The original framers of the Constitution ratified an official amendment allowing for a stateside royal family. To avoid a civil war in the nascent nation, the founding fathers decided to shred the amendment lest those hungry for colonial independence discover its existence. But the document was never destroyed, instead kept under lock and key ever since 1787. Relegated to obscurity and nearly lost to history, one royal bloodline has secretly existed since the very origin of the United States. The Cambridge family has remained in the shadows, waiting for their chance to take the throne. They are...American Royalty.
Duchess Eleanor Cambridge drifted all alone in a rowboat out in the middle of Seneca Lake. She took one last glance in every direction, the shoreline maybe a mile away. She could spy the color red dotting along the edge of the lake, but the scarlet pinpoints may have been people or bushes full of berries for all she could recognize. They certainly couldn’t see her all alone in the middle of endless freshwater.
Ellie had so little time to herself anymore. Scant moments to be free. Especially as free as this. Someday, she wanted to be the Queen of America. To wear the crown. But not today. Today she didn’t want to wear even a tiara. Or anything else. Ellie wriggled out of her skirts and unlaced her bodice. She removed her petticoat and ditched her bloomers. Soon enough there was nothing between her and the sunshine but a soft breeze.
The afternoon sun hung right over the small boat, nary a cloud in the sky to cover the brilliant rays. Ellie felt warm all over, the spring sun dappling down and baking her like a batch of fresh bread. The sunbeams toasted her bared breasts and her naked legs and her exposed nether regions. The sensation was soothing and sensational. Ellie felt dizzy and delightful. Intoxicated. Her lids grew heavier and heavier and heavier.
Then a man’s voice interrupted, as if rousing her from a particularly pleasant dream: “Lady Eleanor?”
Apparently, she wasn’t as alone as it had seemed.
Eleanor had come to America at eighteen as a British loyalist and soon joined the American Revolution as a colonist sympathizer. Despite being of royal blood and closely related to King George III, her traitorous actions could be punishable by death. Her illicit leaks of information had had to occur within the strictest of confidences.
The most important piece of military information she’d acquired thus far had been passed on by England’s top general in a foolhardy moment of bloviation. Ellie had attended a ball last week and one of the top generals in the British navy had been trying to impress the young pretty duchess. He’d let slip information pertaining to an offensive along a string of lakes in New York in an attempt to quell the persistent revolution.
Normally, Ellie could whisper small secrets to a handmaiden and she’d pass it along to a sympathizer and then to the revolutionary militia. But this information couldn’t be trusted to underlings. Ellie had had to deliver the message herself. Not one word could get lost in the translation between the source and a courier.
The Americans had someone dedicated to keeping an eye on Ellie twenty-four hours a day. The spontaneous announcement by Duchess Eleanor to host an expedition west had spurred a litany of actions. It was no secret Ellie loved traveling. And she was known to throw caution to the wind with little or no prelude. Her interests had always run toward the eccentric. It had been no surprise when she’d told her attendants and the royal guards about plans to get a nice kiss of sun while they were exploring the natural habitats of new America.
Ellie was known for these excursions. Whenever she traveled back across the Atlantic, her English estate was so vast and well-guarded she could sunbathe nude in an empty meadow without any wandering eyes. In Virginia, she’d stayed with a blind widower and Kane hadn’t hesitated to sleep naked every night without worry of being glimpsed.
But she’d spent the last few months in Philadelphia, where there was no open field behind the estate where Ellie could soak up some sun undisturbed. Unclothed. Now, she was in the middle of the lake, too far to be spied, all alone except for the owner of the voice outside the boat.
“What’s your name?” she called.
“John,” he answered, just the softest splash against her bow. John was only inches away from where she reclined in the buff. If he peeked over the prow, he would get quite an eyeful. But he remained hidden behind the boat, treading low in the water.
“I have information,” Ellie said. She kind of wanted to stand up and let him see her from toe to tresses. It had felt so free when she’d stripped down, and now John was making her feel concealed all over again. The wind gusted and the air invigorated her. She wanted to lean over the edge and give John a peek of her breasts. “Something that may keep you alive to see how the insurrection ends.”
“Tell me,” John demanded. “I’ll share the details with the others.”
Four fingers appeared along the edge of the raft as the swimming rebel gripped the side of the boat to steady himself. She noted coarse hairs and calloused fingers. Was he rugged and handsome? Brainy and astute? Old and experienced? He was separated from her by only the thin plank of the boat. Nothing else. Not a single stitch or thread. She felt warm. Energized. Alive.
“They’re planning an attack,” Ellie warned. She repeated everything the preening British general had told her. “Have your men ready, or retreat.”
“We’ll never back down,” came the voice from over the side. “We’re always ready for the unexpected.”
Ellie was ready, too. If John hauled himself over the side of the boat, she would counter with her own offensive. She could maneuver in tight quarters rather effectively if she needed to. But contrary to his claims, John retreated after all. His knuckles disappeared and she heard splashing sounds growing quieter and quieter. Ellie peeked over the edge and saw a male form starting to disappear over the watery horizon, leaving a wake behind him. Speaking of behinds, she noted his rather muscular derrière in the distance.
John had been as naked as she.
Ellie smiled as she slowly dressed. Eventually, she began rowing back toward shore. Things were happening in America to transform all the ways everyone had existed before. The revolution was about more than any one thing. She felt a burgeoning of her own independent streak...a streak Ellie would like to try again very soon.
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