“I’m not afraid of him.”
“Never said you were afraid of Colin.”
I fist my hands on my hips. “Then what am I so afraid of?”
“That, despite what Tressie told you about fairy tales, you were in the middle of one, and instead of the evil witch driving the two of you apart, you did it all by yourself, and now that you’ve gone too many days without your true love, you are scared that you can’t get it back.”
She’s right. I am a total coward. Me, the girl who was ready to tackle her new rich asshole of a neighbor to the ground to protect her stepmother, is now the woman who is too scared to protect her marriage.
Even from herself.
“I’ll talk to him.”
Charlotte cheers. “Tressie totally said this would work.”
“What?”
“I have to totally go to work. Princess stuff to pack up.” Charlotte hurries off, her arms swinging and her hips swaying like she’s the most badass royal princess in all the land.
Which isn’t too far from the truth.
Chapter 25
Colin
The text I sent to Della an hour ago has gone unanswered. I check my mobile for what has to be the hundredth time.
Nothing.
Fuck. Perhaps I should have gone to her instead of cryptically asking her to meet me here. But I had no other choice. I can’t wait another moment.
Della walks in with Beaumont. She looks fucking gorgeous in her yellow sweater and dark jeans. Her hair is flowing over her shoulders in large curls and her lips are coated in a shiny pink lip gloss that I’m fairly certain tastes like strawberries.
Naturally, I greet her with all the charm I possess. “Thank you for meeting with me,” I say, all stilted and formal, like a twat speaking in front of Parliament instead of the woman he loves.
“Sure…you said you had something important to share with me?”
“Please have a seat.”
She sits in one of the large club chairs flanking the fireplace in the library and I drop down into the one opposite her.
Yes, I purposefully chose the place she loves most.
I’m not a complete idiot.
“My sons and I are leaving for the Isle on Saturday. We won’t return for some time.”
Her eyes widen and her face pales. “What does some time mean?”
“It means that I want to be there to help Imogen and Parliament with the transition of a new queen. Aiden and Pierce have a right to see their homeland, to see the graves of their parents, and learn the traditions of the Isle. The schools are good and they’re excited for the adventure of a new place.”
“You’re all leaving?” Her fingers dig into her thighs, betraying her calm tone. Now that’s a good sign. A very good sign.
“No.” I shake my head. “Theo will stay. He’s agreed to take over Sinclair Enterprises for me.”
Her mouth drops open. “Why?”
“Shocked me, too, but he said that I deserved a break from my responsibilities.” I cock my head to one side, a smile pushing up the corners of my mouth. “I’m certain he forgot I have kids.”
“He doesn’t mean to— it’s just not something he has to think about every day like you. Plus, you make it look so easy.”
“I had a lot help from you, so I can’t take all the credit.”
She nods, her lips quivering. “I loved helping you.”
It’s all I can do to sit here, to remain calm. “Recently, Davies resigned as prime minister, so while we’re there we will get to experience an election as well.”
“Fun.”
“You could always go with us. I’m sure the boys would love it.”
“Just the boys?” she says, and I blink.
I have to be dreaming. Yes, I put it out there, gave her the opportunity to respond, but this entire conversation is so badly done that I wouldn’t take me back.
I tug on my ear. “Not just the boys.”
“Imogen?”
I nod.
Della scoots closer to the edge of her chair. “Charlotte?”
I nod.
“You?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Unable to take it a moment longer, I go down on my knees in front of her, fully intending on begging for her forgiveness. “I’m sorry for not telling you the truth. I’m so bloody sorry and I swear that from now on, you will be privy to everything. Nothing is off-limits to you.”
She joins me on the floor, rising on her knees and taking my face in her hands. “I’m sorry for getting so upset and walking out, not giving you a chance to explain and for not understanding where you were coming from. I’m so—”
“You deserve a tongue-lashing and a spanking.”
She nods, frantically undressing me. “Right here. I locked the door behind me.” Her head dips as she presses hot kisses all over my torso. “Oh, I missed this.”
“Are you sure?” I allow her to push me down onto the floor and watch as she shoves her jeans down and then all but rips off the rest of her clothes before straddling me.
The moment her pussy grinds down on my cock, I rise up and slam my mouth against hers, claiming her. She grabs my cock, sliding it against her wetness over and over again.
I’m nearly mindless when she finally takes the head of my cock inside her and the moment I’m balls deep…fucking bliss.
A groan leaves me.
She moans my name.
Her hips roll and I shove up, trying to get every inch as deep as possible. Her perky tits bounce as she rides me, her nipples hard and begging for my attention. I pull her down slightly and worship her breasts with my tongue and teeth.
She cries out my name and I roll her onto her back, pounding into her with a fierceness that I’ve never felt before. I almost lost her. Almost let my pride stand in the way.
“I love you,” she says, biting at my shoulder.
Slipping my hand between us, I work her clit, and in seconds she’s screaming my name, her neck arching and her mouth open wide.
So damn beautiful.
Her pussy clamps down on me, milking me, and I go over the edge, roaring her name as my heart beats like the time I had to go up Mount Evergreenwood with sixty pounds of gear strapped to my back.
Long minutes pass before I can form two words, but they are the words that are in my heart. “Love you.”
She smiles, happy tears in her eyes. “You had me as soon as you texted Meet me in the library.”
“You’ll come with us?” I ask.
“There’s no way I’ll let my boys go without me…or my husband.”
I can’t keep the grin off my face. “I have an even bigger library in the royal castle on the Isle.”
“Bigger than this?” Her eyes widen. “Wow.”
“I don’t like to brag.”
“Except when it comes to getting in my pants.”
“Guilty.”
“How scandalous of you.” She snorts.
“Just you wait, Mrs. Sinclair.” Then I kiss her again.
—
We’re home.
A flawless sky and green hills greet us, just like that scene where Julie Andrews is singing on the mountaintop.
Except this is real.
This makes my heart pound and my breath catch.
We’re home.
“Are we going to live here forever?” Aiden asks, his hand gripping mine tightly. Pierce holds Della’s.
Last night we told them the truth, together. While it was painful in some ways…in others, it was freeing. I think the boys understood as much as they could. They had fewer questions than I thought and they also requested to sleep in our room.
Today they’re extra close, extra cautious, and won’t allow us to go but so far from them. As if they’re afraid we’ll leave.
But that will never happen.
“Only if you want, but then Tressie will miss us,” I say.
Aiden kicks at a rock and it goes tumbling down the side of the hill, toward a calm sea that
stretches for miles.
“Once we say goodbye to the king and queen, I want to go home,” he declares.
“Me, too.” Pierce gazes up at Della. “You’re living with us, too.”
“Forever and always,” she says.
That seems to work because they let go of our hands and start to explore the walled garden behind the royal castle. But every so often, I’ll catch the boys looking our way.
I smile encouragingly.
It will take time, but I have plenty of that to give them. There are no more secrets in this family. No more scandals that will rock the foundations of our monarchy.
The scandalous Sinclairs are no more.
“Imogen is hosting a party at the castle tonight. I’ve heard that every eligible man around will be in attendance,” Della says. “A few actors and musicians are coming, too. Theo is bringing an entourage with him.”
So much for no more scandals. “Theo has no sense of decorum, so I can only imagine who comprises his entourage.”
With a laugh, Della kisses me. “Stop worrying so much. He’s grown and so are you. Besides, you have a princess to take care of tonight.”
“A princess, huh? My wife won’t like that very much.”
She gives me a look hot enough to melt the medals on my royal sash. “Which one would you prefer, Your Highness?”
“I prefer you, Della—best friend, wife, and princess.”
Fireworks boom behind us as we kiss and a cheer goes up—apparently Imogen’s speech was a success. I take that as a good omen, not just for the country but for my marriage.
“Ugh. They’re kissing again,” Aiden complains.
“Grandma Tressie says it’s one of the ways married people talk,” Pierce says.
“I am never talking like that.”
Della and I grin at each other, then turn to the boys.
“One day you might, for the right girl,” she says and squeezes my hand. “Or in my case, a real prince of a guy.”
Epilogue
Colin
FIVE YEARS LATER
I am the luckiest man in the room, and my shit-hot wife has everything to do with it. The fact that I’m a prince signifies nothing at all.
Not in the grand scheme of things of what’s important to me, at least.
Della smiles when I dip her. She looks particularly lovely in a yellow ball gown that highlights her breasts and makes her skin look as if it’s glowing.
I dip her again, just to hear her laugh and to see her smile. Her gloved fingertips grip me tightly. It’s the first time I’ve seen her wear those.
“Tonight, wear the gloves and the shoes. Nothing else,” I murmur, bringing her close.
“Only if you wear my favorite suit.”
“And that would be?”
“Your birthday one.” She laughs at her joke and I can’t help but join her. Her laughter is contagious, even if her jokes need work.
Someone taps me on my shoulder and I glance over.
“May I cut in?” Aiden asks. He’s sixteen now and nearly as tall as I am.
“Of course,” Della replies.
“Make sure you’re careful with your mother’s foot,” I say as I caution him.
Della rolls her eyes. “I’m fine.”
“You tripped over Seth’s toys and rolled your ankle.”
“He’s one and barely walking. You can’t expect him to put away his toys yet.” she says with a playful scowl.
“We need a nanny.”
“Not going to happen,” Della calls out.
I hear our son laughing at me and I turn to give him a look, but he’s busy chatting with his mother.
Beaumont, still the mater of ninja appearances, joins me, Seth in his arms. “Master Seth wants his daddy.”
I take Seth from him, breathing in his baby scent. His green eyes regard me thoughtfully while his chin dips. “Lola.”
“There’s my boy,” Lola squeals from across the room.
Seth all but leaps into her arms as soon as she’s at our side. “Careful of her belly, Seth.”
She waves me away. “Oh please. My oldest acts like she doesn’t even know I’m having a baby.”
“That’s because she wants to always be the baby,” her husband, Cary, chimes in as he joins us.
“I’m so glad the two of you could make it.”
Lola shrugs and pats her huge belly with one hand while Seth hangs on. “Baby still baking in the oven, so Momma gets to have a night out.” She makes a face and hands my son back to me. “I gotta pee.”
Cary grins. “Which means I need to get her another water.”
“Enjoy yourselves.” I walk around the ballroom, eyeing my family in their various strategic positions.
Pierce is standing near the DJ, talking to a girl from his chemistry class. From what Della told me, they’ve been friends ever since fourth grade. She had a gleam in her eye when she told me earlier this evening, as if she’s planning weddings and making room for grandbabies.
Imogen is holding court at the front of the room, presumably to get the bidding up to the thousands and tens of thousands to benefit a local children’s organization.
Nearly a year after Della and I were married, we decided to open parts of the house to the public and hold charity balls at no charge to the organizations, so that the community could use it.
So far, so good.
The organizations are all worthy and they’ve all made money—thanks to our notoriety and the scandals that follow us…courtesy of my brother and even Imogen, at times.
Frankly, I think Imogen rebels to test her boundaries with Parliament while my brother pushes the limits because he’s fucking bored and searching for something more than women and parties can provide for him.
Seth shifts in my arms and I murmur to him, calming him down.
I can’t believe he’s only lived with us for six months. It seems like he’s always been a part of our family.
Not long after we returned from the Isle, Della and I started the adoption process. You wouldn’t think it would be hard for someone like me to adopt, but for some reason American adoption agencies are rather hesitant to let foreigners adopt, especially when those foreigners happen to be a prince whose family doesn’t have the best reputation.
But I like to think it was perfect timing.
Aiden walks his mother to me as soon as the song ends.
“Can I go hang out with my friends until the ball’s over?” he asks, nodding at a group of boys and girls hanging out at the dessert table. “Grandma keeps threatening to make all the guys dance with her.”
I spy Tressie in the middle of the floor, her gentleman friend on her arm. She’s decked out in jewelry and her face is wreathed in smiles. I suspect that she’s finally gotten another happily ever after.
“Yes, but make sure everyone is having a good time,” Della answers.
“Yes, Mom,” he drones, but I don’t miss the twinkle in his eyes.
“Do you want me to take him so you can mingle?” Della asks. “The archbishop and prime minister have arrived.”
“Our family comes first.” I kiss the baby in my arms. “He needs to know he comes first.”
“Always.” She places her hand on my sleeve and leans up to kiss me. “And forevermore.”
Charlotte
MEANWHILE, AT COLIN AND DELLA’S CHARITY BALL
I shouldn’t stare.
I know I shouldn’t, not to mention that it’s terribly rude, but I can’t help myself. Seriously, I should put myself in the corner and face the wall. I close my eyes tight and promise to never Google images of Brooks Walker again.
Never stare at his picture again.
Never gaze upon his face in public…or private.
Or drool over his Instagram when he shares pictures of himself wearing custom-made suits that emphasize how fit he is.
Or the way his blue eyes gleam with self-assured victory right before he strikes his opponent in a debate—
Holy crap. H
e’s coming this way. He’s heading my way.
Don’t slip is my chanted mantra as I attempt to run in high heels to the punch bowl—the station I should have been manning all along—and begin ladling the pungent liquid into crystal glasses the size of teacups.
I will my traitor of a heart to stop beating so hard and loud while I glance up every so often to see how close he is. But it doesn’t bother to listen.
Which is reason number five hundred and six that I wouldn’t make a good queen.
“How are you this evening?” His voice, low and without the southern accent I know he should have, washes over me.
I slosh punch over the rim and onto my hand. “Fine. Thank you.” My voice stays mostly neutral, but even I can hear the slight rise in pitch. “Punch?” I hold out a glass.
His fingers brush against my mine and my knees shake, not with fear, though. Not even close. “Spiked?”
“Not unless you consider sherbet to be particularly uninhibiting,” I reply.
“Depends on what’s in it,” he says.
“Milk, sugar, sweetened fruit juice, and—” I stop, realizing that is not what he meant at all. “The drink is nonalcoholic. However, you are welcome to the bar on the left side of the ballroom.”
“Is there a reason why you won’t look at me?”
“No.” I force my chin up, thinking I should be fine when I finally see him this close. Our gazes collide and my world crumbles beneath me.
His eyes are blue with brown circling the irises and fringed with heavy, dark lashes. My eyes drift down his face, taking in his straight nose, high cheekbones, and full lips, then back up again to his gleaming, light hair. He’s wearing it very conservatively tonight, like he’s trying to hide who he really is.
“You’re a horrible liar.” He takes a sip of the punch. “I’m interested in the reason, good or bad. I can take it.”
“Actually…I wanted to make sure I didn’t spill more punch. It will take loads of bleach to get out the mess I made.”
His mouth parts in obvious surprise; then he licks his full bottom lip and I can’t help but stare.
I want to kiss his lips. Want to feel them on my skin, in every place that I’ve touched while pretending that it is Brooks’s mouth, Brooks’s hands.
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