The Princess I Hate to Love

by Iris Morland

  I stopped in my tracks. It took all of my self-control not to deck him. “I never wanted this to happen. I did everything in my power to prevent it, but sometimes, even the royal family can’t stop shitty people from making money from our misery. It’s part of the deal. Niamh knew that when she married me.”

  Liam thrust a finger in my face. “You promised me. You said nothing would happen to her.”

  I slapped his hand away. “Everything within my power.” Then I spat out, “Your father did this. Connor Gallagher. Not me, you arrogant dick. If you want to blame someone, blame the person who shares half of your DNA.”

  Liam stared at me. I watched as a myriad of emotions crossed his face, until his expression shuttered close.

  “You’re sure?” he said.

  “He threatened me himself. So yes, I’m sure.”

  I heard a low growl, and for a moment, I wondered if there were actually bears in this patch of forest. But it was Liam, and the sound grew and grew. Then Liam was pummeling a tree trunk, the tree shaking from the force. Leaves fell around him.

  I just waited. Soon enough, he was shaking his hand, and I could make out blood on his knuckles.

  “Do you feel better?” I asked.

  “No.”

  We didn’t say much after that. But Liam’s anger toward me seemed to have diffused somewhat. At the very least, he wasn’t threatening to end my life.

  We were only a kilometer from our destination when he said quietly, “Did Niamh tell you about what happened to us?”

  “With your father?”

  Liam nodded tightly. “I have no lost love for that piece of shite. You telling me that? It doesn’t surprise me. A man who abandons his family without a word is one who’d try to make a buck off of them, too, even in the worst possible way.”

  “What’s your point, Gallagher?”

  “My point is that I’ve been the one to take care of Niamh since she was a baby. Our mam died when she was really young. I was basically her father. I was the one who took her to school, who made sure she ate her carrots. I bought her clothes and brushed her hair.” He smiled, a far-off smile. “Couldn’t ever French braid for shite and still can’t do it with two daughters of my own now.”

  Liam sighed. “And when I married Mari, we were stupid about it. We got drunk and married in Vegas after only knowing each other a few days. I knew that if my grandda found out, he’d keep Niamh’s inheritance from her. So Mari and I played it like we were really in love.”

  “You don’t love your wife?”

  “I love her now. It just took a second, and for me to get my head out of my arse. Keep up, Prince.

  “But what I’m saying is I’d do anything for Niamh. And of course, for my wife and my daughters. The thought that I was thousands of miles away and I couldn’t keep Niamh safe…”

  I hated that I understood his frustration and his worry, because it humanized him. It was easier to see him as a bonehead with all of the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.

  “I love your sister.” I stopped, facing Liam now. “Like you, I didn’t at first, but I do now. And you need to know that this entire thing…” I struggled for the right words. “It’s been agony, seeing her hurt, knowing that I failed. Whatever anger you hold toward me is nothing in comparison to the anger I have at myself.”

  Liam folded his arms. He assessed me, but I was used to people assessing me. I’d been assessed my entire life.

  “You love her?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Does she know this?”

  “Yes.”

  He grunted. “Okay.”

  I waited. Then: “That’s it? That’s all you have to say after nearly beating me to a pulp?”

  “You’re fine. You’re walking, nothing’s broken.”

  “As far as we know. I could have internal bleeding.”

  Liam guffawed. “If only I were so lucky.” He slung an arm over me and gave me a sideways hug. “Does Niamh love you back?”

  “Christ, are we really going to act like teenage girls at a slumber party right now?”

  “Answer the question.”

  “Yes, she does. Happy?”

  “No, because you don’t deserve her, but I’ll live with it.”

  I decided that that was the best response I was going to get out of my brother-in-law. By the time we returned to the car, dusty and disheveled, I had to persuade my driver not to take me to the hospital after he saw my bruised jaw.

  “No, he hasn’t kidnapped me,” I assured my driver. “This is my brother-in-law.”

  My driver’s eyes widened. “And he beat you, sir? What kind of a family gathering is this?”

  “An Irish one,” I said wryly, leaving my poor driver to gape at me in confusion as I let Liam into the car with me.

  By the time I’d showered and had Laurent bandage my wounds—he was horrified when he first saw me—I went to the cat room to find my wife. There, I found her with not only the cats, but two children who were currently pouncing on each other.

  Portia and the kittens were watching from a safe distance high above as the young girls pounced, hissed, and pounced again.

  “Where did you find more cats?” I asked. “These ones seem feral.”

  “Girls, can you stop for a second? These are my nieces, Fiona and Dahlia. This is my husband, Olivier.”

  I’d briefly met both girls at the wedding, but I’d been so distracted that I’d honestly forgotten their faces right afterward. Fiona was red-haired and tall like her mother, while Dahlia was dark-haired like her father. They both looked like they’d happily set the palace on fire and laugh with glee as it burned.

  I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you. Again.”

  Fiona took my hand. Dahlia just hissed and ran to hide in one of the cat tunnels. She almost fit inside it.

  “Sorry, they’re pretending to be cats.” Niamh pointed out two bowls of milk. “You missed dinnertime.”

  “What a shame. How old are they again?”

  Fiona’s nose crinkled. “You can ask me. I’m right here.”

  “Fi, don’t be rude,” said Niamh.

  “Well, he can. Ask me.”

  “How old are you, then?” I asked.

  “I’m four. Dahlia’s two. She talks but it’s hard to understand. I’ll tell you if you don’t know what she’s saying.”

  “I would appreciate that,” I said seriously.

  Dahlia began to wiggle out from the tunnel, only to discover that it had gotten stuck around her shoulders. Standing up, she was now half tunnel, half girl. A loud whine began to emanate from the tunnel.

  “Neeeeeeeeeev, help meeeeeeeee!”

  Niamh went over to get the tunnel off, but it wouldn’t budge. Dahlia started crying.

  “Here, you hold her and I’ll pull it off,” I said.

  As Niamh held Dahlia by the waist, I pulled hard. After a moment of resistance, I yanked the tunnel off of her.

  Dahlia was red-faced, her hair full of static electricity. She was crying in loud, gulping sobs.

  “It’s okay! You’re fine.” Niamh soothed her and gave her a tight hug. She gave me a look that said she was trying very hard not to laugh.

  “Dahlia gets stuck in a lot of places,” Fiona informed me. “Once she got stuck in between those stair things.”

  “Banisters?”

  Fiona shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Mom had to use butter to get her head out.”

  Dahlia had stopped sobbing, with a few more tears eking out. Then within a few minutes, she was back to trying to climb the cat tree to get to the cats.

  “Thanks for helping,” said Niamh to me, her lips twitching. “They’re kind of a handful.”

  Now, Dahlia was sitting on the lowest arm of the tree. The trio of kittens were crouched down on the top nest, probably hoping the little girl couldn’t see them.

  “Dahlia, no.” Niamh grabbed her niece before she toppled the tree over. “You’ll break your arm and guess who’ll get in trouble? Me.”
>
  I picked up a feather wand toy that I’d seen Niamh use with the cats. I began to wave it in the kittens’ direction. They were soon focusing on its movement, swiping at it and trying to bite it midair.

  This was enough to hold Fiona and Dahlia’s attention, especially when I handed Fiona the wand and she began waving it around. The girls giggled as Mercedes nearly toppled out of the nest, grabbing onto the rope-covered pole and climbing back up to resume playing.

  Watching the girls with Niamh, I had the strangest feeling that I was watching her with our own children. The thought sent a surge through me. It was simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating.

  I could tell that Niamh would be an amazing mother. She was fun yet attentive, not getting angry even when Dahlia was being obstinate. And her nieces clearly adored her.

  Guilt hit me then. I’d taken her away from her family without a second thought. She’d told me she was homesick, but I’d arrogantly believed that cats and cars, along with seducing her as often as possible, would keep her occupied.

  Would you let her go, if she wanted to leave?

  I didn’t want to consider my own answer to that question.

  “I’m sorry for what happened earlier,” I said quietly to Niamh after Celia had collected the girls. “I shouldn’t have punched your brother.”

  “I’m still mad about it. You were both idiots, rolling around on the floor. But I can’t blame you for it, either. He had it coming.”

  “Have you spoken with him yet?”

  She shook her head. “I’m too pissed at him right now.”

  Portia came over and settled in Niamh’s lap, her rump going up as Niamh petted her.

  “Are you going into heat again? Great timing, Portia,” she said to the cat.

  Portia just trilled and lifted her butt higher.

  “Liam still treats me like I’m a little kid,” she said to me. “I told him to mind his own business, but he not only didn’t listen to me, he got on a plane to fuck everything up.”

  “I’m not going to defend him.”

  She snorted, shaking her head. “Everything’s just a big mess.”

  I wished I could tell her it would go away, but that would be a lie. We both knew this scandal wouldn’t blow over any time soon. And unfortunately, we also knew that it could happen again.

  I wanted to ask if I could come to Niamh’s room that night, but Mari came into the cat room. Seeing us, she said quickly, “Oh, I didn’t know you were here, Olivier—no, Your Highness. Sir? Crap, what should I call you?”

  “Olivier is fine.”

  Niamh set Portia on the floor. “Just don’t let Laurent hear you. I’m pretty sure he keeps track of every instance where someone doesn’t address his precious prince correctly.”

  “Now I’m imagining he has a journal full of just that,” said Mari.

  “Laurent would never be so gauche,” I said with a snort.

  After Niamh left to find her brother, I was going to return to my chambers when Mari stopped me.

  “I know we don’t know each other,” she began, rather awkwardly, “and I’m probably overstepping here, so feel free to tell me to get lost.”

  “I can always have you thrown in the dungeon, of course.”

  When Mari paled, I added quickly, “I’m joking. We don’t have a dungeon here.”

  She laughed, but I could tell she was still nervous.

  “Liam is a moron, but he means well. When he found out about the photos, he went berserk. I’d never seen him like that, at least not in a long time. It was agonizing to watch,” said Mari quietly.

  “It’s been agonizing for all of us.”

  “Liam would do anything for Niamh. Honestly, it’s one of the reasons I fell in love with him. He’s a big softie at heart. To him, family is the most important thing.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what your point is.”

  “I guess I’m saying that Niamh is the same way. She and Liam—they were all the other had for a long, long time. So when Liam thought his sister was being hurt and possibly abandoned in her marriage, he thought he could rescue her, like he had when she was a kid.”

  I bristled at that. “She doesn’t need to be rescued.”

  “Maybe not, but I also know that she would never admit it if she did need rescuing.” Mari’s expression was serious. “And she never would’ve married you if she didn’t love you.”

  My chest tightened. I knew Niamh loved me now. But had she loved me before then? Had she married me with hopeful expectations?

  “She loves you, Olivier. I see it when she looks at you.” Mari leaned forward. “Don’t break her heart, because you hold it in your hands. These Gallaghers—they’re hardheaded and closed off, but once they give you their heart, that’s it. You could crush them. It’s a huge responsibility, to hold their heart like that.”

  I didn’t know what to say, but I felt the weight of that responsibility on my shoulders. Had I taken Niamh’s love for granted? I’d assumed she would stay, that she would love me, that our marriage would become real, without considering what that meant to her. What sacrifices she would be making as a result.

  “I love your sister-in-law. I want our marriage to work.” I swallowed. “I don’t want to break her heart.”

  “I hope so. When you two announced your engagement after everything, we were all skeptical. Liam was certain you were marrying her just to keep your throne.” Mari assessed me. “And I think he was right, but I didn’t tell him as much.”

  “Things have changed,” I said tightly.

  “Well, I can’t judge people on how they start their marriage, considering what Liam and I did. But I want to see Niamh happy, and so does Liam.”

  As solemnly as a vow, I said, “I want the same thing.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  That night, I knocked on Niamh’s bedroom door and waited. It felt so reminiscent of our wedding night that I almost expected her to tell me to go away.

  This time, though, she opened the door and leaned against the mantel with a questioning look. She was wearing a nightgown and nothing else, the silk strap falling down her shoulder. Her hair was down; it had grown nearly to her waist since we’d married. I wanted to wrap it around my hands as I plunged inside her.

  “Did you need something?” She was smiling a little.

  “You,” I said simply.

  “Well, that’s very to the point.” She glanced over her shoulder at her bed. “I was reading a book, you know. I was just about to get to the part where they bone.”

  I wrapped an arm around her waist. “You could get a good boning right now.”

  She laughed. “Trés romantique!”

  “Did you want romance? I can go send Laurent for a bouquet of flowers. Champagne, chocolates, the works.”

  “Have you ever sent him to get you a box of condoms? Now I’m curious.”

  “That would just be cruel of me.”

  “That’s not a no.”

  I pressed my forehead to hers. “I’m trying to make this sexy. Thinking about Laurent looking for condoms at the store is killing the mood, darling.”

  “I don’t know about you, but it’s getting me all hot and bothered. Do you think he’d get the magnum size just to save your ego even though he knows you don’t have a Godzilla dick?”

  “Niamh, for the love of God, please shut up.” I was nearly about to fall to my knees, from either laughing or weeping.

  “‘Your Highness, do you prefer lubricated or ribbed for her pleasure’?” Niamh tugged on my hair. “Did you die?”

  “Yes, I’ve expired. Please tell my parents it was your fault entirely.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they’ll think that without me telling them.”

  I cupped her cheek in one hand and finally gave in to the urge to wrap her long hair around my other, tilting her head back for a kiss.

  “Are you going to behave?” I said some moments later.

  “No fucking way.”

  At that respo
nse, I threw her over my shoulder and carried her to the bed. She squealed in surprise, and then when I tossed her onto the bed and pulled her nightgown up to spank her, she squealed again.

  “You’re in a mood!” She squeaked-giggled when I spanked the other cheek.

  “I’m showing my wife that she needs to submit to her husband.”

  Niamh just wiggled her ass in my face. “Oh okay, you do that.”

  That earned her a few more slaps, her ass cheeks turning cherry red. Despite her squeaks, I could tell she was getting turned on. If I dipped my fingers into her pussy, I knew she’d be wet already.

  “Are you going to tie me up?” She looked over her shoulder rather hopefully.

  “I didn’t bring any rope. And no. I want you to be able to use your hands.” The image of her tied up, waiting for me to fuck her, had my cock hardening even more. “I’m rather tempted to do it, though, and then leave you begging for me all night.”

  She moved so she was sitting on her knees while I stood at the edge of the bed. “You wouldn’t last that long.”

  She delved her hand inside my pajama pants, her thumb slicking over the swollen tip of my cock. My balls drew up as she squeezed and stroked me.

  “You’re entirely too good at that,” I rasped.

  She licked my bottom lip. “I know. Your face gets all screwed up when you’re about to come. It’s cute.”

  “It is not cute.”

  “Okay, it’s super manly and intense. How about that?’

  “Better.” I grunted when she gave me an extra-firm squeeze. When she leaned down to take my cock inside her warm mouth, my toes curled against the carpet. She made little sounds of pleasure as she sucked and licked, and it was such an erotic scene I was probably already making that screwed-up face.

  Niamh looked up at me through her dusky lashes. She gave one last suck to my cock before I pulled her up to kiss me.

  I stripped her of her nightgown, touching every inch of her: her breasts, her shoulders, the indentation above her ass, behind her knees. She inhaled sharply when I pinched her nipples and when I pulled her hair to suck the skin of her tender neck.

  “I’m going to have a hickey tomorrow,” she said with a pout.