Chapter 386

"Christian, there is no way you are going to be able to move around Scotland without being seen. This is insanity and frankly, a lot of work." Derek said. Christian took a drink of the bourbon in his hand. His nerves were at a high level. He had been growing out his beard and hair and for the most part, wasn't recognizable upon initial glance. He knew Nora didn't know who he was, she couldn't have. And he wanted to keep it that way. His experience with Sophie sealed that deal in full. She was focused on his title. The esteem of it. He was born and raised to be king, but in the shuffle of it all, who was he really? Something about Nora pulled him somewhere else, inside. He could joke and smile and not feel afraid to be himself. He was a nervous wreck but also incredibly excited to see her.

"Derek, it will be fine. I will meet you at the house, Barwheys, in Ayrshire tonight at 9. Have dinner ready." Christian said. He had rented the home in Gilley's father's name for anonymity. It was a beautiful home, a hideaway really, set in over 200 acres of private farm land with a beautiful view of the Scottish hills.

"And what if she truly wants a tour and not to be holed up with you for three days? You will be seen." Derek said, rolling his eyes.

"I hope the house and farm can dissuade her, but I can assure you, we will take the train to Glasgow and have a look around and then take the train to the Ayr, then a hackney ride to the home. I have reserved a private club room on the train. We will be fine." Christian said. He looked at Derek, who was still shaking his head. "Please. You have no idea how badly I need this. Want this." Derek looked at him and changed his expression to understanding.

"Alright, your majesty. I will support you on this. Just be careful. And I'll be on the train as well, you just won't see me. Unless you have to, that is." Derek said. Christian nodded.

He went to his room and opened the packages of clothes he had ordered. Three pairs of jeans, rugged and torn a little, slim. Three white tees, three dress shirts, a sweater, a leather jacket, two pairs of boots and two hats, one a beanie and another, a vintage fedora. He pulled out his oldest leather bag and stuffed the clothes inside. He wanted to look like a normal guy. He put on a pair of the jeans, a white tee, beanie, and the brown leather jacket and boots and went downstairs.

Derek was pulling the car around to drop Christian at an available taxi. He looked up at him and chuckled.

"What?" Christian asked. "Seriously, mate. What's so funny?"

Derek tried to stifle his laugh. "Nothing. Nothing at all." He said.

"Do I look stupid?" Christian asked.

"No! Not even a little. I like the hipster Clark Kent thing you have going on." Derek said.

"Oh bugger off." Christian said, getting into the front passenger seat.

Derek wasn't used to that. "Your majesty?" He asked.

"I have to look like a regular person. I'm not sitting in the back." Christian said. Derek mumbled under his breath and got in, driving Christian a few blocks from the palace and dropping him on a bustling street with taxi availability.

"Stick to the plan. I will see you soon." Christian said as he got out.

"I can't believe I'm letting you do this." Derek said. Christian smiled and closed the door. Derek would wait and follow the taxi to the hotel and then follow them again to the train station. He wasn't going to let Christian out of his sight

Christian picked up his phone and texted Nora.

"I hope you didn't forget. Your tour guide is on his way to your hotel." He wrote.

"Room 311. Looking forward to the olives." She typed back. He smiled. He saw taxis whizzing by and held up his hand. One stopped almost immediately. That was easy, Christian thought. He got in. A moment of silence passed. The driver looked at him. "So?" He asked.

"So?" Christian said.

"Where are ye off to, mate? I dunnahave all night." The cabbie said.

"Oh, terribly sorry. The Baglioni please." Christian said. The driver nodded and headed to the hotel.

They arrived at the front entrance and Christian grabbed his bag and got out. He began to head to the door but the driver stopped him. "Hey mate! You gonna pay me?" He asked.

"Oh! Sorry again." Christian said, taking his wallet from his inside jacket pocket. A wallet was new for him. All of this was, actually. He thanked the driver and turned toward the front entrance, pulling his cap down, showing only the soft, black curls sticking out from the back. He walked in and looked around. How in the world did you find rooms by their number? He wondered.

"Hello sir. Welcome to the Baglioni. Can I be of assistance?" A man asked, looking him up and down.

"Yes. Sorry to bother you. I'm looking for room 311, please. Can you escort me to it?" Christian asked.

"It is on the third floor, and then follow the signs." The man said. "I can't imagine you'd need to be directed there in person."

"Third floor. Right. Thank you." Christian said. The man looked him up and down again and walked away. Christian was shocked at his rudeness. He heard an elevator ding and he walked over to it. An older lady and her obviously spoiled white dog were getting on.

"Hello." She said.

"Hello. I think I need to go to the third floor."

Christian said.

"Same here. What room?" She asked.

"311." He said.

"Well I am 312! What a coincidence." She said with a smile. The mark hit 3 and the doors opened. Christian knew to follow her. He did and came to room 311. He adjusted his hat and jacket and knocked on the door.