The Spare and the Heir
CAROL MONCADO
For Matt
Who has always believed in me and encouraged me to chase my dreams no matter what.
This book was hard. You went above and beyond to make sure it was done on time.
You did a lot of double duty to allow me the time I needed to finish, to pursue this crazy dream of writing for a living.
Thank you.
There’s no one else I’d rather do life with.
I love you.
Contents
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
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Letter to Readers
Acknowledgments
Good Enough for a Princess Preview
About the Author
Other Books by Carol Moncado
1
“I’ve been engaged since I was three, Mother.” Crown Princess Esmeralda Louise Eliana of Islas del Sargasso knew she looked defiant with her arms crossed as she stood in front of the queen’s desk, but she didn’t care.
“And it’s time to plan the wedding.” Queen Carlotta leaned back in her custom-tooled leather chair, designed just for her.
“You mean it’s time for Prince Playboy to settle down and clean up his image.” Esme sank into one of the wing-backed seats on the other side, a tear leaking onto one of her cheeks.
“Don’t call him that.” Her mother’s resigned tone didn’t carry much threat.
“It’s what all the tabloids call him.”
“And we do not sink to their level.”
“He’s known he was supposed to marry me since he was what? Six? That hasn’t stopped him from dating anyone and everyone with two X-chromosomes.” Except me. “And we both know dating is a very generous term for what has been a long series of one- and two-night stands.” She crossed her arms again as she slouched. “I’m pretty sure the philandering gives us grounds to break off the betrothal.”
“And negate the treaty. We can’t do that,” her mother reminded her softly.
“The treaty is two hundred-years-old.”
“Esme.” The censure in her mother’s voice hurt, but Esme didn’t look up.
“Fine. Fifty-years-old. I still don’t see why I am the one who has to pay the price because of something Great Uncle Harold did.”
“There was no one to betroth at the time. My grandfather was hoping it would all go away by the time it reached this point, but it hasn’t. The second child of this Auverignon generation would marry the eldest child of the other gender in Sargasso. That’s you and Gabriel.”
“I’ve met him twice. The last time he actually leered at me.” And suggested that if the engagement wasn’t called off that he would look forward to being married to her but saw no reason he would need to stop seeing other women. Or at least that’s how she interpreted what he said. He may or may not have meant it in that way.
“You saw him three weeks ago and spent several days together.”
“Under duress. We were hostages, Mother.” Though while being held at gunpoint, he’d put himself between her and the business end of the semi-automatic rifle.
Several times.
Esme wasn’t sure what to make of that. At one of the dinners before the ordeal began, he’d winked at her.
As they were leaving San Majoria after the debriefings, he’d looked her up and down and a knowing smirk crossed his face. Gabriel hadn’t said anything, but he hadn’t needed to. Esme’s cheeks had heated, and she’d fled as fast as a princess could without running.
Because princesses didn’t run unless their lives literally depended on it.
Her mother’s phone buzzed, and she pushed back from her desk. “He’s here.”
“What?” Esme hissed, jumping to her feet. “Why is he here?”
“Because the wedding is in a couple of weeks. The press release was sent out an hour ago.”
“Mother!” Before she could protest further, the door opened, letting the infuriating man enter.
Gabriel bowed to her mother taking her extended hand and kissing the back of it. “Good morning, my queen.”
“Oh hush.” Esme knew better than to say shut up in front of her mother. “She’s not your queen.”
He winked one of those milk chocolate eyes that matched her own. “Ah, but she will be in just a matter of days.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Esme muttered as she stalked back to the seat she’d vacated a moment earlier. The flutter of butterfly wings deep in her belly was more difficult to ignore than she’d like.
“Esme.” The warning in her mother’s voice once again made her feel like a toddler.
“Yeah, Esme. It’s gonna be you and me, babe.” Another wink.
If Gabriel was trying to endear himself to her, he was failing miserably.
Esme glared at the man. “I have never given you leave to address me so informally.” She focused her attention on her mother. “Mother, surely the king of Auverignon knows what a miserably poor plan this is. Can’t we simply negotiate a new treaty that is the same as the previous one but without the ridiculous insistence that I marry such a boor?”
Gabriel leaned on the arm of his chair, putting him closer to her. “I’m anything but a bore, love.”
She ignored his purposeful misinterpretation of what she said. “Seriously, Mother? You’re going to chain me to him for the rest of my life?” Where was her father when she needed him?
Far away. Like he always was when Queen Carlotta put her stiletto down about anything.
Her parents’ marriage was all the evidence she should need that this was a very bad idea.
Initially, Julian was to have married the original Crown Princess, but Esme’s Aunt Clarice had been killed in an automobile accident in the States. After an appropriate mourning period, Julian and Carlotta married. Esme was born several years after.
Her brother didn’t come along for another five years.
As she grew older, Esme suspected that was the soonest her mother was willing to be that close to her father and then only because of increasing public pressure for the spare.
Her father had already stated publicly that as soon as Carlotta passed, he intended to return to his beloved Athmetis permanently.
Esme wouldn’t cry over that.
He’d been around even less than her mother-the-monarch.
Her mother checked her phone. “Excuse me for a moment. When I return, decisions need to be made quickly. Most of the invitations will be sent out this afternoon.”
Before Esme could respond, her mother left the office.
She turned her wrath toward Gabriel. “This is a sham. You and I both know it. You don’t intend to be faithful. You will not humiliate me by being caught with your liaisons in public. I need two children from you. That’s all. I will raise them as I see fit. You can return to Auverignon or whatever party city you want to spend time in until I tell you I need you here for a public appearance. There wil
l be precious few of those together. We’ll smile for the cameras then go our separate ways. But you will be discreet.”
The unspoken or else hung between them.
At some point during her tirade, Gabriel stood, walking toward her. He stood six or eight inches taller than her, but heels helped with the height disparity. The closer he came, the more she had to tilt her head back.
Esme hated that.
She hated the magnetism he radiated.
Hated the nervous anticipation coursing through her as he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close to him.
Hated how intensely she wanted him to kiss her.
Hated how much she loved his fingers tangling in her hair as he cupped the side of her face.
Hated how wonderful every second of the best kiss of her life felt as warmth flooded through her.
But mostly she hated how empty she felt when he turned and walked away, leaving her in the office where she would one day rule her country.
Alone.
* * *
Prince Gabriel Michael Joseph of Auverignon went out a side door, leaving a stunned Princess Esmeralda behind in Queen Carlotta’s office.
He didn’t regret kissing her.
She’d never believe him, but it was the best kiss he’d had in a very long time.
The only kiss he’d had in a very long time.
But that wasn’t the only reason it was the best kiss he’d had in years.
Esme would never believe if he told her how he really felt. That he’d been in love with her as a teen, before kind of going off the deep end and earning his reputation as a playboy.
Not when there were pictures, real ones, of him traipsing around the globe with women of all kinds hanging off him as recently as a month earlier.
Then he’d been sent to Islas del Sargasso as the representative from Auverignon while the kings of San Majoria and Eyjania announced the marriage of Princess Esther to Prince Darius eighteen months earlier. They also introduced the twin daughters the union had produced.
During the hostage ordeal, he’d stayed close to Esme, though not too close. She wouldn’t have let him comfort her, but Gabe did his best to stay between her and the bad guys.
Afterward, Carlotta had pulled him aside and, with that authority most monarchs seemed to have, informed him that he would be marrying Esme in just a few weeks. Her eyes had softened as she explained why - and what she understood to be true about Gabe.
She’d been more right than she could have suspected.
“Well?”
He turned to see Carlotta standing there. “She’ll go through with it.” Gabe tried to sound more certain than he felt. “She won’t like it. She wants nothing to do with me. But she’ll go through with the wedding.”
“Then your most difficult task will begin.”
Carlotta continued to withhold information from him. Gabe knew she did. Just as he was certain Esme knew even less than Gabe. He thought about asking exactly what she meant by “difficult task,” but he suspected he wouldn’t like the answer.
Convincing Esme to give their relationship a chance wouldn’t be easy, but it would be worth it.
He followed the queen back into her office where Esme sat in the same chair she’d been in earlier. She stared straight ahead even when he sat on the arm of her chair, definitely in her space.
“The wedding will be held August 18 at the cathedral,” Carlotta started as she sat down behind her desk. “Several dresses have been chosen by your stylist, Esme. You will be trying them on this afternoon. Gabriel, you will be wearing your uniform, but the morning of the wedding, I will give you the Monarch’s Award of Merit, allowing you to wear something Sargassian as well.”
Her eyes softened. “The world will think it’s simply because you’re becoming my son-in-law. We know it’s because you did your best to protect others during the ordeal a few weeks ago.” She flipped open a padfolio and moved on. “The ceremony will start at noon. The dancing will end at nine.”
And in between would be all manner of awkward situations with Gabe and his new wife.
“You will leave on your wedding trip the next day. You will visit our home on Isla de Paloma for a week before flying to Auverignon for a week-long tour.” The queen made a note on the pad in front of her. “You will return to the palace, where you will live, and begin your married life here.”
She looked up and folded her hands together on top of her desk. “Esme, you will step up your responsibilities as the heir. Gabriel, you will assist her in whatever way she needs as well as begin your own support of charitable causes locally. You do not need to cut ties with your charities in Auverignon unless they require you to, but you will have considerably less time to devote to them.”
Gabe rested his arm along the top of Esme’s chair. “They won’t require me to unless I give up my place in the line of succession.”
Esme shifted as far away from him as she could while remaining seated. “You will be required to.”
“No. I can’t take the throne, but I don’t have to give up my spot in the line. If it ever gets to me, then I might need to officially renounce my claim.” He shrugged. “It’s unlikely to happen. My grandfather is still king and in excellent health. Then there’s my father and my older brother.”
If possible, Esme’s shoulders tensed further, but she didn’t say anything.
The queen looked between them. “The press release was sent out earlier today. The photo call is in fifteen minutes.”
“Without a ring? Or a proposal story?” Esme stood. “I’m not going.”
“Yes, you are.” Her mother stared her down without getting up from her seat.
Esme sunk back into the chair, far enough back Gabe’s arm rested around her shoulders.
“They won’t ask about the ring or the proposal story,” her mother promised.
Gabe wasn’t so sure, but Esme brought up a good point. Did she want a family ring? From which family? Did he give her the ring he had designed for her years earlier? Whichever ring they used, it needed to have sapphires.
Queen Carlotta pushed away from her desk. “They will be waiting. I suggest you both start for the gardens now. Regardless of your personal feelings on the matter, I highly recommend you do not let the press know.”
The door swung closed behind her, silent on well-oiled hinges. Esme took the opportunity to stand and follow in her mother’s footsteps.
“You know we need a story, right?” Gabe slid into the chair she vacated, one leg hanging over the side in a very unprincelike position.
She turned to glare at him. “What kind of story?”
He let his best smile slide across his face. “About how you fell for me.”
“I haven’t, and I won’t.”
“We still need a story.”
With a flip of her hair, she turned. “Make something up. You’re good at that. Just don’t make me out to be one of your simpering bimbos.”
The barb struck where it was intended. The smile slipped away as Gabe stood. “Let’s go, darling. They’ll be waiting for us.”
He straightened his suit coat and extended his elbow for her to take, but she ignored it as she walked away.
With a sigh, Gabe shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his pants. He’d known this day would come.
He just hadn’t known paying the price would hurt so much.
2
Esme stood just inside the doors to the garden. Fortunately, the reporters couldn’t see the doors, much less through them. Otherwise, they’d see her standing at least two feet away from Gabriel and ignoring him thoroughly.
She did give him a smidgeon of credit. A young woman in a maid’s uniform flirted shamelessly with Gabriel as he leaned against the wall. He responded politely, but never took his eyes off Esme. Even though she only sneaked a few sideways glances, she knew he never looked away.
Her mother’s press secretary motioned to Gabriel. He straightened and moved to Esme’s side. This time she sl
id her hand through his elbow, but he didn’t start forward when she did.
“I have something for you.”
She glanced around to find they were suddenly alone as Gabriel dug something out of his other pocket. He handed her a ring box.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
He didn’t get down on one knee, but she took the velvet-covered box from him. It was the kind of box that opened in the middle. She dropped his arm and popped it open, the sides coming apart to reveal a ring.
One she’d never seen before.
This ring didn’t come from either vault.
“Where did you get this?” The center princess cut sapphire had to be ten carats. The top and bottom each had three stones of about three-quarters of a carat each. The sides were asymmetrical which surprised her, but it worked. They each held six smaller stones about half that size. Half were diamonds and the other half split between emeralds and purple amethyst. They were all more rectangular than square.
“It was made for you.” He shoved both of his hands deep in his pants’ pockets.
“By who?”
“The Royal Jewelers of Auverignon.” Was he scuffing his toe against the floor?
“When?”
“A while ago.”
Esme took the ring out of the box and slid it onto her finger. It fit perfectly. “It’s gorgeous.” She closed the box and handed it back to him, trying not to think about that kiss as their fingers brushed. “I don’t have anywhere to hold that.”
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