Royally Mine: 22 All-New Bad Boy Romance Novellas

by Susan Stoker

  “There’s nothing so magical as a pure-hearted bride,” she said. Then she dropped her voice to a whisper, so low none of the other ladies could hear. “Try to love my son. I’ve given him the same advice. Everything goes easier with love.”

  ***

  Cassandra felt the wedding went well, because she didn’t faint and she didn’t stammer, and she didn’t shy away from the Prince of Hastings’ gaze. Well, not very much.

  In fact, she held his hand when they said their vows, and his fingers were warm, enveloping hers in a way that made her feel stronger in front of the great populace filling the chapel. Directly after the wedding, they made their way to the palace ballroom, a massive, ornate space decorated with bunting, flowers, and colorful banquettes of food.

  Their families joined them: her father and his guests from Carlisle, the prince’s parents, and his younger brothers and sisters, who all looked so similar, so like Gideon, that she couldn’t remember their names.

  There were two separate bands of musicians to play while the guests ate and drank at long tables. There was so much color and motion, and so many bouquets of flowers and greenery that the air felt alive. Cassandra dined beside her groom on a raised dais with the rest of the royal family, where everyone might watch them.

  She found it nerve-wracking, but Gideon didn’t seem to mind, so she tried to ignore all the eyes studying her. This court knew Prince Gideon well, had watched him grow from a child, but she was someone new, and her father, alas, didn’t make a very fine example of the Carlisle royal family. He was too loud and unmannerly, as he always was. Many of the men drank deeply and became jolly as the night went on, but her father drank more, so the servants ran to fill his wine glass every quarter hour.

  Gideon encouraged her to eat and drink too, but she couldn’t. Oh, the food was fine and the wine was excellent. No one could say otherwise, but there was so much activity in the bright ballroom, and her new husband sat so close in his magnificent wedding clothes, his perfectly knotted cravat high upon his neck.

  He touched her hand often, and she smiled when he did, but her lips wouldn’t quite curve the right way, so all her smiles were wobbly. He merely gave her a sympathetic look and stroked his fingers across hers.

  After the guests had eaten their fill, the tables were cleared away, revealing a parquet floor that was swept of dinner scraps and polished with great alacrity. The two musical bands, which had performed on opposite ends of the ballroom, now consolidated into one band, tuning their instruments with a joyful noise.

  “What’s happening?” Cassandra asked.

  “It’s time for dancing,” her husband said.

  Dancing? She’d hoped after the meal, gifts, and good wishes, that they might steal away from this pressing crowd, but it was not to be. In fact, it seemed that more people arrived in grand gowns and jewels, people, perhaps, who could not fit into the chapel to witness the ceremony.

  “How long will they dance?” she asked, trying not to sound plaintive.

  “Quite a while.” His eyes twinkled with sympathy. “But we needn’t stay the entire time. Once we’ve led the first set of dancing, we can retire.”

  “We have to dance?” She gasped. “In front of everyone?”

  “It is our wedding.” His smile faded, turned quizzical. “You don’t enjoy dancing?”

  “I don’t know how to dance.” The wine made her voice sound higher than usual. “There was no dancing at the convent, and my father doesn’t approve of it.”

  “Your father seems in no condition to object,” he said, casting a glance a few chairs down, where her father snored, slumped in his chair. “And I’m your husband now, so his opinions hold no consequence for you anymore.”

  He said it lightly, as a jest, but the words settled into Cassandra’s heart with surprising resonance. Now that she was married, she belonged to her husband, and her cold, controlling father couldn’t threaten her, or drag her into dark forests to make her scared.

  She looked at her prince, blinking, understanding that things would be different. This time, for the first time, she touched his hand. Their eyes locked, and promises passed between them, silent as secret wishes. Her husband—still a stranger in so many ways—quirked a half-smile, and she felt it in her heart.

  “How are we to manage?” he murmured, cupping her cheek.

  Did he mean the dancing? She thought he meant more than that, but maybe not.

  Goodness, she hadn’t the first idea how to do such an exotic thing as dancing, and in front of so many people. Gideon leaned toward her, and she thought he meant to kiss her in front of everyone. That would be too much, especially if it was the passionate sort of kissing he’d done to her last night.

  Gideon’s father interrupted the moment, urging his son to escort his bride to the center of the ballroom to begin the dancing. The musicians watched expectantly, and the guests cheered and applauded, making a din that rose to the rafters. Indeed, the flames on the candles shook, until she thought they would spill wax from the chandeliers.

  The noise woke her father, who sat up with a stern expression as Gideon led her down from the dais. He held her elbow, a firm, steady guidance that enabled her to walk without tripping or fainting. Oh, God, to faint now as everyone watched and cheered!

  “You mustn’t feel shy,” he said with another half-smile. “You’re beautiful as a summer day, and they’re all here to see you.”

  “To see me stumble about?” She looked at her prince with wide eyes.

  “You’ll do fine.” As he said this, he raised his golden brows, full of that manly confidence that was so intimidating and pleasing at once. One of his arms came around her waist, while the other trapped her hand. They faced each other. He stood so close. Yes, she thought. Oh, he is handsome.

  The musicians pitched into a sprightly melody, not too fast, but not as slow as she’d hoped.

  “This is the traditional Hastings wedding dance,” Gideon explained. “I’ll lead you. Just follow along.”

  She tried to follow, clinging to his shoulder and pressing a sweaty palm to his. Her heavy wedding gown hampered her, but also masked some of her stumbles. In a short amount of time, with his guidance, she learned the sway of the dance, and how to follow the music. When she grew flustered, Gideon would say, “Look at me,” and he’d hold her gaze until she found the steps again.

  In those moments, she studied his pale eyes, so different from her dark ones, and saw so many things. She saw that he had gray flecks just as she had green ones, and that humor danced in his gaze almost all the time, even when he was busy trying to rescue her from making a spectacle of herself in front of hundreds of guests.

  But she was a spectacle. Gideon encouraged the other guests to join them, and she was grateful, because their dancing distracted from her lack of coordination. Did they know she’d spent the last dozen years in a convent, where dancing wasn’t permitted? Did they understand that her father had frowned on any gaiety or flirtation by the female sex?

  His opinions hold no consequence for you anymore.

  Other couples danced around them as the bright song repeated, smiling at them and crowding close. It didn’t bother her as much as she thought. In fact, she barely noticed them, because her husband held her gaze until the music ended. He gave her a playful twirl, and a great cheer went up.

  “May we sit down again?” she asked over the shouting.

  “For a short while,” he said.

  He led her back to the table and pressed more wine upon her. They watched the dancing, sitting a bit closer now than they’d sat before. Every so often his knee touched hers, or his hand, and fleeting as it was, it affected her a great deal. She was his wife. He was her husband. Still to come: this nuptial night they were to spend together, when he might or might not hurt her in his masculine debauchery. It couldn’t be worse than the dancing, she thought.

  Time passed as couples whirled and twirled, bright colors and brighter smiles. The musicians played more loudly, or ma
ybe she was growing tired. She wondered what time it was. Gideon touched her arm and leaned close.

  “My mother is gathering the ladies,” he said. “It’s time for you to retire.”

  “Won’t you come with me?” She was confused. “Where will you sleep?”

  “With you, silly goose. But for courtesy, the ladies take you upstairs early to get ready. It’s a traditional thing.” For the first time Cassandra could remember, she saw a blush upon his cheeks. “Go prepare for bed, and don’t be nervous, darling. Ignore whatever nonsense the ladies tell you.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” She watched his blush with fascination. It made him even handsomer, somehow.

  “And for God’s sake, stop calling me Your Highness,” he said, even though, in his fine wedding regalia, he seemed very much a Highness. “We’re married now, Cassandra. Gideon will do just fine.”

  “Yes, Sir. I mean, Gideon.” As she spoke, the women came to fetch her, making a great show of surrounding her and urging her from her chair. Another cheer went up from the assembled guests, this time of a much more ribald sort.

  ***

  Gideon left the ballroom soon after his bride. He knew Bertram would be waiting to spruce him up for his wedding night duties, but instead of turning right at the top of the stairs to go to his new bedroom, he turned left and took the other set of stairs, drifting down a quiet hallway to a room just past his mother’s. There was someone he’d missed at the wedding, someone he needed to see. He knocked softly and opened the door.

  Adele looked up from an elaborate work of embroidery, already dressed for bed.

  “Are you lost, Your Highness?” she asked. “Your new residence is in the east wing.”

  He entered and closed the door behind him. “I need a moment. A moment to breathe.”

  She put down her embroidery and came to him, and touched his forehead in a gesture she’d used since he was a young boy, as if she were testing his level of calmness. He did not feel very calm.

  “You have to help me,” he said, stepping back from her. “I’m supposed to go to the princess now.”

  “Well, then, you ought to go. You aren’t worried, are you? You know what to do.”

  He gave her a look. “I’ve known what to do since I was a fourteen-year-old miscreant. It’s not that.” He struggled to find the words he needed, the words to express his dread of doing the wrong thing.

  “You’ve never slept with a virgin. Is that it?” she asked.

  “Yes, that’s part of it. And she’s not just a virgin.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Things frighten her, Adele. She hasn’t had a peaceful childhood. At the wedding dinner, she didn’t know how to dance. She was so afraid.”

  “But you helped her.”

  “I had to. I didn’t want her to feel anxious. I wanted to protect her. And the thing is…” He laced his fingers together, trying to explain the maelstrom of his thoughts. “The thing is, I’ve never felt that way before, that this was very, very important, and that I mustn’t allow her to be frightened or hurt. I felt it in my chest and shoulders, in my spine. It was a tightness, a heaviness of purpose that I can’t describe. Is that what marriage does to a person?”

  “Your Highness,” said Adele, hiding a smile, “that’s what love does to a person.”

  He waved a hand, dismissing such romanticisms. “I can’t be in love. I only met her two days ago.”

  “Explain to me, then, why you fret about her welfare? Not only that, but you’ve been in my room for nearly five minutes and haven’t attempted so much as a tweak of my nipple. Good sir, are you turning into a devoted husband before you’ve even consummated your vows?”

  The consummation. That was what weighed heaviest upon him. His bride would be in the nuptial chamber with the ladies now, freshly bathed, having flower petals drawn about her hair to scent and relax her.

  And here he was, in his secret lover’s room. But she spoke true: he hadn’t come for sex.

  “You have to help me,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt her when I join with her. She’s already been hurt in so many ways. Not in that way, but she’s fearful of men and has a head full of claptrap from those nuns at her convent.”

  Adele frowned. “That’s a shame.”

  He started pacing, aware of time passing, and the press of responsibility. By law, he had to accomplish this tonight, before the sun rose. “We’re little more than strangers,” he fretted. “It’s a bloody lot of nonsense.”

  “Are you attracted to your princess, at least? Or are you afraid you won’t be able to—”

  “I’ll be able to,” he said, coming to a stop by the window. “She arouses me beyond bearing. But what if she can’t? What if she won’t? What if I hurt her and she despises me forever?”

  “Dear boy, take a breath.” Adele rose and crossed to him, taking his hand and patting his fingers. The two of them looked out at the back gardens in the moonlight. “I know from experience that you’re a masterful lover,” she said. “You’re renowned for your bedroom prowess.”

  “Yes, as well as the dimensions of my ‘prowess,’ which won’t be a benefit tonight.”

  “Shh. Don’t speak ill of a wonderful thing.” She smiled. “You have all the skills you need to make her happy. You’ve studied well on the art of lovemaking, as many bonny wantons in the Kingdom of Hastings can attest. So any fears you’re feeling now are born of love.” She tilted her head. “Goodness, I never thought I’d see the day you’d fall in love. And with your own wife, no less.”

  “If this is love, I don’t enjoy it.”

  But he didn’t deny her words. He was possibly in love. He wanted to fly to his wife’s side as much as he wanted to die of apprehension.

  “What do I say to her?” he demanded impatiently. “Help me. What will make her relax? What will make her—” Love me back. He wanted the princess to want him, and to look at him with pleasure, not terror, when tonight’s duty was done.

  “I don’t know, Giddy,” Adele replied, so much calmer than him. “My advice would be to go slowly, to speak softly, and look in her eyes. Make her feel exquisite, then explain what is to happen when she’s aroused enough not to lose her nerve. Tell her that nothing between you is sinful. You must emphasize that, since she’s been taught otherwise. You must give her permission to let go, if she’s to find her own pleasure.”

  “Her own pleasure?” He threw up his hands. “Must I have that pressure on top of everything else? I only hope to take her virginity without injuring her.”

  Adele tsked. “I’m certain both of you can avoid bodily injury, although virgins sometimes bleed. Be prepared for that, so you don’t have to run for the smelling salts.”

  He tsked back at her, but she only smiled.

  “I’m glad you were my governess,” he said after a moment. “You taught me well.”

  “And you were an excellent student.”

  There was a sense of finality in her words, and a finality in this meeting that they both felt. “I’m not sure…” He paused and took a breath. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to visit you anymore, at least in the near future. It might be better if I don’t.”

  “I agree it might be better, dear Gideon. I’m most happy to return to being your ex-governess, with all the rights and privileges that entails. And, of course, I’ll always stand your friend should you need a sympathetic ear, or some womanly advice from someone who is not your mother.”

  She spoke so tenderly, he found he couldn’t reply for a moment because of the tightness in his throat.

  “I think it’s time for you to go to your bride,” Adele prompted. “Just remember: proceed slowly, and bring her along with you. Give her so much pleasure that she can’t feel discomfort even if it comes. I know that’s very much within your abilities, Your Highness.” She nudged him toward the doorway. “Your princess awaits.”

  Chapter Four

  The women accompanied Cassandra into a vast, dark-hued bedroom, the royal heir’s nuptial chamber. Her husb
and’s bedchamber. It reminded her of him because of the manly decor and solidity of the furniture. She had a suite next door, where the ladies had bathed and dressed her. There was a pathway between the rooms, not unlike the pathway he’d used to visit her in the other wing.

  He’d be visiting her tonight, and she tried to feel all right about that. This was womanhood and marriage. He’d kiss her and touch her, and then…what?

  Something that hurt, perhaps, so babies might come. The sisters had told her this was her duty, so her husband could have sons and daughters to carry on the family line. But the specifics of the act remained a mystery, referred to by the sisters in such vague terms as “joining,” “bedding,” or “marital congress.”

  Once the ladies had tucked her under the covers, they waited in a gossiping, giggling cluster beside the door for the groom to arrive. Cassandra rested, pretending to sleep, although she’d never be able to sleep.

  When the door opened with a faint click, she sat up straighter. The prince came in as the ladies filed out with words of blessing and congratulations. She could see more people outside the door, men and women, including the prince’s parents and her own father.

  She stiffened as they stared in at her. Would they enter? No, thank God. Gideon bid them good evening and shut the door. He stood a moment facing away from her, staring at the doorjamb before he turned. Cassandra realized she was holding her breath. This broad-shouldered stranger was her husband, so suddenly and unchangeably.

  He moved from the door and crossed toward her, wearing a faint smile. That smile allowed her to breathe again, and to study him with a sort of wonder.

  In place of his formal wedding clothes, he wore a velvet dressing gown of medium blue with embroidery in a pattern of vines, taken from the Hastings royal seal. She’d changed into nightclothes also, although her ivory shift was not as grand, nor as substantial as his princely attire.