by Renna Peak
Royal Mistake #3
Renna Peak
Ember Casey
Casey Peak Publishing, LLC
Contents
Royal Heartbreakers Reader Team
1. Victoria
2. Andrew
3. Victoria
4. Andrew
5. Victoria
6. Andrew
7. Victoria
8. Andrew
9. Victoria
10. Andrew
11. Victoria
12. Andrew
13. Victoria
14. Andrew
Royal Mistake
Royal Heartbreakers Reader Team
Also by Renna Peak
Also by Ember Casey
This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, locations or incidents are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Ember Casey and Renna Peak
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Edition: February, 2017
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Victoria
The king’s voice is ringing in my ears. This can’t really be happening—I hope I’m dreaming, but I know I’m not.
Andrew stirs beside me. “What’s going on?” He shields his eyes from the bright light in the room.
I blink a few times, trying to get my eyes to adjust. I’m still not sure any of this is even happening—it seems like I was asleep a second ago and now there are people freaking out in the doorway.
“Father—it isn’t how it appears.” Andrew climbs out of bed and smooths his clothes. “I… I was merely attempting to help Ms. Simpson.”
My eyes are finally focused and I see the king and queen standing in the doorway. Andrew’s mother has her mouth hanging open a little, glancing between the two of us. His father, on the other hand, has his lip curled into a sneer and is almost gnashing his teeth together.
“Helping? You expect me to believe that? This is behavior I would expect from Leopold, but not from you, Andrew.” King Edmund looks like he’s about ready to throw me out the window.
The queen places her hand on the king’s forearm. “They’re both clothed, darling. If Andrew says—”
“I do say,” Andrew interrupts. “Since the plane accident, Ms. Simpson has had difficulty sleeping if I am not nearby. I’ve merely been attempting to help her with her difficulties, Father. I assure you, nothing untoward has happened.”
Not tonight, anyway. I bite my tongue, trying to suppress the memory of what has very nearly happened several times now—and his saying any of those instances weren’t untoward is a lie.
But I understand why Andrew can’t tell his parents the real reason we’re sleeping together. He can’t appear weak—even to his family. And since the world already thinks he tried to kill himself via our plane crash, it wouldn’t do for him to let on that he really is having some sort of mental crisis. It’s much easier to blame it on me.
“I promise, Father, this was merely an act of chivalry.” He glances toward me, but doesn’t make eye contact.
I frown, looking between the two men. I stand from the bed, smoothing my clothes before I bow my head toward the king. “I apologize, Your Majesty. His Highness was…helping me.”
The king glares at me for a moment before his expression softens a bit. “You’ll meet with one of the palace medical staff first thing tomorrow.” He turns his attention back to Andrew. “You should have known better than to try to remedy this situation yourself.”
“Forgive me, Father. Ms. Simpson asked that I not mention her difficulties.”
I lift a brow, but I don’t say anything.
“Very well.” The king looks back at me. “Ms. Simpson, are you well enough to come to a reception this evening? My…surprise guest has arrived and I think it important that you be there to see my son’s reaction.”
The queen sighs and rolls her eyes. “And what a surprise it is, Edmund. Really.” She turns her gaze to mine. “It will be an embarrassment to our family, Victoria, no matter how you write about it.”
The king turns to his wife and wrinkles his nose. “I fail to see how this is an embarrassment to anyone, Penelope. And we’ve already had this discussion, and I’ll not have it again in front of Andrew.”
She shakes her head slowly. “Fine. We don’t need to discuss anything.” She turns her gaze back to me, giving me the smallest of smiles. “Edmund seems to think it best that we keep the crown in the family.”
My brow furrows, but I stay silent—I can probably get more for this story by letting them tell it through their arguing than I’ll be able to if I start asking questions. If I’ve learned anything in the short time I’ve been here, it’s that King Edmund hates being questioned. It’s pretty easy to see where Andrew gets the same trait.
Andrew’s brow also wrinkles with confusion. “I’m not sure I understand, Mother—”
“Oh, you’ll understand in a few minutes. Once you see who it is your father has decided you’ll be marrying.”
“I’ve decided nothing of the sort, Penelope.” The king is barely keeping his temper in check, and probably only because it’s his wife questioning his judgment and not someone else. “Andrew can decide for himself whom he wishes to marry. It’s only that this particular choice would be the best suited for him. She knows the role she’ll have to play as the future queen. She’s well suited to him. And best of all, she’s Montovian.”
Andrew’s eyes dart between his parents. “She’s…Montovian? And she’s a noblewoman?” The creases on his forehead deepen. “But that’s impossible, Father. If she were Montovian, she would be related…” His voice trails off as the realization of what he’s said sinks in.
His eyes lock with his mother’s and she tilts her head, her eyes widening a bit before she nods.
“She’s…related?” Andrew’s lip curls up a bit in what looks like disgust.
The king pulls his arm away from his wife, disgusted himself. “Oh, you both act as though it’s something to be ashamed of. As if marrying within the family hasn’t been going on for centuries. It’s a perfectly acceptable practice. And Andrew…” He turns his gaze back to his son’s. “You already know her. And if it weren’t for the other difficulties we’d had with her parents in the past, we likely would have asked that you be betrothed.”
“Betrothal is an antiquated practice, Edmund.” The queen speaks through her clenched teeth. “I’ll not have any of my children subjected to it.”
The king rolls his eyes.
Andrew is shaking his head and begins to back slowly away from his parents. “You can’t be serious. Lady Clarissa is my cousin, Father. That is who you’re speaking of, isn’t it?”
King Edmund nods, almost smiling. “She’s your second cousin, once removed—your third cousin, if you will. Her father is my second cousin—we share a set of common great-grandparents.” His smile widens. “If you consider the facts, son, you’re only one-sixteenth related. And it would be a perfectly legal marriage. And exquisitely suitable. She would make you the perfect wife.”
“I don’t…” He shakes his head, a
lmost in disbelief. “I hadn’t considered it, Father. But if you think her a good match, I will.”
The king looks very pleased with himself, but his wife looks like she’s about to kill him.
And I’ve heard enough. I force a smile. “If you’ll all excuse me, I should go change if I’m to witness this meeting.” I have to grit my teeth and try to cover whatever it is I hear in my voice. “I’ll definitely need to be there to be able to tell the story of how Prince Andrew met his new wife.”
“I’ll escort you to your suite.” Andrew is behind me, so I can’t see his expression.
“That won’t be necessary.” I force another smile and give the king and queen a courteous nod, edging around them and into Andrew’s sitting room. I want to run before tears fill my eyes and any of them see the pain I’m sure is on my face.
“I insist.” Andrew follows me into the sitting room.
“See that she is taken to the clinic in the morning, Andrew. I’ll not have her using you as some sort of sleeping aid—not when we have a wife to find for you.” The king’s voice bellows through the chamber.
“Edmund, really.” The disgust in the queen’s voice is obvious.
Andrew’s hand is on my elbow. “I’ll see that she is well cared for, Father. And thank you, Mother. I’ll see you both in a while to receive our guest.” He opens the door for me and leads me through.
As soon as we’re in the corridor, I break his grasp on my arm. I turn to him, glaring. “Thank you for your chivalry, Your Highness, but I think I can handle walking to my room myself. If I have any difficulties, though, I’ll be sure and ask for your assistance.”
He frowns. “Victoria, I couldn’t—”
“Oh, I know. God forbid your parents think you’re human. God forbid anyone think you’re human.” I turn on my heel and begin walking down the hallway.
He races to catch up to me. “You know why that happened.” He touches my elbow again.
I wrench it away from him. “Of course I know why that happened. You couldn’t possibly embarrass yourself by telling your parents that you’re having trouble sleeping, too. It’s much better to make other people look like fools than to…I don’t know? Own your humanity?”
“It’s not that simple, Victoria.” He’s almost running to keep up with me. “Your foot must be feeling better. You’re moving much more quickly than you were when we were hiking through the woods.”
I come to a complete halt and turn to him. “You are a pompous asshole, are you aware of that?”
He glances up and down the corridor before he takes me by the elbow. He marches us to a nearby door, opens it, and pulls me into the room. He flips a switch on the wall and I see we’re in a small library.
He stares at me for a moment. “Victoria, if I could tell them, I would. Can you understand that?”
I shake my head. “It’s not that difficult.”
He rolls his eyes. “It is that difficult.”
“Say it with me, Andrew. I’m. Having. Trouble. Sleeping.”
He growls under his breath. “I am not—”
“I’m. Having. Trouble—”
He places his hands on my shoulders. “I am not having trouble with anything.”
I lift a brow. “I suppose it’s not my place, right? You’re about to meet the love of your life. Maybe you can invite her to your chambers tonight—”
“That would be wholly inappropriate.”
“Really?” I tilt my head. “But it isn’t inappropriate to ask me to do that?”
“What you and I have is different. You already know that.”
I shake my head again. “You and I don’t have anything. Isn’t that what you just said?”
“I said I’m not having trouble with anything—”
“You told William last night that we didn’t have anything together.” I lift a brow. “You know your sister wants to fix me up with him, right?”
His voice is low again, almost a growl. “That is not going to happen.”
“Why not? You obviously have no desire for me. You’re about to marry your second cousin and—”
“Second cousin once removed.” His eyebrows draw together. “And what is it you want me to do, Victoria? Give up a perfect marriage because we share a set of great-great-grandparents?” His expression softens. “I’ve met Lady Clarissa several times, and my father is right—I’m not sure why no one has suggested a match before. Our shared bloodline is remote enough that it won’t matter. And she’s Montovian, which will make her the perfect queen to represent our people.”
He stares at me for a moment. “It’s about so much more than feelings. I wish you would understand that.”
I frown, but it’s difficult to argue with him. I do know it’s about more than feelings, at least for him. But I’m not sure how to reconcile that for myself.
“And you’re wrong, Victoria.”
My frown deepens. “Wrong about what?”
“Wrong that I have no desire for you.”
I shrug away from him, taking a step back. “You can’t do that, Your Highness.”
“Can’t do what?”
“Say things like that. Make me think that you and I—”
He shakes his head. “I’m not married yet, Victoria.”
“But I can’t do this.” I wave my hand between the two of us. “I can’t be the consolation prize—”
“You’re hardly a consolation prize. And we can easily have a discreet affair while I’m choosing my wife. But it will have to be very discreet. I’ve tried to suggest that to you on several occasions—”
“I am not having an affair with you, Andrew. Discreet or otherwise.”
His gaze drops to the floor before he lifts it to mine. “I think I can change your mind.”
Andrew
Her body is rigid, poised as if she’s just waiting for the chance to run. But her gaze is steady as she looks at me, and there’s something almost wild and hungry in her eyes. Something I can only imagine reflects the expression in my eyes.
I step closer to her. “I think, deep down, that you want me to change your mind.”
“We both know this is completely idiotic. And wrong. And—”
“And I don’t think that either of us really cares.” I take another step toward her, which brings me right up against her. I bring my hand to her cheek, then slide it down to her throat, my fingers curling gently around the column of her neck.
“I care.” Her words are a whisper.
I keep my voice just as soft. “Then tell me to stop.”
She doesn’t say a word. My thumb brushes against the soft skin of her neck, and my face moves down closer to hers. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.
My hand on her neck slides back, my fingers twining in her hair.
“I mean it, Victoria,” I say, gripping the back of her head. “Tell me to stop.”
She still doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t do anything but stare up at me with those beautiful green eyes of hers—eyes a man could so easily lose himself in.
She’s right—this is idiotic and wrong. But that doesn’t matter. Not right now. I close the last bit of space between us and bring my lips down on hers.
No matter how many times we kiss, it’s the same—there’s an explosion of heat and hunger through me at the first touch of our lips, a need so intense that everything else falls away. There’s only Victoria, warm and soft and sweet in my arms, meeting my mouth with a passion that matches my own.
My arm loops around her waist, holding her against me. Her hands find their way to my back, her fingers pressing into me through the fabric of my shirt. I deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue deep into her mouth, and she moans softly.
I’m not even aware of making the decision to move, but I suddenly find myself pushing her back, marching her toward the nearest wall. Her spine comes up against a bookcase, and I press myself against her, trying to get closer, to kiss her more deeply.
Victoria… No woman has ever made me feel this d
esperate, this out of control. The only explanation is our shared trauma—but I have no interest in analyzing such things. Right now, I just want to drown in her.
My hands move to her sides, slipping beneath her shirt. My fingers skim across her bare skin, sliding up over her ribs to her breasts. She moans again as my grip closes over those perfect curves.
Off. All of this has to come off.
My hands drift around to her back, and I undo the clasp of her bra as our tongues wrestle in her mouth. When her breasts are free, I force myself to tear my mouth away from hers.
“Lift your arms,” I say, my voice ragged.
She hesitates for the briefest of moments. And then her arms go up, and I pull off her shirt and bra in one motion then toss them aside.
Her breasts are free. My hands find them immediately, and she pulls my face back down to hers. A groan escapes my throat as my forefinger and thumb close around her nipple. Her fingers dig into my back as she arches against me, pressing her breasts further into my grip.
We’re like two starving things, the way we cling to each other. My entire body aches for her, and my cock strains against my pants.
I pull my mouth away from hers and kiss my way over to her ear. The moment her lips are free, all of her objections seem to come bubbling forth.
“If your father finds out—”
“Fuck my father,” I say. He won’t find out. I’ll make sure of it.
“If anyone finds out—”
“Fuck them, too. Fuck all of them.” If she stops this now, I’m not sure what I’ll do.
“There’s no way this can end well—”
Why the hell is she thinking about how this ends?
“There is no denying this,” I growl into her ear. “We want each other, Victoria. Need each other. And I refuse to pretend otherwise.” I close my teeth around her earlobe, drawing a little gasp from her.
And her objections seem to fall away. Her hands find the front of my shirt. Find the buttons. She practically tears them open, and together we get my shirt off. My undershirt goes next, joining the growing pile of our clothes on the floor.