Taming the Rebel Prince: The Royals of Rogandal

by Hart, Victoria

  “And what would that be?” she asked.

  “I want to marry you. I don’t care what my father wants; that is what I want. When we return to Rogandal, if he doesn’t want to make me king because I’ve chosen to spend my life with you and my sister has married a prince, then so be it. He has made the decision for the people of Rogandal, not me. It is not my responsibility to sacrifice every shard of happiness in this world to please a man who thinks only of using his children and his people as his personal pawns.”

  “Eric, are you prepared to stand by that? You’ve been wealthy your entire life, you don’t know what it means not to have money.”

  “Well then, I may not have money but Father will never take away who I am. He will never take away the love I have for you. I love you and I want to marry you.”

  “But Eric, it isn’t right for your life to be ruined because you chose to marry me, I can’t let you do that.”

  “Astrid, I want to marry you. I won’t marry the Princess Serena, or anyone else my father demands. I will no longer take orders from him. I will be king, or I will be free And I hope that with you at my side, together we can rule Rogandal the way it should be ruled.”

  “Eric, you are the only man I will ever love. I’ll stand by your side.”

  “Good.” He kissed her forehead. “Now let there be no more talk of Rogandal and responsibilities. Since this is our last night together on this island, I want to spend it in your arms, under the moonlight.”

  Astrid fought back tears of happiness.

  * * *

  It was impossible for Astrid to believe that only a few days ago, they had been lying on the white sand beaches of Lawrence Island, the sound of waves their only distraction. As Astrid and Eric boarded a private jet, Astrid was certain that she did not want to go back to Rogandal.

  “I understand why you love Freja,” she said to Eric as they sat in the main compartment of the airplane. “Maybe your idea of living aboard the boat is not such a bad one after all.”

  “She’s an easy girl to love. You know,” he said mischievously, “it’s not too late to return to Freja. We can jump off this plane and head back.”

  “Soon, but first we have to tie up some loose ends in the real world.”

  “Does the press know I’m coming back?” he asked with a frown.

  “Not yet, or at least I don’t think so. The signal on the boat was spotty in places, so I will try to find out what I can once we take off.”

  “Until then, let’s enjoy our last few minutes of freedom. No press, no photographers in our faces, just us,” he said as he reached for her hand.

  Astrid closed her eyes and leaned back in the seat. She wanted to remain in blissful ignorance of the rest of the world for a few more minutes, to savor the peace of not knowing what the world was thinking. She understood why Eric preferred to leave the world behind and sail away. It was the only place she could imagine that they could be happy, away from a world hungry for private details and gossip, away from the court of Rogandal.

  With a rumble of the engines, the plane left the runway and became airborne. The cabin hostess offered them drinks and hors d’oeuvres, and Astrid unpacked her laptop. Powering it on, she was overwhelmed with anxiety. Eirinia’s secret wedding had captured the world’s attention, a beautiful princess and her prince together at last. It was a brilliant publicity move, one that Astrid grudgingly admired, but it was not enough to win the battle.

  If Astrid chose, she could release the report of Eirinia’s embezzlement from the charity. It would make headlines, stealing the princess’s publicity and sullying her name forever. Eric was not ready to fight that hard and she knew it, so she kept the information in reserve, for use only in an emergency.

  Astrid scrolled casually through the news of the world, the gossip sites and the news outlets from Sweden and Norway. As she was preparing to shut off the computer she was startled by a report from a reliable news outlet in Sweden. During a recent interview, the king of Rogandal had eluded to making Eirinia his successor. Although he had not said those words, he expressed disappointment in his son’s behavior and his unreliable temperament, as evidenced by his unexplained disappearance.

  It was a story that was paving the way for change in the succession, an interview with an established source, a shift in power at the court. The king expressed joy that his daughter was finally married to a man as fine and upstanding as the prince of Saxony – a choice that he approved.

  To Astrid, it seemed that the king was preparing the people of his kingdom for his decision regarding the succession – a decision she could change if she dropped the report about Eirinia into the right hands.

  Astrid scanned her email and was surprised to see a message from the French reporter Madame Elia Gasteau. Reading the words of the message, she felt her stomach drop. Madame Gasteau had had an exclusive interview with Bianca the contessa, and before she aired the interview she wanted the prince to be aware that there were certain parts of the interview that he might find objectionable – parts that could be backed up with pictures from a source in Paris. The reporter included her personal cell phone number and invited the prince or Astrid to call her any time.

  Glancing at her watch, Astrid knew the time in Paris was only a few hours different. She dug her cell phone out of her purse, catching Eric’s attention. “Astrid, what happened? You look pale; are you ill?”

  “No, not exactly. Read this,” she said, turning the laptop towards Eric.

  “Is this why you’re acting nervous? That reporter has nothing on me. Nothing.”

  “How do we know that? You didn’t tell me what you did that night with Serena. Are there any incriminating pictures I should know about? Was there anyone else, besides Serena?”

  “How can you ask me that?”

  “Just tell me – not as the woman you love, but as your publicist – so I can be prepared for whatever Madame Gasteau has to tell me. I despise being caught off guard.”

  “Nothing happened that night. Serena threw herself at me, she made it clear that she wanted me, but I didn’t do anything with her. After you left the embassy, I spent the remainder of the night walking around Paris. I walked, and stopped to drink at a bar when I was thirsty, but mostly I enjoyed the city at night. It really is called the city of lights for a good reason.”

  Astrid was equally fascinated and horrified. “Eric, that’s beautiful – but are you telling me you walked down public streets in a city without security? Do you know how dangerous that was? You could have been killed or taken hostage!”

  “Well, that didn’t happen.”

  “You have one of the most recognizable faces in the world, you have to be careful.”

  “It’s odd that you say that I’m recognizable; without my entourage of body guards and a fleet of limousines and private jets I blend in rather well.”

  “Promise me you won’t take any more unnecessary risks.”

  “Hmm.” he said, with the expression of a petulant child.

  “Do you swear that’s all you did that night? You didn’t flirt with any pretty girls or wind up in any compromising positions?”

  “I swear. By the way, if we ever get back to Paris you have to see Notre Dame at night with me. It’s breathtaking.”

  “I’m sure it is,” said Astrid, as she entered Madame Gasteau’s number into her phone and held her breath. She didn’t know what information or pictures Madame Gasteau had in her possession, but she knew the French reporter must have contacted them for a reason – a reason that would be profitable to Madame Gasteau.

  * * *

  Astrid prided herself on always being in control, on staying cool and collected in any situation. At least, that was how she used to be before she fell madly, passionately in love with Prince Eric. Being in love clouded her judgment and made her emotional when she should have been logical. Being in love was a weakness and she vowed she would keep her feelings out of any dealings she had with Madame Gasteau.

  She punche
d in the number and was uncharacteristically nervous. She was afraid the woman would answer the phone – and equally anxious that she would not. The French reporter was in possession of a potentially damaging piece of information and Astrid wanted to find out what it was and how she could contain the fallout from it.

  “Oui,” answered a female voice with a French accent.

  “Am I speaking with Elia Gasteau?” Astrid asked as she tried to remain calm.

  “Oui, this is she, I can tell by the English accent, this must be Lady Willoughby, no?”

  “It is.”

  “Maqnifique, you must have received my message, I am so happy you have called.”

  “Madame Gasteau, I am grateful that you chose to contact me in regard to His Highness before publishing any story that may be less than favorable.”

  “But of course! You promised me that you would give me an exclusive interview when he has announced his engagement, is that not so?”

  “Yes, it is, but I am afraid you must be mistaken. He has not announced his engagement to anyone,” replied Astrid.

  “I know that, but allow me to explain and it will become clear why I have reached out to you.”

  “Please, I am curious to know what pictures you are referring to, as the prince’s activities have been carefully planned and vetted.”

  “Yes, absolutely. You see, the contessa and I are good friends; I have known her for many years. Her romances and carefree lifestyle have captured the hearts of the Italian and French people alike. She is loved here, and is something of a celebrity. I am surprised you did not realize that – I believe she is even closely followed by the people in Sweden and Rogandal.”

  “The contessa is quite colorful and energetic,” said Astrid, her mind struggling to understand what negative report the contessa could have given the Madame Gasteau.

  “Yes, she recently arrived home to her villa in Cannes and called me immediately. She told me of her experience at sea, how His Highness Prince Eric saved her and her crew. She asked if I would like to do an interview. How could I say no? His Highness has been missing from every major city in the world for days, I asked and check my sources, and no one knew where he is or how to find him? It was irresistible.”

  “I imagine it would be,” Astrid answered as Eric tried to catch her eye. Astrid shrugged and continued listening.

  “I went to her at once. During the interview, she sang your praises and His Highness’s. She called you both her angels, her heroes. She adores you both.”

  Astrid slowly began to understand what the reporter was trying to say. “We were very taken with her as well; she is a lovely woman, please continue.”

  “That’s just it. She told me how much she admires you and Eric, so happy to see such a lovely young couple together, that you were made for each other. She said you were so in love and wasn’t that romantic.”

  Astrid began to realize that the negative report, the incriminating evidence that Madame Gasteau had was not about something Eric had done in a drunken state, or embarrassing pictures of him passed out in a bar – it was her. The person hired to fix his problems, to keep his name clean of all negative news, was the reason for a new scandal – a scandal he could not afford if he wanted to make one last bid for the throne.

  “Madame Gasteau, you wrote in your message that you have pictures?” asked Astrid.

  “I do, in the old part of Paris, the skyline is so lovely, the buildings are so beautiful. It is an easy matter to forget just how close the buildings are to each other. Often, they are not separated by more than a busy city street, very close together.”

  “Yes, if you would explain.”

  “In a city such as Paris, it is easy to see anything one wants. The cameras the photographers use these days have good lenses and they can see through open windows, balconies, even inside salons. I do not condone such activities, but if a photographer has pictures to offer and he needs the money, who am I not to use them? The world has a right to know of the activities of its favorite stars, and His Highness is a star.”

  “How do I know you have pictures such as those?” asked Astrid.

  “That is not difficult; I will send you just one or two. The rest I will keep; they are attractive and seductive. I do not want to share them just yet.”

  “If you would send them, I will look at them while we are talking. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, for a close acquaintance such as yourself, Lady Willoughby, I will do anything.”

  Astrid opened her laptop, with Eric watching her like a hawk. It was only a minute before two slightly out of focus pictures appeared as attachments in her email. In the pictures, she could see Eric and herself locked in an amorous embrace in the salon of the Regency suite.

  “I only sent the bad ones. The others are much better, I assure you.”

  Astrid looked at Eric, he smiled and shrugged.

  “Madame, please hold for one moment,” Astrid said.

  “I will be here. I have waited this long, have I not?”

  “Eric, what are we going to do?” Astrid asked.

  “I told you what I want to do. I’m ready to tell the world about us. I’m tired of hiding the truth. I said I want to marry you, and I meant that. The question is what do you want to do? Do you want to marry me?”

  The moment of truth had arrived. Astrid didn’t need any time to think of her answer; she simply nodded and said, “Yes, I want to marry you. I told you I would stand by your side and I meant that. If you’re ready to tell your people and the world about us, then yes, I am willing to do that. Are you certain? You’ll be giving up the throne.”

  “I’m not giving up anything; that’s my father’s decision. I will be gaining my life back, and a love that has no equal.”

  Astrid kissed Eric quickly and returned to the phone call. “Madame Gasteau, are you still there?”

  “I am, always, for my friends like you.”

  “Good to hear it. Go ahead and run the contessa story, and if you are still interested in an exclusive interview with His Highness Prince Eric, we can be in Paris this evening – but only if you make our love less sordid and more romantic. Put a positive spin on it.”

  “Lady Willoughby, thank you. Since you have been such a friend to me, I will make your affair with the prince so romantic, it will seem like a fairy tale. I cannot believe my good fortune. The contessa is saved from death by His Highness – what a story that will be – and then this engagement! Yes, my audience will fall in love with you and the prince, you have my word. You are both heroes and lovers, trés romantique, no?”

  “It does sound romantic. We will see you tonight.”

  “I will be waiting, safe travels until then,” said Madame Gasteau as she ended the call.

  Astrid kissed Eric and smiled. “Well, I guess that’s it then, no more secrets and hiding. As soon as she runs the contessa story, we’ll be the biggest news in the world. The good news is that we should be in full control of the interview.”

  Eric smiled and said, “Do you ever stop working?”

  “I do, but only on tropical islands. I have to tell the pilot to change course; we have to go Paris!”

  Eric embraced her and kissed her passionately. “Since we are going to Paris, perhaps you would like to join me for a romantic getaway with just the two of us, a hundred paparazzi, and the city of lights?”

  “Sounds magnifique!” she said, as she pressed her lips to his. She was safe in his arms and ready to face their uncertain future. She would never be unknown after this story broke; her life was about to change.

  Chapter 17

  “Your Highness, Lady Willoughby, my friends, it so good of you to come to sit with me and have a chat,” Madame Gasteau gushed as she invited Eric and Astrid into the chic apartment in the heart of old Paris.

  The apartment was quintessentially Parisian: high ceilings, tall windows, gilt molding and accents complemented by framed modern art on the walls, and a shocking red pillow in a sea of white, black, and ne
utrals.

  “Madame, I am surprised that you have invited us to an interview at your apartment and not the studio,” said Astrid.

  “My apartment is more intimate. The studio is cold, technical. Here you can relax and you will feel more at home, as though you are a happy couple enjoying a quiet evening on your own couch. It is my home, but my audience does not know that.”

  “I suppose an interview here will keep this story exclusive for you and your news agency,” Astrid remarked, glancing at Eric.

  “Mutually advantageous, would you not agree?”

  Astrid inclined her head. “How could I not agree? We may need a bit of freshening up; we have only just arrived from the airport.”

  With a wave of her manicured hand, Madame Gasteau casually replied, “I have my best make-up artist and hairstylist here for you. I have selected outfits for each of you, if you would like to change into them. I believe they will show you both in the best light, casual but fashionable.”

  “Casual but fashionable, I like that combination. Tell me Madame, do you have a bottle of wine handy? If we are to announce our engagement to the world, I would like to share a glass of wine with my future wife.”

  “This is Paris, and I pride myself on providing the best Parisian hospitality for my guests. I will have my maid prepare a little something for the occasion.”

  “Eric, are you quite sure we should drink wine during this interview? I would hate to make a poor impression,” whispered Astrid.

  “I assure you, the French will adore it. Trust me.”

  “One glass, and that’s it,” Astrid agreed.

  “Since you are my future wife, you are going to have to learn to stop working all the time and start having a little fun. After tonight you’ll be famous. Your face will be recognizable, so you might as well lighten up and enjoy the ride.”