Page 53 of Her Royal Christmas

Alexandra had always loved Balmoral in winter.

It wasn’t something she said aloud much—loving anything publicly came with risks—but privately, secretly, it was her favourite place in the world. A place the monarchy hadn’t flattened or polished. A place where her family had laughed and bickered and played cards by candlelight. A place where the walls weren’t full of cameras or courtiers. A place where she could breathe.

And right now she desperately needed to breathe.

The castle behind her still hummed with noise: Vic shouting about meal contingency plans, children thundering through hallways, staff rushing to re-anchor the top-heavy Christmas tree. The air inside had grown thick with the kind of frantic tension unique to royal holidays.

She tugged her scarf higher and stepped out into the cold.

Snow drifted down in big, lazy flakes, clinging to her lashes. The sky was a hazy grey, the light soft, muted. The forest that bordered the grounds had turned into a cathedral of white. Everything was quiet.

Or it should have been quiet.

But the moment Alex closed the door behind her, six shapes erupted from the nearby kennels—like small, furry missiles launched by eager enthusiasm.

“Hello, my darlings,” Alex said as spaniels and labradors collided with her legs.

There were three black labradors, two golden spaniels, and one very excitable cocker with a single floppy ear who immediately tried to climb up her coat.

“Yes, Juno, I see you,” Alex said, laughing despite the weight in her chest. “I see all of you.”

“Thought you might need backup,” Erin’s voice floated from the doorway.

Alex turned.

Erin stepped out, closing the heavy door behind her. She’d thrown on her thick navy coat—the one that hugged her shoulders in unfairly flattering ways—and her dark hair was stuffed under a knit hat that didn’t match anything but somehow suited her perfectly.

“You brought the dogs,” Alex said.

“Technically,” Erin said, “the dogs brought themselves. They saw you and staged a breakout.”

As if in agreement, the cocker spaniel barked enthusiastically and began digging a hole in the snow for no apparent reason except joy.

Alex smiled.

But the smile slipped at the edges. Erin saw it immediately.

“I thought,” Erin said gently, stepping closer, “that maybe you needed some air.”

Alex nodded. “I needed something.”

Erin offered her arm.

Alex took it.

The contact—simple, warm through layers of wool—hit Alex with unexpected force. She hadn’t realised how much she’d been craving it. Touch. Proximity. The heat of Erin’s body beside hers.

They began walking slowly, the little pack of dogs bounding ahead, kicking up snow, weaving in wild loops.

For a while they said nothing.

Snow crunched under their boots. Bran trotted loyally at Erin’s side like a shadow. Juno periodically returned to deposit sticks at Alex’s feet. Alex missed Audrey, their Great Dane- but her health hadn’t been the best since she was getting a bit older and they had deemed it too far for her to travel to Scotland for the holiday. Alex loved Balmoral’s resident dogs.

The cold nipped Alex’s cheeks, sharpened her breath.

“You all right?” Erin asked quietly.

Alex exhaled. “I don’t know.”