went smoothly. Mary did remember all the rules of etiquette, and if she breached any, William either didn’t notice or failed to comment, which is, of course, a rule of etiquette in itself, Mary knew.

After they had eaten, William invited Mary into the next room, a sitting room, complete with a grand piano and a couple of couches. When William learned that Mary was a piano performance minor at her college back home, he insisted that she play for him, and Mary was more than happy to oblige. She did tolerably well with Bach’s “Fantasy in C Minor,” and William was a sympathetic listener.

Mary had started to feel comfortable with the prince. They were sharing a loveseat opposite the piano, and the more they talked, the more Mary began to wonder if he was keeping her there for some sort of purpose. If he was, she decided, she was going to do her darndest to at least get some sort of romantic innuendo out of him. She was quite the seductress back home. She was constantly single, partly because she was a bit of a tease, and she wondered if she couldn’t use some of her feminine wiles to turn William’s head as well.

She began to stare more intently into his eyes and turned her body toward his, occasionally licking her lips or softly running her tongue over her teeth. At one point, when William began to tease her about something or other, she pretended to be quite offended and turned away from him, crossing her arms over her breasts and pouting. It had the desired effect. William instantly moved closer, his leg brushing against hers, as he reached for her arm to turn her back around toward him. Mary yielded to his touch, and as she turned back around, their eyes met and Mary blushed, ducking her head and leaning back into the corner of the couch.

William kept his hand on her arm, gazing earnestly into her face.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, honest,” he said gently, almost like a little boy who’s been called down for teasing a pal.

“No, no, you didn’t,” Mary said, looking up into his eyes and feeling her heart flutter. She reached up to pat his hand. “I was only playing.”

The two of them sat silently for a moment, each afraid to move, lest the feeling and the moment shatter. Then William seemed to make an executive decision. He moved forward, paused for a second, and then plunged ahead, kissing Mary with a wildness and abandon that she had never imagined in her most fantastic dreams. At first, she was a little startled, but the two of them soon were locked in an embrace that seemed to transcend time.

William was a magnificent kisser. Mary almost had to laugh at herself when she suddenly found herself wondering if he had been trained at that as well as everything else, but William’s hand slipped beneath her sweater and she forgot what she had been thinking. Apparently, he had a thought, though, because he reached for Mary’s hand and began to lead her into another room.

12