Accidental Princess: A Hidden Kingdom Novel

by Lexi Whitlow

  “I remember sitting on the beach with you talking, and then we went inside to get something to drink, then more dancing. Lots of dancing. And then we won something, and there was a contest and a dinner and more dancing on the beach.”

  Andreas nods. “Yeah, that’s what I remembered too.”

  “I told you there was something,” Ally says.

  “You did,” Freya says weakly.

  Ally leans over and rubs Freya’s back with her arm. And then she looks at me funny—but I chalk that up to the revelation that Freya and I are married.

  “We did win something. We participated in a dance competition and we won,” I say. “It was an all-inclusive marriage package. Apparently, they thought we were engaged and in Ibiza to get married.”

  “What?” Freya looks at me blankly.

  “My Spanish kind of sucks. And the guy trying to explain it to me spoke mostly Catalan. And we were very, very drunk.”

  “That I remember,” she says.

  “Yeah, me too. Apparently I didn’t remember much else. But Caelan tried to talk me out of it somewhere along the way, and he pointed out that I ended up with a marriage certificate in my wallet.”

  “And then we ate seafood,” Freya adds.

  “On the beach,” I say. “Yes.” My stomach tightens into a hard, anxious knot.

  “I just don’t get it, why would we want to win a wedding?”

  I laugh because it’s a little funny—Freya, however, doesn’t look like she does, and I hasten to answer her. “You wanted the seafood. You talked me into the dance off, and then we won. We ate dinner—a lot of it, I think. Scallops and grilled fish and—”

  “White asparagus and brown butter,” she says.

  “Yeah. And tangerines. And cake. There was wedding cake.”

  She looks at me blankly for a moment, and then she nods very, very slowly. “I remember cake.”

  “It wasn’t fake. It was real. All of it was real.”

  I pull out the marriage certificate and show it to her. She silently reads it and then hurriedly passes it to Ally like it’s the plague or something. Ally though takes her time reading it and verifying everything that I’ve said. I see her brows rise as she reads over the documents. I’ve had the inkling for a while that Ally knows exactly who we are—she simply thought she wouldn’t see us again. But she’s seeing me, and I’m a prince who married her best friend.

  That’s a conversation for another day. One bombshell at a time.

  “What about an annulment?” she quietly asks, not looking at me. “Those are fairly common and easy to get, right?”

  The words are like a punch in the gut and I instantly know that an annulment or divorce is the absolute last thing that I want. I can’t explain why, but I need time. I want time.

  “I think in Scotland that it would take a few months at the very least. I’m not entirely sure about the laws in Ibiza or in my home country, but usually there’s a period of separation involved, or a requirement that couple stays married a certain period of time. We’d need to talk to a lawyer.

  She looks up at me then. “You already looked it up?”

  “Caelan and I did,” I say. It’s not quite a lie. I did. It’s a little confusing with the law between the Spain, Scotland, and Bellecoaste. But at least in Bellecoaste, it’s legally required for a couple to live together for six months before separation, and Caelan and I are fairly sure we’re both bound by Bellecoastean law.

  “Ally, can we have some alone time for a few minutes?” she asks.

  “Sure thing,” Ally says, nodding as she gets up to go to her room. I have the sinking feeling she’ll be emailing Caelan or scouring the internet for information about my family. She gives me a wary look before she closes her door, and I swallow hard.

  “Do you remember getting married?” She gives me a plaintive look.

  “No,” I answer honestly. “The day that you left, Caelan and I were having lunch and he was telling me about this girl that our parents had set him up with. We got on the topic of marriage and he asked me what I remembered from the night before. I tried to think but I couldn’t recall much—the contest, the dancing, and a fake wedding ceremony of some kind. He told me that we’d won the wedding but that he didn’t actually see us get married, just that we left in a decorated car.”

  “It makes me feel a little better if you didn’t remember either.” She smirks. “Do you regret it?”

  I think about her question. “No, I don’t. No matter how drunk I was, I was with you, having fun. And I wouldn’t sign up for any kind of ceremony if I didn’t want to.”

  “And you truly believe that?” she asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want a divorce?”

  “I want what you want.” It’s true when I say it, damn the consequences.

  “Well I can’t go back to Ibiza for another six months, and I need to finish my thesis here in Scotland,” she says coolly. “I’m supposed to graduate in less than two months. I can’t just up and leave right now.”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought.”

  She shrugs. “School is the most important thing in my life and I’m not going to dump it all down the drain when I’m this close to finishing.”

  “Let’s say that I agreed to stay while you finished up here, then what? Do we go back to my home when you’re done?”

  “I still plan on attending graduate school to study literature.”

  “Of course,” I sigh. “You told me that in Ibiza. Of course.” This was supposed to be an easy issue and now it’s getting all tangled up, and I’m having problems seeing my way out. “And you’ve already applied here, right?”

  “Yes, I got the acceptance letter when we got back,” she answers.

  “I have a life back home, Frey. I can’t just be expected to put it on hold to be here. Our family business doesn’t have that option.”

  “You keep mentioning the family business, but you told me yourself that you don’t even use the business degree that you have.”

  It’s a low blow and we both know it. But she’s right. “I do have responsibilities at home. And Bellecoaste is where I’ve grown up. My family is there.”

  “I’m sorry, that was out of line,” she says with a deep breath. “I’m just all out of sorts right now. I mean you walk through my door and punch Kirk and then drop this huge bomb on me, and now my brain is in survival mode.”

  I get up from my seat across from her and sit down next to her, placing my arm around her shoulders. I kiss her head lightly. “It’s ok, I understand that this is a huge thing to process, and I think we’re both a little out of sorts right now.”

  “You can say that again,” she mutters.

  We sit there in silence, overwhelmed. I like holding her in my arms; if she wants a divorce, then I won’t get to do this much longer. So, I just keep stroking her arm, resting my chin on her head.

  I want to take her to bed and show her just how much I want her and have missed her. It’s not just the sex, I’ve missed her presence. The way her body feels laying next to me, the way her skin smells fresh when she’s just out of the shower. Or how good it feels to have her head laying on my chest while I play with her hair. It’s the little things.

  “Can I stay the night?” I ask. I didn’t really plan out my visit, and a hotel was the last thing on my mind. I could find somewhere, of course. I’d rather stay in her arms than a cold, empty hotel bed.

  “Yes. But we can’t have sex right now.”

  “Okay.” I shrug. I’m not sure what answer she’s wanting from me.

  “I just think that with everything going on, having sex isn’t going to help anything between us. If anything, it’ll cloud our judgment. So yes, you can stay the night but there will be no sex,” she explains.

  “Okay.”

  We get up and head to her bedroom. She shows me the shower and then says to take one first. When I come back out, she has a huge stack of blankets and a long futon cushion in her arms.

>   “What’s that for,” I ask.

  “Your bed,” she says.

  She makes the most haphazardly thrown together bed—something only slightly more appealing than a dog’s bed.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  I lay on a make shift pallet at the end of her bed. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s as close as I can get to her right now; I’ll take it.

  “What if you applied to graduate school here too?” she asks out of the blue.

  It’s an option, and the idea has merit but I still don’t know what direction I want to take. “And study what?” I ask.

  “Anything you wanted to.”

  Her answer is so easy. She’s never had someone controlling and guiding her direction. As someone who can’t say the same, I’m a bit jealous. From birth, I’ve never had a say in my life. I was told to do something or act a certain way and I did it. That’s why I was such a wild one for so long. I wanted to buck the standards I was born into.

  However, now it’s time to do something with my life. I don’t hate my parents—far from it. I want to make them happy, but I want it to be on my own terms, not the ones that they have set for me.

  “I still don’t know what I’d want to specialize in?” I say offhandedly.

  “What interests you? And don’t say something generic. Take a moment and really think about it.”

  I’ve been toying with the idea of becoming a Global Ambassador for Bellecoaste for a while now. And if I’m going to go that route, then I would need to shake off my playboy image and don a more serious one. It’s been a thought I’ve had for years. With Bellecoaste making alliances and entering the EU as its own, independent country, they would need someone with knowledge of the intimate political proceedings of its country. But Mother and Father have only wanted me to be the face of the country. At core, that’s not who I am.

  “I’d want to study world relations,” I answer. “How countries interact with another and everything in between.”

  “I like the sound of that,” she says, and it sounds like she’s smiling even though I can’t see.

  “No matter what happens, thank you for believing in me, Freya. I don’t think you understand how much it means to me,” I say.

  “Anytime, Andreas, anytime.” She yawns. “It’s been a long night for both of us, how about we try to get some shut eye?”

  “Yeah. Good night, Freya.”

  “Good night, Andreas. Sweet dreams,” she murmurs back.

  I try to close my eyes, but I can’t seem to stop my brain from staying on overdrive.

  Freya confuses me. She never came out and said that she wanted a divorce, but now she’s mentioning graduate school. That’s at least two more years after she finishes her master’s degree, maybe four more after that. Is this her way of asking me to stay married? Or is she just trying to make it easier for us to get divorced after a year since we’d both already be here attending school?

  I’m going to go with her wanting me to stay because I can’t stomach the idea of getting divorced from her right now. That’s the only way I can get any sleep tonight.

  15

  Freya

  I wake up the next morning and sit up to rub my eyes. For a few brief seconds I’ve forgotten last night’s revelations. It only takes one glance at Andreas sleeping at the foot of my bed to bring it all back clearly.

  He lays on his back, one arm crossed over his stomach and the other above his head. His chest is tan and defined and I watch as his abs move up and down with his gentle breathing. His dark hair is messy; I’m tempted to run my hand through it and feel how soft it is. He looks so peaceful, like he doesn’t have a care in the world right now.

  I know that I told him no sex last night, and at the time I really did mean it. Looking at him lying there in all of his hard, sculpted muscles makes it hard to stick to that agreement. My body craves his touch.

  This is so confusing.

  He said last night that he would go with whatever choice I wanted but my heart and my head want two different things. I told him that I wanted to see him after my vacation days were over, but this wasn’t what I had in mind. This is months of time we’ll have to spend working this out. From my cursory search of the laws in all three countries, this will take at least three months to push through anywhere. And if Andreas is bound by his country’s law, we’re required to be together for six months before we can file in any other country.

  I sigh and shake my head before I get up to use the bathroom. I wash my face with cold water and brush my teeth. When I walk back out Andreas is sitting up looking at his phone—glancing up to me as I walk in.

  I want him to hold me, even if it’s just for a little while. His gaze is heated, and it does nothing to quell the heat that’s inside me.

  I can’t fight the urge. I silently hold my hand out to him. He looks at it, then to me. I nod and he gives me that breathtaking smile that I love so much.

  He looks like a lion stalking his prey as he comes toward me. I can’t wait to feel his hands on me again. If there’s one thing we do right, it’s sex.

  “We have to be quiet,” I whisper when he’s standing right in front of me. “I don’t want to wake up Allison.”

  His lips crash to mine and there’s so much passion behind it that it leaves me breathless. Andreas runs his hands down my sides and I wrap my hands around his neck, pulling him closer to me. I love the feel of his strong hands on my smooth skin.

  He threads his fingers through my hair, pulling my head back so that he can kiss his way down my neck. It’s like he knows exactly what my body wants—and he’s happy to oblige. I whimper, unable to help myself. He places a finger over my lips, reminding me to be quiet. I laugh quietly. I think of Ally, sleeping in the room two doors down. I giggle and he shushes me again, one hand reaching under my shirt and brushing lightly against my nipple. I moan very softly, trying not to make any noise. I feel like we might get in trouble. We might wake Ally—or I don’t know—a constable might come by and tell me I need to be focused on my schoolwork.

  If I’m his wife, does it really make it wrong?

  He pulls my shirt up and throws it off. No time wasted, he’s on his knees, pulling my panties down and off. Andreas runs his hand up my leg, rubbing my calf as he places a kiss on my inner thigh. He nuzzles my other thigh breathing in the smell of me before he leans in to place another kiss right on my clit. The familiar zing of electricity rolls through me, and I push his head into my body.

  “Don’t stop,” I whimper.

  He grabs my left leg to raise it over his shoulder, making it easier to bury his face against my pussy. His other hand holds my leg steady for him. He makes quick work, diving right in to taste me, but it’s the only thing about this that’s hasty. Andreas licks, savors—like the sweetness between my thighs is his last meal and he’s going to make sure he has it all. Those sexy green eyes look up at me and that smoldering gaze has me so wet knowing that he’s enjoying himself.

  I fist my hand in his hair; my other teases my nipple, pinching down when he sucks hard. He rocks his nose against my clit at the same time that I feel his tongue enter me, but it’s not enough. I need all of him not just his tongue.

  “Andreas…” I try to be quiet when I say it but I’m not sure how successful that was.

  “Yes, baby?” he says after giving me one long lick up my center. I’m surprised I can even talk at this point.

  “I need it,” I mumble.

  “What do you need?” he says as he sucks down on my clit. He’s taunting me and I’m completely at his mercy.

  “You,” I whisper.

  “I didn’t hear you.”

  “You, I need you inside of me,” I say, loud enough for him to hear me clearly but not loud enough to wake Ally.

  “You want that?”

  “Yeah,” I whisper. “I want you inside of me. Bare. I want you to come inside of me.”

  He stands and picks me up; my legs go instantly around him. He tosses me to the be
d, and we’re a tangle of kisses and wandering hands. Pulling me so that part of my ass is hanging off the edge of the bed, he comes up and pushes my legs back. I hold them for him as he teases me with the head of his hard cock.

  It doesn’t take long for the teasing to feel a little too good and he slips himself into me. It’s divine, the way he fills me up perfectly, his hips touching mine, the base of his cock hot and thick where my skin there parts.

  “Frey,” Andreas hoarsely whispers, and I know exactly what he’s saying.

  I close my eyes and let my head fall back as he starts to work me over. This time is different. It feels familiar but now we’re husband and wife—and that adds a whole other element to it.

  It’s like our being married is this dirty little secret—right now it kind of is. We should be working on getting divorced, not fucking each other senseless.

  Andreas picks up his speed and I forget about getting divorced and everything else. It’s just him and me and the way he makes my body come alive with his touch. He whispers how good I feel around him and I can’t get enough. It’s like a balm to my soul, for an ache that throbs just for him.

  My body’s hungry for release, my orgasm close. Andreas slows down and gives me long, deep thrusts that drive me closer to the edge. He leans down and captures my soft moans with his lips. I pull him closer, wanting to feel the weight of him on top of me.

  His thrusts get a little harder but still just as deep. Our kiss breaks and he buries his head in the hollow of my neck—he drives into me harder. My hands grab his hair and my nails dig in his back.

  It only takes a few more strokes from him and I’m tumbling over the edge, hanging on to him for dear life. It’s intense and I can feel Andreas start to come undone too. He’s biting down on my shoulder to keep from being too loud and I like it more than I should. It’s almost primal.

  We lay there, and Andreas kisses me softly. “If married sex is always this amazing then sign me up,” he jokes.