by Katee Robert
He stared. “You counted.”
“I love you,” she repeated. “I love you and I should have said yes the first time. I can’t take all those missed opportunities back, but I can start again now.” She glanced down at her empty hands. “I don’t have a ring, but I’ll get you one. Marry me, Isaac Kozlov. I love you and I don’t want us to be a dirty little secret anymore.”
He looked over her head as whispers swept the hall. “I think that cat’s out of the bag.”
“I’m sorry.” Her throat threatened to close, but she muscled past the response just like she muscled past the burning in her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t deserve for you to say yes, and I know I have penance to pay. I deserve that and more.”
“Fuck, Noemi.” He bent down and pulled her gently to her feet. “I’m sorry I left the way I did, but you don’t have to do this. It’s forgiven. Everything’s forgiven.”
The knot around her heart only tightened in response. She reached up and cupped his face. “No, it’s not. It’s not forgiven yet, and that’s okay.”
“None of the shit that held us apart has changed.”
“Fuck that shit.” She twisted to glare at whoever of their onlookers had gasped. “Seriously, people? If you’re going to eavesdrop, then do it silently.”
“Noemi,” a thread of amusement worked its way into his tone. “Your Family will lose their collective minds.”
“I don’t care. I’m Head of Family and I’ve sacrificed quite enough for them. They’ll deal with it.” She took a tiny breath and let her hands drop. “I know it’s not that easy, Isaac. God, I know better than anyone. But if you love me, we can make this work. So I guess that’s the only question left to answer.” She moved back a little, trying to give him space, to hold her head high even though she was in danger of begging at his feet for him to give the response she desperately needed. “Do you love me?”
He searched her face as if he’d find the answer to her question there. “Noemi—” Isaac cursed long and hard. “Come here.” He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her to the security door, glared at the camera above it, and then towed her inside. Just like that, they were as close to alone as anyone ever got in the palace. “Noemi, what are you doing?”
“I love you. I don’t know how many different ways I can say it.” The burning in her eyes increased and a single betraying tear slipped free. She lifted her chin, suddenly realizing that this might not play out like she’d hoped when she made her ill-advised sprint after him. “God, I’m sorry. I’m making a scene, which is the last thing you want. It seems that I’m endlessly setting myself up to apologize to you. I’ll just… go.”
“Hold the fuck on.” He planted his hand on the wall next to her head, stopping her before she had a chance to move. “You can’t just run in here like some kind of avenging Valkyrie, spill out words that I never thought I’d hear from you, and then bolt before I have a chance to process. Just… hold the fuck on for a second, okay?”
“Okay,” she said meekly.
Isaac closed his eyes for a long moment and when he opened them, the wildness had bled out. “You love me.”
“Yes.”
“You want to marry me.”
Her breath hitched in her throat. “Yes.”
“What changed in the last ten minutes? Because we were saying goodbye when I was inside you, and now you’re making a scene on your knees and asking for forgiveness.”
She could do this. She’d already made a fool of herself. What was a little more truth, in the face of so much possibility? “The price of losing you forever is too high. I won’t pay it. I won’t let you go if there’s a way forward, and if we can’t find one, then we’ll damn well make one.”
“It won’t be easy. They’ll ostracize you for it.”
“They’ll try. Huxley holds the favor of the Crown and both Consorts. They can’t afford to do more than snub us.” He still hadn’t answered her, and the little kernel of hope in her chest flickered dangerously. “If you love me, we’ll make it work.”
“If I love you?” He gave a harsh laugh. “Woman, I’ve loved you since the day I met you. There is no if. It’s fact.”
“Then…”
He sifted the fingers of his free hand through her hair. “You’re sure? You know me, Noemi. You put a ring on my finger, and there’s no going back, no changing your mind, no worrying about what people might think. I’m yours and you’re mine.”
She was so sure, she could barely get the words out. “Marry me, Isaac Kozlov. Please.”
“Yes.” He lowered his head and kissed her, and then she was in his arms, wrapped up in his body as he plundered her mouth, answering with his body the same way he’d answered with his words. Yes, yes, yes, yes.
Applause broke out somewhere close, and they broke the kiss long enough to see the King and both his Consorts grinning like fools. The King gave a slow smile. “About damn time.”
Consort Galen rolled his eyes. “Weddings make everyone crazy.”
Their third, Meg, laughed. “If that isn’t the truth, I don’t know what is.” She gave a little wave. “Congrats, you two. And as much as I don’t mind the whole PDA thing, you might consider not going to town against that wall.” She winked.
Right. They had an audience. Always.
Isaac started to loosen his grip on her, but Noemi tightened her legs around his waist. “No way. I’m not letting go of you anytime soon.” She leaned up and caught his earlobe with her teeth. “What do you say we go back to the suite and celebrate after we schedule an appointment with the jeweler?”
“Not wasting any time, are you?”
“Hell no. I think we’ve wasted more than enough.” A giddy laugh bubbled up inside her. “I’m not giving you a chance to change your mind. I’d be calling a priest right now if—”
“You’re right,” the King cut in. “We should definitely call a priest.” He snapped his fingers, but Galen was already dialing. He looked at his own phone. “The jeweler is on her way.”
And that was how Noemi found herself, a mere hour later, standing in front of a priest with a new ring on her finger, the Royal Triad at her back, and the love of her life holding her hand. He grinned down at her. “Last chance to change your mind.”
“Not on your life.” She squeezed his hand and turned to the priest. “We’re ready.”
“We are gathered here today…”
Noemi looked up into Isaac’s pale eyes as the priest spoke the familiar words and mouthed, I love you so much.
I love you, too, Noemi. He gave her one of his rare smiles, a gift all the more special because of how close she’d come to losing him. Their path forward wouldn’t be the simplest or the easiest, but it was theirs and theirs alone.
There was only one man she wanted next to her for the duration, and he stood in front of her, wearing her ring on his left hand. Always and forever.
Epilogue
“What do you think about Florence?”
Noemi rolled her eyes. “We aren’t naming our daughter Florence. That’s not even on the list.” She reclined against Isaac’s chest, watching the twins chase each other on the beach. The boys had spent several days cooped up in the palace while they were visiting for a political summit and this vacation was their reward for being on their best behavior. Three years old and they thought they knew everything—and had more energy than any single person had right to, let alone two.
Isaac pulled her closer and pressed his big hands to either side of her rounded stomach. After she had the twins, they’d wanted to try again quickly. Irish triplets, Isaac had joked.
It hadn’t quite worked out like that.
She shivered and he pulled her closer in response. Isaac pressed a kiss her to temple. “The baby is fine, Noemi.”
“I know.” They’d just had a doctor’s appointment a couple days ago. She forced herself to take a breath and then another, to fight back the instinctive surge of fear that seemed to accompany her every waking mo
ment now. “I know,” she repeated, and this time it almost sounded like she meant it.
He rubbed her stomach gently. “It won’t happen again.”
Something he couldn’t promise. Something no one could promise. They hadn’t thought to go through losing a baby ever, especially when her pregnancy with the twins had been a dream. She glanced up to track the boys. They had apparently run off some of their energy and were making sandcastles now.
She didn’t want to talk about the fear that shadowed her steps. They’d hit the magic twenty-eight weeks a few weeks ago. Even if the baby came now, she would most likely be okay. There was no reason for the anxiety that plagued her. She gave herself a shake. This wasn’t the time for dark thoughts. “Not Florence.”
Isaac’s laughter rumbled through his chest, vibrating her whole body. The baby kicked in response and she allowed herself a smile. It would be okay. They would be okay.
“Mommy!”
Isaac helped her get to her feet and they walked over to the mound of dirt the twins had created. Noemi leaned over and examined it. “Very impressive, Ben. You, too, Elijah.” She grinned at her boys. “You’re practically architects.”
She kept her attention fully on them as they told her in great detail about this sandcastle and how a dragon and a dinosaur lived there, letting their little voices soothe her. Isaac was right. Everything was perfect. She touched her stomach. Not yet, baby girl. But when you’re ready, we’re all going to be very happy to meet you.
It was Isaac who called it an hour later. He packed them up and got them back to the beach house with an efficiency Noemi could only admire. She used to be efficient like that, back when she could still see her feet. Now she just waddled along, content to let her husband handle the rowdy boys.
Right up until wetness cascaded down her thighs.
Noemi froze. “No. No, no, no, no.”
Instantly, Isaac was at her side. He went still at the sight. “Breathe, Noemi. We’ve got this. Just… Just breathe.” He had his phone out before he finished talking. “Galen? Yeah, I know I just saw you, but I need you to send a medical evac. Now. And have the doctor ready.”
She grabbed his arm. “No, I want our doctor.”
“We’re closer to the palace than we are to home. Trust me, Noemi. You’re safe. The baby is safe. But we don’t have time for Ruth to get up here.” He lowered his voice. “Thanks, Galen.” Isaac hung up. For half a second, he looked just as terrified as Noemi felt, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was remembering those awful days in the hospital, first with the diagnosis and then with the aftermath. He took her shoulders. “We’ve got this.”
“Okay.” She hated how weak she sounded, hated even more the pained noise she made as a contraction ripped through her. Oh god. This was happening. Right now. “The boys.”
“I’ve got them.”
He must have signaled their security team, because a pair of men melted out of the trees and hurried into the house, reappearing a minute later with her bag and the boys. “We have the helicopter ready, Lady Huxley.”
“Thank you,” she managed.
“Noemi, I’m going to carry you now.” Isaac didn’t wait for a response, he scooped her up even as their men did the same with the twins. “Just focus on breathing.” He spoke under his breath, the strength of his arms grounding her when she was in danger of going under. “We’ll be in the palace shortly.”
Thank god they hadn’t gone further after the summit. They were only a twenty minute flight from the palace and the medical people they kept on staff. Noemi didn’t answer. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing through the pain. The contractions seemed intent on making up for lost time, one coming quickly after another, until they almost ran into one continuous one.
This baby was coming and coming quickly.
Please be okay, baby girl. Please, please, please.
The flight passed quickly. Isaac kept the boys distracted even as he never stopped rubbing her back, his big hands a comfort even in the midst of this. The doctor was waiting for them the second they landed, along with both Consorts. Meg rushed forward as Isaac lifted Noemi out of the helicopter. “We have the boys. Everything is covered. Focus on you and that baby.”
“Thank you,” Noemi managed. She got a last glimpse of the twins throwing themselves into Meg and Galen’s arms and then they were through the door and rushing after the doctor down the stairwell and into the private quarters in the palace. Not hers, but the Kings. “We can’t—”
“No time,” the doctor snapped. He directed Isaac to set her down on the couch in the sitting room, firing off brisk questions that Isaac answered, his deep voice tense. The doctor knelt by her knees. “The contractions are coming too quickly.” He checked her and his voice became even firmer. “It’s time to push now, Noemi.”
“It’s too soon!”
“Your baby is crowning and you need to push.” He snapped his fingers as Isaac. “Help her get in a better position. Now, Noemi. Push.”
Her body took over even as her mind tried to protest. She bore down through the agonizing pain of the contraction, driven on by the doctor’s low voice. And again. And again.
And then a wail went through the room, thin and angry and undeniably new. Two nurses burst in the room as the doctor lifted her baby up for her to see. “Congratulations, Lady Huxley.”
“She’s—”
“Healthy and with a solid set of lungs.” One of the nurses wrapped the baby in a blanket and passed her to Isaac as the doctor finished with the aftermath and one of the nurses helped pull off her sundress and get her into a clean robe. The doctor instructed them to stay there until someone could find a room and a wheelchair to get her there, and then they backed off, leaving her and Isaac relatively alone.
He passed over their baby, their baby girl. She looked just like the twins had, tiny and wrinkly and red, though she had a tuff of dark hair, where theirs had been blond.
Safe. Healthy. Alive.
Her throat tried to close, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “What about Josephine?”
“Hmm?” Isaac carefully pulled her close. “Josephine is a good name. I like it.”
“Josephine,” Noemi stroked a single finger over their daughter’s cheek. “She’s perfect.”
“You both are.” He kissed her softly on the lips and then pressed an equally soft one to Josephine’s head. “Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.”
She laughed, and then laughed again in amazement at her ability to make that sound. Joy. This was joy shooting through her chest, banishing the fear that had clung to her for so long. “I scared the shit out of me.” She finally dragged her gaze from their daughter to her husband. “I love you.”
He smoothed her hair back from her face. “I love you too. These last five years have been the happiest in my life, and it’s only getting better as we go.”
“It is, isn’t it?” She let her head rest against his shoulder. “I never thought I could be this happy. It didn’t seem possible.”
His low laugh made her smile. “You haven’t seen anything yet, Noemi. We’re just getting started.”
Thank you so much for reading Isaac and Noemi’s story! I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
If you haven’t read the rest of the series, you can pick up THEIRS FOR THE NIGHT, my FREE novella that goes back to where the Royal Triad first began. An exiled prince, his bodyguard, and the bartender they can’t quite manage to leave alone.
Be sure to check out my spin-off series, The Island of Ys! It starts with HIS FORBIDDEN DESIRE, which is the story of Princess Camilla Fitzcharles of Thalania. She’s tracked the man she was supposed to marry to a tropical island where she’s determined to compete in a deadly game called the Great Hunt—and he’s determined to stop her.
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Luca turned his attention back to the door. They had dossiers on all the major players participating in this year’s Wild Hunt. The mob guy from Boston. The oil heir from Houston. The Book Keeper’s representatives. The assassin who was a legend in and of herself.
He counted them off as he scanned the room. “Everyone’s here.”
“Actually…” Ryu trailed off as she walked in. “There’s one more.”
The woman wore the palest pink gown, looking like a spring flower that had sprung up in a winter forest. Her cropped dark hair was styled back from her innocent face and she hesitated in the doorway as if she wasn’t sure she was in the right place. She couldn’t be in the right place. Not a spring flower in a winter forest. No, she was a bunny in the midst of hungry wolves. They’d eat her alive.
Luca took a step forward without intending to, and Ryu caught his arm. “We don’t interfere.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
Ryu grimaced. “We don’t interfere where they can see us.”
Luca looked back at the woman. She’d found her courage and shifted through the crowd, oblivious to the way the men tracked her movements, their gazes following her long after she’d passed. She gracefully took a champagne flute from one of the passing servers and lifted it to pink, pink lips.
Fuck.
“Who is that?”
Ryu was the one who compiled the dossiers in the first place, his ability to track down information downright uncanny. “A late addition.”
The hair on the back of Luca’s neck stood up. He forced himself to tear his attention from the woman and face his friend, his brother. “Who. The. Fuck. Is. That?”
Ryu shrugged. “That’s Princess Camilla Fitzcharles of Thalania, second in line to the throne. Or fourth, I guess, since both her brothers have procreated at this point.”