‘You said you loved me. Do you still feel that way? Do you still love me, Libby?’ he asked, staring deeply into her eyes as if he was searching her very soul for the answer.
She nodded as she wiped the tears away with her hands.
Without saying another word or asking another question, Daniel crossed to her and gently pulled her up and into his arms.
‘Then I should be the one apologising, Libby. I’m sorry I left you that night. I’m sorry I stayed away and I’m sorry I let you down.’
‘I know now you had your reasons—’
‘None that were good enough to put you through what I did. I’ve made some calls and I’m taking the genetic test. Not for myself, I’m taking it for Billy and for you. And I swear, if you give me a second chance, I will never disappear again.’
Libby raised her face to him. ‘You want a second chance with me?’
‘More than anything I have ever wanted.’ Daniel’s lips hovered very close to hers as he whispered, ‘I love you, Libby. I have since the day I met you and I will never stop loving you, if you let me.’
EPILOGUE
LIBBY GAZED THROUGH the lead-light window at the picturesque palace grounds. The pastel-hued roses were in full bloom, the immaculately trimmed deep green hedges were framing the flower beds, white pebbles along the meandering pathways glistening in the early morning sun. And the sky above was azure and cloudless. It truly was fairy-tale-perfect, and so much more than Libby could have dreamed possible for her Easter wedding day.
The test results had arrived the day before and they were negative for Daniel. He had not inherited the mutated gene from his father, which meant that Billy was not at risk either, but Libby had agreed to marry Daniel without knowing. When he had proposed, on the condition they wait for the test results, she had insisted the wedding was going ahead no matter what the report said. She would love him for better or worse and she meant it. Daniel and Billy had bonded almost immediately upon meeting. They were like two peas in a pod. Billy was his father’s son in more ways than just good looks and Libby knew they would never spend another day apart.
‘Only a few more buttons and I’ll be finished,’ her mother said softly as she poked her head around her daughter’s waist and smiled at her reflection in the antique oval mirror. ‘You truly look like a princess. Just beautiful. You do know it’s almost guaranteed your father will cry when he sees you.’
‘I don’t think so. Dad’s not like that. I’ve never seen him cry,’ Libby replied, with a hint of disbelief creasing her forehead.
‘He cries on the inside. You can’t see it but he cries and today there will be tears of happiness that might just overflow,’ her mother said, returning to her original position as she looped closed the last few pearl buttons that secured the back of the stunning silk wedding dress. It had been made by a team of local seamstresses and had taken three weeks to complete. It was a tradition for all the royal brides of Chezlovinka.
The ornate ivory gown skimmed her shoulders, with a band of antique lace from Daniel’s mother’s wedding dress. The sleeves were of the same lace and they had been cut to a point that framed her manicured hands. The bodice was cinched at the waist with a low back and a long train.
The door suddenly burst open.
‘Oh, my Lord, you look like a princess!’ Bradley pronounced as he came rushing to the bride. He was dressed in an emerald-green-and-black-striped silk suit with lapel embellishments. Libby thought momentarily it was a little more Broadway than Chezlovinka but that was Bradley. She smiled as he grew closer, his arms outstretched. He was never understated. He was loud and fun and she wouldn’t change a thing about him. He was her best friend and that would never change.
‘That’s just what I told her,’ Libby’s mother said, and she spun around with her hand outstretched not unlike a traffic controller. ‘But absolutely no hugging, you two. You’ll crush the dress.’
Bradley stopped in mid-step. ‘Of course. I wouldn’t dream of crushing that divine creation.’
Libby laughed. ‘A little hug would be fine.’
The two embraced cautiously before Bradley stepped back. ‘Honestly, Libby, you look like a china doll, a red-haired china-doll bride. You couldn’t look more beautiful. Or more perfect.’
‘That’s so sweet of you.’
‘Honey, it’s the truth and I hope Daniel knows just how lucky he is—’
‘He does,’ a little voice interrupted.
All three turned to see Billy standing in the doorway. ‘Daddy did my bow-tie this morning and he told me that he is the luckiest man in the world because he’s got Mommy and me for ever and ever.’
Libby felt her eyes begin to fill with tears.
‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ Bradley cut in. ‘You can’t cry, you’ll ruin your make-up. No smudgy bride on my watch.’
Libby laughed and Bradley pulled his crisp handkerchief from his top pocket and gently mopped the tears at risk of staining her cheeks.
‘What would I do without you?’
‘I have no clue and Tom and I will be visiting this quaint part of the world often so you won’t have to find out,’ he said with a smile. ‘Plus, you have to come back to visit us at least twice a year. We can’t have Billy losing his accent. I just won’t allow him to grow up with some posh European way of talking that I can’t understand.’
The door opened and an immaculately dressed woman with an earpiece entered. She smiled but it was a somewhat strained smile and her general demeanour, behind her chestnut chignon, midnight-blue suit and nude stilettos, was that of a woman on a mission.
‘Bradley, this is our wedding planner, Simone,’ Libby said.
‘Lovely to meet you,’ Bradley replied, after giving her the once-over and approving of her outfit. ‘I’m guessing it’s time to get this show on the road.’
‘The groom and the wedding party are in place, along with the rest of the royal family and international guests,’ Simone announced with a heavy Western European accent. ‘You are only a five-minute carriage ride to the church but you need to leave now.’
‘This is it, and the last time I can call you Libby McDonald,’ Bradley said, as he carefully lowered the antique lace veil. ‘Next time we meet, you will be Your Royal Highness.’
Libby leaned in as the veil dropped over her face. ‘You will always call me Libby, that won’t change. Not ever.’
* * *
Moments later, after the short trip in the open carriage to the two-hundred-year-old church, Libby stepped down onto the red carpet and smiled at the crowd as the bridesmaids hurriedly smoothed her dress and straightened her veil and ten-foot train.
‘You look stunning, Libby. You’re a true princess,’ Georgie whispered, then took her position as Maid of Honour.
There were gasps of joy and waves from the people who had gathered there, many of whom had been waiting since dawn to see their beautiful new princess. She waved and smiled back at them with genuine joy filling her heart. She should have been overwhelmed but knowing that Daniel would soon be her husband and finally they would be the family she had always wanted lessened her nerves.
Despite Simone’s exemplary planning, protocol had been thrown to the wind when it came to Billy. He had travelled in the carriage with Libby and his grandfather but once they’d come to a stop he had jumped down, patted the large grey horse nearest to him then raced inside the church on his own. It had been planned that one of the groomsmen would walk Billy to Daniel, who was waiting at the altar, but Billy was far too excited to see his father.
Georgie and the other bridesmaids and flower girls did follow protocol and walked on cue to the church doors and as the organ music began they walked in step inside and out of Libby’s view.
‘Well, it looks like there’s a whole lot of pretty important people who’ve travelled a long way to see you,’ Libby’s father said as he patted her hand. ‘We’d b
etter not keep them waiting. Not sure if they can still behead for such a thing in this part of the world, but let’s not find out.’
Libby giggled from behind the veil and, taking her father’s arm, walked inside the church. Organ music filled the church, the beautifully dressed guests were seated in pews decorated with white roses and lily of the valley, but Libby saw none of it. All she could see was the most handsome man in the world turn to see her. Her soul mate, the love of her life, and the father of Billy and their future children was waiting at the altar, dressed in his red military attire and a smile that spoke to her heart. It told her everything she needed to know. Prince Daniel Dimosa was the man of her dreams and she was about to become his wife.
As she took her first step down the aisle, she read his lips as he said, ‘I love you, Libby.’
Libby’s heart was bursting with happiness. She had found her prince and her happily ever after.
* * *
If you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Susanne Hampton
Mending the Single Dad’s Heart
The Doctor’s Cinderella
White Christmas for the Single Mom
Twin Surprise for the Single Doc
All available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from A Stolen Kiss with the Midwife by Juliette Hyland.
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A Stolen Kiss with the Midwife
by Juliette Hyland
CHAPTER ONE
CERTIFIED NURSE-MIDWIFE Quinn Davis refused to look out the window, even as a few of the other nurses gaped at the orange blaze on the horizon. The wildfire had been burning for almost three weeks; she didn’t need to see the damage. Quinn knew what the fire looked like, knew where it was heading, knew what was at risk.
“I can’t believe it’s still burning.”
“I heard it’s less than fifteen percent contained.”
“No! I was listening to the news this morning, but I changed the station before they talked numbers.”
It was twenty percent contained. Quinn had been monitoring the blaze since it began, but she kept the news to herself. She didn’t want to join the conversation. Didn’t trust herself not to break.
If she could only drown out their words.
She had a patient in labor; she couldn’t afford to be distracted right now. At least, not distracted any further.
Quinn slid into a chair and tried to block Rhonda and Sherrie’s exclamations from her ears. Both nurses commuted in from the south. This fire wouldn’t touch them—not directly. But no one in this area of California ever truly believed a wildfire couldn’t reach them.
Georgia stuck her head into the lounge. “Rhonda, Olivia is at nine centimeters.”
“Guess that puts us on deck.” Sherrie turned from the window and nodded to Quinn as she and Rhonda left to tend to their patient.
Quinn was grateful that work had called them away before they’d asked her about the destruction in the hills.
Or if she was worried.
Her phone pinged with a text message from her landlady, asking if she was safe. She managed to type a short affirmative without tearing up—barely. The evacuation notice for Quinn’s neighborhood had shifted from voluntary to mandatory during her shift. A sob pressed against the back of Quinn’s throat, but she refused to let it out.
Tapping her foot against the small table in the lounge, Quinn rolled her neck from side to side and tried to think of anything besides the bungalow being in the fire line.
It was just a place...
But it wasn’t. The longest lease Quinn had ever signed before she’d seen the bungalow was for six months. During her decade as a traveling nurse, she’d lived out of two duffel bags. She didn’t get attached to places—or to people. She’d learned the hard way that just because she connected didn’t mean others did. Picking up and moving was ingrained in her.
Or, it had been, until the position at St. Brigit’s had opened.
Maybe this was punishment for her giving in to the desire to finally claim something as her own. For painting walls and pretending the bungalow was really hers. No! She would not let her brain accept that possibility.
Quinn also refused to look at the opportunity to work with her best friend as anything other than a blessing.
She’d planned St. Brigit’s to be a temporary place, too—a year-long contract at best—but something about that bungalow had called to her.
Or maybe it was being back in California.
When her landlady had told her she’d wanted a long-term tenant, Quinn had readily agreed.
Still, she hadn’t bought new furniture. Renting had seemed safer. Easier to dispose of if things didn’t work out.
Yet, the bungalow, even with its rented furnishings, had felt like hers. A home. She’d never felt at home anywhere, not even as a child. She’d seen so much of the world but never found a place to really call hers. It didn’t make sense that it was happening here—the home she’d escaped as soon as she’d graduated college. But no matter how much Quinn pushed back, the seed of a possible forever here in California had refused to slow its bloom.
But now her home was turning to ash.
She swallowed against the tightness in her throat. The yearning for a home, a real home, was uncomfortable. Maybe her biological clock was ticking—a primal desire urging her to plant roots so she could start a family—but that seemed too superficial. Coming back to California had felt different than she’d expected.
She felt different.
Why now? There’d been upheaval in her life before. So many times. And it had never made her want a home or a family. Quinn shifted. Trying to find a comfortable position on the plastic lounge chair was a lost cause, and her body was restless.
She absently rubbed the skin on the finger of her left hand. She’d worn James’s engagement ring for less than three weeks before he’d confessed to cheating on her with one of the other itinerant nurses. The worst part was that she hadn’t even been all that surprised. Her birth mother hadn’t wanted her. Quinn hadn’t lived up to her adoptive parents’ dreams—so why had she thought James would be different?
She hadn’t been angry, hadn’t yelled or thrown anything. Quinn couldn’t even remember crying. She’d simply packed her bags and moved on. A wildfire in the hills of California—something she’d seen far too many times growing up—wasn’t unexpected, but it was throwing her out of sync.
It was her own fault. She knew better than to surrender to sentiment.
Quinn bit her lip and wiped her hands on her thighs as she tried to push away the image of her home on fire. Squeezing her eyes closed, she crossed her arms and willed the tears away.
Before rushing into the birthing center last night, why hadn’t she thought to grab the things she’d packed a week ago? She’d boxed the few items that she cared about and carefully stowed them where she could snatch them up in less than ten minutes if the evac orders came down. She should have brought them with her.
“If your face gets any longer...”
A hot cup of coffee pressed against her fingers and Quinn lifted it to her lips without opening her eyes. The black coffee was bitter, and a bit burned, but the caffeine kick was what she needed. And she was grateful for any distraction.
“Seriously, Quinn. What’s going on?”
A knee connected with hers as Milo slid into the chair across from her, and Quinn ignored the tingles that slid along her leg. She was tired, worried, and her emotions were tangled. That was the only reason she was reacting to Dr. Milo Russell this morning, she told herself, ignoring the fact that she’d felt those sam
e tingles yesterday morning...and every other day since she’d walked into his arms at the airport eight months ago. Such a simple welcome that had shifted everything in Quinn’s soul.
Almost a year later and she still couldn’t explain the feelings.
Or why those emotions hadn’t made her pack her bags and flee.
Luckily, Quinn’s brain was too full of other worries to let that one take residency in the front of her mind today. Not that it ever wandered away for long, though...
Opening her eyes, Quinn tipped her cup at Milo as he took a seat beside her on the lounge chair. His jade eyes bore through her and she barely kept herself from leaning into him. Milo was her friend. Her best friend. He was the reason she’d leaped at the opportunity to work at St. Brigit’s.
Sure, he was gorgeous. Stunning. His deep dimples were the stuff of legend. She’d heard more than one single lady talk about what it might take to get those dimples to appear outside the birthing center. But Quinn never swooned over anyone. Not over her cheating ex-fiancé and certainly not over Milo. At least, that had been true until she’d moved back to California. Now she yearned for any contact with him.
Quinn and Milo had always just been Quinn and Milo. They’d been best friends since grade school when Quinn had refused to name the person who had started the epic food fight. She’d stood in the principal’s office, refusing to out the new kid, when Milo had marched in and declared that he’d thrown the first nugget. In truth, neither had thought tossing a few hard chicken nuggets would result in pandemonium and pudding on the walls—but they’d cleaned it together. And they’d had each other’s backs ever since.
Even when wanderlust had taken her to the other side of the country or the other side of the world, she and Milo always kept in touch. Video calls, emails and social media had meant they were only ever a GIF away. He was the one constant in her rambling life. Always there to make her laugh, to bounce ideas off about her next move, to make her happy.
Reunited with Her Secret Prince Page 16