The Introvert's Prince (The Royal Wedding Book 5)
Page 12
William nodded, and returned the smile, right before enveloping them all in a hug. From the middle of the pile, Stefan giggled and began to squirm. “Mara! Dad! I can’t breathe.”
Dad. Was he ever going to get tired of hearing that? Viggo hoped not.
“Don’t blame me, son,” he managed to say, swallowing down his tears. “It’s your Grandpops who’s squishing me.”
The boy laughed again, and Viggo knew they were going to be alright.
William cleared his throat. “Say, does anyone know what time it is?”
Marcia gasped and jerked upright, without dropping her hold on Stefan. “The wedding! It’s in only a few hours.” She turned her wide-eyed gaze to William. “We have to get you changed and prepared—I don’t think Queen Viktoria even knows you’d gone missing!”
Maybe by now Johan had broken down and told her, but Viggo trusted his twin brother to not do anything unnecessary which would hurt their mother. “Johan will have everything ready for you at the yacht. We’ll get you there.”
“Is there enough time?” William asked anxiously. “Maybe I should call Schnookums and ask her to postpone ‘til noon? I haven’t slept, and I know I look like—”
“Pops,” Viggo interrupted with an eyeroll.
Marcia was more direct. She placed one hand on the older man’s cheek and said gently, “Dr. Hayes, this is a royal wedding. It’s been planned down to the minute. One doesn’t just postpone a royal wedding.”
“Oh, yes.” William shrugged and looked abashed. “Quite right, I suppose. I’ve only done this once before, you know. The wedding, I mean. Not the royal part. Oh dear.”
From in between them, Stefan lifted his head. “You know what will make us get there faster? A police escort.”
They all turned to see Lindqvist being manhandled into a police car, and officers were on radios all around. Still, there appeared to be a few extra police cars sitting around…
“I wonder if your father left the keys in the car,” he asked Marcia slyly.
“Should I drive, or do you want to?” she asked.
William blew out his breath in exasperation. “I’ll drive, just get in, get in. I have a wedding to get to, you know! Get me to the yacht on time!”
Viggo smiled. “Welcome to the family.”
Marcia ended up driving, since it was her father’s car.
Of course, she didn’t think Father had ever actually driven the car prior to his stint as a kidnapper—there were chauffeurs for that. She was still a little stunned that Father had stooped as low as he had, but she supposed she wasn’t too surprised.
Herman Lindqvist had always been determined and brutal when it came to getting what he wanted, whether it was his idea of a perfect daughter or how the world should bow to him.
What had all that business about the tax reforms and banking been about? She remembered Father’s rant a few months ago, about how the “upstart American” was causing trouble with his bank account. Had he meant Dr. Hayes? And why was he so concerned about his bank account?
The money in Father’s account must’ve come from less-than-immaculate sources, if he was so concerned about the royal family discovering its existence. What did that mean? Was father a criminal?
She scoffed quietly to herself as she pulled into the royal marina. The man had kidnapped the queen’s consort and threatened a child’s—his own grandson’s—life. Father was beyond a criminal now. No matter what he’d done to gain the money in the family’s coffers, he would go to prison.
In the backseat, Viggo had been on the phone with Johannes, filling him in on everything that had happened. His other arm was around Stefan, and from her glances in the rearview mirror, she didn’t think either of them had let go of the other since they’d buckled up.
“Yeah. Yeah.” Viggo was saying. “You’re going to have to talk to William about the banking reform—he seemed to know what Lindqvist was talking about… Yeah.”
From the passenger seat beside her, William was peering at himself in the rearview mirror, poking at his right eye. “It’s something I’ve been working on” —he twisted in the seat— “Tell Johan I’ll explain it all in a jiffy.”
Marcia pulled to a stop and put the car in park. “In a ‘jiffy’ you’ll be getting married, Dr. Hayes.”
The older man grinned at her. “Call me ‘Pops’. Now,” he pointed at his right eye, “does this look puffy to you? Do I need makeup?”
Laughing, Viggo was already out the door. “Come get our future stepdad, bro!” He yanked open the door and pulled William out none-too-gently as he shoved his phone into his pocket. “Come on, Pops. You’ve got a wedding to get to!”
Marcia climbed out of the car in time to see her husband hustle the older man towards the yacht’s gangplank. As she helped Stefan out of the backseat, Johannes rushed down to meet the other men. The twins exchanged a few words, then Johannes laughed and slapped his brother on the back. William and Viggo shook hands, and by the time Marcia and Stefan were standing beside the car, wondering what their place would be in the coming festivities, Viggo was on his way back down to solid land.
He was smiling when he jogged up to them and pulled Marcia into a hug. “Do you mind missing the event of the decade, sweetheart?”
With one hand still on Stefan’s shoulder—she didn’t think she could make herself not touch him, for the foreseeable future—she wrapped her other arm around Viggo and smiled up at him. “What do you mean?”
Behind him, Johannes had hustled William inside the yacht, where hopefully the queen was waiting to fuss over her fiancé. But Viggo was grinning at Marcia, and that was hard to ignore.
He shrugged slightly. “Johan will explain to Mom about what happened. I told him I thought a royal wedding would be too much for Stefan at this point, and Pops wholeheartedly agreed. And there’s no way in hell I’m leaving either of you.”
Since she’d just been thinking along similar lines, it was hard to argue with that reasoning. Still, Marcia made a half-hearted effort to do the right thing. “You’re going to miss your mother’s wedding, just because of us?”
Right before his lips met hers, Viggo whispered, “You’re damn right I am.”
“Language, Dad,” Stefan admonished, and all three of them burst into giggles, seriously interrupting their kiss.
Viggo pulled both of them into a tight hug. “God, I was so scared today. Were you as surprised as I was, buddy, when Mara popped out and threatened her father?”
Stefan nodded, one arm around each of them. “What was that you pointed at us? A stick?”
For the first time since she’d learned Stefan had been kidnapped, Marcia felt herself blushing, reverting back to her normal self. “Actually,” she said, raising a brow and defying her normal self to interrupt this wonderful moment, “it was your father’s phone.”
Viggo whispered another curse, his eyes wide. Then he winced and chuckled. “Sorry. I just can’t believe—You could’ve been hurt, Marcia!”
She shrugged. “Well, so could you. And I’m going to protect my family, the same way you do.”
Before Viggo could object further, Stefan pulled on the dirty sleeve of his jacket. When his father looked down, the boy nodded seriously.
“One of Mara’s secrets is that she watches all those American cop TV shows.”
Viggo pressed his lips together, obviously to keep from laughing. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah.” Stefan nodded. “Sometimes she plays Good Guys/Bad Guys with me, and I’ll be the bank robber.”
“Well, well.” Viggo finally let his beautiful smile bloom as he glanced at Marcia. “That is news. Obviously your Mara has learned the right stance and tone of voice.”
Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush.
It didn’t work.
In an effort to change the subject, she said, “Actually…”
Her husband raised a brow at her. “There’s more?”
She shrugged nonchalantly. “I was using the phone
to record audio, all the horrible things my father said. I sent the file to your brother. He’s already sent it to the police, to be entered as evidence against my father.”
Viggo’s eyes had gone wide, and he looked like he wanted to curse again…but this time in admiration. “I’m married to the most brilliant woman in the world.”
She smiled shyly at the compliment. “I think you’re pretty special too.”
Viggo was laughing again when he pulled her in for another kiss, and Stefan didn’t interrupt them this time.
When they pulled apart, Viggo was already fishing around in his pocket. As she and Stefan watched, he pulled out a little black velvet jewelry box.
Marcia’s heart sunk. Another one? She’d taken off the outrageous diamond ring he’d given her at their marriage ceremony and left it in her old room at her father’s estate—because it was so heavy and had gotten in the way of their searching. But now, Viggo was going to give her something else? Something equally unsuitable to her tastes?
Or something which showed he knew her? Loved her?
With shaking fingers, Marcia reached for the little box. Picking it up in one hand, she flipped open the lid with the other…and sucked in a breath.
There, nestled in the velvet, was a slender band—three bands, actually, wrapped around one another.
Viggo reached for the box and removed the ring. With his forehead close to hers, he took her left hand in his and slipped it on her fourth finger.
It fit perfectly.
“See,” he whispered, tracing the bands, “Yellow gold, white gold, and rose gold. All wrapped around one another in a continuous loop.”
With tears in her eyes, Marcia leaned back far enough to meet Viggo’s gaze. There was hope in his eyes, and fear and love and a million other emotions she couldn’t name yet but couldn’t wait to learn.
“For us?” she whispered. “The three of us, wrapped around one another?”
And when he nodded, she knew.
He understood her, the real her. He loved her. And…
Marcia took a deep breath. “I love you, Viggo,” she said in a shaky voice. “I have for a very long time. Since I saw the real you, the you you only show to me and Stefan.”
“I’m the white gold, there in the middle,” the little boy spoke up solemnly.
The silly interjection caused both adults to smile, and Viggo pulled them both in for a tight hug.
“Are you sure, Marcia?” he murmured against her hair. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable about anything.”
“How could I be? I’m married to the man of my dreams, and no one can take our son away from us again.”
“Well, the whole ‘Your father being a psychopath’ thing was kinda a bummer.”
Marcia’s lips quirked the same time as her eyebrow. “You didn’t have to live with him.”
Stefan nodded. “He was a meanie.”
The adults shared a look over his head which clearly said, He was more than that.
Movement caught her eye, and she turned to watch the royal yacht pulling away from its mooring, on its way out into the Baltic for the royal wedding. Johannes still stood at the rail, and as he saw them watching, he lifted one hand in farewell.
Viggo, one arm still wrapped around her, waved in return. “I have an idea,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “Let’s let my brother deal with your father and all the fallout from last night’s adventure.”
“And figuring out why my father did it?”
“Yeah.” His gaze dropped down to hers once more. “He’s not newly married, after all. I wouldn’t mind a few hours of quiet with my family before this afternoon’s reception.”
She stared at his lips, thinking about their wedding night. She hummed quietly. “Maybe a nap?”
“Maybe.” His lips quirked wickedly. “Something involving a bed at least.”
She realized she was leaning towards him, her lips—and other parts—already aching for his touch. “I think that’s a very, very good idea.”
“Wait, are you guys talking about kissing? Eeewww, gross!”
All three of them were laughing when Viggo hustled them back into the car and peeled out of the marina.
And headed home.
EPILOUGE
Stefan was asleep by the time they made it back to the estate, and Marcia wasn’t far behind. Viggo figured the only reason he wasn’t was the adrenaline still coursing through his body. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the terror he’d felt as he watched his son being threatened.
His wife smiled sleepily at him as he parked in front of the entrance. His wife. Marcia had told him she loved him, and that was another reason to always remember today.
“I think you’re going to have to carry him,” she whispered, cutting her eyes towards the backseat.
Viggo was already reaching for the handle. “Gladly,” he whispered back.
The butler opened the front door for them, and nodded respectfully to Marcia as she stepped through. Viggo followed close behind, Stefan curled up in his arms. He was getting a little big to be carried, but Viggo hoped he never stopped trying…
He’d missed out on so much of his son’s day-to-day life over the years, but starting today, here and now, Viggo wanted to be part of every minute he could.
Marcia helped him lay the boy down on his bed, then took Viggo’s hand while they stood staring down at their son.
“We’re going to have to wake him up in a few hours,” she whispered. “He’ll need a shower before the reception.”
The reminder triggered a yawn from Viggo, which surprised him enough to chuckle. Marcia joined in, and pulled him from the room.
“I guess I’ll have to wait another day before I show him the library, huh?” Viggo asked, allowing his wife to tug him towards his suite of rooms—and the bed they’d shared on their wedding night.
“Library?” Marcia halted and swung towards him. “You have a library in this house, and never told me about it?”
He chuckled at her combined excitement and irritation. “I’m married to a bookworm, you know.”
“I can’t believe—”
As she raised her finger to poke him in the chest, Viggo caught her in his arms and pulled her close.
“Shhh,” he interrupted. “I’m just teasing you. Johan stocked the library, but let me fill up three whole bookshelves with my comic books. That’s what I want to show Stefan.”
She was adorable when she frowned. “I don’t read comic books.”
“I know.” He couldn’t resist kissing her cheek, right on the corner of her mouth. “That’s why I’m going to move those comics into Stefan’s rooms, and let you bring over all your ridiculous novels from your library and crowd out Johan’s books.”
“Ridiculous?”
He knew her indignant response was faked, thanks to the sparkle in her eyes. So he kissed the corner of her mouth again, then her lips. She sighed against him and wrapped her arms around his neck.
They stood there kissing in the corridor for a few minutes, and Viggo wondered if maybe sleep wasn’t the best way to spend the next few hours. When she pulled away, he dropped his forehead to hers.
“I love you, Marcia,” he whispered.
How had he gotten so lucky? He’d married the woman he loved—the woman who even now wore a triple-banded ring representing their family—and their son was safe. Mom’s royal wedding would go off without a hitch now that William had been returned, and the country could go on as it always had.
“I love you too, Viggo,” she whispered in response, her lips close to his. “Only…”
His eyes popped open at her tone of voice. “Only…?” Only what? What more could she want?
Marcia’s remarkable blue eyes were twinkling when she peered up at him, and that’s how he knew she was about to say something outrageous.
“Only, we’re going to need a bigger library, husband.”
You can find all The Royal Wedding books here.
OMG,
whew, right?? At last! William has been saved, the royal yacht is heading off into the distance with the wedding party, Herman Lindqvist is safely behind bars, and absolutely nothing else can possibly go wrong!
Why are you looking so suspicious? You don’t believe me? Well, you’d better check out the last book in The Royal Wedding series, Merry Farmer’s The Journalist’s Prince!
The Royal Wedding books:
THE BODYGUARD’S PRINCE, by Caroline Lee
THE ROCK STAR’S PRINCE, by Merry Farmer
THE STEPSISTER’S PRINCE, by Caroline Lee
THE PILOT’S PRINCE, by Merry Farmer
THE INTROVERT’S PRINCE, by Caroline Lee
THE JOURNALIST’S PRINCE, by Merry Farmer
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Every morning, Merry Farmer and I start a conversation—about how we slept, her cats, my kids, or what we’re planning for lunch—and we don’t stop. Writing is a lonely profession, and I’m lucky to have someone who’s willing to chat with me, even if it’s online. Our historical romance worlds overlap (my Everland Ever After series and her Brides of Paradise series are constantly sharing characters and locations), so it was only a matter of time before we finally decided to write together. I’m grateful to her as a critique partner, a writing partner, and a friend.