by Donna Alward
“We were friends long before we were lovers. We’ll sort it out. It’s okay.”
He got up from behind his desk, went to her, and as he had once before, moved a chair so he could sit facing her. “It’s not okay. The truth is, I started having feelings for you and I got scared. So scared that I put up roadblocks that didn’t need to exist in order to protect myself. And by doing that, I hurt you.”
She didn’t know what to say, and didn’t quite know where he was going with it, but she also sensed he felt the need to get whatever it was off his chest. Her fingers twisted together in her lap. “What are you scared of, Raoul?”
“Losing you,” he answered simply. “Not like I’ve already lost you, but like I lost Ceci. Afraid of giving you my whole heart only to have it crushed again.”
“But Ceci’s death was an accident. The chances of that happening again . . .”
He paused, then inched a little closer until he could reach out and touch her knees. “My mother died when I was just a boy. I watched my father grieve for her. I listened to Diego cry himself to sleep at night. I decided that I was going to be the best prince I could be. I’d help my father and protect my brother. I fell in love with Ceci and vowed I’d be the best husband. But I lost her, too. Like my mother. And I told myself I would never love like that again.”
“I understand, Raoul. I really do. But I’m not sure how this changes anything.”
Nor would she allow herself to hope. He wasn’t the only one who’d been hurt, after all.
“I’ve spent the last few weeks doing a lot of soul searching.” He took his hands off her knees, but rested his elbows on his own so that he was leaned toward her. “I’ve thought about the kind of king I want to be. The kind of father I want to be. I’ve thought over and over about some things Diego said to me, because my little brother has grown up far wiser than anyone gives him credit for. And the truth is . . . I have a choice. I can choose to be afraid, to keep my heart under lock and key, to never get hurt again, and to never experience pure joy.”
Her pulse began to hammer, despite her resolve to stay unmoved.
“Or I can open myself up to loving again, take a risk by knowing life sometimes deals us horrible blows, but accept that a chance at joy and happiness is worth it.”
Her breath caught in her chest. “And what did you choose?”
He held her gaze. “It came down to asking myself, if I’d known what lay ahead, would I have still married Ceci? And the answer was yes. All the pain, all the grief . . . it was still worth it. And if I’m lucky enough to find that kind of love again? Well, I’d be a fool to let it slip through my fingers because I’m too much of a coward to own it. To give it.”
There was no stopping her pulse now, or the quickening of her breath. “Raoul . . .”
To her utter shock, tears filled his eyes. They shone at her as he said, “I love you, Stephani. I love how smart you are and your confidence and your intuition. I love how you laugh and how you love my children and talk to them as if they matter. I love your sweet tooth and your apartment and the way you feel in my arms.”
He sniffed and two tears dropped out of the corners of his eyes. “And I love that you’re carrying my baby and that you’re so beautiful it hurts. Please, reconsider. Marry me. And not because we need to legitimize this baby or throw together a quiet wedding, but because I love you and you love me and we need to be a family. We can take out a headline in The Sun for all I care. If the world knows this baby was conceived two months ago . . . so what? I’m tired of being the perfect prince. I want to live again, Steph. And I want to do that with you. Just you.”
She nodded, swiping away tears of her own. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice tight as she tried to keep control.
“What on earth for?”
“I don’t even know.” She cried a bit and laughed at the same time. “Just that this ended up such a mess. I’ve loved you for so long, and when you shut me out and pushed me aside, it hurt so badly. I wasn’t patient with you, when I promised myself I would be.”
“I didn’t deserve your patience,” he countered, smiling a little. He reached over to his desk for a tissue and wiped her eyes with it. “When Papa had his heart attack, all I could see was how I was going to have to step up and that our trip had been so self-indulgent. So . . . out of character for me. I felt guilty because of it, like I should have been here.”
“But being in France didn’t cause his heart attack.”
“I know that.”
She gazed into his eyes. “I wouldn’t trade those days for anything,” she answered. “Not a moment.”
“Me either.”
He patted his knee. “Will you come over here, please, and let me hold you?”
She got up from her chair and slid over onto his lap. Oh, it felt good to have his arms around her again. He snuggled her close and the put one wide hand over her belly. “I didn’t even get to tell you that I’m happy about the baby,” he whispered. “Or how beautiful you are carrying it.” He looked up into her face. “You tell me how you want to proceed, and that’s what we’ll do.”
“I want us to be a team,” she responded immediately, touching his face. “I want us to make decisions together. I want to rely on you and oh, Raoul, I want you to rely on me. For all things. For work and for play and for raising a family. I love Em and Max. And I think they would want you to be happy. It doesn’t mean forgetting their mother. She’ll always be a part of all our lives.”
“Consider it done.” He turned his head and kissed her palm. “Now, there’s just one thing left for you to do.”
“What’s that?”
“Answer my question.”
The hope she’d tried to tamp down blossomed fully in her heart, along with a wide smile. “Your Highness, el Príncipe Raoul Navarro a Marazur, I have very good recall. And a question was not asked. I was, however, issued a command.”
“Then allow me to rephrase. Stephani Savalas, will you marry me? Will you be my wife, mother to my children, queen of my country?”
Oh my. The gravity of it reached in and grabbed her, but she took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes,” she replied, hugging him tightly. “Yes, I believe I will.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The wedding was held five weeks later, a private ceremony properly administered by the priest at the cathedral. Rose and Diego stood for the bride and groom, while the rest of the Navarro family sat in the first two pews. Max and Emilia were beaming—Max in his tux from Diego’s wedding, and Emilia in a new dress and shoes with just the tiniest little heel. At the bride’s request, several of the palace staff attended as well, including Señora Ortiz, Marco, Sofia, and Marcella.
Stephani wore a Ferretti empire-waisted gown that suited her perfectly and hid the tiny bubble that was beginning to form at her waist. When she reached the top of the aisle, she turned to the children and gave them each a rose from her bouquet and a kiss, awed that she was going to be their new mama and so very happy to be taking on the job. After the vows, her hand shook as she held it out, but steadied when Raoul put her fingers in his and slipped the wedding band over her knuckle. To her delight, he lifted her hand and kissed it before letting it go.
After the ceremony, they went back to the castle for a private celebration. The event was not kept from the public, but was rather more low-key, which was fine with Stephani. She’d never been in it for the big production or flash; instead she had the wedding she wanted with the people she loved. It didn’t get any better than that.
And when the day was over, she and Raoul went to the nursery and tucked the children into bed.
“Good night, Max. Good night, Emilia,” Raoul said, leaning down and kissing their foreheads one at a time.
“Good night, Papa.”
“Good night, darlings,” Stephani said softly.
Emilia sat up. “Tía Stephani . . .” Her little brows pulled together. “Is that what we should still call you?”
“If that’s what you
like.”
Max sat up, too. “We wondered if you wanted us to call you Mama,” he said quietly.
She sat down on Max’s bed, and looked over at Emilia in hers. “I love you both very much, and I would love to be your mama. But you don’t have to call me that if it feels wrong. I loved your mama very much. And we’re always going to remember her, okay?”
Emilia nodded quickly, and Max let out what sounded like a relieved sigh.
“Now, you two have had a busy day. Get some sleep, and your papa and I will see you in the morning.”
Once they closed the nursery door, they went hand in hand to his suite. “What you did just now . . .” Raoul said, shaking his head.
“It was okay?”
“It was perfect. They love you too, Steph. Giving them time and acceptance is just what they needed.”
They shut the door behind them. “And how about you? Do you need time?”
He shook his head, his dark eyes glittering. “I think I’ve wasted enough time being a fool, don’t you?”
She reached up and untied his bowtie, tugging on the ends gently, watching as his throat bobbed as he swallowed.
“So, Señor Navarro. ¿Como estas?”
He smiled down at her. “Muy bien, gracias, Señora Navarro. ¿Y tú?”
She cupped his face in her hands and drew him down for a kiss. “Yo me siento completa, mi amor.”
“Me too,” he whispered. “Me too.”
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Donna Alward
About the Author
While bestselling author Donna Alward was busy studying Austen, Eliot, and Shakespeare, she was also losing herself in the breathtaking stories created by romance novelists like LaVyrle Spencer, Judith McNaught, and Nora Roberts. Several years after completing her degree she decided to write a romance of her own and it was true love! Five years and ten manuscripts later, she sold her first book and launched a new career. While her heartwarming stories of love, hope, and homecoming have been translated into several languages, hit bestseller lists, and won awards, her very favorite thing is when she hears from happy readers.
Donna lives on Canada’s east coast with her family, which includes a husband, a couple of kids, a senior dog, and two crazy cats. When she’s not writing she enjoys reading (of course!), knitting, gardening, cooking . . . and is a Masterpiece Theater addict. You can visit her on the web at www.DonnaAlward.com and join her mailing list at www.DonnaAlward.com/newsletter.
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Also by Donna Alward
The Playboy Prince and the Nanny
The Jewell Cove Series
The House on Blackberry Hill
Treasure on Lilac Lane
Summer on Lovers’ Island
Darling, VT Series
Somebody Like You
Someone to Love
Somebody’s Baby
Deck the Halls (e-novella)
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
About the Author
Also by Donna Alward
Copyright Page
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
“The Crown Prince’s Bride” Copyright © 2018 by Donna Alward.
All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Jacket design by Oceana Gottlieb; man © Tom Merton/iStock.com; scene © TMSK/iStock.com; couple © Aksakalko/iStock.com
Author photo © Marti Corn Photography
eISBN 9781250142597 (ebook)
First eBook Edition: January 2018
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