by Virna DePaul
“Don’t you wanna slow down, man?” Alec asked, but at Kyle’s glare, he put up his hands. “Just asking.”
“You know that wallowing in booze isn’t going to get her back, right?” Heath asked, but Kyle just flipped him off with a middle finger.
Heath was right, though. Drinking wasn’t going to change what had happened between him and Arabella. Things were over. And knowing that hurt the most. He’d never see her again, and she’d just become a distant memory: the woman he’d loved but lost because of shitty circumstances, his own father’s greed, and oh—her inability to trust him. To see him as more than a gutter rat looking to cash in on her royal lineage.
The waitress returned with his beer, and Kyle pounded it back, savoring the chill and buzz of alcohol. Maybe if he drank enough, he’d make his thoughts about Arabella go the fuck away. Then, he laughed at himself—he’d never stop thinking about her, no matter how much he drank.
“Kyle,” Heath said, ignoring Kyle’s surly looks, “we know you’re not in a good place right now, but you can’t keep doing this. You either gotta let her go or figure out a way to get her back. You can’t keep trying not to feel anything. Believe me, I tried it with Camille. Didn’t work.”
“And now you guys are perfect and happy.” Kyle knew he sounded bitter, but he didn’t care. “Too bad she never thought you’d sold her out.”
“Listen,” Alec said, leaning forward. “If you think she’s the one, then fight for her. But sitting around, crying into your beer? It’s not pretty, man.”
“Yeah? Are you fighting for the one you want, Alec,” Kyle shot back. “Because we both know it’s not the woman you’re engaged to.”
Alec scowled. “Watch it. You’re talking about the woman who’s having my baby.”
“Yeah, and you didn’t deny it’s not her you want.”
“Fuck you, Young.” Alec shoved back his chair and walked away.
Kyle closed his eyes. “Shit,” he muttered. He’d been swinging wild, wanting Alec off his back and thinking of the last woman he’d seen Alec with who actually had made him smile—it hadn’t been Alec’s fiancé Colleen—and it had been a shit thing to do. He glanced at Heath who sighed. “I’ll go after him.” Heath put his hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “Just…you have to pull yourself together, Kyle. I don’t want two of my best friends to be miserable. You can still do something about it.”
Feeling even more like shit, which he hadn’t thought was possible Kyle was well on his way to being drunk when he glanced up at one of the many TVs in the sports bar. His heart stopped. It couldn’t be—no, it was. Arabella on the news, dark hair up in a neat bun, wearing an unassuming suit, giving a press conference.
Kyle sobered up quick and went to the bar. “Where’s the remote for that TV?” he barked at the bartender.
The bartender handed him a sticky remote control. “Here you go, man.”
Kyle snatched the remote and turned up the TV to its full volume. What was she thinking, feeling, saying? Was she happy? As miserable as he was? Had she gotten engaged to Count Dracula? Frederic, or whatever the fuck his name was?
“I felt like nothing I said or did mattered,” Arabella was saying, “but Kyle—Mr. Young—showed me that wasn’t true.”
Then she smiled into the camera, and Kyle’s heart broke. He loved that smile, even if it wasn’t her true smile: it was the one she put on her face to show the world she was fine, when in fact she was breaking apart inside. The saddest smile he’d ever seen. What had she said about Mr. Young? At her next words, he almost had to grab hold of a nearby chair to keep himself upright.
“Mr. Young showed me the world could be honest, and good, and kind,” Arabella said. She looked out at the crowd in front of her. “He showed me that I was worthy of such things. And I fell in love with him. I still love him.” Then she spoke of making a mistake. Of not trusting Kyle and doubting he’d ever forgive her. Of cherishing the memory of their time together until the day she died.
Because she didn’t think they’d have the chance to experience more memories together.
Oh hell no.
Kyle vaguely heard a whoop in the background.
She still loves me, he thought wildly. She still loves me. I still love her. She loves me!
That was when he let out a whoop of his own. “Did you hear that?” The crowd at the bar looked at him like he was crazy, and the bartender took the remote away from him and turned the volume down. He yelled again, “Did you hear that?” But Heath and Alec were gone, so Kyle took some random guy by the shoulders and shook him. “She said she loves me. She loves me! Tell me you heard that.”
“Dude, we heard it,” the stranger said with a grin. “So, what are you still doing here? Go after her!”
Kyle’s heart pounded like mad. He grabbed his jacket, threw down some money on the table for the beers, and as he exited the bar, let out a whoop so loud, everyone on the street heard it.
* * *
After a nine-hour-long flight across the Atlantic, Kyle arrived in Salasia in the evening, bleary-eyed and exhausted from his red-eye flight. He didn’t know how to approach Arabella, find her, or anything. She’d changed her phone number, so he couldn’t tell her he was coming to see her. But the whole way to Europe, he remembered her face on TV, both joyful and sad, an expression that had been full of love and honesty.
He’d rewatched her speech on his phone throughout the flight, marveling at her words and courage. She’d finally done it—she’d gotten up in front of her entire country and told the world how she felt about him. Him, a man from meager upbringings, who shouldn’t have amounted to anything had earned the love of a princess.
Kyle drove his rental car straight to the royal palace just as the sun was beginning to set. Down the long, winding drive he went, hoping against hope they’d let him in and then, he’d…what? Talk to her? Apologize? Hope she hadn’t moved on with Frederic?
At the main gates, two guards stopped him. “What is your name and purpose here?” the guard on the left asked. He seemed especially surly, eyeing Kyle’s car with suspicion. The other guard seemed more curious, but said nothing.
Kyle was at a loss for words. Should he tell them the truth? Then the guard on the right’s eyes widened. “Blimey, that’s him! The man the princess ran away with at the ball!” He pointed a finger at Kyle, like he’d just realized he was standing next to a mass murderer.
The surly guard’s eyes narrowed. “You’re right. It is him.” Turning to Kyle, he asked, “Why are you here, Mr. Young? Come to cause more trouble?”
Kyle flicked his ID in their direction with a charming smile. “No trouble at all, gentlemen. I just want to speak with Ara—I mean, the princess. Could you please let her know I’m here?”
The guards laughed. “Just like that, eh? She’ll come outside and you two will have a nice chat? I don’t think so.
Kyle sighed. “Look, guys, I need to talk to her. It’s urgent.”
“Yeah, so is my dinner waiting for me at home,” the surly guard said. “Get out of the car, Mr. Young, as you’re trespassing on private property.”
Kyle turned off the engine and slowly stepped out. He was quickly turned toward the car, the surly guard patting him down. When he protested, the guard told him to be quiet.
I have to talk to her, he kept thinking. I can’t let it end like this.
“You have no right to treat me like this,” Kyle said, whipping around. “I’m a U.S. citizen, and I know visitors travel down this road all the time. You have no right to detain me.”
“Oh, really? We’ll see about that.” The guard pulled out handcuffs and, despite the nicer guard’s protests, cuffed Kyle and was about to take him inside their guardhouse.
Kyle struggled against them to no avail. It was two on one. But then just as the door to the guardhouse was about to shut, they all heard a voice, and it was heaven to Kyle’s ears.
“Let him go!”
Chapter Nineteen
Upstairs in her
room, Arabella looked up from the book she was trying to read when she heard shouts and struggling in the courtyard outside. The palace was normally so quiet that shouting was about as rare as her mother’s smiles. Flying to the window and peering down, she spotted the commotion forming at the front gates.
She squinted, then gasped. Kyle? Was that Kyle who was here, and the guards were arresting him? She rushed out of her room, sprinting past Royce who immediately followed after her downstairs and through the entrance hall until she was outside in the courtyard.
“Let him go!” she called.
The guards froze. Kyle also stilled, and as she approached the trio, his gaze—those sultry blue eyes—never left hers. Her heart pounded. He’s here. Why is he here?
“Why are you arresting this man?” She walked through the gates, coming straight up to the guards. They’d handcuffed Kyle, and anger surged through her. “This man has done nothing wrong!”
“Your Highness,” one of the guards said. “He was trying to infiltrate the palace. He wouldn’t cooperate with—”
“Of course, he wouldn’t, when you’re manhandling him like some common criminal! Release him at once!”
“Your Highness, is that wise?” Royce asked in a low voice behind her.
She whirled on her bodyguard, poking him in the chest. “You know as well as I do that Kyle is no threat. Now either stay silent or I’ll have you detained, too.”
Royce gave her a silent stony stare. Turning back, the guards gaped at her, while Kyle grinned like the wise-ass American he was. She’d missed that grin so much. But when the guards refused to release him, she came up behind them and started looking for the key to unlock Kyle’s handcuffs.
“Your Highness, let me do that. Please.” The second guard fumbled for the keys, inserting them into the lock before the cuffs fell loose.
Kyle shook them off and shot the guards a dirty look. Then he turned to Arabella. “Duchess,” he said, bowing slightly before her. “We meet again.”
There he was, in the flesh, just like the first day she saw him. She was star struck then and starstruck now. “You two,” she told the guards, “get back to your jobs. You, return to the palace. If I need your help, I’ll call for you,” she told Royce. With her chin and chest high, she felt proud for finally standing up to her servants. What good was it being a princess if she couldn’t command them instead of them commanding her all the time?
Royce grumbled but eventually turned toward the palace. Then she whirled on Kyle and took him by the wrist, dragging him into one of the palace’s private gardens. As she made Kyle sit down on a bench, she couldn’t help but smile as he laughed at her. “Just as bossy as ever, Duchess? Good to know some things never change.”
“I’m not bossy,” she replied primly, taking his hand. “I take charge.”
He laughed again, adding, “I like the sound of that,” in his flirtiest voice.
As they sat together on the bench, she studied him. He’d lost a little weight, even more than last time she saw him, but he was just as handsome as ever. Stubble dotted his jaw, and his normally clear blue eyes were a little bloodshot. Had he just arrived in Salasia? Why was he here in the first place? Was it possible he’d heard her speech? That he loved her and was willing to forgive her for doubting him?
Silence reigned. They watched each other, studying their every feature, drinking each other in. She could’ve thrown her arms around him, taken him in, thrown caution to the wind.
Quietly, Kyle asked, “Was it true?”
Arabella’s chest tightened. He didn’t have to provide context—she knew exactly what he meant.
I still love him. Her own words echoed in her mind. But now? Her tongue was tied. Dare she say the words to him, when so much had happened between them?
Kyle took her hand and, bringing it up to his lips, kissed the backs of her fingers. The softest of electrical charges shot down her fingers and through her chest. God, how she missed those lips. That was when she knew the truth: she didn’t have anything to be afraid of except her own insecurities. But she wanted to hear him say it. “Was what true?” she asked.
“That you loved me. That you love me still.” His eyes were dark blue, beseeching. He held her hand in his, and for a long time, she said nothing just so she could feel its warmth.
“Kyle Young, brilliant football player on the field, but off of it? Not so observant.”
“Oh, I’m very observant.” He smiled, and that charming grin of his set her off course.
“Then you would know I do love you. Of course, I do. I loved you the first moment I met you. I loved you even before I met you. And I love you now.” She swallowed, tracing his fingers with her own. “I love you, Kyle Young.”
He swept her into an embrace and kissed her again and again, full of heat and passion and love, so much that she didn’t even care if anybody was watching. All she knew was that she melted against him, putty for bones. He murmured her name over and over again against her mouth. She couldn’t help but smile into his kiss.
“God, Arabella,” he groaned. “I missed you so much. I love you so much. I don’t care if you’re a princess, or the queen of the universe, or Cinderella cleaning out the fireplace. I love you, and I want to be with you.”
“Even though I doubted you?”
“Even then. Because you realized your mistake on your own. And because when we’re free—finally free to be with one another, who we really are with one another—you’ll never have reason to doubt me again.”
Because she was about to start crying and never stop, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with everything she was worth. Through laughter and tears, they kissed and made a mess of themselves, but it was wonderful, and Arabella was so happy, she didn’t know how she could bear it. She’d dreamed of this moment for so long, but she’d never thought it would actually happen.
Now, it was here, and it wasn’t a dream. It was as real as ever.
Kyle swooped her up and whirled her around the garden. She laughed out loud and clutched his shoulders, and even though she felt a little dizzy, she couldn’t stop kissing him. If they hadn’t been outside, she would’ve stripped him bare and taken him right on the bench, splinters be damned.
“I have to tell you…” he said, as they snuggled close on the bench and watched twilight spread across the sky, “about the photos.”
Arabella placed a finger over his lips. “It doesn’t matter. We’re together now. That’s all in the past.”
He kissed her fingers, and she couldn’t help but watch his beautiful lips carefully. “I know. But you need to know it was my dad. He sent someone to follow us, and the guy he hired took those shots. My dad pocketed the money. He’s always been a piece of work.” At Arabella’s expression, he added quickly, “I’ve broken things off with him for good. He won’t come after us like that again, I promise.”
Goodness.
She couldn’t imagine one of her parents selling her out like that. Yes, her mother was difficult, but something like this? This was low. Kyle had to be hurting from his dad’s betrayal. She snuggled closer to him. “I’m so sorry it was your father. So sorry I added to your pain by doubting you. Are you sure you can forgive me? Because—”
“Duchess, it’s all water under the bridge. Let’s just look forward from now on, okay?” He kissed her forehead. “Forward to a future together.”
“Together,” she echoed.
The sun set completely, and the lights of the palace twinkled around them. Though it was a blustery cold evening, Arabella had no interest in returning to her room.
Kyle looked faraway for a moment, lost in his thoughts.
“What?” Arabella asked.
“What about the count?”
She blinked at him. “Frederic? What about him?”
“I thought you two were close to becoming engaged. What happened?”
Relief filled her, and she laughed. “Nothing. He told me he didn’t want to marry a woman who was in love
with another man. He’s a good person, Kyle. I hope he finds happiness of his own.”
“As long as it doesn’t involve you, sure.” She laughed, and he growled a little. “You laughing at me, Duchess?”
“Yes, because you’re ridiculous.”
For that, he leaned down and kissed her again, scooping her into his arms completely. She’d never felt so loved, so cared for, all curled up against Kyle’s solid, athletic body. Things soon heated up between them, as hands tangled in hair, and arms wrapped around torsos. They kissed as though there would never be a tomorrow. She shivered, clutching at his shirt. How she’d missed touching him, tasting him, making love to him. Everything.
“I love you, Duchess.” Kyle pulled back to gaze into her eyes.
She smiled through her tears. “And I love you, Kyle. Forever and always.”
Chapter Twenty
Kyle straightened his tie in the mirror then rolled his eyes. Since when did he care what he looked like in a suit?
Since the day you came back to Salasia for Arabella, his mind chimed in helpfully. He shook his head, aiming to get his tie straight. He refused to have some servant dress him, so they’d have to take him as he was: a rough and ready American football player. Who also happened to be in love with—and engaged to—their princess.
After he and Arabella had confessed their feelings in the garden, she’d explained things to her parents while Kyle had waited in the library deep in the palace. Royce had stood outside his door, supposedly to keep him safe, when in reality he was probably there to keep Kyle from doing anything stupid.
Hours later, Arabella had emerged that night, exhausted but triumphant. She’d explained to her parents that she was in love with Kyle Young and would not be giving him up. Then had come the ultimatum: either accept them as a couple, or she’d give up her title and never see them again. Elisabetta had been astonished, but Philippe had listened silently.