Accidental Princess: A Hidden Kingdom Novel

by Lexi Whitlow

  I smile but don’t say anything because it suddenly feels like goodbye sex.

  “We could have fun like this all the time,” he suggests.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “If we’re going to be stuck together for a few months, why can’t we at least enjoy it? Enjoy each other?” He says the last part as his finger teases the side of my breast, working its way to my nipple.

  I think about his words. I like him (which is obvious) but we’re married now and that brings on a whole new set of responsibilities, even if we are to get divorced after the year. Is that something that he’s prepared for? I know that if we keep this up it’s just a matter of time before he breaks my heart; Andreas is a playboy—I can tell. Even though he hasn’t been that way with me yet, where does that leave me when we’re divorced and he’s gone?

  “Can I think about it?” I ask.

  He nods. “Whatever happens between us, just know that I care about you, Freya. I don’t want you to think that I’m just using you for sex, because I’m not. I just like spending time with you.”

  He gets up and pulls me into a hug, kissing my forehead before letting me go. I walk over to the closet and pick out some clothes for the day. I’m meeting with my advisor later, so I dress nicely.

  “How would you feel if I stayed in Scotland for the time being?” he asks as he’s putting his clothes on.

  I look at him, feeling like this is an olive branch from our argument the night before. He’s giving into me on this and I’m grateful.

  “That would be wonderful. Thank you for that, Dre,” I say smiling.

  “But there is one condition,” he adds. “I want you to spend the summer in Bellecoaste with me.”

  I think about it for a second. School will be out then, and I won’t really need to be in Scotland until the fall. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to see where he’s from.

  “Ok, I’ll go.”

  By the smile on his face, I know that I made the right decision.

  16

  Andreas

  Freya left to go meet with her thesis advisor, and I’m left in the apartment. I sit down in the living room turn on the TV to find something to watch. I’ve just settled on some car building show when Ally comes in and sits down on the opposite edge of the sofa.

  “Hey,” she greets.

  “Hey,” I say back.

  “So, are you guys good to go?” she asks.

  “Um, sure,” I answer hesitantly.

  “Well I heard you guys going at it like rabbits this morning, so I just assumed that everything was happy for you two.”

  Thin walls, indeed. “We came to an agreement of sorts.”

  “Did you tell her?”

  “Tell her what?”

  “Cut the shit, Andreas. I know who you are even if she hasn’t figured it out yet.”

  “Listen, Ally—”

  “Caelan told me.”

  I sigh. “Did he now? I thought he might have. Always the honest brother.”

  She nods her head. “He did. He also told me how much of a playboy you were. He was worried that you would break Freya’s heart, not intentionally but by just being you. He said that you needed some sort of direction in your life and that you couldn’t go on going on adventures here and there forever.”

  “He usually doesn’t give away trade secrets so easily.”

  “He might have been a bit tipsy when he spills the beans.” She laughs, shaking her head. “It was the night you two got married. He was going off about the validity of marriage and let it slip that your parents were pushing for him to submit to an arranged marriage. You could tell that it was really bothering him.”

  “You could always just marry him.” I look at Ally, and she smirks back. It’s easy to tell that she’s been in contact with Caelan—even if neither of them are admitting to it.

  “He also told me about how badly your parents wanted both of you to marry into royalty. ‘Old aristocratic traditions that still plague the modern age’ were his exact words if I remember right.”

  That sounds exactly like something Caelan would say. He’s got a list of things he wants to change when he becomes king. Nothing radical, just minor ways to bring an aging kingdom into the modern times. I believe in Caelan and have known for many years that the universe chose correctly when they designated him as first born to become king. He was meant for it and it’s something that I look forward to seeing happen.

  But I’m reminded of something in Ally’s words: Frey’s not royal. She’s one hundred percent American, and not a drop of royal blood runs through her body.

  “How is it that you haven’t told her yet?” she asks.

  “It wasn’t for lack of trying,” I say defensively. “I tried but the timing never seemed right. And when I did get the courage something would come up that would change it. I knew that I would have to tell her eventually, but I didn’t think it would take this long,” I sigh. “I thought she might see something online with the picture of her and me circulating, that maybe I wouldn’t have to tell her. And I honestly thought she might not want to see me again if I told her…”

  My voice trails off. These are all shitty excuses. I don’t have a real reason, not anymore.

  “Thankfully for you, she’s always been more into reading and learning than gossip and celebrities. And honestly who expects to meet a prince on vacation, let alone two?”

  “Touché.” She’s completely right. “Would you take it back if you could?”

  She shakes her head. “No, your brother and I might have some issues, but he’s a great man and is destined for greater things. He’s opened my eyes on things that I wasn’t even aware were happening in our world, and I can’t help but be grateful for that. He… challenges me. So, no, I wouldn’t take it back because he’s shown me part of myself that I didn’t realize was there.”

  I wasn’t expecting that kind of answer but I’m glad that she told me. “My brother would have to be stupid to pass you up, Allison,” I say in all seriousness. “Don’t give up on him just yet, please?”

  “No guarantees,” she says. She crosses her arms and gives me a long sigh.

  “I’ll take what I can get.”

  She manages a sad smile and I decide to give her a break for a bit. We sit in silence watching TV. Ally gets up to grab something to drink and brings back two beers. She hands me one and then opens the other, taking a long swig.

  “You need to be the one to tell her,” she says, going back to our original topic.

  “I know,” I say taking a sip of my own beer.

  “Don’t make me be the one to tell her,” she warns. “I don’t want to be in the middle of you two, but she’s my best friend and I can’t sit back and watch you lie to her.”

  “I’m going to tell her. I just want everything to be in place. We just decided this morning that I would stay here in Glasgow until school is done and then she’ll come to Bellecoaste with me for the summer. I want to get an apartment before I tell her.”

  “And you think that having an apartment will make the fact that you’ve been holding out this whole time a little less of a blow?” She smirks. “She’s going to hate you for lying to her, and it won’t matter what you have to bribe her with.”

  “Trust me, I get that. But good or bad, she’s my wife right now and she’s stuck with me until we can get to a lawyer and get officially divorced. My country might make it difficult, but if we’re there for the summer… it could be a good thing.”

  “How fortunate,” she deadpans. “I guess it’s a good thing that you have all summer to make it up to her.”

  “Guess so.”

  “You promise that you’re going to tell her soon?”

  I hold out my hand to her. “I promise,” I say as we shake.

  “Good.” The way she says it, you’d think she’d won a battle.

  “Now that all of that is out of the way, what do you say about helping me get Caelan out of his arranged marriage?” I wiggle
my eyebrows; she isn’t charmed one bit.

  “Not on your life,” she laughs.

  “Come on, Ally! You know that it’d be fun,” I plead.

  “You’re on your own for that adventure,” she says rolling her eyes at me.

  We’re still laughing when Freya walks in the door.

  “Am I interrupting something? I can always come back?”

  “No!” Ally yells. “Come here and sit down with us. I’ll get you a beer too,” Ally says as she’s getting up to grab another beer.

  Freya sets her bag down and sits down in the middle of the couch but it’s close enough to me that I can smell her shampoo. It smells like green apples today. Tart and fresh.

  “How did your meeting go?” I ask when she gets settled.

  “It went pretty good. I got everything I needed to be ready to graduate. And then we talked about the graduate program and what I wanted to get out of it. It was a good meeting, altogether.”

  Ally returns with another beer for Freya and she hands it to her as she sits back down. Freya lifts the bottom of her shirt up to open the bottle and the flash of skin is so subtly sexy, gone too soon when she covers back up.

  I think about my conversation with Ally earlier as we all sit and watch TV, talking about nothing and everything. She’s right. It’s not fair for me to hide the truth from Freya any longer. I should have told her long before now, from the first time we met. Marrying into the royal family is a traumatic enough when you know about it, and I can only guess to how she’s going to take it knowing that she didn’t have a choice in the matter.

  I took that choice away from her and I think when the dust settles, that’s what she’s going to be most upset about. I don’t blame her once bit.

  I’d hate me too.

  17

  Freya

  Class today was long and seemed to draw on forever. I couldn’t pay attention to save my life, and that’s not my usual style. Normally, I’m one hundred percent committed to learning. School is where I excel. It’s where I feel at home the most and don’t have to worry about being judged for who I am.

  Truth be told, I’ve been having a hard time thinking about anything since I found out about the fact that Andreas and I are married. I still can’t recall the memories of that night, and it bothers me that I can’t replay what happened. I think if I had a solid answer as to why I went along with getting married in the first place, then maybe I’d have a better handle on my feelings now.

  Neither one of us has specifically said that we want a divorce—we just assume that the other person wants it to happen. Andreas said he would stay here in Glasgow, but I haven’t seen him in a several days. He texted me last night asking if I wanted to get dinner this weekend—but that’s all I’ve heard.

  My thoughts are heavy as I walk back to my apartment. I know that we’re eventually going to have to come to a joint decision about what to do, and I’m not looking forward to it. I’m not sure I can take it if he really does want a divorce. I don’t want to keep him in a marriage that he doesn’t want; I want him to be happy. I also haven’t been hunting down a lawyer myself. I know I should be, but I haven’t had the heart to do it. Maybe that says something about how I’m feeling, but I haven’t stopped long enough to figure it out.

  I get back to my apartment and open the door to find Andreas sitting on the couch. Ally must have let him in earlier before she left. I’m a little surprised, and my heart flutters at his presence.

  Damn heart.

  “Hey, Frey,” he says, getting up to hug me and kiss me. I can’t help but melt into his embrace. His warm, rich scent envelops me—hints of cinnamon and pine on his skin.

  My doubts get lost in the feeling of my body against his.

  “Hey yourself,” I say back when we finally break apart.

  I set down my backpack on the floor next to the couch and shrug out of my jacket. It’s starting to warm up since summer is getting closer but it’s nothing compared to the warm days and nights spent in Ibiza.

  “So, what brings you here?” I ask when I’m facing him again.

  He gives that smile of his that always makes me weak in the knees. “I have a surprise for you,” he answers.

  “A surprise you say?” I hate surprises. Always have, always will.

  He nods his head. “Just for you.”

  “What do I have to do to?”

  “Close your eyes,” he says.

  I decide to play along.

  “Hold out your hand.”

  I hold out one hand and he places something in it. I can’t tell what it is, but it’s got to be small if it fits in my palm.

  “Ok, you can open them.”

  I open my eyes and find a set of keys laying in my hand. There are a lot of things keys could go to, so I’m still curious. “And what do these go to?”

  “Come on,” he says grabbing my hand. “I’ll show you.”

  We put on our jackets and he leads me to a parked car.

  “Is this what the keys go to?” I ask.

  “Nope. This is just the rental car. I’m still working on buying one,” he explains.

  Buying a car? Does he know how expensive gas is in Scotland? I guess a rich kid like him doesn’t have much thought for things like that. That’s irritating in and of itself—but the keys, that’s another thing entirely. I think I know what might be coming next, and I’m not sure I’m entirely prepared.

  He opens the door for me and I climb in. He comes around and gets in the driver’s seat. His lean frame folds into the small car.

  He drives us pass the university district and then through the city center. I’ve always loved the old world feel that Glasgow gives off. We stop in front of a building that has so much detail in the architecture that my eyes don’t even know where to begin. It has a handful of balconies surrounded with intricate iron work. There are flowers decorating the windows and sidewalk, making for an inviting feel.

  Andreas parks, and we get out. He grabs my hand and leads me towards the building. There’s a doorman and we exchange hellos before heading to the top floor. We get out of the elevator—and there’s only one door on this floor apparently.

  I still have the keys in my hand and Andreas motions for me to open the door. I slide one of the keys in and it fits like a glove, the lock turning easily.

  Jesus, Andreas. You shouldn’t have. You really shouldn’t have.

  And what could this possibly mean for us?

  He steps back and lets me go in first. The apartment is too perfect for words. The modern furniture mixes beautifully with the old-world style of the apartment. There are couches and oversized chairs, perfect for cuddling up with a book on a cold, rainy day. The TV is framed by built in hard wood shelves which are filled with all sorts of small trinkets, just begging to be explored. The rug in the living room is expansive and the colors are warm and inviting.

  I walk farther into the space and see the kitchen off to the right. It’s a mesh of tile and stainless steel that had to cost a fortune. I can’t even imagine what this whole place even cost. From what I’ve seen from him so far, the fancy villa, the yacht, this apartment—money isn’t an issue for Andreas or any of his family.

  “Did you buy this?” I ask as I continue to walk around the place. It feels like a safe enough question.

  “Just renting for now,” he says. “Why don’t you come check out the terrace? It’s the best part in my opinion.”

  “Okay,” I say cautiously. My heart flutters, and blood rushes in my ears. I don’t know exactly how to feel about any of this.

  I follow him to the French doors that lead outside.

  The terrace has the best view of the city skyline. I can instantly picture myself standing here on a dark night watching the starry sky and the lit-up city below. There’s a small garden that borders the building’s edge, creating a charming little area out here. I have to agree with Andreas, this is my favorite part so far.

  “So how are you liking your surprise so far?” h
e asks, taking my hand in his.

  “I don’t even know what to say. No one has ever given me something like this before,” I admit. I’m scared because I could easily see myself here with him, enjoying ourselves and the city. And then—what? There are explanations beyond this, things that he’s been keeping from me for all the weeks we’ve known each other. And would a rich, old European family—the kind I assume he’s from—approve of someone like me?

  He kisses my forehead. “You haven’t even seen the bedroom yet,” he says. “I definitely think we need to fix that as soon as possible.”

  We walk back inside and go down the short hall to the bedroom. The bed isn’t huge like back at the villa but it’s decorated in the softest looking silk sheets in a deep blue color. It makes me want to strip down and rub around the sheets naked.

  “Wanna test the bed out?” I ask him, smiling like a fool. When I catch his eye, he’s already laughing, and some of my anxiety eases.

  “It’s like you were reading my mind,” he jokes.

  We strip off our clothes and he picks me up, throwing me on the bed before climbing over me to kiss me. His hand is holding my neck and we take our time with the kiss, letting it build in intensity.

  I pull away, briefly. “Andreas, what does this mean for us?”

  He sighs and pulls me in close. “It means we have a chance to make this work if we want to. It means that we have a place to be, with more than one bedroom to sleep in at night if we fight. We can be together or apart. We can meet lawyers here—or not. And we can try this thing for real, if you’re willing.”

  “And this is where you’ve been for the past three days?”

  “Yes.”

  “For me?”

  “For us.”

  I lead him over to the bed, and he lies down. He looks like one of the old paintings I’ve seen so many times in Paris or Rome—broad-shouldered, lean and muscular, every aspect of him like it was painted and created to perfection. I trail my eyes from his head to his toes and mentally catalogue every inch of him.