Queen of Kingston Read online

  QUEEN OF KINGSTON

  BOOK 5 OF THE KINGS OF THE CASTLE SERIES

  J. L. CAMPBELL

  PAT G’ORGE-WALKER

  THE WRITERS’ SUITE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living, dead, or somewhere in between is entirely coincidental.

  Queen of Kingston by J. L. Campbell and Pat G’Orge-Walker Copyright ©2021

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  ISBN: [eBook] 9789768307187

  The Writer’s Suite

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever or by any means including electronic, mechanical or photocopying, or stored in a retrieval system without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For permission, contact J. L. Campbell at [email protected]

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  Covered designed by: J.L. Woodson for www.woodsoncreativestudio.com

  Interior Designed by: Lissa Woodson of www.woodsoncreativestudio.com

  Editors: Naleighna Kai and J. L. Campbell

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  Beta Readers:

  Christine Pauls [email protected]

  D. J. Mitchell [email protected]

  Marie L McKenzie

  Vanessa Howard

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  About J. L. Campbell

  About Pat G’Orge-Walker

  King of Evanston

  Knight of Paradise Island

  The Spice of Life

  Fire in the Water

  Choices

  Heaven Can be Hell

  For those who find true love, despite the challenges.

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  Heart to heart

  We give our love to you

  Please remember when all’s said and done

  It was heart to heart

  As one

  Samantha and Kingston

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to Naleighna Kai for conceptualizing and including us in the world of the Kings, Knights & Queens of the Castle. Your editing pen keeps us striving to write better stories.

  No book is complete without beta readers. Many thanks to D.J. Mitchell, Marie McKenzie, and Christine Pauls for their laser-sharp focus and the investment of their time and energy.

  Karen D. Bradley and Naleighna Kai were gracious enough to let us use their characters and gizmos in the world of the Queens.

  J.L. Woodson, keep on shining through the outstanding artistry you bring to each cover.

  Without readers, writers have no platform. Many thanks to the faithful readers who have followed our stories through the years. We love and appreciate you!

  The Kings of the Castle Ambassadors and readers in the Naleighna Kai Literary Café have also been a source of encouragement and support.

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  Thank you!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Don’t look at me like that, I told you this would happen.

  Samantha stared at Kingston over her parents’ dining table, wishing the evening was over. Despite the pleasant surroundings—a dining room filled with expensive furnishings and paintings—the air simmered with nasty undercurrents.

  Earlier, she warned him what Mom and Papa’s reaction would be to their relationship, but he insisted on coming. “What sense does it make to visit Jamaica and not meet your family?” he’d asked.

  She hadn’t answered because she understood them, but wasn’t ready to deal with their hang-ups and old-fashioned thinking. Kingston’s deep-bronze complexion, spiky hair, and almond-shaped eyes would send their stress level into the stratosphere.

  Her father, Elias, a stocky, balding man with pale skin, laid his cutlery down and wiped his lips with a napkin. “So, Kingston, do you still have family on the island?”

  “My grandmother lives in Clarendon, but my immediate family is in New York.” His gaze met hers. “That’s where I met Sam.”

  Sharon DaCosta straightened in her chair and swallowed the Chinese roast chicken as if it had suddenly developed a bitter taste. “Samantha insisted on going to university there, against our wishes.”

  Speaking in a pointed way, Papa glanced around the table. “Aside from getting an education, our daughter came home with radical ideas.”

  Which includes a relationship with a half-breed Black man.

  Nobody said the words, but Sharon DaCosta turned up her nose while pushing aside several blonde strands that escaped from beneath her purple headband decorated with faux pearls. “At least, she kept her gorgeous hair. We were afraid she might’ve changed it to fit in with her liberal thinking.”

  She sneered as if Kingston was a bit of refuse one of their spoiled dogs had brought in from the garden.

  Michele, her younger sister by two years, rubbed Sam’s foot under the table and offered a smile, a gesture of solidarity. She still lived at home, despite being thirty. Their three-story house in Red Hills was the perfect creative environment for her fashion studio, and with her parents' blessing, she commandeered the top floor of the house and came and went as it suited her.

  “Sam,” Michele said, nodding in their mother’s direction, “remember di time when you and Mom wanted to get dem brownish highlights?”

  Her sister had never been constrained by societal norms and was classified by the people who knew her as “down to earth,” or “roots” in Jamaican terms. Perhaps that was why their father had never pressured her. She was the baby of the family and her colorful personality had revealed itself in her toddler years when she refused to wear disposable diapers and would rip them off as often as their helper caught her and sealed her inside a new one. Now, she had slipped into Patois and added that comment to provoke their father. Sam hoped she didn’t have more zingers in her arsenal.

  “Enough,” Elias’ eyes bulged as he seethed. Displeasure turned his complexion corpse-gray. Glancing towards Kingston, he declared. “I said it before and I’ll say it again. Your hair is part of your European heritage.” Elias took a deep breath as if to allow his meaning to sink in. “Through the centuries, on your mother’s side as well as mine, we’ve kept certain things pure. And pure, they will stay. There will be no brown highlights in your hair or anyplace else.”

  “So, Papa, does dat still apply to our friends, near and wide?” A smirk appeared on Michele’s face and she giggled behind the napkin.

  “I believe people should stick to their own kind.”

  Sam wished Michele wouldn’t provoke him. Aside from the subject matter, the use of Patois grated on their father’s nerves and the more irritable he became, the more foolishness spewed from his mouth. Not that Michele cared. They had learned Patois at an early age from the household employees and moved flu
ently between the local language and the Queen’s English. When they were children, Papa forbade them to speak broken English, which guaranteed that Michele goaded him by using it when it suited her.

  “I’m as Jamaican as anyone else on this island and will not deny that part of my heritage because you’re intolerant,” she’d told him years ago, to his horror.

  Since that time, his attitude and opinion hadn’t changed.

  Only God knew what Kingston thought of Elias’ petulant, shallow declaration. When Sam peeked at Kingston, his bland expression seemed to match Michele’s. Perhaps they were kindred spirits. He was certainly taking this display of bad behavior better than Sam, but her perception changed when their eyes met and she felt the heat in his gaze.

  Michele’s eyes sparkled, and Sam knew she wasn’t finished.

  With a curious expression in place, she asked, “Do you think Papa meant anything specific? Perhaps, being blonde sets you apart from other affluent people of color in our society.” She winked and lowered her head, a habit that surfaced whenever she threw a verbal brick before hiding her hands.

  “Doesn’t matter to me,” Sam replied, despite the rabid way she stabbed the food on her plate. The unpleasant conversation had killed her appetite.

  Years ago, Sam grew tired of the weight of her parents’ expectations and put as much distance as possible between herself and the family. Even now, her father resented the fact that she got along better with his only brother, Edward, or Ted, as she called him. He had facilitated Sam’s flight to freedom and Elias had never forgiven him for it.

  “Have you heard from Edward recently?” he asked.

  Sam stopped frowning and dropped the fork on her plate with a clang. “As a matter of fact, he spoke with me yesterday.”

  The mention of his name brought back her anxiety. Sam was working on several stories for the newspaper—one about a brilliant teenager and another about The Castle, a humanitarian organization based in Chicago. Ted was a member of The Castle, but in her research, Sam had stumbled across his name on a list that jarred her. If she could believe it, her uncle had been part of something that might be considered nefarious. But she wouldn’t condemn him without speaking to him. He was the first person on her list to contact when she was back in the States.

  Rose, their helper, came in to clear the table for dessert. Her cheerful smile and twinkling eyes reminded Sam of the many hours spent with her around the house during her childhood. Whenever she was feeling down, Rose reminded her of the many advantages and blessings she had that other people didn’t. She winked at Rose, who stifled a smile.

  “Given what you went through in high school, I’m not sure how or why you two connected in this way.”

  The shock that flickered over Rose’s face and dimmed her eyes confirmed that Sharon had abandoned good manners and civility. Not to mention the sudden change in the direction of their conversation, something she reserved for whenever Ted’s name was mentioned.

  Sam looked directly at her mother. “I’m not one to stay stuck in the past, so …”

  “And I’m not as diplomatic as your mother.” Papa pushed his plate aside and leaned back in his oversized chair, one reserved for his girth and status as head of the family.

  With an air of authority, he studied each person at the table while his fingers carved a path through a sparse patch of dark hair. He did it when displeased, and now wagged his finger at Samantha.

  “The last time you came home, you brought visitors, claiming they were going to be Queens. Delusional. If you don’t deal with your past, it will ruin more than your future.” With disdain etched on his features, he glanced at Kingston. “I would add that unlearned lessons will taint your present, as well.”

  The off-hand mention of Cassandra Toussaint, Queen of Curaçao, and Milan Germaine, Queen of Wilmette, roused her annoyance. These were her sister-friends he was disparaging. Members of The Castle with skills and talents her father couldn’t even begin to imagine. On top of that, they had a heart for service—unlike her family. Sam’s glare found its mark and she didn’t hide her anger. Her slender fingers formed a steeple on which she rested her chin.

  “Speaking of the past, present, and future,” Sam’s voice rose with each word. “Have you ever asked Mom if you were her first choice?”

  Elias sprang forward and his weight tilted the chair. “What do you mean?”

  His face reddened and a bluish halo appeared around his jowls as though he were about to have a heart attack, or was in the middle of one.

  “Has the devil descended in my home?” he snarled as he looked at his wife, then pointed at Samantha. “Sharon, what is she talking about? What does she mean by asking me such a question?”

  “The same thing I always mean when posing issues, and you deflect.” Sam’s voice intensified to match the fervor of her father’s. “This time, leave Mom out of this. She may have started it, but this conversation is between me and you, Papa.”

  “In my home, I decide who a conversation is between. Always has been and always will be.” His dictatorial words tore through the air and hung in the bitter silence.

  Kingston dropped the linen napkin on the table. “Sir, that is totally uncalled for.”

  Her father’s skin turned a blotchy red. “You, of all people, don’t get to tell me what is appropriate in my home.”

  Pushing back from the table, Kingston rose. “Since it’s me of all people, and I’ve figured out this is the way it’s going to be, we’ll bid you good evening.”

  Sam and her mother stood at the same time.

  “Where are you going?” Sharon asked. Her words said one thing, but a gloss crept across her eyes, turning her question into a plea.

  “We’re leaving the island tomorrow, anyway. So, it’s just as well that I get out of this house tonight.”

  “I’ve put up with a lot from you over the years and supported you, even when I didn’t believe in what you were doing.” Papa tipped his head back to meet Sam’s gaze. “But this is different. If you leave here like this, don’t come back.”

  His words had the effect of a throat punch, and tears of frustration seared her eyes. The rash statement that came to her lips couldn’t make their way past the tightness in her throat.

  Sharon stared at Elias. Her mouth opened and closed several times.

  The color drained from Michele’s face, leaving her looking like a ghost. The cloud of black hair contrasted with her pasty skin.

  Sam turned a desperate gaze on Kingston, whose onyx-colored eyes were closed to slits. She wanted out.

  He understood her non-verbal message immediately and buttonholed her father with a searing look that matched Elias’ glare—checkmate. Kingston saved her from saying anything she’d regret by gently leading her from the room.

  When they stood in the foyer, close to the front door, Kingston cupped her face and whispered, “I’m so sorry. Can you manage?”

  Her mother’s pair of tan Shih Tzu rushed toward them and swirled around their ankles as if they understood Sam’s need for comfort.

  She stroked Kingston’s cheek and nudged the dogs out of the way. “I’ll go upstairs and get my things, then come right down.”

  His encouraging smile gave Sam the boost she needed to move her heavy feet.

  Kingston swiped the tear from the corner of her eye with his thumb and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be waiting.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “The next time my daughter’s idiot husband makes you angry, please think before you act.”

  “Yes, Grandma Esmie.” Sam’s tone was penitent. Only her grandmother could get that reaction from her.

  “That doesn’t mean I’m taking their side,” she continued. “I’m just upset because you and Kingston didn’t come and see me again before flying out.”

  “I’m sorry. That wasn’t intentional.” Sam lowered the screen of her laptop and walked around the luxurious suite. “Tell me something though, how come you think so differently from them an
d you’re older.”

  A few seconds went by before her grandmother said, “I was lucky that when my marriage was arranged, my father understood that I didn’t like the man they chose for me. He was a widower and much older than I was. Times were different, but I guess the situation worked out for me because the man I truly loved was also Lebanese and that was acceptable to the family.”

  “So what happened with Mom?” Sam perched on the sofa and scanned the living room, smiling softly when her gaze landed on the basket of fruits and specialty chocolate Kingston had sent a day after they arrived in Chicago.

  They flew from Jamaica to New York’s Kennedy International Airport and did something different. Rather than going to their respective homes, they stayed at a hotel in Manhattan. After that chaotic scene at her parents’ home, having that intimate time with Kingston in an unfamiliar space was what she wanted. It was also what she needed. The questions she had for Ted could wait until after she repaired the damage her family had done to their relationship. When she had no one else, Kingston stood at her side.

  Among their plans was an evening in a Jazz Club on Forty-second Street and visiting some of their old haunts. But once they stepped into the shower together, plans for the Jazz Club faded.