by Susan Stoker
"Ellie, please," I hunkered down in a corner of the building, praying no one had heard me telling her what I'd been up to.
"And they want to marry you and you can be their princess?"
"Yes."
There was a long pause.
"Is this one of those YouTube pranks? Is someone recording all of this? Because if I go viral, I'm going to be pissed."
"No, Ellie," I laughed. "No one could make something like this up, could they?"
"So, when is the wedding?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You don't mean to tell me that you're going to let these two men, who literally want to make you a princess, get away?"
"I thought you wanted me to go out and live my own life. To find myself."
"Oh screw that. ‘I need to find myself' is just what single people say to justify being alone. Your future is staring you in the face. You need to go for it."
Luke and Aidan were looking out the windows of the restaurant at me and, if I didn't want them to come and carry me inside, I'd better get off the phone. I ended the call after promising Ellie I'd be in touch.
"It's not wrong to be happy, Cassie," was the last thing she said before she hung up.
Chapter Thirteen
Cassie
We arrived at The Golden Cliffs in the late afternoon. We were the only ones in the area. It was so peaceful and beautiful. I could understand why Bret wanted me to bring his ashes here.
Once we arrived, we sat in the truck for a few minutes, none of us speaking.
"Are you ready, Cassie?" Luke asked, his voice gentle.
"I-I'm not sure," I said. Now that it was time to let go and say good-bye, it was all much more difficult than I'd expected. After all I'd been through with Bret and his illness, and then his death, I'd thought I could handle anything.
Aidan and Luke opened the doors to the truck and I slid out on Aidan's side, his arm supporting me. Luke retrieved the coffee can and handed it to me. I hugged it to my chest and started to shake.
"Cassie," Aidan said, his arm still around my waist, "if today isn't the day to do this, that's okay. We can all go home, and when it is time, we'll come back."
"No," I said, "you guys brought me all the way out here…"
Aidan's arm tightened around me and Luke took both my hands in his. "Don't you understand, Cassie? We would drive you to the ends of the earth and wait as long as it takes if that's what you needed for us to do. Our only goal in life is to care for you. To love you and protect you."
My shaking subsided and I drew a deep breath. "Thank you."
"From what you've told us, we can tell that Bret was a wonderful man and that you loved each other very much." Aidan turned me so he could look straight into my eyes. "No man could replace him, but maybe two men could do a pretty good job of filling the void in your life." He bent down and kissed me gently, his palm cupping the side of my face. I reached up and covered his hand with my own.
When the kiss ended, I reached for Luke. He held me against his hard chest, the coffee can crammed between us, for long moments. Somehow, his strength infused me.
"I think I'm ready," I said, looking off toward the cliffs.
"Would you like us to go with you?" Aidan offered.
"No," I said, letting out a long breath. "This is something I need to do myself." I looked at each of them. "Honestly, now that I am here, I can't believe I thought I could make this trip alone. Thank you."
I turned and walked toward the cliffs. The sun was starting to set and the sky was awash in red and orange as I reached the top and looked out over Lake Halcyon. The water was calm, the surface like glass. I stood and gazed out across the lake all the way to where it touched the horizon and met the glowing sun as it lowered for the day.
A montage of images passed through my mind: my first date with Bret, our first kiss, the day he proposed, our wedding day and so many memories of laughter and love in everyday things. The way he'd turn the radio up and make me dance with him in the kitchen, how he used to make pancakes every Sunday… until he couldn't.
No, I would not think about those times, the illness, the pain and suffering.
The sun was turning into a sliver on the horizon.
With tears in my eyes, I opened the can and gently tossed the contents onto the evening breeze. "Good-bye, Bret," I said, my voice choked with emotion.
I stood there for a few more minutes watching the last of the ashes float away.
Bret was gone.
***
Luke
"She's been up there a long time. Should we go after her?"
Aidan checked his watch. "It's been twelve minutes."
"Seems longer."
"Seems like forever."
"What are we going to do if she won't stay?"
Aidan stared at the ground and slowly shook his head from side to side. "I don't know," he finally said when he looked up. "We were a couple of arrogant jerks to just assume she'd want to stay with us."
"But what about the arrow of love? We both felt it. It's never been wrong before, has it?" I could feel my pulse pounding, and I paced around the parking lot at the base of the cliffs. "I don't think I could even be with another woman if it's not Cassie."
"Same here."
We waited and waited, saying nothing, lost in our own anxiety-ridden thoughts.
Finally, we heard footsteps on the gravel path. My head snapped up and, though I wanted to run to her, I restrained myself and waited for Cassie at the end of the path. When she reached me and extended her arms, I rushed forward and scooped her up, cradling her against my chest and murmuring soothing words into her hair. "I'm proud of you, Cassie. You're so brave."
Aidan joined us and stroked Cassie's cheek with the back of his hand. "Are you okay, sweet Cassie?"
She nodded against my chest then lifted her head. "Yes, I am now." She reached out one hand to Aidan and wrapped her other arm around my neck. "This is where I belong now, with the two of you."
"Wh-what about what you said earlier?" Aidan asked and, though I wanted an answer, I could have punched him for bringing it up. What if she changed her mind?
"I was scared. I felt guilty. And I was overwhelmed. But up there on the cliff, after I, you know, after I let Bret go, it all became very clear to me. I don't know what the future holds, but whatever it is, I want to face it with the two of you by my side. Or holding me up, as the case may be."
"Are you sure?" I asked, not daring to hope.
"We were big jerks and made a lot of assumptions about you, Cassie. But we love you and want you to be ours. Be our princess, Cassie."
Hooking her hand around my neck, she pulled my face down for a lingering kiss, then she reached for Aidan and did the same.
"Please, let's go home."
~The End~
About Celeste Jones
I write books to entertain and titillate, usually with more than a little humor and snark. Whether it's a time traveling college girl or a hot headed Regency Lady, a few hours spent with a Celeste Jones book will make you happy in a variety of ways.
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Bad Prince by Ava Sinclair
Prologue
My parents said I was born for greatness, but what they really meant was that I was born to marry into it.
It’s no exaggeration. I have the pedigree, with enough royal lineage to give my blood the acceptable amount of blue—not too little, not too much, but just right. I have the look, with my roses and cream complexion, fine bones, and the kind of svelte body that flatters my clothing, rather than the other way around. My parents took care to place me in the best schools from nursery years through college. I graduated from St. Andrews with degrees in art and music, so very acceptable in circles where one should be educated, but not too educated. And my reputation? Before all of this happened, any mention of Lady Amelia Fairchild in the society pages was either benign or fawning.
Once upon a time, I
was on the cusp of having everything my parents wanted. Once upon a time, the fairy-tale life every English girl dreams of was within my grasp. Then, as fairy tales do, this one turned dark.
So, what happened? Was it an ancient curse? Was it the sharpness of a spindle that flung me from grace? No. It was a prince who ruined and wrecked me. And while I may not be queen, the story of how I fell from the tower of my parents’—and my nation’s—expectations will likely outlast the monarchy that cast me out.
Chapter One
Ten years earlier
Prince Tristan
A family meeting. How fun. My parents are here. Father looks tired, and my sister Victoria’s eyes are red-rimmed, but, of course, she’s not crying. No one is allowed to cry in front of the queen. She doesn’t care for the nonsense of emotional display. I respect that, especially since the moratorium on outbursts is making things difficult for Frederick. His face is red, his weak chin wobbling in anger as I walk through the door being opened by Cedric Peck, my grandmother’s faithful secretary. Victoria’s husband, George, sits off to the side, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else. My brother’s fiancée is here. That’s a bit of a surprise, given the nature of the meeting. I suppose now that Frederick has popped the question, it’s been decided to allow Lady Amelia into the inner sanctum so she can fully glimpse the dysfunctional world she’ll be marrying into.
“Mam,” I say, walking over and giving my grandmother a kiss. She scowls, but I can see a softening in her eyes. I’ve always been the only one who could get by with being so forward. Even my own father, who spends his days waiting for her throne, won’t kiss Mam until she deigns to turn a powdered cheek up to accept it.
When I turn around, Frederick’s face is even redder, his sweet little Amelia is already looking puzzled, and we haven’t even gotten started. She doesn’t know why we’re here, poor lamb. I, however, do know. I was tipped off earlier by Frederick’s disloyal valet, so when I settle in a chair across from my grandmother, I am as relaxed as my brother is tense.
“It appears I’m the guest of honor for this little gathering,” I say, crossing my legs. “To what do I owe this particular distinction?”
Frederick answers. “Don’t play innocent,” he hisses, his voice dripping with the condescension of a brother who’s always done everything right. “And don’t pretend you’ve not seen this morning’s copy of the Clarion.”
Cedric walks over and quietly lays it on a low table by my chair. Of course, I’ve already seen it, but now I pretend it’s a huge surprise. “Oh, my,” I say. My photos are right there above the fold, and I feel a stab of sympathy for my family. It really is the kind of picture that sets tongues wagging. And I shouldn’t be surprised. Everyone has a cellphone these days, even at private parties, and whoever snapped these shots likely sold them for a handsome sum.
In one shot, my arms are around two attractive girls, one who appears to have my signature scrawled on her attractive bosom with a Sharpie. Ten to one says she had it made into a tattoo by morning. I struggle to remember her name. Shirley? Shirlene?
The other photo is decidedly more titillating. The brunette over my lap bears a wide-eyed expression of surprise, likely because she was expecting a more playful smack to her upturned bum, which is just slightly hazed out for the sake of reader modesty. But it’s clear that she’s bare because her knickers are just above her knees. I don’t know why she was so shocked. You shouldn’t dare a man to spank you unless you’re prepared for the consequences.
Prince of Pain, the headline reads above the subhead, Prince Tristan Plays Rough with Pretty Coeds at Underground Party.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” My brother’s voice booms throughout the room.
“To you? Nothing,” I reply coolly. “Remember, Frederick, you’re heir to the throne, and that’s after Father. You’re not in charge yet, even if you like to pretend you are.”
“Why you…” He starts to rise, but one soft word silences us both.
“Enough.” My grandmother has spoken, and all eyes turn to the diminutive presence that looms larger than life. Only now I do feel the first twinges of guilt.
“This is no laughing matter,” she says softly. “Even given your… impish nature, the image of a member of this family touching the exposed anatomy of a commoner…”
I bite back my reply. Would she have preferred it be a royal I’d been smacking?
“It was a private party, Mam,” I argue. But her face remains stony.
“Nothing is private these days, Tristan. You know that.” She sighs. “And this sort of thing could not come at a worse time. Republicanism is gaining ground in the polls. These are austere times, and the monarchy is losing favor. The ascension of your brother isn’t the only thing at stake. This sort of thing may keep your own father from claiming the throne.” The room falls silent. “Tristan,” my grandmother the queen concludes, “do you want to shoulder the blame for my being the last monarch?”
“As if he cares,” Frederick says.
“Frederick.” My father, Prince Edward, speaks now. “Let’s not make this worse.” My father avoids conflict as much as Frederick invites it. He directs his attention to me. “I know what you’re thinking—that the declining favor of the monarchy is as much for economic reasons as social. But we all must pull together now for the sake of keeping this tradition alive. We’ve made cuts to the palace budget, are footing the bill for some of our own travel, have cut staff. Is it so much to ask that you not undercut our efforts with your behavior?”
“Too right, Father.” Frederick can’t resist interrupting, and I can’t resist responding to his sanctimonious tone.
“In my defense, Father, my personal poll numbers are higher than some members of the family. It seems the public has more patience with a prince who likes to party than one caught bragging about his newly purchased polo pony the same week unemployment spiked across much of the country.”
Of course, I’m talking about Frederick, who is on his feet now. “You ungrateful, oversexed pervert!” he seethes. “Take bloody responsibility for once!” His eyes move across me, his thin lip snarled in disgust. “Think of Mother. She’d be so ashamed of you.”
“That was uncalled for,” my sister says to my brother.
Until this point, I’ve been irritated. But now I’m angry. Our mother died far too young, and she was the love of my life. I was only twelve when cancer stole her from us, and not a day goes by that I still don’t think of her beautiful, smiling face. That Frederick would use her against me, knowing how much she meant, only deepens the rift. The room falls silent. Everyone is shocked at what’s just been said. I decide I’ve had enough.
I stand up and turn to my grandmother. “You’re right, Mam,” I say. “I should have been more careful. My family deserves better, and I shall endeavor to do what is right.”
“Liar,” Frederick hisses. “He’s incapable.”
“Frederick.” My grandmother is frowning. “Your brother is trying, and you will respect that. Quite frankly, you need to stop letting the polls get to you.”
Good. She’s called him out. For the last three years, Frederick has lingered at the bottom in public opinion polls gauging the popularity of our family. The people see him as haughty and arrogant, and they are right. He’s insufferable, and I know full well that he only asked chaste little Amelia to marry him to improve his image. He probably doesn’t even love her, but the public does, and that’s all that matters to Frederick.
My brother the heir is arguing his case to Mam, vociferously denying that the polls have anything to do with his righteous indignation. I’m the problem, he asserts, and surely, she must recognize that. He’s getting quite sick and tired of being the responsible one, and hints that I need a proper reining in.
He continues to plead his case, and with his focus elsewhere, I turn mine to Lady Amelia. Her hands are clasped in her lap on the skirt of a dress covered in tiny floral print. Her eyes dart nervously to mine. It’s
as if she’s afraid to look at me, and I can only imagine what horrible things Frederick has said about me. Since he started courting Amelia, he’s made a concerted effort to keep her away from me; I’ve not said three words to the woman who will be my brother’s wife.
Oh, little Amelia. I think I shall have to get to know you better. I think this to myself, but I see her lips part as I do, and her cheeks flush with color. Are my inner ramblings apparent in my expression? She drops her gaze, fidgets her hands in her lap before raising one to lay on my brother’s arm. She seeks to ease his agitation, and when he shakes her hand off almost violently, she rises and walks to the window. I rise, too, and follow her. My brother’s back is turned. He’s still haranguing my grandmother, and I hear him suggesting consequences for my actions. I do not hear her reply.
“Lady Amelia,” I say, and my brother’s betrothed turns toward me. “I must apologize for your having to witness all of this. Please don’t think badly of me based on some cheeky photographs.”
There’s a hint of a smile on her lips, and it delights me that she caught my subtle joke.
“Don’t fret,” she says quietly. “I’m in no place to judge.” She pauses. “I really did not want to be here, but Frederick insisted.”
“Yes, I imagine it’s all quite awkward, learning that your brother-in-law has a fondness for bare bums. The horrors.”
She’s flushing red now, and looking at the toes of her shoes as she curls a strand of honey-colored hair around her forefinger. She’s charming, and I’m intrigued.
Across the room, Grandmother is being helped up from her chair. It appears that Operation Shame Tristan has failed as she announces the family meeting has come to an end and we should all be mindful of the press.
“Amelia.” Frederick has spotted us, and moves over to take her arm. He pulls her away from me as if I were a snake. “I prefer you stay by my side, although perhaps the influence of a properly bred Englishwoman may be of value to my errant brother.” He can’t resist a parting shot as he glares at me. “Perhaps a decent woman would dissuade him from the whores, unless that’s all he can attract?”