Forbidden Prince: A Brother's Best Friend Royal Romance

by Zoey Oliver

  “They were perfectly lovely. But I’m not interested.”

  “Oh, I see. I thought, perhaps, since you haven’t left the estate in a long while, you might want to take advantage of the, um, offerings the festival has brought.”

  “I appreciate your concern for my social life, Pierre, but as I’ve said before, things are different now. In fact, I’d appreciate your running interference to keep such... advances at bay.”

  Pierre’s eyebrows twitch, but he nods calmly. “Of course, sir.”

  I turn to leave, but my chief of security clears his throat. I glance back. “Yes?”

  “Pardon the question, Your Grace, but, uh…”

  “What?”

  He leans in and lowers his voice even further, barely a faint whisper above the din of the crowd inside the ten. “Does that include Lady Abigail as well?”

  “Lady Abigail is the only guest I’ll be entertaining — and her visits are to be treated with extreme discretion, is that clear?”

  “Absolutely,” Pierre nods solemnly. “It’s understood, Your Highness.”

  I leave Pierre standing at the edge of the tent, his watchful eyes following me as usual as I make my way back to the table. I notice with dismay that Abigail’s seat is still empty.

  I pray that she did not witness the conversation with the two women under the portico. Not a single woman here tonight could hold my attention the way she has these past few days, and I don’t want her thinking otherwise. I’m no fool — I know my reputation proceeds me. Surely, Abigail has heard every tawdry detail of my past, of my infamous stunts, partying, and playboy ways.

  But this is… different. I don’t know what it is, or how long it will last, or why she has this hold over me that I can’t shake, but no woman, ever, has captivated me quite like this before.

  Chapter Seven

  ABIGAIL

  I finish drying my hands and flop down on a neatly tailored loveseat in the corner of the ladies’ room. “Would it be terribly unbecoming of me to just have a full-fledged fit? I could do with a good tantrum right about now — just get it out of my system.”

  Emily checks that the door is locked then gives me a playful scold. “I’m afraid so. Tantrums have been off the table since you turned five. But, I do have this.”

  She sets her enormous purse on the vanity counter and pulls a bottle of red wine from it. “I snuck it in my bag when dear old McAllister insisted on giving me a tour of the wine cellar while you were off gallivanting at the opening ceremonies. If I had to listen to him drone on about eighteenth-century vintages for far longer than politeness allows, I wasn’t going to leave empty-handed.”

  “Ah, perfect! The adult preventative to tantrums. I knew I loved you for a reason.”

  I kick off my heels and squish my toes into the plush carpet of the opulent powder room as Emily produces two crystal glasses out of thin air and hands one of them to me. I don’t know how she does it. She’s like Mary Poppins and Merlin rolled into one, only better.

  She fills my glass, and I wave at the empty cushion beside me. “Come, sit. You’ve been on your feet longer than I have.”

  Emily eases onto the loveseat with a sigh, tucking a leg underneath her. “It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?”

  “Mmmhmm,” I murmur, taking a long sip of wine.

  I don’t even care what kind it is – it’s rich and strong and feels exquisite sliding down the back of my throat. I wanted to gulp down a glass or three at dinner to steady my nerves, but that wouldn’t have been very ladylike, so I sipped politely and wished for the umpteenth time that I had been born a man — a scotch swilling, pants wearing, seductive stud of a man. They seem to have all the fun.

  I bury my nose in my wine glass and take a deep, cleansing breath, feeling like fresh air is hitting my lungs for the first time all evening, despite having spent all of dinner sitting outdoors. Another long swallow of the sweet, spicy liquid, then I turn to Emily. “This whole affair is just getting started, so brace yourself.”

  “I’m not worried about me,” she says, her face etched with concern. “I can lurk at the corner of the rooms and keep my nose in my phone, and no one will think unkind of me.”

  I wrap an arm around her shoulder and give her a squeeze. “I’m glad, Emily. I don’t want to subject you to this any more than I want to be here.”

  “Just think, it’ll all be over soon, and you’ll be married off to some Grand Douchebag, spending your days planning stuffy social events and wondering how many mistresses your husband’s acquired.”

  “Thank goodness I have you to cheer me up, always ready to remind me of the good times ahead,” I say dryly.

  We share a chuckle, but it’s a sad sort of laugh, the kind that stings a bit because we both know her words are truer than not.

  I squeeze Emily’s hand. “At least I’ll have you with me, for a while anyway, until you’re swept off your feet by some sexy man and whisked away.”

  “I shall never leave you, my Lady,” she says dramatically, clutching my hand to her chest. “Perhaps I shall marry your butler, just to stay by your side.”

  “Piss off, you,” I laugh, rolling my eyes. “You should have been in theatre. Your talents are being wasted.”

  “How are you holding up?” she asks, her voice turning serious once again. “Has anyone caught your eye? I’m hoping at least one of them turns out to be tolerable.”

  “The suitors?” I almost choke on my wine. “Heavens, no. They’re all awful.”

  Emily grimaces. “Really?”

  “Let’s see. So far, there’s too old, too boring, too socially awkward, too arrogant, and let’s not forget Mr. Harridan with the creepy fingers — oh, and the latest one, I’m pretty sure he’s planning to lock me in a tower until I learn my place because, after all, I’m just a silly little woman with nothing to offer, so I better gratefully submit to my husband’s every wish.”

  “Then you should definitely take my advice and pursue Henry for some more, um… private activities, while you can.”

  “I think you might be right.”

  “Of course I’m right. I don’t know how you aren’t just going wild right now, given what you’re facing. You’re sacrificing so much.”

  “I don’t mind.” I reply automatically, but a moment later, I shake my head at the lie. I’ve tried to be chin-up about the situation, but Emily knows it’s not all rainbows. She’s seen me at the low moments. “Well, I’m managing, let’s just say that. It’s for my family, you know? I’d do anything for my parents.”

  “I know. And they are so lucky to have a daughter like you. But right now? Go have your fun, Abi. God knows you deserve it.”

  I shake my head. “It’s sad, really, isn’t it? My last hurrah.”

  “At least you’re getting a hurrah, thanks to Henry, right? And damn, Abi. I know you said he was good looking, and I’ve seen him in the papers and on TV, but wow. I mean, he really has that sexy, smoldering thing going on in person. Like… daaaaamn.”

  I laugh. “Believe me, I know. He’s always had that effect on me, from the time I turned twelve and realized boys are cute. He’s like some kind of black magic voodoo in a tux. And then, last night, he took it to a whole other level. He should come with a warning sign.”

  Emily laughs, and I stretch out my legs, alternately pointing my toes and tightening my calves then relaxing them. I can’t remember the last time I wore heels for so long.

  At the university, I could wear shorts, t-shirts, and my beloved worn-in strappy sandals. I could pull my hair back in a quick knot and not fuss with makeup. Not here. Not anywhere anymore. From now on, it would be dress suits and formal gowns, styled hairdos and high heels.

  “I should have spent every spare second between classes looking for my non-existent, long-lost twin. Someone to be me for the next fifty years.” I tip my head back and finish the rest of my wine in a few swallows.

  Emily pats me sweetly on the knee and reaches for the bottle to refill our glasses.<
br />
  Chapter Eight

  HENRY

  After waiting for ages for Abi to return to the table, I finally get up and go for a stroll across the lawn. I spot her assistant — Emily, I think — chatting with some other aides outside the dining tent, and pull her aside. She’s a bit flustered from having been unexpectedly hustled around the back corner of the tent by the Prince of Ostwyn, but I need to speak to her as far away from would-be eavesdroppers as possible.

  “Where is Abigail?” I ask.

  “I’m—I’m not sure.” Her eyes are wide with an unspoken apology. “She said she was going for a walk in the garden.”

  “She’s still outside somewhere, then?”

  She nods. “I believe so, Your Grace.”

  “Which way did she go?”

  She peeks out of the shadows to orient herself and points to my left, away from the tent and the East Lawn. “Um, that way, maybe?”

  “You aren’t sure?”

  Emily fidgets nervously. “I—I wasn’t really paying attention, sorry. The Duke of Fellsworth tripped and landed face-first in the grass just after Lady Strathmore left for her walk.”

  I’m sure it was quite the scene, but all I care about is finding Abi. “She went into the High Gardens, then?”

  “I think so, Your Highness.”

  “Thank you.” I nod, dismissing her.

  “I hope you find her.” She gives me a shy smile and slips back around the corner.

  Within moments, I’ve made my way across the East Lawn and disappeared behind the tall hedgerow running along the perimeter of the formal gardens.

  The glow from the palace and the thousands of little lights adorning the banquet tent peeks through the thick shrubbery occasionally, but it’s mostly dark. The moon is full, though, and my eyes adjust quickly to the dim lighting as I move deeper into the gardens, away from the noise and throngs of people partaking in after-dinner merriment as they await the beginning of the poker game.

  I walk fast and cover the ground quickly, but there’s not a soul in sight. No one is at the fountain, the sculpture park, or any of the alcoves along the path that are adorned with benches.

  Just when I’ve decided that Emily is wrong about Abi’s whereabouts, I hear a muffled thump and look to the right in time to see a flash of movement through the hazy glass of the small conservatory nestled into the far back edge of the gardens.

  Of course. In years past, I would sometimes stumble upon a much younger version of Abi in there, examining hairy caterpillars or sketching a blooming flower during her visits to the palace.

  Hurrying over, I open the door quickly and peek in. There she is, walking slowly through the humid space, her fingers outstretched, brushing against the plants on either side.

  She startles as the door slaps shut behind me and whips around to face me. “Oh!”

  Four long strides, and she’s within a few feet of me. “Hello, Abi.”

  “Henry! What — what are you doing out here?”

  “Looking for you.”

  Distant strains of a jazz piece float through the air, and a peal of laughter carries from the East Lawn. The greenhouse is easily visible from any window along the rear of the palace during the day, but at night it’s very rare for anyone to venture out this far into the gardens, and without the garden flood lights turned on, it’s rather private.

  “Why?” She asks, her hands at her chest, fingering her necklace nervously.

  I step forward, drawing within inches of her. I can smell the floral and vanilla scents of her perfume mingling with the earthy aroma of the greenhouse. It’s a heady mixture.

  “We have some unfinished business, wouldn’t you say?”

  She blushes and looks down. I reach out a hand and lift her chin. I want to see those beautiful green eyes of hers. I want to see what she’s thinking.

  “What brings you out to the gardens by yourself?”

  “I was looking for a plant that use to grow in the gardens here. I thought perhaps there might still be some flowering plants in the conservatory.”

  “Have you spotted it?”

  She glances around and shakes her head. “No. I suppose it’s too late in the season.”

  “What was it?”

  “I can’t remember the name. Honey… something. I used to pick the blossoms. I’d sneak off with a pocket full of them and drink the nectar. I think it only bloomed in the summer though.”

  “Ah. That must have been the Japanese honeysuckle growing along the arbor. The one lone wild plant in all of the formal gardens.”

  “Yes, that’s it!” She smiles at me coyly. “Wow, I didn’t take you for a flower man, Prince Henry.”

  “Ha! You’d be surprised at the subjects my mother insisted I learn during my tutoring. You’re right, it’s too late to find the blossoms this year. But I love their sweetness, too.”

  “Wouldn’t it be lovely if you could buy a whole jar of that nectar, like a jar of honey?”

  “I’ve been thinking of something else quite delicious, to be honest.” I give her a wink.

  She swats at me. “Henry!” she admonishes. Then she bites her bottom lip and looks at me bashfully, those pretty green eyes flashing at me through her long lashes.

  “What? I’m just being honest.”

  She shakes her head with a soft laugh. “Don’t you have like a thousand guests waiting for you to dazzle them with your legendary poker skills?”

  “They’ll have to wait just a bit longer. I’ve already spent all day doing my duties for the Crown.”

  “Like what?”

  “Things. Just boring, tiresome things. Like approving floral arrangements.” I slip my arms around her waist and pull her to me.

  “That sounds… terribly dull,” she whispers, her eyes fixed on mine.

  “It is.”

  I slide my hands down her back, over the firm curve of her ass. I want to touch every inch of her. I wonder if she knows Japanese honeysuckle is an invasive species. Once it takes hold into the soil, it won’t let go. It sinks in its roots, sends out its sweet blossoms, and it’s there to stay. I’m addicted to her already — the way she smells, the warm, silken smoothness of her skin, the soft, womanly curves of her body, the sound of her voice.

  “Are these important matters?” she asks.

  “Aren’t they always?” I curl my fingers against the tight fabric hugging her ass and begin pulling it up.

  “I better not distract you, then.”

  “No, that would be terrible.” The hem of her dress slides up past the bottom of her panties, and my hands move down, slipping under the lacy fabric of her waistband, rubbing the soft warmth of her ass cheeks.

  “Yes, it would be incredibly impolite of me.”

  “Very much.” I reach further, curving my hand under her ass, my fingers desperate to feel the heat of her pussy.

  “Unless…” she trails off.

  “Unless what?”

  “We use this time wisely some other way.”

  “Oh? What would you do instead of wandering around by yourself, lost in your thoughts?” Using one hand, I grab her ass and lift her a few inches, supporting her carefully as she balances on her tiptoes.

  “Learn things.”

  “What sort of things?” I push the fingers of my other hand between her thighs and curl them upward. My middle finger grazes against her wetness.

  “The kind of things you could teach me.”

  “Like what?” I whisper. She’s so wet, it’s driving me crazy.

  “Pleasurable things.”

  I nuzzle my mouth to her ear. “Like how my hard cock feels inside your hot pussy?” I’m ready to unzip my pants and bend her over, sink my cock into right here between the ferns and the geraniums.

  I can feel her heart pounding, and her breath catches in her chest at my words, but she shakes her head. “I can’t… I mean, I want to… but we can’t do that.”

  “Oh?” At first, I think she’s teasing me, but there’s something about t
he tone of her voice, a tinge of fear underlying her breathy desire. I pull my head back and look into her eyes, still gripping her tightly against my chest. “Tell me something.”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you a virgin?”

  She swallows hard, and her cheeks suck in for a moment. If it weren’t for the dim light, I know I’d see color seeping across them. She finally nods. “Yes.”

  Goddamn if my heart doesn’t pick up its pace. “I see.”

  “Is that okay?” she asks in a small voice.

  I laugh softly. I let go of her luscious ass and kiss her gently on the forehead. “It’s very okay. Surprising, but okay.”

  “I’m just not… ready, yet,” she says, looking very conflicted.

  She’s so sweet, it’s like she’s made from spun sugar. That innocence, that look in her eyes… she has no idea how much it kills me. I’d never take that sweetness away from her.

  “Abi,” I say, stroking her hair gently, “I can wait until you’re ready.”

  “But… all those women you’ve been with. I bet you didn’t wait for them.”

  I shake my head with a smile. “No, there was no waiting.”

  She lowers her eyes, and a little sigh of defeat blows against my shoulder. She’s hiding her face from me, but I want her to hear me, to see the genuineness in my expression. I lift her chin.

  “But they weren’t you. And I’m not that guy anymore. You’re worth waiting for, understand?” I take a deep breath, knowing I have to say it. “Even if it’s not me. You’re worth it. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise. Okay?”

  She looks up at me timidly, searching my face. Finally, she licks her lips and nods. “Okay.”

  “That’s settled, then,” I say, straightening up, trying not to feel like a big brother and a lover all at once. “Right?”

  “Yes.” She flashes me a smile.

  I spank her on the ass playfully, and she jumps with a giggle. “Good, now back to the topic. What do you have in mind?”

  “Um…” She blushes and gives me a shy smile. “Everything else.”

  I pretend to think it over. “I think I can handle that,” I tease with a wink.