The Introvert's Prince (The Royal Wedding Book 5)

by Caroline Lee

  “Will she? Approve of me, I mean. Will your mother be angry—”

  His grip on her hand tightened. “She will be absolutely thrilled, Marcia.”

  “Are you sure? She didn’t approve of me for Alek, I could tell.”

  “That’s because you didn’t belong with Alek.” He took a deep breath and held her gaze. “You do belong with me, and Mom will love you. And Stefan. And she’ll probably squeal when she finds out.”

  It was impossible to imagine the stately monarch of Aegiria squealing. “When will that be?”

  Viggo glanced at his twin briefly. “Johan thinks it needs to be today. Mother’s wedding is the day after tomorrow, and he thinks it would be important to her to know she has a grandson before then.”

  Marcia bit her lip once more as she watched Stefan playing—now trying to explain the rules to Elsie. Queen Viktoria probably would prefer to find out this news sooner rather than later, regardless of what Viggo announced to the press. If it were Marcia in Viktoria’s place, she’d want to know the truth before such a major event as well. The royal family could wait a sufficient period of time before announcing Viggo’s marriage and son, but Viktoria had a right to know.

  So she nodded slowly. “I think that’s a good idea,” she said softly.

  “She’s smart, too,” Johannes quipped.

  Marcia blushed again, but happily this time. Viggo lifted her hand to his lips, and when he placed a kiss on her knuckles—and the warmth traveled up her arm—her blush deepened.

  “You’ve practically been a part of our family for a long time,” Viggo said softly. “You’ve lived nearby, you’ve raised my son for me. You’ve been to the same events and traveled in the same circles, and you almost married my brother. Mom knows you and respects you, and is going to be thrilled you’re finally an official Magnusson.”

  “And Stefan too?” She needed to remind him why they were doing this.

  But Viggo didn’t drop her gaze, not even to glance at his son. Instead, his grin widened. “Gaining custody of my son—getting to see him every day—is an added bonus to the prize of marrying you, Marcia.”

  She couldn’t help it; her mouth dropped open and she stared at the man—her longtime crush—who’d just made the most beautiful declaration she could imagine. He was marrying her for her. He wanted to be married to her?

  It was hard to believe it was true. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Was it? Or was that one of the lines he’d practiced on dozens of other women?

  One of the lines he’d given Rebecca?

  The door opened once more, and this time it was the judge who stepped through, her folder of official papers held under one arm. There’d be the marriage license, of course, and the papers to start Stefan’s custody transfer to Marcia and Viggo Magnusson.

  They were about to become parents and husband and wife.

  Oh my God.

  Marcia forced her breathing to slow, but it was hard. When Viggo’s grip on her hand tightened, she looked his way, wondering if he was as nervous as she was.

  But no. The smile he gave her was assured and calm. The earlier hesitance was gone, and she got the overwhelming sense that he knew they were doing the right thing.

  The best thing.

  Regardless of how she felt about him, or what he couldn’t possibly have meant by that incredibly sweet line he’d given her…a marriage between them was perfectly convenient. They’d both get what they wanted, and they were mature enough adults to make it work.

  This is right. This is the best thing.

  She nodded, and squeezed his hand in return.

  Then, with a deep breath, they both turned to the judge, and stepped towards their new lives.

  Together.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Viggo gripped the steering wheel tighter than he needed to, but it was helping him focus as he weaved in and out of traffic in the convertible. Without it, he found himself distracted by the woman sitting beside him, and the realization she was now his wife.

  And the boy in the backseat—the seven-year-old who kept screaming “wheee!” and throwing his hands into the air whenever Viggo sped up—was his son. Legally his son, at least soon. Once the custody switch went through, Marcia would be Stefan’s guardian, his mother. And as Marcia’s husband, Viggo would become a father.

  Not just by blood, but by legal acknowledgement. They’d be a family.

  And maybe he should’ve been driving slower, with his family in the car with him, but they were already drawing stares and he didn’t want to give the papers too much to speculate about until he was ready to make the official announcement. Sometime after his mother’s wedding, presumably.

  When they turned into the marina where the royal yacht was docked, he could see from the gathered vehicles he was the last to arrive. Even Johan’s BMW—sensible and safe, just like him—was already parked in front of the gangplank.

  Mom wanted a few hours to relax with her family in the midst of all this craziness, and that didn’t seem too much to ask. Since Aunt Marina had confessed to trying to stop the wedding, Viktoria had been a little frosty towards her sister. But Marina was working hard to prove she was sorry, and seemed determined to put on the most extravagant wedding reception—since the actual ceremony would be intimate and only broadcast from the yacht—Aegiria had ever seen.

  After running around like idiots for the last few weeks—last week in particular, since the press event—Viggo figured they all had a right to relax for a bit. One of their family cruises with lunch seemed like a great idea. And his brothers’ dates would be there: Toni, Emma, Cassandra, and Gloria. So him bringing Marcia wasn’t going to be such a deviation.

  Except he’d never brought a woman home to meet his family. Never.

  And she wasn’t just any woman. She was his wife.

  “Are you okay?”

  Marcia’s quiet question jerked him back to the here-and-now, and Viggo realized he was still gripping the wheel tightly, breathing deeply to keep from freaking out. He’d pulled up behind Kristoff’s beat-up Jeep, and was just staring at the yacht. Where his family was gathered.

  No. This is my family now. Or maybe Marcia and Stefan were just being added to the larger family. Oh God, I don’t know.

  He resisted the urge to drop his forehead to the wheel and groan. Instead, he tried for a cocky smile. “Sure, I’m fine. I just got married, didn’t I?”

  Her flat stare told him she wasn’t fooled.

  “You did, which is why I asked if you were okay. You look like you’re hyperventilating.”

  He winced. “Sorry. Sorry, buddy,” he said over his shoulder to his son. “I’m trying to figure out what to do about them,” he lied, while nodding to the group of reporters on the other side of the gate, most of them with cameras pointed towards the convertible.

  Marcia’s lips twitched, like she knew he was lying, but she went along with it. “They know me, and can guess who Stefan is, even if my father hasn’t taken him into public. It’s not unusual for me to be seen with your family, even occasionally since Alek began seeing Toni instead. I say we just ignore them and pretend everything is normal.”

  Normal. His normal had changed significantly in the last twenty-four hours. Still, he took a deep breath and nodded to her, to let her know he appreciated her pep-talk.

  “Okay. Let’s—let’s do this.”

  A noise from the backseat stopped him with his hand on the door. Viggo twisted to see Stefan staring down at where his hands were pressed between his knees.

  “Stefan? What’s up?” he gently prodded.

  The boy shrugged. “Are we going to meet people?”

  “Yeah.” Viggo exchanged a confused look with Marcia. “My family—my mom and brothers. And my mom’s about to get married, so I guess William will be my step-dad.” When the boy didn’t look up, Viggo frowned. “Is that okay? Are you nervous about meeting them?”

  “Maybe.” Stefan shrugged again, then peeked up at the adults. “Maybe I’ll be confused.�
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  “About what, honey?” Marcia prodded gently.

  Yet another shrug. “Maybe about what I should call you.”

  The seven-year-old’s jump in logic was difficult to follow, but Stefan did his best. “You mean, you want to know what to call us, before you meet my family?”

  “They might ask, right?”

  Marcia smiled softly. “What do you want to call us, honey? Do you want to call me ‘Marcia’ instead of ‘Mara’?”

  “No!” The boy finally looked up, and his expression was close to terror. “No! I like you being my Mara. It’s almost like ‘Mama’!”

  And just like that, the boy’s real worry became clear. Stefan felt something tighten in his chest, and knew he was in as much danger of crying as Marcia was.

  “Oh, honey.” Marcia reached around the seats to grip the boy’s hand. “I’ll always be your Mara.” She took a deep breath, maybe to hold back the tears Viggo could see in her eyes. “And now, thanks to those papers we all signed this morning, I’ll be even closer to being your ‘Mama’ too, if you’d prefer.”

  “And…” Stefan was still gripping her hand, but he turned those big grey eyes on Viggo. “An’ what about you?”

  Viggo had to clear his throat to make his voice work. “What about me, buddy?”

  “Well, now you’re married to Mara. If she’s like my mother, that means you’re kinda like my father, right? What should I call you?”

  All the air whooshed out of Viggo’s lungs at the innocent question, and he struggled for something to say. Struggled just to breathe. How to answer his son? How to explain he was Stefan’s father? Of all the changes the boy had been through in the last twenty-four hours, should Viggo force another one on him?

  Luckily, Marcia saved him from answering. Her voice was thick with emotion when she drew Stefan’s attention once more. “I think it’s up to you what you want to call him, honey. You came up with the name ‘Mara’ for me. Would you like to come up with something for Viggo?”

  The boy’s eyes—so like the ones Viggo saw when he looked in the mirror—flicked between the adults. Finally, he shook his head. “No. I don’t want to confuse people. Or myself.” He took a deep breath, and offered Viggo a tentative smile. “I think I should just stick with something simple.”

  “Like what?” Viggo asked hoarsely, hope and fear climbing his throat.

  “Like ‘Dad’.”

  And for the first time in a long time, Viggo felt tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t answer, couldn’t tell Stefan how much that would mean to him. Instead, he just gruffly nodded, wondering how he got so lucky as to find a way to really be the boy’s father, finally.

  From beside him, Marcia said softly, “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Stefan.”

  The boy nodded thoughtfully, then again more enthusiastically. “Dad and Mara. I like it.”

  “I do too, honey.”

  Viggo cleared his throat and blinked away his tears, then reached out and closed his hand around his wife and son’s. “I do too.”

  The moment seemed to stretch infinitely long, with the sunlight reflecting off the unfamiliar gold band he now wore, as their fingers intertwined. But soon enough the three of them stood at the top of the gangway, hands still linked, while a steward directed them to the dining room, and Captain Nilssen gave orders to cast off.

  Stefan was trembling with excitement, trying to look at everything at once, and despite the giant ball of anxiety in Viggo’s stomach, he couldn’t help but smile at the kid. Even if he wasn’t as into boats as Kristoff or Mack, Viggo could still understand their appeal. Just wait ‘til Stefan saw how fast this thing could go, once they cleared Solrig Bay!

  When he glanced at Marcia to see if she’d noticed the boy’s excitement, it was to find her already staring at Viggo, a look of—bemusement, maybe?—on her face. She was looking at him like he was the best thing to ever happen to her, and he didn’t know why.

  But in that moment, holding his wife and son’s hands, he was determined to be that man she saw. Be the best thing to ever happen to her. Before he could think better, he blurted out, “I’ll be a good husband, Marcia.”

  Her lips curved up shyly at his promise, and she dropped her gaze to his lips. Was she thinking about the kiss they’d shared earlier in the courtroom? It had barely counted as a kiss—he’d brushed his lips against hers for less than a second. It had been just enough for him to get a tantalizing whiff of her body wash, and nothing else.

  It had been his wedding, sure, but Johan had stood there smirking at him, and Stefan had been staring too.

  It hadn’t seemed like the right time to kiss Marcia the way he’d been thinking about kissing her.

  And frankly, now wasn’t the right time, either. So instead of wrapping his arms around her and pressing her against the corridor’s wall, he lifted their linked hand to his lips, and placed a kiss on her middle knuckle, right beside that huge diamond.

  It wasn’t easy to get a jeweler to open his shop two hours early, but when the man had heard who was ready to ring-shop, he’d been much more solicitous. He’d even mentioned to Viggo the ring had been stocked in the hopes one of the princes would buy it, since “all of your brothers are settling down with such nice girls. But not you, eh, Your Highness?” The jeweler had winked. “You’ll never settle on just one lady!”

  Viggo had paid for the exorbitant gem without mentioning why he wanted it.

  But remembering the carefully blank expression on Marcia’s face when she’d accepted the ring, Viggo wondered if it had been a bad idea. The ring itself, or just the ostentatiousness? Any of the other women he’d dated—including her sister—would’ve fallen over themselves to have a chance at a diamond that big.

  But Marcia had been merely polite about it. And now, standing in the hall outside the small dining room—where Viggo’s family waited—he knew she hadn’t needed or wanted or expected a ring like that. As his lips brushed against her skin once, twice more, he vowed to make it up to her.

  To be the good husband he wanted to be.

  A sharp tug on his other hand pulled him back to the present, and he turned to find Stefan staring up at him expectantly.

  “Are you allowed to kiss that much?”

  Viggo nearly choked. “That much?” He wasn’t kissing anywhere near as much as he wanted to be.

  “It’s getting a little out of hand,” the little boy said seriously.

  While Viggo sputtered and tried to control his laughter, Marcia glared down at Stefan. “Don’t be impertinent. Husbands and wives are allowed to kiss as much as they want.” Then, as if she’d just realized what she’d said, her eyes flashed to his, and a pretty strawberry blush began to climb her cheeks. “I mean, if it’s not— If both parties feel like— Kissing has to be agreed upon,” she stammered.

  Viggo grinned, and squeezed her fingers. “I’m on board with a lot more kissing, assuming you are. Tonight’s our wedding night, after all.”

  He’d reminded her specifically to get a blush out of her, and it worked. Her face was bright pink, and he had to press his lips together to keep from smiling at how nervous she was. Stefan wasn’t as polite; he began to giggle.

  “You made Mara embarrassed! She’ll be cross next!”

  “Maybe, buddy. But I had to distract her somehow.”

  Her chin went up, and even with that blush, she suddenly looked like a general. “Oh, distract me? Is that what you were doing?”

  He let his smile show then, and added a wink too. “Thinking about our wedding night kept me distracted on the drive here.”

  She rolled her eyes at him, but that blush stuck around.

  Still, he hadn’t lied; he had been thinking about having his arms around her a lot over the last few hours. Hell, he’d been thinking of it since he’d proposed—no, longer. Since he’d watched her dancing with Alek and imagined what it would be like to be the one she smiled up at adoringly.

  He’d been jealous of his brother then,
but had never let anyone know. Now, though, Marcia was his, and he was going to enjoy the hell out of having her as his wife.

  Right after he introduced her as such to his family.

  He took a deep breath, waited for Marcia’s nod, and pushed open the large door. The three of them stepped into the dining room, and as a dozen pair of eyes swung towards them, Viggo reached down and took Stefan’s right hand.

  Together, the three of them could face anything.

  Alek was the first to speak. He cleared his throat, and after sending a questioning glance to Toni—who was scowling slightly—said, “Lady Marcia. It’s good to see you again.”

  Several of Viggo’s brothers chimed in with similar greetings, and Viggo could tell they were all thinking Why are we seeing you again? but were too polite to ask out loud. Well, they’d all find out, soon enough.

  But Mom needed to be the one to hear it first. She and Pops were standing with their heads tilted together, obviously in the middle of whispering those silly things to one another, when Viggo had interrupted them. As he pulled his new family towards her, Mom slowly straightened.

  “Viggo.” She smiled softly at him, in that You’re such a screw-up but I love you anyhow way she’d perfected over the years, as if she’d known he would find something outrageous to do.

  And yeah, maybe he had gone out of his way to be the outrageous one in the family, to shock the others. And yeah, maybe Mom had always been loving and supportive throughout, even while he was being an embarrassment to the royal family.

  But still, it irked him. Because this time he’d done something truly outrageous, but he’d done it for the right reasons. So he lifted his chin, raised a brow, and smiled at his mother.

  “Hiya, Mom. Sorry I’m late. I was busy getting married.”

  The gasps from the gathered group told him he’d gotten the appropriate response. But Mom’s reaction was the oddest. Instead of clutching her heart or fainting or screaming or something, after discovering her playboy son had married…she smiled. She smiled hugely, her gaze settling on Marcia’s giant ring.

  “I’m thrilled, my dear.” Mom raised her eyes to his, then stepped forward to place a gentle hand on Marcia’s arm. “I’m just thrilled. I’ve always known you two would be perfect for one another.”