“There you go.” Roman hoisted Claire to the ground. She barreled into me, burying her head in my swollen belly.
“Easy now,” I said, smoothing her blond curls. “Momma has a baby in her belly, remember?”
“Yes.” Claire’s blue eyes, shaped exactly like mine, brightened. “In there.” She poked my stomach with a finger.
“That’s right. You have a baby brother or sister inside Momma’s tummy.” Roman bent down to kiss me then rubbed my belly. “Hi, little one.” He eased onto the blanket beside me, stretching his long legs in front of us. “Did you miss us?”
“Every second,” I teased. “But it was nice to have a few minutes to myself. Thank you.” I brushed my lips over his, feeling the same flutter of nerves I’d experienced the very first time we’d met.
Between work and the children, moments alone had been few and far between. Grayson’s abundant energy and restless spirit kept me on my toes. Once Claire had been born, Roman and I had started working from home to share the responsibility. Our third child, another boy, was due next month.
“Everly called,” I said, drawing Claire onto my lap. She laid her head on my chest. Her long, lacy eyelashes fanned out over her cheeks, weighed down by sleep. Within seconds, her breathing evened out. Her thumb crept into her mouth. I caressed her silky hair. Unbridled devotion consumed me. “She’s coming home for her father’s funeral.”
Mr. McElroy’s private plane had crashed in a field last week. I had to wonder if Roman had played a part in the accident. I didn’t ask. Although McElroy had never been formally charged with Lavender’s murder, his reputation and marriage had been irreparably damaged. A part of me mourned the man who’d been so kind to me during my childhood. The rest of me would sleep easier at night knowing he was no longer a threat.
“Is Henry coming with her?” Roman caught Grayson by the back of his pants just in time to keep him from plunging headfirst into the lake. “Whoa, son.”
“I’m not sure. Probably. We didn’t discuss the details.” Although we talked on the phone weekly, our conversations centered around our children and current events. She sounded happy. The duties of the royal court kept her busy, and Henry seemed to adore her. I shifted Claire, not wanting to wake her but needing relief from the extra pressure on my bladder. “Can you take her? I’ve got to pee again.”
“Of course.” He eased her out of my arms then offered a hand to help me up.
I groaned and rubbed the arch of my back. I’d gained an extra twenty pounds with this baby and felt every ounce in my joints.
“Grayson, help your mommy.”
“Okay.” Grayson wrapped his pudgy hand around two of my fingers and tugged me up the hill toward the house.
“Wait.” I stopped, feeling tears spring to my eyes.
“Is something wrong?” Roman’s expression sobered, his voice rising in alarm.
“No. I just want to savor this moment before it’s gone.” From the crest of the hill, sunlight glinted off the windows of our sprawling mansion. Horses grazed beyond the white fences of their paddocks. I had two beautiful children at my feet, a baby on the way, and the most perfect man in the world at my side. Life had never been better. Our eyes met. “Thank you.” I choked on the words. “You’ve given me more than I ever dreamed possible.”
He smiled at me over the top of Claire’s head. “It’s been my pleasure, Mrs. Menshikov.” The focus of his gaze dipped to my lips. “I can think of a few ways you could show your appreciation.”
“Oh, really? How’s that?” Excitement stirred in my belly. I knew that look.
Grayson tugged impatiently on my fingers. “Come on, Mommy. Let’s go. Let’s go.”
“How about a date night at The Devil’s Playground?” His eyebrows lifted in wicked inquiry.
We hadn’t been there in a very long time. My heart began to pound against my ribs. The playful mischief in his expression warmed my heart and sent a pulse of attraction into my core. “It’s a date,” I said and slipped my free hand into his.
The four of us climbed the hill together. As we walked into the setting sun, my hopes soared. Rourke Donahue was gone, and I didn’t miss her. I’d been reborn as Mrs. Menshikov, wife to the exiled prince and war king. Roman’s bloodline would survive for another generation, and the Menshikov dynasty had risen from the ashes of destruction to rule once again.
Thank you for reading The War King. I hope you’ll enjoy this preview of the standalone novel, The Rebel Queen.
“Don’t look at him. He’s not in charge here. You answer to me and only me.” Even though Henry’s tone echoed with authority, his eyes teased me playfully.
“I answer to no one but myself,” I replied.
His fingers wrapped around my upper arm. He half-dragged, half-walked me into the chamber adjoining the throne room. “You can’t defy me in public—in front of my staff, Everly. I’m the king. How are people going to respect me when you’re constantly defiant?”
He took a step closer, shrinking the gap between us in one stride. Instinctively, I took a step back. He followed me until my backside hit the cool paneling. He braced one hand against the wood beside my head, trapping me. The scent of his aftershave brought back distant memories of campfires and rain. By the look of his bare jaws, he’d just shaved.
Unable to stop myself, I stroked a hand down the smooth curve of his cheek and stopped at the dimple in his chin. What would it be like to kiss those full lips? To feel the slide of his tongue against mine? My knees melted at the thought.
“You know, in the days of my grandfather, I could have had you beheaded for that kind of insubordination to your king.” He leaned closer, bringing with him the fresh scent of his cologne and shower gel.
“You’re not my king,” I said.
“Not yet, anyway.” The sheer amount of cockiness in his reply sparked my rebellious nature. His piercing gaze took in every plane and plateau on my face before coming to a stop at my eyes. His breath puffed against my lips. It smelled of peppermint and sugar. “But that’s about to change. Soon.”
“Do you hear yourself?” A bubble of laughter swelled in my chest. It burst, sending the sound into the room. Henry frowned. I placed a hand on my stomach and tried to steady myself. “Oh my goodness. Are you seriously that arrogant?”
“I think you’re confusing arrogance with confidence. I know who I am and what I want. Can you say the same?”
His question hit me hard. Who was I? The unruly daughter of a disgraced Vice President? The former director of a non-profit organization? A socialite? I sifted through the many titles I’d worn, titles given to me by other people, and came up empty-handed. “Why do you have to be such an ass?” I asked, lifting my chin in defiance.
“You knew I was an ass when you married me. Don’t let your daddy issues get the better of you.”
His observation raised my temper another notch. “I can’t believe you said that.” The first part was true. I couldn’t fault him for it. I’d married him willingly to escape the social media shit storm around my father and the baggage of my past. But the second part? He couldn’t have been more wrong. “You don’t know anything about me.” Even though I’d vowed to remain numb to his insults and goading, tears stung the backs of my eyelids.
He took a step backward, his expression shifting into neutral. His jaw, impossibly square and so damn strong, tensed. After an exhausted sigh, he ran his hands through his hair. When he spoke, his voice was soft and low. “No. I don’t, but I’m willing to change that.” I leaned closer to catch his words. His lips nuzzled my ear. “I apologize.”
Two little words had never meant so much to me. Their unexpectedness stole my voice. I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry. What was that?” I’d never heard him apologize to anyone for anything—ever. And although I’d heard him loud and clear, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to goad him.
His gray-green gaze watched me from beneath hooded lids. One corner of his mouth twitched. “You know bloody damn well what I said.”
<
br /> Sexual tension crackled in the air between us. He rolled his head on his neck and stood up straighter. The fabric of his sweater stretched across his hard chest. He stared at me down the length of his nose, looking every bit the king.
Following his lead, I whispered in his ear, “Say it again.”
He snorted, breaking into a full smile. “You heard me the first time.” My skin heated from the warmth of it. “Do I sound like I’m a contender for the Iron Throne?” Sunlight caught the highlights in his blond hair as he shook his head. “Sometimes I’m an ass.”
“Sometimes?” I lifted an eyebrow.
“Fine. All the time.”
I covered my mouth in mock surprise. “Wow. We actually agree on something.”
“Yes. At least we’ve got that going for us.” He ran a hand down the length of my arm. His fingers slid through mine, sending tingles of desire into my center. “You will bend the knee to me, Your Majesty.” That adorable grin, the one that filled me with frustration and made my pussy pulse with need, twitched his lips.
“I won’t.”
He shook his head, amused by my refusal. “Oh, you will. I promise you.”
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Also by Jeana E. Mann
Felony Romance Series
Intoxicated
Unexpected
Vindicated
Impulsive
Drift
Committed
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Pretty Broken Series
Pretty Broken Girl
Pretty Filthy Lies
Pretty Dirty Secrets
Pretty Wild Thing
Pretty Broken Promises
Pretty Broken Dreams
Pretty Broken Baby
Pretty Broken Hearts
Pretty Broken Bastard
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Standalones
Monster Love
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Short Stories
Everything
Linger
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The Exiled Prince Trilogy
The Exiled Prince
The Dirty Princess
The War King
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About the Author
Jeana Mann is the author of sizzling hot contemporary romance. Her debut release Intoxicated was a First Place Winner of the 2013 Cleveland Rocks Romance Contest, a finalist in the Carolyn Readers’ Choice Awards, and fourth place winner in the International Digital Awards. She is a member of Romance Writers’ of America (RWA).
Jeana was born and raised in Indiana where she lives today with her two crazy rat terriers Mildred and Mabel. She graduated from Indiana University with a degree in Speech and Hearing, something totally unrelated to writing. When she’s not busy dreaming up steamy romance novels, she loves to travel anywhere and everywhere. Over the years she climbed the ruins of Chichen Iza in Mexico, snorkeled along the shores of Hawaii, driven the track at the Indy 500, sailed around Jamaica, ate gelato on the steps of the Pantheon in Rome, and explored the ancient city of Pompeii. More important than the places she’s been are the people she has met along the way.
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Copyright December 2018
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All characters and events in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, alive or deceased, is purely coincidental.
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