Rescuing the Royal Runaway Bride

by Ally Blake

  Her acting coach in New York had adored the way she had looked up to him. The estimable Prince of Vallemont adored her as a friend. And insular, unreachable, closed-off Dr Will Darcy...

  There was no adoration here. Only attraction. Compulsion. And a sweet, raw, formidable urge to pack away her need to be liked and simply get real.

  “Will,” she said, her voice soft, her heart aching with regret.

  “Mmm?”

  “I’m sorry you got caught up in all this. But I’m also not sorry at all.”

  The look in his eyes was tragic. Tortured.

  Then he opened his mouth to speak—

  But Sadie never got to find out what he’d been about to say next because just then someone knocked on the door.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FEELING AS IF he’d swallowed a lead balloon, Will said, “Expecting anyone?”

  Sadie shook her head, her hair sliding over his collarbone like silk. Her next breath in she was shifting her body over his, her next breath out she seemed to melt over him like chocolate on a summer’s day.

  Then she blinked, her oceanic eyes widening. “Well, apart from whoever Hugo plans on sending in to whisk me away.” She swallowed. “Has he sent word?”

  “Nothing since yesterday.”

  The knock came again. Not the dainty taps that had heralded the gift basket but harder, more insistent, like a secret code.

  Then, even though he was not in the right frame of mind, or body for that matter, to talk to anyone, Will found some reserve of inner strength in order to lift her bodily away, place her back in the chair and heave himself to standing.

  He took a few moments to bring himself back under some semblance of control before he moved to the door and looked through the peephole.

  What he saw made him take a literal step back. As time contracted, and his gut squeezed tight, he considered ignoring the knock. The moment passed, as moments tended to do. And good sense returned. This was what he wanted. This was what he’d been waiting for.

  “This’ll be cosy,” he muttered, widening the door.

  And there stood Hugo.

  Taller than Will, just. Lines fanning out from the edges of his eyes where there’d been none before. A short dark beard now covered his jaw, but the chronic wealth and the resplendent royal Vallemontian bloodline was evident in every cell. With the antiquated newspaper rolled up under one arm, the way the collar of his button-down shirt was turned up at the neck it was simply so particularly Hugo, Will burst into laughter.

  And reached out a hand.

  Hugo’s face split into a matching grin as he shook it. “Good to see you too, my friend.”

  Hugo glanced back towards the neckless, black-clad man-mountain with the bald head and the frown standing guard at the end of the hall. “I’ll message when we’re done.”

  The man-mountain nodded and hulked down the hall.

  Only then did Hugo step into the breach to wrap Will in a manly hug. Double back-slap and all. And just like that the years between them faded to nothing.

  “Hugo?”

  Sadie’s voice cut through and both men turned to face the room.

  “Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” Like the Doppler effect, Sadie’s voice lifted and grew as she vaulted over the back of the couch and ran towards them, her hair flying behind her.

  Hugo had about half a second to drop his newspaper and the overnight bag he’d had slung over his shoulder before she leapt into his arms. Like a teddy bear with Velcro hands, she buried her face in his neck. Hugo’s eyes squeezed closed, his voice rough even though muffled by her hair.

  “Leo.”

  “What the heck are you doing here, you great fool? I assumed you’d send a lackey. Or maybe just a car. You didn’t have to come.”

  “Of course I did.”

  Imagining them together was one thing. Theorising why it made little sense was another. Watching them, like this, their affection a real, live, pulsing thing, Will gripped the door handle so hard the thing creaked in protest. “Perhaps we ought to move this reunion inside.”

  Hugo’s eyes found Will; filled with a level of understanding Will knew the man couldn’t possibly have. Then he nodded his agreement and walked inside with Sadie still attached like a limpet.

  Will shut the door, perhaps a tad harder than necessary.

  At the sound, Sadie lifted her head. She tapped Hugo on the back and when he placed her on the ground she peeled herself away. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

  “Yet here I am.”

  “Excellent. This is just excellent.” She glanced at Will, her cheeks now pinking like crazy.

  And what Will thought was, She’s about to give us away entirely. Except there was nothing tangible to give away. Only a little gravitational theory. And a whole lot of misplaced heat energy.

  It didn’t matter now. Hugo was here. Will’s job was done. It was time for him to bow out. To get on a plane. To get back to work.

  “Come in!” said Sadie. “Tell me everything. No, not everything. I might need a little Dutch courage before we get to that.”

  Hugo smiled as Sadie took him by the arm, but the look in his eyes showed he was pensive.

  And from one breath to the next Will knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Not just yet.

  Not that he didn’t trust Hugo, but the Prince’s interests were divided. Naturally so. He had his own legacy, his own future to consider. He also had an entire royal house breathing down his neck. Will had been charged with keeping Sadie safe, so he’d stick around a little longer and finish the job properly.

  He moved the overnight bag—Sadie’s by the looks of it—to the door and picked up the newspaper Hugo had dropped, giving the front page a quick glance. The non-wedding was the headliner. No surprise there.

  When he looked up, Will noticed Sadie had bypassed the nearest couch to sit Hugo on the other. The one Will hadn’t slept on. The one on which they had not just been wrapped up in one another...

  Will cleared his throat. When Hugo looked over he pointed to the newspaper, asking, “Any concern with this lot on your way here?”

  “We were careful.”

  “Be grateful you’re not British,” said Will. “Or they’d be camped out on the roof, climbing the trellis, crawling out of the toilet bowl by now.”

  “I’m grateful of that each and every day.”

  Old jokes. Old friendship. All new tension in the air as Sadie sat on the edge of the couch, leg jiggling, nibbling at her bottom lip, energy levels spiking.

  “How long have you and the man in black been special friends?” Will asked.

  Hugo’s cheek twitched. “Since an attempt was made on my uncle’s life a year ago. While he was picnicking with Princess Marguerite and the twins.”

  That was half the Vallemontian succession plan right there. Another tragic event would have brought Hugo within sight of the throne. “I hadn’t heard.”

  “It was kept quiet.”

  “Were they all right?”

  “Shaken up. But unharmed.” Hugo sent Sadie a comforting wink. “Against my express wishes, Prospero turned up the next day. I have offered him gainful employment in any number of positions since, and yet I can’t shake the guy.”

  “It must be a constant struggle, being so beloved.”

  “And yet I never let the hardship get to me.”

  Sadie laughed. Quieted. Laughed again. “Who the hell are you two and what have you done with Hugo and Will?”

  Hugo gave her a pat on the knee. Chummy. Friendly. “Don’t tell anyone but all men are teenaged boys in the bodies of grown-ups. Now, I’d kill for a glass of water.”

  Sadie sprang out of the seat. “I can do better than that. Will, you start the fire. Hugo, you tidy the coffee table. I’m sure I saw designer beers in the bottom of the fridge.”


  Will watched her bounce into the kitchen. “Where’s the, Please, Your Majesty?”

  “Ask her,” said Hugo. “I dare you.”

  “Hey, Sadie?” Will called.

  Sadie pulled her head out of the fridge. “Mmm?”

  “I hid some cheese and crackers in the pantry so we wouldn’t starve.”

  “Perfect!”

  Hugo laughed under his breath. “Coward.”

  Will crouched to pick out kindling and a good-sized log. “At least she gave me the manly job. She has you on tidying duty.”

  “Fair point. Leo?” Hugo called.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Do I have to tidy?”

  “It builds character.”

  “Fine,” Hugo mumbled, before making space on the coffee table.

  Leo? Will thought. Oh my god. Leo.

  Will had quietly wondered why he couldn’t remember Hugo mentioning Sadie while at school, if they’d known one another as long as she’d intimated. But flashes came back to him now. Hugo talking about Leo’s terrible taste in music. Rock climbing with Leo. Plans to hit Oktoberfest with Leo.

  Hugo had spoken as if talking about a great mate. Not even the slightest hint of romance. While the stories had been about Mercedes Gray Leonine, naturally Will had thought “Leo” was a boy.

  Giving in to a sudden urge to whistle a happy tune, Will set to starting a fire. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sadie with a packet of crackers hanging from her teeth, cheese hooked into her elbow and a knife between two knuckles, three beers in one hand. Barefoot, hair cascading over her shoulder, her small frame swamped by his tracksuit.

  Either Hugo had become less observant over the years or he was holding off from passing comment on the story behind the outfit. Odds were the latter; the question was why.

  When Will stood it was to find Hugo leaning back in the chair, hands behind his head, looking content.

  “Here you go, big guy,” said Sadie.

  Hugo held out a hand and Sadie dutifully handed him a beer. “Much appreciated.”

  Then Sadie placed a hand on Hugo’s knee as she leant over his legs to hand a beer to Will. “And one for you.”

  He took it with a nod.

  She smiled quickly and pink heat flushed her cheeks again. He felt it too. The echo of a pulsing red haze that had come over him on the couch; her soft body flush against his, her hair sweeping against his neck.

  Will tipped his drink towards her. She took a big swig of hers, then dumped the rest of the picnic on the coffee table.

  “S’cuse,” she said, nudging her way past Hugo’s legs, taking a quick survey of the space and choosing a piece of floor in between them. “Tell me, in gory detail, how is it out there?”

  “I’d say it’s pretty mild for this late in the year.”

  “Jeans and jumper weather?” Will asked.

  Hugo nodded. “I’d take a coat, just in case.”

  “Boys,” Sadie chastised, shooting each of them a glare. “This is a war meeting. Not a party. Now, what do I need to do from here? How can I help mitigate the damage? For you. Your family. My mother—”

  “Your mother is fine,” said Hugo. “In fact...”

  “In fact what?”

  “She handed in her resignation.”

  “She what?”

  “Apparently she told Marguerite she has been wanting to retire for years. She has quite the nest egg, an eye on a small cottage in the village near your school and a penchant to travel.”

  “Why didn’t she say anything to me?”

  “She didn’t want to disappoint you.”

  “Disappoint me? But the entire reason I agreed to marry you was so that she could stay on after she stops working. I mean, part of the reason, because, well, I’d been told there’d be a tiara in it for me. A really big one. And you are, of course, you.”

  Hugo waved an understanding hand her way.

  But Will realised he’d stopped with his beer halfway to his mouth. “Can we rewind just a second?”

  Hugo and Sadie glanced his way—expressions of barely restrained patience exactly the same.

  “Did I just hear that you were marrying this lug so your mother could live in the palace after she retires?”

  Sadie answered, “That was a deciding factor. Yes.”

  Will sat forward, and turned on Hugo. “And why the hell were you marrying her?”

  “Whoa,” said Sadie. “A tad too effusive in your level of disbelief there, cowboy.”

  Hugo laughed. “He makes a fair point. I am ridiculously eligible.”

  Sadie batted her lashes at Hugo. “And rich.”

  “And devilishly handsome.”

  Sadie ran a hand through her hair; most of it settled back into place but some hooked on the hood of Will’s track top. Light from the fire inside sparked off the russet tones like flares from the sun. It would take nothing to unhook it for her, to let it run through his fingers.

  Nothing but his dignity.

  Will’s voice was a growl. “Get a room already.”

  Hugo looked around. “I could say we already have one, but this has a little too much chintz for my taste.”

  Will let his half-drunk beer drop to the coffee table and rubbed a hand over his chin as he attempted to sort the actual evidence from the white noise, only to find he’d forgotten to shave yet again. Unlike him.

  He ran his hands through his hair instead, as if that might massage his brain into gear, and said, “The attempt on Sovereign Prince Reynaldo and his family—it was more of a near thing than you made out. If it had been a success, you would have been damn near the front of the succession line. Reynaldo is a serious ruler. A serious man. That realisation had him rethink the leeway you’ve enjoyed since your father passed. He made you an offer. Or a threat.”

  “Wow,” said Sadie. “You’re good.”

  Hugo’s smile was flat. “Since my mother is not of royal blood, and Australian-born, her position here is precarious. Especially now that she has remarried—a Frenchman, and a commoner no less. The law is clear: without my father she lives at the palace at the grace of the family until I come of age.”

  “At...?”

  “Three and thirty.”

  “Next year. And then?”

  “If I marry she may stay. If not...”

  “I see.”

  “Do you?”

  “She must leave the palace.”

  “Without citizenship, without naturalisation, without a partner from Vallemont to sponsor her, my mother would be forced to leave the country.”

  Will coughed out a laugh. It was laughable. Archaic. Nonsensical. And by the twin expressions looking back at him, true. And then he was laughing no more. “So he was marrying you for real estate and you were marrying for the sake of...” He looked to Sadie. “What? Security?”

  “Don’t knock it. Security is pretty sought after. Especially for those who don’t have it.”

  Hugo offered up a hand for a high five.

  “So you were both being altruistic to the point of sadomasochism?” Will was right to stay a little longer. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends. “You’re cracked. The both of you.”

  “And you’re so very British,” said Hugo.

  “Isn’t he?” Sadie agreed. Then, to Will, “Our sensibilities are not as draconian as yours. It is normal for Vallemontians to openly marry for any number of reasons: business, property, partnership, companionship. Even—shock, horror—for true love.”

  Hugo stopped her there. “Don’t bother, Leo. They say no man is an island, but even before he discovered the stars Will was always a planet.”

  “Hugo,” Sadie chastised.

  But Will stayed her with a smile. “I was trying to remember why we hadn’t seen one another in an age, but now it’s all
come back to me.”

  Only it hadn’t. Not until that moment. Somehow he’d been so caught up in protecting Sadie—from herself, it turned out—he’d not seen Hugo and thought Clair.

  From the flash of pain in the Prince’s eyes Clair’s ghost was now on his mind as well.

  “What?” said Sadie. “What just happened there? What am I missing?”

  But words were not possible. Will’s throat had closed up. The edges of his vision blurring. Clair was not something he spoke of. In fact, he hadn’t spoken to anyone who’d actually known her in years. It was too brittle. Too terrible. The loss of her was as much a part of him as his ribs.

  But Hugo, it turned out, was not so bound. “Do you remember my friend Clair?”

  Sadie looked at Hugo and back to Will. “Clair. You mean from the high school near yours? Of course. She came to stay that summer.”

  “Clair was Will’s twin sister.”

  Will had seen Sadie shaken, seen her scared and he’d seen her cry. He’d seen her eyes warm and melt. But he had not, until that moment, seen her focus, the cessation of energy coming from her position like a sudden black hole.

  Then she said, “You’re Clair’s brother. The one who was meant to come to Vallemont that summer, but couldn’t because you...”

  “I broke my leg.”

  She clicked her fingers at him. “Yes! From what I remember Hugo had quite the crush on young Clair. Followed her around like a puppy. I might have even been a mite jealous—because I hadn’t had him to myself for months—if not for the fact I had a bit of a girl crush on her too. She taught herself to play the guitar, remember, Hugo? From nothing. And she was obsessed with Marguerite’s accent. She had the impression down pat. She was rather too taken with Ibsen to truly be trusted. But she was fun. And you say you’re her twin? Will wonders never cease?”

  On her saunter down memory lane Sadie was clearly missing the undercurrents. For Hugo had gone deadly quiet, while Will was eating up her every word. He was swimming in visions of Clair laughing, creating, keeping the palace in thrall. Filling in gaps of the time he’d missed. He’d spent so long blaming Hugo for stealing those last days, when the truth was Will’s old friend had given her a wonderfully rich final summer.