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've 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 will 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 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 at sixteen, 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 was 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 he knew 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 so you will be wearing something Sargassian as well."
She flipped open a padfolio. "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 that evening. You will visiting our home on the other island 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 relinquish 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, so far 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 they go with a family ring? From which family? Did he give her the ring he had designed for her years earlier? Whatever they went with, 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 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.
Available December 21, 2018
Crowns & Courtships
Book 6: Royals of Islas del Sargasso & Auverignon
Crow
n Princess Esmerelda of Islas del Sargasso wants nothing to do with Prince Gabriel of Auverignon and his well-deserved reputation as a playboy prince.
Unfortunately, she's been secretly engaged to him since she was three.
Her mother, Queen Carlotta, has decided it's time for the two of them to get married - and Gabriel is all too keen to make it happen. But she saw what this kind of arrangement did to her own mother, and Esme wants nothing to do with it.
For his part, Gabriel has been in love with Esme since he was a teenager and deeply regrets his years of wild oat sowing - even if some of them did serve a greater purpose.
One he can't tell Esme about, not yet.
He knows, far better than she does, that their fledgling relationship is going to be tested to the hilt as life's body blows rain down. All he can do is be steadfast in his commitment to her, to their marriage, and to helping her become the queen he knows she can be.
He's always been the spare.
She was born the heir.
Together, they can form a new dynasty where even arranged marriages can turn into something beautiful.
Available December 21, 2018
Available Now!
Charlie Brewer pushed the hood of his heavy winter coat back with one gloved hand. A fender bender? Really? Like he didn’t have anything else to do? Like get home to... Screaming interrupted his thoughts. He rapped on the window and prayed for it to stop. “Ma’am. Are you okay?” Stinging bits of ice pelted his face and peppered the car as he prayed she wasn’t hurt.
Abruptly, her mouth clamped shut.
Bits of sleet pelted his face as he knocked again. “Are you okay?”
The girl looked up and the first thing he noticed was her big hazel eyes, filled to overflowing with tears.
“Are you okay?” Broken records had nothing on him. He cupped his hands and peered in the window. She didn’t look hurt. He flinched. Except maybe for the gash on her forehead.
She nodded but didn’t say anything and didn’t roll down the window.
“I need to give you my contact information.”
The window creaked down half an inch or so.
“No. I do not need your information. I will take care of my own vehicle, thank you.” Even with the frantic note in her voice, he knew it would be almost melodic in a calmer situation. The window scratched its way back up and slid into the rubber casing.
He tried to take a deep breath but the frigid air pierced his lungs. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee. You’ll need a tow. Your wheel well is all messed up and you’ve got two flat tires.”
She bit her bottom lip as her eyes flickered to the café across the parking lot. The look in her eyes suddenly reminded him of a scared little girl.
With both hands held up, Charlie tried to look less threatening than he must have when she first saw him with his hood up and face shadowed. He gave the best smile he could with frozen cheeks. “I promise I’m a good guy.”
Finally, with a nod, she grabbed her purse from the front seat of the SUV, and turned the engine off. She reached for the handle on the inside of the driver’s door. It didn’t budge.
Bright lights caught him in the eye. A semi-truck passed a little too close for Charlie’s comfort. If she had that door open and slipped...
“This side,” he hollered at her and pulled on the handle.
She nodded and climbed across the center console while he pulled again.
Frozen shut.
Ice continued to fall, sliding down the back of his neck and into his shirt. If he wasn’t already frozen through, that would have done it.
“You push from that side,” Charlie yelled. “I’ll pull.”
Another nod and she pushed with one hand but it didn’t move. He closed his eyes and breathed a quick prayer. “Put your shoulder into it.”
Tears flowed, but she pushed against the door with her shoulder as he pulled. The door popped free and she tumbled out.
He caught her by the elbow to steady her on her feet, caught off-guard by the whiff of sunshine in her hair. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, her chin quivered just a little and Charlie gentled his hold on her. “I am. Thank you, sir.”
There was something in her voice, or maybe her perfect posture, that brought visions of Mary Poppins to mind. He shrugged them off and closed her car door behind her. With a slow steady pace, he continued to hold her arm as started toward the inviting warmth of the café.
Warmth? Yes. He couldn’t feel his nose anymore.
“You do not need to help me.” The dismissive note in her voice bothered him until she jerked her arm away.
And slipped, wobbled, then righted herself. But she didn’t fall.
Charlie contained his smirk and a dutiful bow. “I’m sure I don’t, miss, but I’d feel much better if you’d allow me. I already crashed into your car. If I let you get hurt in the parking lot, I’d never forgive myself.”
She sighed. A puff of white air blew out in front of her but she didn’t pull away again. The thirty-second walk took nearly five minutes. Slow, half-steps, muscles tensed, toes bunched inside his boots trying to grip the slippery surface on top of the asphalt. They finally made it to the door. Hot air and the smell of sizzling bacon blasted him.
“Have a seat anywhere, kids!” a woman’s voice called.
Charlie turned toward a row of booths along the front window. “After you?”
The woman pulled the knit cap off her head. Golden brown curls tumbled around her shoulders. She looked around carefully before walking all the way to the far end and sliding in the seat against the wall.
He sat across from her and held out a hand. “I’m Charlie.”
One corner of her mouth twitched up before she shook his hand. “Adeline.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Adeline. I just wish it was under other circumstances.”
“Agreed. A car accident...” A flash of awareness crossed her face and she set her large black bag on the table. She flipped open one flap and dug around. “Where is it?” she muttered as she searched. Somehow, even that action seemed delicate. She wasn’t from here.
“What are you looking for?”
“My phone. I need to call...” She stopped abruptly, gaze traveling to the café window. “Do we need to move the vehicles?”
Charlie shook his head. “We’re far enough out of the main lane and the cars are stuck together. We’ll have to wait for a tow. It could be a while.” He pulled out his own phone to call roadside assistance.
“Should we call 911?” Adeline asked as she took a sleek black phone out of her purse. He tried to control an eyebrow quirk but failed. There were cell phones. There were nice smart phones. There were really nice smart phones. Then there was this one.
“No. They’re on emergency status only. As long as no one’s hurt, you deal with it yourself.”
“Of course,” She whispered and stared at her phone for a long moment. “I do not have a card for roadside assistance. Perhaps you could ask your service to send an extra tow truck for my vehicle?”
Something in the way she asked made him wonder if she’d ever called for auto help. The tilt of her chin and honest curiosity in her eyes reminded him of the children’s fairytales he used to read. Did fairies come into the real world during ice storms? “I’ll take care of it.” It made him feel protective. Almost manly. When was the last time he’d felt the need to protect a woman? Ever? He found the right entry and pressed the screen. After listening and going through the process, he finally got a real person. Holding up one finger to Adeline, he stood and walked toward the front door to explain the situation.
Crown Princess Adeline Julianne Elizabeth of Montevaro relived the sickening crunch of metal as her car slid to a stop in the ditch outside. She could still feel the steering wheel as she’d gripped it, trying to keep the tears, and the panic, at bay. Her unsuccessful attempts now showed on her face, she was certain. Red, blotchy eyes. Tear-stained cheeks. Moisture still leaking out from time
to time. Her mother would be mortified.
She knew when she left the house an accident could happen. No one ever dreamed of letting the Crown Princess learn to drive on ice, of all things. But she had taken matters into her own hands. Adeline, the girl who never did anything wrong, who always did what was expected of her, had slipped away from her security detail, taken the safer of the two vehicles at her disposal, and left. All because she wanted a few moments of freedom before the ice storm settled in.
A shaking hand had pushed the hair back from one side of her face as she ran through her mental checklist.
No airbag deployment. Good.
Pain in her head meant she likely hit the steering wheel. Bad.
Slow speed at time of impact. Good.
Impact. Bad.
As long as she did not have a concussion or bruising from the steering wheel or seat belt, she would be able to convince Mark and Todd she was fine. They would read her the riot act. Debate long and hard about calling her father. Eventually, they would call their superiors, debate some more and, sooner or later, her father would find out. She had rested her head on the steering wheel. He did not need the additional stress. The last two times she visited Montevaro, her father had seemed off. She feared what he would tell her when she returned home for good in a few months.
She had contemplated digging her cell phone out and giving a preemptive call. Cut them off at the pass. Reassure Mark she was rattled but fine and his relief would overwhelm his anger and concern.
She took a deep, shuddering breath and dug her phone back out of her purse. Addie closed her eyes and finally turned her phone back on. Three times, her finger slipped off the “on” button. It went through its start-up procedure and buzzed with missed calls and text messages. Every one of them came from Mark, Todd, or the house. Before she could listen to any of the twenty voice mails, the phone rang again.
With a deep breath and a whispered prayer, she pressed “answer.” “Hello?”
Mark’s bellow did not help her headache. “Where are you?”
Her Undercover Prince Page 26