Amand stood somewhat stiffly at the open French doors looking out onto the balcony.
“Will you speak to them?”
He turned a bit suddenly and suppressed a grimace of pain, which didn’t in the least mask his fury. “I am far too angry, Daniel.”
He walked to me and put his hands on my shoulders. “I know you do not like discord, but I am beyond furious that they would once again risk your safety to catch Uncle Bernat. When I think that you might have been injured…or killed…I simply cannot get past that.”
Our embrace was awkward and loose. Between his flank and my arm and leg, we were far too injured to do more than keep each other company, though he insisted I sleep with him at night.
“I cannot be parted from you. Not again. With you by my side, I can rest easy.”
As the days passed, his anger began to ease as well. So I tried again. “Amand, you have to make up with your family. If you won’t do it for them, please do it for me. You know how important family is to me. I can’t taking being in the middle of this. I don’t hold a grudge against them.”
We were seated in the shaded arbor off the formal private gardens. Amand slid closer to me and rested his hand on my knee.
“You should be. What they did was wrong.”
“It turned out okay in the end.” I held his gaze. “Please.”
His gaze searched mine. “Only for you.”
24
Daniel
One week made a big difference, not all of it positive. Amand was moving more freely, and I had dispensed with the cane, though it appeared the cast was about to become a more permanent fixture. That is what was going right.
What I couldn’t figure out was the change in Amand. He was speaking to his family…barely. I was beginning to feel some of that coldness directed toward me, or so it seemed. When I asked him if something was wrong, he denied it. When I asked him if I had done something, he laughed.
It wasn’t funny.
I lay awake at night long after Amand was sound asleep, trying to figure out what I had done or not done. I didn’t like feeling paranoid, but I feared he was about to send me back to the states. Maybe, once he had a chance to think about everything, he realized how unsuitable I was to be the husband of a prince.
It was my turn to stare out over the garden from the balcony.
“Daniel,” Amand spoke from the door to my room where I had taken refuge, acceding to his odd request to put on a suit. “Please come with me.”
“Where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
I nodded and walked beside him to the limo. He didn’t take my hand, didn’t try to talk. I blinked back the tears the pressed against my eyelids. We were probably headed to an attorney’s office. There must be some legalities involved in breaking off a relationship with a prince, after all. As the car moved smoothly away from the palace, though, I could stand it no longer.
“Amand, tell me what is wrong. Have you changed your mind about us? If that’s the case, say so. Say it and get it over with! I’ll pack my bags and go, but please don’t keep pushing me away.” I pounded the limo door with my fist. “I know I nearly cost you your life. It is the last thing I would ever have wanted. I love you, but if you have changed your mind, let’s end this and go our separate ways while I still have some dignity remaining.”
Amand had listened silently through my tirade, his dark brows arching ever higher as I finally stopped speaking. In his navy suit and silver tie, he looked as coldly austere as I had ever seen him.
And then he laughed, his distance and dark mood a thing of the past, as though they had never been.
“I have no wish to end anything, Daniel. In fact, I am hoping we are beginning something new.”
The limo pulled into a small forest clearing just outside the edge of the city. Beautiful wooden arches were decorated with white lilies and extravagant curls of ribbon. It looked like a fairytale. Maybe even one when I did get the prince. Amand helped me from the car.
“Does this look as though I wish to end things?”
“What is all of this?” I stared around me.
“A wedding, my love.” He swept his hand across the brightly decorated clearing. “Our wedding.”
My family was all gathered. So was his. Everyone was garbed in traditional wedding attire, the men in suits and women wearing colorful hats and bright summer dresses.
Not any wedding. Mine and Amand’s. Not done up in royal pomp and circumstance that Amand knew would make me feel uncomfortable, but designed for the two of us.
He took my hand in both of his, his fingers gently caressing the engagement ring he had given me. “Marry me, Daniel. Here and now. I cannot wait any longer.”
At the front, violin music began. It was the cousin who had played with Amand when we went to dinner at Georg’s.
“Walk with me.”
Our steps were still a little halting, but our voices were strong as the priest guided us through our vows and pronounced us married. Amand cradled my face in his hands, his gaze warm and steady on mine. “I will love you forever,” he whispered.
His kiss brought tears to my eyes until I noticed how choked up he was too. The cold, frozen man I had first met was gone. We smiled at each other and broke apart, to the applause of everyone gathered around us.
The King shook my hand, but it was the Queen who brought tears to my eyes one more.
“Welcome to our family, my son. Prince Daniel. You have brought light and life back to Amand that I was afraid I would never see again.”
Amand had arranged a small reception right there, complete with food and cake. While most of my family danced and sang, Amand and I had to stay on the sidelines, at least this time around.
The ride back to the palace was accomplished with a lot more fanfare than our departure. News apparently traveled fast. As we neared the ascent to the palace, crowds of well-wishers lined the streets throwing flowers and waving miniature Calonian flags.
As the car pulled up out front and the footmen opened the doors, Amand raised my hand to his lips. “Are you tired?”
The heat in his gaze was unmistakable.
“Never.”
The moment the door to his suite shut behind us, Amand helped me to disrobe, carefully working the jacket over my soft cast. As we stripped the clothing from each other, we paused to kiss and touch. At last, naked and aroused, we faced each other.
He held his arms wide and I walked into them, as careful with him as he was with me. However as our tongues danced against each other, Amand’s hands grasped my hips to pull me closer. Cocks rubbed together until I panted in excitement.
“Lie down on your back while I get the lube, Daniel,” he ordered. “I want to touch you and kiss you while we make love.”
Our gazes never leaving each other, he spread my thighs, scooting in between them. With one hand jerking my cock, Amand used his other to tease my asshole and prepare me for his entry.
“It is our beginning,” he murmured. “We will build a life, a strong family, but the first thing we will do is seal our vows.”
His finger pushed into me and I cried out. He added a second finger and kissed me deeply, biting softly at my lips. With one hand, he positioned his swollen cock at my entrance.
“Relax,” he whispered. “I intend to make this outstanding for both of us.”
And he did.
25
Amand
One Year Later
I stood in the wings, just offstage as the orchestra began warming up. In my left hand, I held my cello and my bow. I took a deep breath and released it, pleased to feel excitement and anticipation, but not the nervousness I was afraid I would feel facing my first public performance in years.
I peeked around the edge of the curtains and spotted Daniel seated in the royal booth behind my parents, and the Crown Prince and Princess. Ricard sat with him. Daniel’s golden hair gleamed in the house lights of the music hall.
Dr. Rinzky approached. “It i
s time, Your Highness. You are ready.”
It was not a question. It was a reassurance that I had his approval. As we stepped onto the stage where the orchestra was now quietly seated, thunderous applause erupted.
I had missed this. Hearing the noise and the quiet shifting of the musicians in their seats as they prepared was like tasting the sweetest delicacy. Dr. Rinzky shook the first violinist’s hand, as did I, and we made our bows to the orchestra and the audience.
This was my concert. I had chosen the music with Dr. Rinzky, and had even managed to convince the old master to grant me some leeway. I would perform the classics that he loved, if he would allow me two pieces of my own choosing at the end.
His reluctance ended when we had begun rehearsals. Now, he was as excited as I was. As I seated myself and positioned my cello, I glanced to the side and found Daniel gazing at me with the most beautiful smile curving his lips.
It was because of him that I was here. He had shown me love and acceptance when I couldn’t show it to him or to myself. He had given of himself again and again, risked his life for me, and showered me with such an abundance of affection over the past year that I hardly recognized myself anymore.
The audience gave me a standing ovation after the first two pieces, but I wondered how they might respond to the rest of the evening’s selections.
When I returned to the stage, I had removed my coat and tails, stripped to my shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
I launched into Duke Ellington’s “Caravan,” losing myself in the music, the orchestra backing me up with both strings and percussion. I closed my eyes as I played. When the applause subsided, I introduced the final song.
“My last selection for this evening is “Someday My Prince Will Come.” There was a ripple of laughter through the audience, and I sent a grin in Daniel’s direction. As I swung the cello across my lap and began my performance, playing it as though it were a guitar, I could sense the shock rippling through the crowd. The selection concluded in a far more traditional way. As the last note floated out into the theatre, a feeling of peace suffused me, my soul stretching and taking wing.
The applause was deafening. I bowed to the audience and to Dr. Rinzky. As the noise began to die down and I put my bow into my left hand to carry it and the cello offstage, the clapping began again, this time with a chant coming from the crowd. It took me a moment to realize they were calling Daniel’s name.
I looked up into the box, but he was no longer there. For an instant, my happiness dimmed. Where had he gone? Surely he had not missed the finale. Someone tapped my shoulder. When I turned, Daniel was there, a bouquet of roses in his hand and the most angelic smile curving his lips. As he pressed them into my right hand, he leaned in and kissed me slowly and deeply. We both turned and smiled at the crowd.
Barely moving his mouth, Daniel murmured, “I’m hoping my prince will come very soon.”
Smile still in place, I responded, “Oh, I’m sure he will. Just wait until I get you back to my dressing room.”
The applause and whistles shook the old royal music hall all the way to the little gold cherubs adorning the ceiling.
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About the Authors
Peter Styles
Peter Styles is the writer of series like Finding Shore, Love Games, and over a dozen stand-alone gay romance novels. Born and raised in midwest America, Peter likes to combine his love of the country, writing, and romance together to share the stories that won’t stop rattling around in his head.
Peter found his love story many years ago and now is dedicated to showing others how sweet, steamy, and loving gay romance can be—both in his life and in the fiction he creates! He enjoys long walks with his dog, and reading the reviews his readers leave for him.
He also stays up much too late reading and writing MM romance, because if there’s one thing Peter really loves, it’s love.
J.P. Oliver
J.P. is the writer of Swipe Right, Breaking the Rules, and other novels set around the boys of Joe’s Bar. Settled in the bay area, J.P. lives with Joey, Bailey, and Sugar. Two are dogs, one is not, but all three require frequent walks and feeding twice a day.
J.P.’s hobbies include watching far too much television, eating far too much ice cream, and pestering the hardworking employees at the local library. When not writing M/M fiction, J.P. is usually reading it, because what better way to relax on the beach.
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The Prince’s Passion
The Prince’s Passion
Peter Styles and J.P. Oliver
© 2018
Disclaimer
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are all fictitious for the reader’s pleasure. Any similarities to real people, places, events, living or dead are all coincidental.
This book contains sexually explicit content that is intended for ADULTS ONLY (+18).
The Prince’s Passion: A Fake Engagement Royalty Romance Page 16