To Love A Prince (True Blue Royal Book 1)

by Rachel Hauck

  Daffy sat up and squinted through the sunlight at Leslie Ann. “You will not. Leave him alone. He’s been through enough.”

  “Leave him alone? Are you kidding me? He’s the story everyone wants—if he even shows up for his brother’s wedding. Which would be a whole other scandal. But we need to know, Daff. Why did the American heiress abandon him at the altar? No one knows. Not really. She gave some flimsy interview with Good Morning New York. They let her off easy.”

  “Focus on Prince John and Lady Holland, Les.” Daffy dug through her Melbourne Beach tote she bought at a souvenir shop they’d passed in the airport. “Or the queen. Her silver jubilee is coming up. Do a retrospective on her life.” Daffy set the bag and her towel aside. “I’m going inside for my sunglasses. Anyone want anything?”

  “Grapes.” Ella.

  “Crisps.” This from Leslie Ann. “And water.”

  Grapes, crisps, and water. Daffy started for the cottage’s deck. “Ella, put on sunscreen. Your white legs are starting to beam.”

  “Thanks, Mum, but I’m fine.”

  Daffy approached the back of the blue cottage which was pinned between the beach and highway A1A.

  All this talk of Prince Gus raised old thoughts, old feelings, distant dreams. She absolutely had wanted to marry the prince when she was a girl. Because of their friendship, she believed she would one day.

  But not all dreams come true. They weren’t supposed to, she’d decided. Besides, she had an amazing life. A new downtown Port Fressa flat. An advanced university degree. A good position with the Royal Trust, which was a dream opportunity. A handsome, marriageable boyfriend. Yes, she’d done well for herself.

  Still… Was this it? Was this all she’d hoped for her life? Was this how she’d make her little mark in this world?

  When she asked these questions, he definitely came to mind, but seriously, Prince Gus was way out of her league and had been out of her life for years.

  Inside the cottage, she searched for the sunglasses, then gathered the requested snacks for the beach.

  As she headed back out, balancing the food items in her arms, she slipped on her shades and reversed her thoughts of Prince Gus. He was not her future. Thomas was her future. Or so it seemed anyway. They’d been together for a year and he was a solid match. Kind, loyal, successful, and very good looking.

  They’d developed a good routine. Friday nights at the pub with their mates. Saturday night dinner and a movie at her place. Sunday afternoons they visited his family for lunch and hers for dinner. Then it was back to the weekly grind where they met for lunch on Tuesdays and shared a virtual dinner on Wednesdays.

  Thomas had taught Daffy how to invest and save. He’d be disappointed to learn she’d blown what little she’d put by on this trip, so no need to tell him.

  And to her recollection, he’d whispered “I love you” at least once the past year during a particularly romantic evening.

  Did she want Thomas to be her future?

  As she reached the edge of the deck, Daffy remembered her phone was on the charger and ran back to retrieve it. She’d missed a call from Mum and a text from Thomas.

  Miss you. Send photos.

  She’d save Mum’s voice message for later. She was on holiday and didn’t want to think about work. If it was family related, she’d text or call Ella too.

  Heading back out, Daffy spied the barbecue. Ooo, they could grill out. Maybe tonight.

  Stepping off the deck, she raised her voice. “Hey, Ella, Leslie Ann, why don’t we—”

  Something hard and fast thwacked her on the side of her head. “Hey!” She jerked sideways as her sunglasses, the grapes and crisps, a lime-green Frisbee, and a golden retriever landed at her feet.

  Rubbing the side of her head, she stooped for her glasses and addressed the panting dog. “You throw a mean Frisbee, pup.”

  “Adler, good girl. Come.” The man’s American accent enchanted Daffy as he jogged over the sand. “Sorry about that.”

  Blimey. He was something to behold. Shirtless, tan, and wrapped in taut abs, his arm muscles evident as he jogged slowly toward her.

  “Are you all right? Again, my apologies.” He bent for the Frisbee. “The wind caught the darn thing at just the right moment.”

  “I’m fine, really.” She slipped on her sunglasses and rubbed her head again. The sting was nearly gone.

  “Are you sure? I’d better have a look.” The dog, Adler, remained at her feet and swept the sand with her tail.

  “It’s not necessary, really, but thank you.”

  “I heard it hit from twenty yards out.” She winced as he gently touched her chin and tilted her head. He smelled of soap, sun, and surf. “Adler goes a bit crazy when I bring out the Frisbee.” He stepped a bit closer. “No blood. Not even a bump.”

  “I’d hate to think I could be dented by a dog’s toy.” Daffy pulled away and gave him a slight once-over. Very nice. America was looking better and better all the time.

  She liked the sound of his laugh, which felt oddly familiar. Besides his rather well-crafted physique, which he showed off proudly, the chap sported a thick beard and a mass of wavy, dark-brown hair knotted on his head. A few loose tendrils curled around his neck.

  “Let me help.” He gathered the dropped snack items and handed them to her.

  “Thank you.” She clutched the items to her chest and extended her hand. “I’m Daffy.”

  Their eyes met as he raised his hand to hers. But only for a moment. Then he jerked around and walked away. “Come, Adler, now.”

  But the dog hesitated with a whine and rested her nose on Daffy’s foot.

  “Adler, come.” He added a whistle to his command.

  Twenty yards way, Leslie Ann and Ella peered over the back of their chairs, watching the entire scene.

  Adler glanced at Daffy, twitching her fluffy eyebrows up and down and shifting her gaze between her owner and Daffy.

  “Adler. Now.” The American returned, flashing the chewed plastic disc. “Come, girl.”

  But she refused to move and added a quick lick to Daffy’s toes.

  “Go.” Daffy pointed to Adler’s owner. “Go on now.” She looked at the American chap who had yet to give his name. “Perhaps if I throw the Frisbee.”

  “No, thank you. Adler, I said come.” He softened his tone as he crouched down. “Are you all right, girl? I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

  Poor bloke seemed rather frustrated now. “Dogs like me.” Daffy ruffled Adler’s ears. “But not this much. Do you think she’s hurt?” She inspected her forward paws.

  “Here, let me.” He inspected her back paws with his back to Daffy. “No, nothing.” When he started to move, Adler bounced up and tripped his step, causing him to crash into Daffy.

  Together they stumbled backward and fell into an awkward dance as they attempted to stay upright.

  “Adler,” he said. “What in the world? I am so, so sorry. She’s never—”

  Their eyes locked. Daffy gasped as he looked away.

  “Your Royal Highness.” She released him, a warm blush creeping across her cheeks. “W-what are you doing here?”

  Really? After eighteen years? He still made her blush?

  “Shhh. Don’t give me away.” He put his back to the beach, to Leslie Ann and Ella, and positioned Daffy in front of him. “I’m an American named Pete George. Are you sure you’re all right? You look flushed.”

  “I’m fine.” Daffy rubbed her hand over the rosy warmth. “Your Highness, you’re not an American. You’re Prince Augustus Carwyn George of Lauchtenland’s House of Blue.”

  “Yes, of course, of course, but for now… Say, remember when we used to play pirate in the crow’s nest at Hadsby?”

  “Once. I only went to Hadsby two summers.” When Mum was the queen’s secretary.

  “I was Pirate Pete.”

  “And now you’re American Pete?”

  He tipped his head slightly toward Leslie Ann and Ella. “Is that your p
arty there? Please tell me that is not Leslie Ann Parker.” His American accent was brilliant. Perfect.

  “That’s not Leslie Ann Parker, sir. Pete.” She leaned close, catching more of his clean scent. “But it is.”

  Now that she was face-to-face with him, she saw everything about his appearance that made him Prince Gus. Above his beard and tanned cheeks sat a pair of unmistakable cerulean blue eyes. They were jewels mounted into a smooth piece of gleaming and golden wood.

  His smile, which he’d not flashed at her quite yet, was perfection. Before the media dubbed him “Prince Pathetic” and “Prince of the Heartbreak”—or was it “King of the Heartbreak”—he was Prince Charming. The prince with the world-famous smile. It was more than his white, even teeth or full lips. It was something beyond the physical. Something true, in his heart.

  “Don’t give me away, Daffy, please.”

  “To Leslie Ann? She’s harmless, really. I’m sure she wouldn’t—”

  “Daffy. I’ve managed a year on this quiet, private beach without press or paparazzi. The respite has nearly restored my lost dignity. I can hold my head up when I return home for John’s wedding.”

  “I’m so glad you’re going home.”

  “Of course. Why would I not?”

  “I don’t know… I suppose we all wondered.” She locked eyes with him once again. It was him. Her prince. “I’m sure if you just said hello, she’d—”

  “Have me splashed all over the news within an hour. When and if I ever go to the press again, I want it to be on my terms, with my story. Can you understand? I beg of you, keep my secret. For old times’ sake. For the laughter we shared as children.”

  “Then I will. Whatever you ask.” She glanced around Prince Gus again to see Les and Ella bottoms down on their chairs, white legs stretched across the beige beach. “They’re not watching. So…this is where you’ve been hiding for the last year?” She kept her voice low. “Your American accent is astounding. I would’ve never recognized you had you not looked right at me.”

  “A mate from uni offered me his beach house here, and after a week I landed a job, if you can believe it, and decided to stay awhile.”

  “You’ve changed.” Her gaze drifted down to his toned legs and up again. He caught her perusal, and her face tingled again with heat. She never blushed. Never. Except around this man. “I mean, before…after Lady Robbi, you were, well—”

  “Portly? Pathetic? King of the Heartbreak?” He scratched Adler behind the ears. She sighed and lay down by Daffy’s feet again. “Gained two stones?”

  “I never said those things. I never even thought them.”

  “Maybe not, but they were headlines. Almost daily. I did eat my way through two devastating breakups. I admit it. Then I arrived here and found some inner strength.”

  “You look, um, well… Good for you, sir. Pete.”

  “Daff, aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?” Leslie Ann called from her chair.

  “Shake my hand.” Prince Gus slipped his hand into hers, his skin warm. “Pat the dog’s head and I’ll be off. Tell them I was inquiring about your cottage. Possible future rental. Actually, it is quite lovely.” He peered at her for a long moment, then in a surprise of tenderness, brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek. “Be careful. I think you’re burning. The winter sun is deceiving.”

  With a whistle to the dog, he was off, and this time Adler loped along behind him. Ella and Les peeked around their chairs to watch him leave.

  Daffy tried to move, but her legs wobbled. She took a deep breath and collected herself. Guard up, or Leslie Ann would know something was amiss.

  But goodness. Prince Gus. Here. On this beach. She pressed her palm to her cheek still warm from his touch.

  Shake it off. She wasn’t a girl running ’round the castle with a crush on her friend. She was an adult. Mature. Practically spoken for by another. Note to self: Confirm with Thomas that we are officially a couple.

  “Here we are.” Daffy handed out the snacks then headed for the water. “Thomas texted he wanted pictures.”

  “Who were you talking to for so long?”

  “Just a bloke who thought he might rent the cottage next year. The dog was sweet.”

  “A long conversation for ‘Hello, is this cottage suitable?’” Just as Daffy feared, Leslie Ann’s reporter radar was honing in.

  “I asked about his dog.” Daffy snapped another picture. Her face should be back to normal by now. “I love golden retrievers.”

  “Why is your face all blotchy?” Leslie Ann squinted at Daffy as she twisted the cap from a bottle of water.

  “I’m hot. All that running to the cottage and back.” Daffy gave Ella the sister eye.

  Change the conversation.

  “All that running? It’s what, twenty yards? Please.”

  “Ella, what were you saying about the Space Center?” Daffy sat in her chair and took her book from her bag. “Do we need tickets?”

  “I’ll look when we go in. Let’s try that pub down the beach tonight. The Captain’s Hideaway. The sign said something about the best American food on the Space Coast.”

  “I was going to suggest barbecuing.” Daffy texted her pictures to Thomas but in her mind, she only saw Prince Gus. That gorgeous chap was here. In Florida. On her beach. What were the odds? The idea sent a chill down her arms. “But we can do it another night. We have all week.”

  Would she see him again? Should she try? If she got up early and started hanging out on the beach, Leslie Ann would get wise to her. No, Daff, just leave it alone. Leave him be. He’s found some peace and dignity.

  Meanwhile, she’d read the first line of her book ten times. She looked up when Leslie Ann interrupted. “So, did the love of your life text you back yet? Did he like the pictures?”

  Daffy peered down the beach in the direction Prince Gus, rather Pete George, had gone.

  “No, the love of my life has not texted.” She ducked down behind her book. “I’m not sure he ever will.”

  Chapter Two

  Gus

  Floridana Beach, later in the day

  It’s possible for a prince to hide. Though he’d known that sooner or later the paparazzi, or someone would find him out, he never imagined it would be the beautiful Daffodil Caron.

  Looking up from his station behind the bar at the Captain’s Hideaway, he wondered if he’d see her again.

  She was more lovely than he remembered. Then again he’d not seen in her in quite a while. Seeing her made him long for his family and the comforts of home. Even if his home was a palace.

  But running into her—or hitting her with a Frisbee—again would be unwise. Too many encounters would risk his secret. Nevertheless, he held onto the sweet, warm sentiment that had filled his chest since their eyes met in recognition.

  When she said, “You’re Prince Augustus Carwyn George of Lauchtenland’s House of Blue” he felt the words rattle in his bones. For the first time in well over two years, he wanted to be that chap again.

  It was time to go home. Not that Dad or Mum or John would let him get away with missing the wedding ball and the ceremony. And after his year of healing, he almost looked forward to it.

  Still there remained a certain dread about hosting John’s wedding ball, as all royal House of Blue siblings did for one another, in light of his own wedding fiasco.

  Buck up, lad. Don’t travel the worn roads of pain and despair. Been there. But had taken the exit off during his time in Florida. He must carry home his renewed mind and heart. His hope. The press would be bored with his trials by now. Surely, the lot of them had moved on to John’s successful marriage match. Lady Holland was an outstanding woman.

  He didn’t care much for Leslie Ann Parker—how did Daffy know her so well? She was the telly presenter who raised the question: “Why do good women leave him?”

  Excellent question. He’d spent the first six months of his Florida getaway pondering that very thing. First to scamper was Coral
Winthrop, the beautiful, poised American heiress and owner of CCW Cosmetics. Then Lady Robbi De Smet, daughter of an ancient Lauchtenland family. Never mind their breakup had been mutual. Still, he’d failed to capture her heart.

  “Hey, Pete.” Helene, his boss and owner of this quaint little pub, a thatched-hut tiki bar with a wraparound deck edging up to the Atlantic, waved her hand in front of his face. “Where were you? Land far, far away?”

  “No, just, um…what can I do for you?” He’d been staring into a bin of limes waiting to be sliced.

  Helene Simmons, a fifty-something-year-old woman, with flowing, sun-kissed hair and mischievous green eyes, gave him purpose the day she offered him a job.

  He’d come in twice for a bite to eat. The second time she sat at his table announcing, “I like the look of you. Want to work here?”

  If she knew his true identity, she’d never let on. Didn’t say a word when he handed over his diplomatic papers to satisfy payroll. Knowing her as he did now, however, the last thing she wanted was the attention caused by a royal prince pouring pints. Which was fine with Gus.

  “Carmen called in sick again. You’ll have to bus tables tonight.”

  “I thought you fired him.” Gus—preferably known as Pete—lined up limes for slicing.

  “Three times but he boomerangs back.” She turned to the man who sat on the stool in front of her. “Ike, how’re you doing? What’ll you have?”

  “Same.” Ike reached for the beer nuts. “Pete, how you doing?”

  “Can’t complain.”

  In fact, he was grateful. It was in the daily routine of this bar that he’d found relief from his shame. How the one person he loved more than anything, the one he believed would share his life, the one to whom he’d given his heart, had humiliated him in front of millions.

  It took him over a year to abandon the idea she did it on purpose. As if performing the world’s most elaborate prank. Then Robbi came along and proved to be a good boost to his confidence.

  In the last year, Gus had mellowed. During the slump between lunch and happy hour, he listened to the old guys tell wild, exaggerated tales of surfing the “big one,” or of wrestling with a swordfish. En garde. And he found a rhythm that healed his scarred heart.