Charmed By The Mountain Prince: An Arranged Marriage Romance

by Frankie Love

  First Violet flies off to Prince Hunter of Cressia, because apparently the eldest sister is the one who gets to marry first—which I totally understand. I’m just a little jealous that she gets to be the first to pop her royal cherry.

  And with Prince Hunter being her husband, I have no doubt a bad boy prince like him will easily get her into bed. Even though she’s so committed to resistance until her wedding night.

  Once we get word that she married him, I prepare to leave for Alpinweiss.

  And I have no doubt that I’ll soon be in my betrothed’s arms. I’m so ready to tackle whatever Prince Garrick of Alpinweiss has to throw my way.

  I’m not an idiot. I know his reputation—you know, the one that mentions his scowl and his brooding eyes and his rough exterior?

  I’m not the least bit scared. I’m not intimidated by a man who’s a bit reclusive.

  I’m up for a challenge. And I have no doubt I’ll win him over.

  I’ve even deleted every social media app from my phone. I don’t need that distraction anymore; I have an adventure waiting for me in Alpinweiss.

  My father thought marrying Garrick might upset me, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Marrying a man in another country, with new traditions and customs, different food?

  Bring it on.

  “You’re not even the least bit scared that he’s going to be this big, burly jerk?” Dahlia asks as we pack my meager suitcase for the expedition across the world to meet my soon-to-be-husband.

  “I wouldn’t use the word scared. I’m anxious—it’s all new, uncharted territory—but it’s like I’m an explorer.” I paint a picture with my hands, laughing as I explain. “This is like a safari, only better. There won’t be any wild animals, just a wild man getting his bride.”

  I raise my shoulders in excitement and clap my hands together in determination.

  “You are going to have sex with a virtual stranger. Isn’t that intimidating?”

  “That’s the best part,” I laugh.

  Dahlia grimaces, and I squeeze her shoulders. My little sister may be scared, but I’ve spent enough years touching myself in the shower, imagining a man who wanted to explore my body. I’m not scared of that part.

  That’s the part that already has me clenching my thighs together in anticipation. Giving my husband my body is just part of the glamour of this arrangement.

  I’m so ready to be someone’s woman. To let them discover all of me, and me all of them. I want a man who’s willing to teach me everything I want to know.

  I hope my husband is ready to show me what it means to be a woman.

  Dahlia looks concerned.

  “I suppose I’m a little anxious,” I sigh. “But the good kind of anxious. I want an adventure. It isn’t about fancy ball gowns and royal balls—those would be fun, but really, any adventure will do. You know that I’ve been waiting to start my life for as long as I’ve been alive.”

  “Yes, we all remember when you tried to run away,” Dahlia says, raising an eyebrow. “But Iris, you’ve had a life right here in Elexia. It’s not like living here is the worst thing in the world.”

  “How many times can we collect seashells and go swimming in the waterfall and pick coconuts? I want something more.”

  “But Historic Alpinweiss isn’t exactly a booming metropolis. You’ve seen it on the Internet, haven’t you? You know there aren’t massive shopping centers or Michelin-rated restaurants. Alpinweiss has big cities, but the castle is located in the heart of a Bavarian-esque village. It might be more like Elexia than you want to admit.”

  Dahlia bites her bottom lip as she folds my underwear. Because that’s the sort of girl Dahlia is: an underwear folder. Slow and cautious. Methodical and concerned.

  “Don’t give me that,” I say, grabbing the panties from her fingers and tossing them onto the pile of clothes I’ve gathered to stuff in my suitcase. “The Internet doesn’t always give you the most accurate picture of a place. So what, Google maps didn’t locate a shopping mall in the village. That doesn’t mean there aren’t carefully curated boutique shops full of one-of-a-kind pieces. It doesn’t mean there aren’t independent cafés that have underground followings and off-the-grid infamy. I’m not looking for expensive stores on Rodeo Drive. I’m just looking for something different. Something exciting. Something new.”

  I fall to my bed, dramatically clutching a pair of underwear, my eyes wide open and my heart bursting and everything full and alive.

  Possible.

  “I just think your expectations might be a little high?” Dahlia says, lying in the bed beside me, grabbing my hand. “I don’t want you disappointed, Iris. And the truth is, you haven’t even seen a photograph of your husband-to-be. Isn’t that a little ... alarming?”

  “Dahlia, you’re supposed to be the supportive sister. Not the one raining on my bridal parade.”

  “I’m not trying to rain on anything,” Dahlia promises, and changes the subject. “I can’t believe were all actually getting married. Do you think Violet is happy?”

  “I’m sure she is. In fact, I think Violet and Hunter’s rocky road to the altar confirms that things don’t have to be perfect for them to end well. Garrick is a reclusive mountain prince, so what? He could be holed up in a castle library, drinking whiskey and reading Proust. We have no idea what he’s like. There are worse things than not having a photo on the Internet, aren’t there?”

  “There are worse things,” Dahlia agrees. “Garrick could not want to marry you.”

  I look at my sister aghast. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  “Of course Garrick is going to want to marry you,” Dahlia insists. “Iris, you have a perfect heart-shaped face, golden hair to your waist, bright blue eyes that shine like the sea, and a go get ’em attitude that can charm the pants off anyone. Any prince.”

  “Thanks, Dahlia. I just want everything to go perfectly.”

  We sit up in the bed, both of us knowing the time has come for me to board a plane to my new home.

  “And listen,” I tell her. “I know when it’s your turn to get on a plane to your prince, you won’t have any sisters here giving you a pep talk, but you must promise to call.”

  “I’ll call,” Dahlia says squeezing me. “But right now, you don’t need to focus on me. I’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  “Well, stop your worrying. Because there’s literally not a single reason to think that this won’t go exactly as I’ve dreamed.”

  4

  I finish stacking the wood that I spent yesterday chopping, and use a cloth to mop the sweat off the base of my neck. I look around the yard for my discarded shirt and grab it, then button it up as I walk into the cabin.

  My back is slick with sweat and my flannel shirt sticks to it. Walking over to the sink, I pump water into a basin and wash the dust from my face. I scrub my knuckles and my fingertips, knowing my mother will look down at me if I show up to my wedding with dirty hands.

  I look around my cabin, the place I’ve called home for the last eight years. I built this place with my own two hands when I was still a teenager being tutored in my parents’ fancy-ass palace. In the afternoons I’d come out here. I laid the foundation, then chopped down one tree at a time as I built my four walls, as I put a roof over my head. It’s strange to think I’ll be sharing this room with another person tonight.

  Not wanting to be a complete asshole, I straighten the quilt on my bed. I make an effort to clear the drain board of washed dishes, and stack the plates neatly on the shelving above the sink.

  As I walk toward the front door, the floorboard creaks, just like it does every single day. I’ve thought of fixing that creak a hundred times, but then I remember that imperfect moments are what make life memorable. I’ll keep a creaky floorboard, just like I’ll keep my showers cold. If things become too easy, too “perfect,” I might forget how good this life really is. And all good things take time.

  I walk out the front door, taking
a deep breath, knowing this is my last walk from my house as a single man.

  A charter plane landed behind my parents’ home half an hour ago. The plan was to have Iris whisked to the wedding chapel shortly after her arrival, where I’m to meet her. The priest will already be there to marry us with as little pomp and circumstance as possible. It’s a marriage, not a fucking celebration.

  My parents may have arranged this marriage, but they knew the last thing I would want is to have some big-shot ceremony, requesting the attendance of all the people in town. That’s not how I operate.

  So they agreed to a small private affair, as long as I’m willing to show up at the right time and kiss my bride.

  It’s a little under a mile walk to the chapel, which is just inside the village square. Our city is set in the middle of the valley. Snowcapped mountain peaks surround us, there’s a lake on the outskirts of town, and while I wouldn’t mind seeing more of the world, I’ve never had a reason to leave.

  Of course, there are plenty of people over the mountains. Cars, hospitals, a university. Even our military base and factories operate on that side of Alpinweiss. But here in the Historic Village, at the base of the mountain, we maintain life as it was hundreds of years ago, because the tourists love this escape back in time. But it’s all a mirage. The people who live and work in the village use iPads and cellphones and cable television.

  But me? I live without those trappings; they’ve never seemed like anything but a fucking distraction. I’d rather look into the star-filled sky any night instead of a television screen. I’d rather hike through the forest trails than play fucking Crossy Road on a phone.

  I see the chapel ahead, but stop when I notice a wagon with a broken axel on the side of the road. I know this is Thomas’s wagon, and that he uses it to carry produce to the farmers’ market every day. I know it will mean I’m late for my own wedding, but I roll up my shirtsleeves and assess the problem.

  Thomas comes trapping with me sometimes, and I never hesitate to help him with harvest.

  In his wagon I find in a tool, then, on my hands and knees, I use a hammer and nails to splint the broken wood.

  I walk away as Thomas returns, knowing he won’t have the money he’d try to repay me with anyway. And I can’t wait around to tell him what I fixed, because I’m already late.

  “Prince,” he calls out. “You helped me again, I see. How will I repay you?”

  “Next time you see someone in need, lend a hand.”

  I care about this country, I just hate the way my parents and their royal court forget their priorities. The people who work in the village, who keep up the “old-world” mirage, are the forgotten ones. My parents and their friends don’t seem to value the people who work hard to keep this place running.

  In the heart of the village, I see the whitewashed chapel. Taking a deep breath, I step inside.

  My parents are here, in the front row, and the priest stands beside my father. They turn to me when I enter.

  Next to them stands a woman straight out of a dream. I pause, not having expected this.

  Not expecting her.

  I can’t bear to look at her, because she looks so bright and beautiful. She looks like the sun and the fucking stars, and like a glittering sea.

  It takes a moment to realize this is no enigma. This is my bride.

  “You all been here long?” I ask, directing my question to no one in particular as I walk forward. Honestly, I’m caught off guard. My parents tried to show me a picture of Iris last night, after they broke the news of my impending marriage, but I shoved them off, saying I had work to do and that I like to be surprised.

  But damn, my cock is already twitching; this surprise is way more than I bargained for.

  “Garrick, come forth,” my father directs.

  I walk to the front of the chapel, facing the priest. My mother, wearing her crown and a long velvet gown, points to the empty spot on which I’m to stand.

  Right beside Iris.

  Iris looks at me expectantly, and I’ve never felt so large in my life. Usually, under the shadow of the mountains, I feel like I fit right in. But next to this slip of a girl, I feel massive—too tall and like I don’t fit.

  My shoulders are broad, and my muscles pull at the seams of my shirt. My boots are big enough for her to practically crawl into.

  Her eyes are wide and I see her catch her breath.

  Damn it, I look at her, and a hundred things flash through my mind. Her perfectly proportioned body, her blonde hair hanging in soft waves to her waist. Her pink lips pressed together, her long white dress. All of it mine.

  “Prince Garrick,” the priest, who has known me since infancy, begins, “and Princess Iris, we are gathered here today to unite in holy matrimony....”

  I can’t even make out his words. My mind races, thinking about how badly I want to get Iris out of that dress that’s clinging to her body so perfectly. I want to see all of her, take all of her. One look at her, and I’m ready to get to a wedding night I never planned on enjoying.

  “Do you, Prince Garrick of Alpinweiss, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold....” At that bit I think, hell yeah, she’s mine to hold. She’s mine to do plenty of things to. “Until death do you part?”

  “I do.” Behind me, I hear my parents exhale. This is everything that they’ve been waiting for. Dreaming of. Planning for me.

  “And do you, Princess Iris of Elexia, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold until death do you part?” Her white lace dress touches the floor; I’m sure she must be frigid in the thin dress, considering it’s the end of fall and the temperatures are dropping below forty each night. But right now she doesn’t give away anything besides hope.

  Then she takes a deep breath and I see that it isn’t just hope brimming in her eyes—there’s an equal measure of fear, in the form of tears.

  “I do,” she exhales, filling the room with a gentle, warm voice. A voice much softer than any of the women who live in Alpinweiss. The women here are solid, and their voices boom in the rough mountain air.

  The priest tells us to exchange rings, and the moment I take her hand in mine an electric charge passes between us.

  There’s no reason I should think this princess with glittering cheeks and sun-kissed skin will be able to hack it in Alpinweiss, but right now I’m mighty glad she’s here.

  Because maybe she won’t be able to hack it outside under the snow of the mountain, but the truth is, I don’t need her hacking it out there. By the looks of things, she’ll do just fine inside on her back.

  5

  I slip the ring onto Prince Garrick’s finger, and everything within me suppresses the desire to get up and run. My eyes are filled with tears, because I was not expecting my royal wedding to go like this. Not in the least. I was just grateful I’d worn a floor-length, lacy white sundress on the plane, hoping I’d look the part of a bride-to-be.

  Little did I know, the moment I stepped off the plane I’d be whisked straight to a ceremony as lackluster as this chapel.

  This morning as I packed my suitcase with Dahlia, I tossed in my bras and panties thinking I could conquer the world. I truly thought nothing could get in the way of this moment. This destiny.

  But then, I stepped off the plane here in Alpinweiss, and I literally walked into a field.

  No limousine was waiting for me. No grand trumpet parade regaled me.

  Instead, the king and queen of Alpinweiss were waiting for me as I exited the plane, reaching out their hands and wrapping me in warm hugs.

  That part was nice—being greeted so warmly—and they were in velvet and satin, a brocade coat on the king, and crowns on both of their heads. They were royalty, clearly, and they came with a horse-drawn carriage to deliver me to my prince.

  Even though he wasn’t here, I assumed they were going to make some grand spectacle of my arrival. Especially considering they were dressed in such finery.

 
But that never happened.

  Queen Julia and King VonTrap explained that behind us stood the castle, which was actually quite obvious. Large turrets with banners waved in the breeze, looking historic and regal, just as I’d seen in the images on the internet. Still, seeing it in person I grinned. I was certainly far from the open air castle of Elexia.

  It seemed I had gotten exactly what I asked for: an adventure, that was for sure.

  This morning, as I boarded the plane, Father kissed me on both cheeks and told me he thought I was so brave and so strong, and that I could do anything if I put my mind to it, and that everything would be okay in the end.

  I remember thinking his words of affirmation seemed odd—strange, even. I expected my father to tell me something along the lines of I love you, darling daughter, and I’ll miss you ever so very much.

  But warning me to stick with it?

  I wondered if it was truly going to be that big of a challenge.

  After I got in the horse-drawn carriage with the King and Queen, we galloped through a small village where everything looked like it was right out of a story book. It was quaint and small—thatched roofs and cobblestones and chimneys. People with carts selling produce on the side of the road, roasted chestnuts being sold by the bagful, and tourists stopping to take photographs of the “idyllic” scene.

  The carriage stopped in front of a tiny chapel, where exactly zero people were waiting for us, but I didn’t need a bunch of people, just my prince. Or so I thought.

  But as I stand here in a tiny chapel, holding a golden ring, without anyone I know as a witness for this momentous day, I understand my father’s warning. I feel all alone in this new world.

  I look at the prince before me. He’s a solid foot and a half taller than me and at least that broad in the shoulders. He has a scruffy beard, and intimidating eyes that seem to penetrate me to my very core. I can’t help but wonder if I really can hack it as this man’s wife—because the truth is, I haven’t steeled myself for this reality.