The words pour out of me, more words than I thought I was keeping inside, and I take a deep breath the minute I stop.
My mother looks at me for a long time, standing still, her hands clasped in front of her. “I loved your father,” she says. “Madly. Passionately. And when he died, I thought it would destroy me. And I do see the way you look at Albie. It reminds me of what I had with your father, and that frightens me. I…”
Her voice trails off, and she blinks, standing still, like she’s afraid to move. She’s become so practiced at restraint and decorum that it makes me sad for her.
“I thought you wanted me to be miserable,” I say.
“Belle,” she says. “Of course I want you to be happy.”
“I’m not afraid,” I say. “I love him.”
She sighs heavily. “I know,” she says. “I do know that.”
“Can you be happy for me?”
“I love you,” she says. "And I can."
It’s not perfect, but it’s enough.
101
Albie
"It's official," I whisper, her hand in mine as we waltz around the dance floor in the ballroom in sync with the music from the orchestra. "Now we're related."
Belle glares at me. "Stop saying that."
I affect an exasperated sigh. "I hate when my wife tells me what to do."
"You have to stop calling me that," she says, trying to sound disapproving, but I know she's not. The corners of her mouth turn up. "The marriage was annulled, remember?"
As if I could forget. The royal lawyers went ballistic over our drunken Vegas marriage, immediately initiating the annulment, since we'd both admitted publicly that we were intoxicated.
So we're no longer married.
And now our parents are.
"Maybe I'm a little disappointed that you're no longer my wife," I whisper in her ear. She moves against me with the music, her body suddenly much too close for a waltz, less than appropriate for our parents' wedding. Especially a royal wedding.
It would be a lot more inappropriate to have a huge hard on while dancing with Belle at the wedding reception.
Belle just laughs. "I'm sure you'll find a way to manage," she says.
"I can think of a way you might help me manage," I say, my hand sliding up the middle of her back.
Belle moves away from me in tune with the music. "Nice try," she says laughing, as I pull her back. "At our parents' wedding?"
"If I recall correctly, the first time I made you come was at our parents' engagement party," I whisper into her ear. "You should be glad I didn't make you wear a vibrator tonight."
"You can't make me do anything," Belle says, laughing.
"I'll bet I can make you come," I whisper, pulling her close to me again. "Let's get out of here."
"Everyone will notice," she whispers.
"We've been on national interviews," I say. "And all over the internet. I'm pretty sure that everyone already knows we’re together.”
“You’re wicked,” she says, a smile on her lips.
“No, luv,” I say, pulling her close against me as the music shifts to a slower song. “Wicked would be if I told you what exactly I was thinking of doing to you right now.”
Alex comes into view beside us, slow-dancing with Max. “Get a room, you two,” she whispers.
“That’s what I’m trying to convince her to do, but she won’t listen,” I say.
Belle slaps me playfully on the arm. “It’s a breach of etiquette to leave,” she insists.
“There is no end to the number of etiquette rules we’ve broken, luv,” I say, laughing. “I’m with you. Alex is openly slow-dancing with her bodyguard. I think etiquette has gone out the window.”
“This family practically deserves a reality show,” she says.
“A Royal Scandal,” I suggest. “Happily Ever After with the Royal Family.”
“Don’t get any ideas.”
“All of my ideas right now involve you wearing considerably fewer articles of clothing.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“And I’m all yours, luv.”
“Lucky me,” she says, sarcastically.
I spin her around, my hand on her back, pulling her tightly against me. “No,” I say. “Lucky us.”
“That is the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
102
Epilogue
Belle
ONE YEAR LATER
I’m standing at the altar in Protrovia’s most historic and lavish church, in front of fifteen hundred people. There are throngs of people outside in the streets.
I should be practically doubled over now, crippled with panic doing this in front of everyone.
But Albie stands beside me, and I can’t keep my eyes off of him. He’s wearing full military dress, Navy blue with gold trim, saber at his side. He’s never looked more like a true royal than right now.
Classy, distinguished, mature.
He squeezes my hand, and leans over to whisper to me. “I just want you to remember that I love you,” he says.
“What did you do?” I whisper back.
“Quiet,” he says. “We’re at an important event.”
I glance to the side to see Alex, my maid of honor, smiling. Then I hear the titters of people in the crowd, white noise that ripples through the church.
I look up.
They’re laughing because Albie has done something totally unprecedented. I can’t imagine this has ever happened, in the history of royal weddings, around the world. I don’t know how many people he had to bribe to make it happen.
It’s not the priest standing in front of us right now, the one who was supposed to officiate the ceremony – the one who officially marries members of the royal family, important people.
Nope.
It’s Fake Elvis.
Fake Elvis is standing in the middle of this church, ready to marry Prince Albert and Princess Isabella of Protrovia.
Wearing a white and gold jumpsuit with so much bling it rivals any of the wedding party.
I turn to Albie, my eyes wide. “You did not get fake Elvis to officiate,” I whisper in disbelief.
King Leopold is probably going to have a coronary.
I try to stifle my giggle, covering my mouth with my hand, but wind up snorting, which makes it worse. It’s terrible, and awful, and the most ridiculous thing imaginable.
And so incredibly inappropriate.
But it’s somehow just right.
Albie takes my hands, and the murmurs from the crowd begin to quiet. It’s not even time for the vows, but he speaks. “I know this is off script,” he says. “But I’d like to say my vows now, if that’s okay.”
He’s asking permission from Fake Elvis to go off-script at our wedding.
The thought sends a ripple of laughter through me again, and when I try to hold it in, my eyes water.
“I know you’re all shook up by this grand gesture,” Albie says. And I snort. Out loud.
I try to glare at him, but find it impossible to be angry.
“On a serious note,” Albie says, clearing his throat. “People have an idea about how relationships should be. Boy meets girl, they fall in love, get married, and live happily ever after. Nothing about our relationship has happened the way it’s supposed to. We got married first. And you couldn’t stand me.”
“I can’t imagine why,” I say, and the crowd laughs.
“But then we fell in love,” Albie says. “And here we are, getting married for real this time. But that night in Las Vegas, when it was just the two of us – and Fake Elvis – that was the night I first fell in love with you. And as ridiculous as it might be, that’s where we began. And I never want to forget it.”
Albie pulls me forward, his lips close to mine, and now we’re really off-script, but I don’t care.
Fake Elvis says, “Well, you may kiss this hunk of –“
And I do.
Before Elvis even finishes, Albie pulls me against hi
m and brings his lips down on mine. And when I close my eyes, it’s like kissing him again for the first time – butterflies in my stomach and the world spinning around me. Except this time, that’s not because I’ve had five shots of tequila in the back of a limo in Vegas.
This time, it’s because I’m undeniably, head-over-heels, irresistibly in love.
And I’m not the least bit nervous about showing it.
In front of God and all of these witnesses.
Including Fake Elvis.
103
Extra Epilogue
Belle
FIVE YEARS LATER
"The juniors are going to be total hellions tonight," I inform Albie with a shake of my head. We call the twins (Leopold Jr. and Albert Jr.) "the juniors" for short. They're three years old now, and they're total terrors after a good dosage of sugar, which is exactly what King Leopold and my mother have planned for them tonight. How many kids get to have an ice-cream-sundae-making-party followed by movie night in a theater in a castle? The twins definitely don't know how lucky they are.
It's a good thing they're adorable, because they'll be hyped-up little monsters for a while. I almost feel bad for my mother and Leo, but by now they should know what they're getting into.
It's our fifth anniversary. Five years ago, Albie and I were married in the castle where in Protrovia where he was raised. Now our children get to tear headlong down the castle halls pretending to be knights slaying their grandfather, who makes a mean dragon. He also does a pretty dramatic fake death scene that never fails to send the kids into hysterics.
"My father and Sofia are ecstatic to keep the boys tonight, whether they're hellions or not," Albie informs me. "They'll feed them sugar and let them stay up past their bedtimes and the boys will have a blast – and I'll get to spend my anniversary night debauching my wife."
I laugh. "Oh, really?"
"I have plans for you, wife." Albie grins as he pulls me against him and brings his lips to mine. My mouth opens for him and when his tongue finds mine, my heart races.
He still makes my heart race after five years of marriage. I know that's not a lot of time in the grand scheme of things, but in parenting-of-twins years it feels like it's been longer. My mother implored us to get nannies, but both of us wanted to do everything ourselves.
I think the lack of help made us stronger as a couple – all of the late-night feedings and the early months where we were both delirious and perpetually exhausted ended up being good for us. Albie is a great dad and a strong partner in life.
Our romantic life has slowed down a little bit. Being parents of twins definitely takes a toll sometimes. The boys are exhausting. We haven't been swinging from the rafters lately. Our sex life now is more like stolen quickies during naptime and making out when the boys are in bed at night.
But that's okay. Things might not be wild and crazy like when we were sneaking around the castle and trying not to get caught by Leo and my mother. Our relationship has grown and deepened over the years, which means that the sex has too – and Albie still manages to surprise me sometimes.
I love this man with all of my heart and kissing him still gives me butterflies. It still sends a little shiver down my spine.
"You have goose bumps," Albie whispers as his hands skim over my bare arms. I'm all dressed up for dinner tonight in my heels and a little black dress. Suddenly, though, I wish dinner wasn't part of the evening plans at all.
"It's chilly in here."
He smiles. "You're such a liar, Belle."
I laugh. "Fine. You gave me goose bumps. Is that what you want to hear?"
He lets out a low rumble under his breath. "Always. Always and forever."
"Do we have to go to dinner?" I put my finger on his chest and slide it down the front of his shirt. What I really want to do is yank at the buttons and tear this shirt right off of my husband.
Albie's eyebrows go up. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do." When he pulls me tighter against him, his hardness presses into my leg and sends a rush of heat through my body. "What would you like to do, Belle?"
"Hmm." I pretend to consider the question for a moment. "I'm not really sure. Do you have any suggestions?"
I inhale sharply as he slides his hands under my thighs and lifts me up off the floor. "Let's skip dinner. That's my suggestion."
"I do have a different kind of meal in mind," he replies lasciviously.
I let out a giggle as he carries me upstairs, applying kisses to my neck along the way. After we were married, the king gave us the summer house. This place has become our home and it's a wonderful one – loud and sometimes chaotic, but always warm and filled with love. When he passes the bedroom with me still in his arms, my breath quickens. "What kind of meal would that be? And where are you taking me?"
"You'll see. I was saving a little surprise for later, but it seems as if it would come in handier now."
"There's a glint in your eye I haven't seen in a while."
"I have reason for that, wife." Stopping at one of the guest rooms, he puts his finger on a keypad to unlock it.
"That's some high-tech security. Are you hiding something pricey in here? Did you get me diamonds?"
Albie laughs. "You're not getting diamonds, but nice try." He pauses just inside the room. "Close your eyes."
"Now I'm intrigued."
I close my eyes and he sets me down. Without saying a word he unzips the back of my dress and it falls to the floor. Then I'm just standing there in my bra, panties, and heels. He lets out a little growl, and then his hands are on my hips as he pulls off my panties.
Slowly, he reaches around my back and unhooks my bra, sliding the straps over my shoulders. Then I'm standing there with the cool air wafting over my naked body and my eyes closed, waiting for whatever comes next.
"Well?" I ask.
I inhale sharply as he begins to make his way up my body, applying kisses up the length of my legs and to the sides of my hips. He doesn't put his tongue between my legs the way I'm already aching for him to do. Instead he keeps moving up my body, his lips trailing along my abdomen until he reaches my breasts. There, his tongue finds one nipple and then the other, stroking each until they're hard little nubs. My eyes still closed, I pull his head tighter against my breasts as arousal washes over me.
"Keep your eyes closed, Belle," he orders. I do as he says, waiting with anticipation as he moves away from my breasts and takes my hand in his to lead me blindly toward whatever he has planned for us. When he stands behind me, his breath warms my skin. "Now you can look."
When I open my eyes, my hand immediately goes to my mouth. "What is this?"
"You like?" he asks.
"This is so… raunchy," I whisper.
"So that's definitely a yes, then," he growls. "Let's get you into it, because I want to fuck the hell out of my wife."
I giggle as he helps me up and inside the sex swing. He slides my legs through the straps and I grip the sides.
I feel ridiculous with my feet in the stirrups like this as I lean backwards against the strap behind me.
I also feel very questionably sexy right now.
But the look on Albie's face – and the noticeable bulge in his pants – says everything. So does the way he unbuttons his shirt and throws it to the floor. He then discards the rest of his clothing in a pile like he's aiming for a world record in speed-stripping.
Okay, he definitely thinks I look hot like this.
His cock is rock-hard and leaking so much pre-cum that it's unreal.
"Look at you, all spread and open and ready for me." His voice is thick as he strokes the length of his cock, making a show of admiring me.
"I feel slightly silly," I admit.
And a little bit self-conscious.
"Well, we should take care of that." Falling to his knees, he reaches for my thighs and pulls me to meet his mouth. I lie back into the straps on the swing as his warm, wet mouth envelops my already-wet pussy.
His t
ongue definitely takes care of that nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. He licks every inch of me, his tongue darting between my folds and then inside of me. When he pulls my clit into his mouth, sucking me and teasing me, I lean back farther in the swing and close my eyes, enjoying the sense of weightlessness and relinquishing control to him.
Albie brings me to the edge, teasing me with his mouth until I'm moaning his name over and over. Then he lets me go and stands as the swing rocks gently back and forth.
"Are you enjoying your anniversary present?" He pulls me back to him again. The head of his cock, glistening with pre-cum, goes right to my entrance but he doesn't push inside of me.
Not yet.
"The fifth anniversary is sex swings, isn't it?"
"It's a classic gift, really," he agrees. "But I don't want to talk about our anniversary anymore."
With that, he impales me on his cock. I groan, the sound low and primal, at the way he's inside of me in one long thrust. He only pauses for a moment to let me adjust to his thickness before testing out the motion of the swing by rocking me back and forth on his cock.
Then he's fucking me harder, spreading my legs wider as he pulls me up and down on his cock. I lean back as far as I can in the swing, letting him fuck me deeply with short hard thrusts until his cock is so deep inside me I think he's going to pound his way right through me.
"Fuck, Belle, I can't get enough of this tight little pussy," he groans as he thrusts.
I'm so swollen around him, so wet for him and it's not long before we're both on the verge. "That's good," I breathe. "Because I … can't … get … enough … of … your … cock."
He fucks me forever, until I'm breathless and rendered completely delirious from lust. Not coming right now is total agony, but I want to wait for him. I want to feel him come.
Her Bodyguard (Raunchy Royals Book 2) Page 57