Marrying Emma

By Q. Kelly

Britain’s Princess Emma, an out lesbian, is trying hard to make romantic connections, but they never seem to succeed. In one case, Emma discovers in the middle of lovemaking that the woman is married. In another case, the romantic prospect simply never gets back in touch.

Emma’s eldest sister, Queen Katharine, seems happily married, and even her middle sister, Margaret, with her laundry list of issues, is on the cusp of happiness.

So it’s no wonder Emma feels desolate. That begins to gradually change with the intriguing reporter Marisol Richards, but she says she’s not the one for Emma. There’s someone out there, though, someone who yearns to get her fairy tale ending. In fact, she and Emma were meant to be together years ago. Will they finally find their way together?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Q. Kelly
• Release date: Jan 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370373680

Q. Kelly

I live in Washington state, where I am a writer and an editor. I also have a master's degree in deaf education. In my free time, I hike and savor frappuccinos.Fact One: I like corny jokes. If you have any good ones, send them my way!Fact Two: My favorite color is purple, but my writing is gray. Life is not black and white. I often write about issues and characters where there is no "right" answer.Fact Three: I'm weird. I like being weird.Email me at [e-mail]. I'd love to hear from you.Check out my blogs at qkelly.wordpress.com and qkelly.blogspot.com.

Book preview

Marrying Emma

Q. Kelly © 2018 Smashwords

Table of Contents

Author’s Note and Blurb

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Acknowledgements

Author’s Note

This is the third book in a three-book series. It stands alone well, but reading the earlier books may enhance your enjoyment. You can find Book One here and Book Two here.

Blurb for Marrying Emma

Britain’s Princess Emma, an out lesbian, is trying hard to make romantic connections, but they never seem to succeed. In one case, Emma discovers in the middle of lovemaking that the woman is married. In another case, the romantic prospect simply never gets back in touch.

Emma’s eldest sister, Queen Katharine, seems happily married, and even her middle sister, Margaret, with her laundry list of issues, is on the cusp of happiness.

So it’s no wonder Emma feels desolate. That begins to gradually change with the intriguing reporter Marisol Richards, but she says she’s not the one for Emma. There’s someone out there, though, someone who yearns to get her fairy tale ending. In fact, she and Emma were meant to be together years ago. Will they finally find their way together?

Chapter One

Emma

I debated whether to bring the matter to my sister’s attention, but in the end, it had to be done. So, at ten-thirty on a Saturday night, I walked from Kensington Palace to Buckingham and met with Katharine and her wife of seven months.

Veronica smiled, standing to greet me while Katharine stayed put on the sofa. My sister wore clothes meant for lounging while Veronica remained in the sharp women’s suit she wore to the opening of the Birkbeck Art Gallery earlier that evening. John Birkbeck, the actor, started the gallery to showcase art from maligned populations, and it had been Veronica’s first solo appearance.

Hey! How did it go? I asked my sister-in-law as we hugged quickly.

Really well, she said. Our jam sessions paid off.

I’m so glad. She’d given me printouts on the artists whose works were scheduled to be showcased and asked me to quiz her on them. We’d spent a good hour or two in person and on text covering what we could.

It was important to Veronica, and, of course, to everyone else that this first solo appearance go off seamlessly. What each of us had to do on a daily basis was immense. Every event, big or small, took hours of preparation by many people behind the scenes. While it was second nature to me and Katharine, Veronica was relatively new to it all.

But she’d enjoyed tonight. Good. As time went on, she’d develop her own tricks and shortcuts so that homework didn’t take up too much of her time.

What did you need to talk about? Katharine asked, stretching her arms behind her. While Veronica had been at the Birkbeck, Katharine spent the evening with Lucas and Jo, Veronica’s children. Now Katharine’s children too, via adoption. They were wonderful kids but could be handfuls.

Okay, I said, my heart hammering as I settled into a chair for what was poised to be an awkward conversation.

Charlotte came to see me yesterday, I continued. She was our middle sister Margaret’s main nurse and had taken over last month from a woman who could be her twin, the red-faced, sweaty and stout Louellen Smith. She said that… I licked my lips. Well, she…

She should’ve met with me too, Katharine said in an irritated tone. If it was that important.

Yes, perhaps, I conceded. However, rising to Charlotte’s defence, I explained, She knew it was an embarrassing subject and it would be easier to approach only one person.

What is it? Katharine asked, stifling a yawn with her fist.

"Margaret is a woman, I put forth. With needs."

Needs, Katharine echoed.

Apparently, there have been, ah, occurrences that Louellen never told us about. For a few years now, Margaret has been, she’s been…look. She’s a thirty-four-year-old horny virgin, okay? She’s in a wheelchair most of the time and her memory is shit, but she’s still a woman with needs. She wants a man. She wants sex.

Katharine went pale, and I ventured a glance at Veronica.

Oh, my sister-in-law said, offering a weak smile. Well, that makes sense.

I nodded and returned my gaze to Katharine. In fact, Charlotte was upset with us. She said we should’ve considered this earlier. She claims that we see Margaret too much as her disability, her disabilities, and not as a person. It happens a lot, she says. Normally abled people forget that people with disabilities are sexual too.

What are we supposed to do? Katharine said. Find her a fuck buddy?

Yep, I said. Pretty much.

She laughed uncomfortably.

Look, I’ll handle it, I said. I’m happy to.

Wait. Please tell me Charlotte didn’t bring this to Mum, Katharine said.

Nah. She knows better.

So what exactly did she tell you? Katharine asked.

Margaret has kind of been harassing some of the male staffers, I explained. Grabbing them, looking at them improperly, saying improper things. Charlotte says it’s obvious what Margaret needs.

Right-o, Katharine muttered. Harassment, lovely. Who in particular?

Men such as Doyle and Trevor. Trevor was Margaret’s personal secretary. On the face of it, she had little need for one, but people did write her. They did ask her to appear places. It was Trevor’s job to correspond with them, among other tasks. Doyle Holbrook worked in the stables, and Margaret had always loved horses. That love remained even after our father’s accident.

Any man, really, I added in a whisper. "Charlotte says that Margaret gets looks in her eyes when a male crosses her path."

Is she still on birth control?

Yes, I said.

Katharine sighed and looked at her wife. If I haven’t said it before, welcome to our family.

Veronica smiled. Never a boring day.

Katharine clasped her hands together and returned her focus to me. You said you’re happy to handle it?

Yes, I replied. Katharine was pretty good about delegating and trusting me to do things properly.

Have you talked to Margaret? Or are you going to?

Yes. Yes, of course. But I hadn’t been planning to, and Katharine must’ve known it judging from the small smile on her lips. Fine, fine. I was guilty of the crime of sometimes seeing my middle sister as a disability and not as a person.

All righty then, Katharine said. That should be an interesting conversation.

I snorted and rose to my feet. A delight. I’ll keep you updated.

Katharine and Veronica exchanged looks. Hey, Katharine said. Don’t go yet. Since we’re on the subject, there’s something I wanted to talk about with you too.

Uh-oh. Okay, I said, sitting back down and plastering a smile on my face. What’s up?

I, well, I…

I struggled to keep my expression still. You’re pregnant, Katharine. You’re pregnant. Or will start trying.

For quite a few years now, I had been, for all intents and purposes, heir to the throne. Sure, Margaret was ahead of me, but she was in no shape to be a proper heir, much less queen. She’d done only four official public appearances.

As the days and years went on, the odds seemed to grow in my favour that I would one day be queen. Perhaps I’d be in my eighties or nineties, decrepit and shrivelled, but I would be queen, and it would be my children who carried on the dynasty.

Not anymore.

Mixed feelings rushed over me. If a baby was what Katharine wanted, then I was happy for her. At the same time, I had allowed the hope to seep in that all the work I put in every day, all of the pain and crap I’d been through, would one day culminate into something tangible. The throne.

I’m pregnant, Katharine said.

Wonderful! I shrilled, jumping to my feet.

Too cheerful. Too fake. Tone it down.

Wonderful, I repeated.

My sister chuckled. Thank you.

I hugged her and Veronica. How far along?

Only about a month, Katharine said. I needed you to know in case I got sick or couldn’t make an appearance. You or Veronica would have to step in quickly.

Of course.

I itched to enquire how they’d done it. Sperm bank? Probably. Which one? What did the donor look like? How did they choose him?

I didn’t ask. Katharine and Veronica would get enough speculation in that regard. I’d stay quiet.

I’m scared, Katharine admitted.

Hey, Veronica said. She scooted closer to Katharine and took her hand. Kissed her on the cheek, and I looked away. The love Veronica had for my sister, it was just so…so there. Sweet and accepting and prevalent. If that made sense. Truly a rare kind of love, something I didn’t think I was destined to get.

Why are you scared? I asked.

My age, she said. The risk of something going wrong is higher. It’s already high for younger women. I hadn’t realised how common miscarriage is.

It’s scary, I agreed."

Do you want children? she asked. To get pregnant?

I think so, I said and became aware of the tick-tock of the clock in the background. Hello, biological clock! Katharine was thirty-six years old, me thirty-two. Childbearing was a decision I could not put off for much longer.

I need a wife first, I pointed out. Most people wouldn’t need a spouse, but Britain’s royal princesses did.

True, she murmured. And that can take time. Why not start dating? It’s time to get yourself out there. You’re emotionally ready.

I suppose.

I’d come to have a hard conversation with my sister about the reality of our middle sister’s situation, but in the end, it was me who got schooled. I needed to decide what I would do with my future. Stop putting off dating. Start putting myself back out there.

Deal with the crushing fact that I would never be queen.

Katharine yawned. I’m tired. I should go to bed. She rose. Good luck with Margaret. She hugged me, kissed Veronica on the lips and disappeared into their bedroom.

Veronica walked me to the door.

Like Katharine and you touched on earlier, welcome to the family, I said brightly. Never a boring day.

A smile ruffled Veronica’s mouth, her red, full mouth. Indeed.

And the baby news. Wow! Are you ready to have a baby again?

A soft smile. There are pros and cons.

I’m sure. So, anyway, I said before I lingered overlong as I could do too easily with Veronica. Good night, and I’m glad the Birkbeck appearance went well.

It really did, she said, her cheeks glowing. I was so nervous, but I had a lot of fun. Maybe I’ll do a halfway decent job of this queen thing.

I never had any doubt. Good night.

She squeezed my arm. Thank you again for everything.

**

The next evening, I went to see Margaret. She sat curled up on her sofa reading a book and gave me a big smile. Emma!

She’s good at the moment, Charlotte whispered right after she let me in, and it indeed seemed that way. Margaret’s blue eyes gleamed, and her movement was smooth as she placed her book aside.

Can I get you two anything? Charlotte enquired.

Tea and biscuits? I asked Margaret, and she nodded.

I sat on the sofa with my sister and looked her over as discreetly as I could. What would a man see?

Katharine, Margaret and I had been beautiful little girls, beautiful teenagers and beautiful women. Margaret, despite what she had been through, maintained that level of beauty. Even when a vacant gaze entered her eyes or she talked in that awful raspy voice, you could still tell that she was lovely, she was delicate and good and beautiful.

And grabbed men.

I flinched inwardly. How lucky we were, really, that none of these men took advantage of her.

My sister and I chatted about her book (Twilight) and about this and that. Margaret even brought up Veronica’s appearance at the Birkbeck. Margaret experienced good periods perhaps two or three times a month, and this one seemed exceptionally good. Her voice had some smoothness and consistency, fewer pauses and gaps. So, it proved somewhat disorientating. Also made it harder to begin the conversation we needed to have. Finally, I just went for it.

Margaret, I said. Do you want a boyfriend?

Her eyelashes fluttered, and colour flooded her cheeks. I wondered if she masturbated. Had a vibrator, a dildo. Maybe these would be enough to quell her desires. Something to discuss with Charlotte, at any rate.

No, Emma. Discuss with Margaret.

I get lonely, I said, deciding to approach the matter from a different angle. "A lot of the time, I wish I