by Leslie North
Edward decided to take the Bugatti out for a drive to the farmhouse. He watched Clem hobble into the opulent silver sports car, the newest model of its type. Clad as usual in comfortable clothes that hid the secrets of her perfect flesh, she was a perfect contrast to his favorite vehicle. Where his tastes in most things fell squarely in the range of cutting-edge, posh and artsy, Clem was none of those things. With her hair falling freely around her shoulders and no make-up, she was the picture of natural beauty—no frills, no fanfare. And he adored her for it.
“What do you think of the car?” he asked as the unique doors slid down and latched closed. He’d had the Bugatti designed with Lamborghini doors, which were more futuristic, to suit his tastes.
Her face scrunched up, and she shrugged. “It’s kind of like a spaceship, don’t you think?”
Edward laughed and pulled onto the open road that would take them into Glen County. The fall foliage wrapped Sovalon in a burst of orange and red warmth. The deeper they drove into the countryside, the more bountiful the colorful trees became. As they turned onto the winding gravel driveway at the farmhouse, golden sunshine dripped from the sky, igniting the kaleidoscope of color and making the property feel more alive than ever.
“It’s more beautiful than I remembered,” Clem said as she stepped out of the car, a dreamy look on her face.
“Be careful,” he said. “The ground can be uneven.” He still felt guilt watching her hobble around on her broken leg. At least the doctor had replaced the clunky cast with a walking boot.
“I’m fine,” Clem said. “Better than fine. It’s just so perfect here.”
“I think I love it more today because you’re with me,” Edward said and kissed Clem’s forehead. Hand-in-hand, they strolled toward the house together.
As they approached the wrap-around porch, Edward took Clem in his arms. “Congratulations, Miss Wicke,” he said and grinned at her. “You are now a homeowner.”
She beamed at him, her rays of sunshine glinting in her blue eyes. “Why, thank you, Prince Edward,” she joked. “What do you think of the place?”
They climbed the front steps, and Edward dug the key from his pocket. As he was unlocking the wooden door, he noticed the frame was cracked in several places. “It’s a real gem, for sure, but it does need some work,” he said.
She waved a hand at him. “We just restored an eighteenth-century castle to its original grandeur,” she said. “I think we can handle the farmhouse.”
“Yes, but I’d like to add a few modern touches.”
Clem eyed him suspiciously.
“I’m not installing stainless steel countertops and flush mount LED lighting,” she said, and Edward grinned.
“No, I don’t blame you,” he said. “That wouldn’t fit here at all. I’m talking solar panels on the roof and some other things to make the house a little more energy efficient.”
Clem stood in the narrow foyer, pondering Edward’s idea.
“I can compromise there,” she said. “Energy efficient is good.”
“See?” Edward said. “We’re already working together.”
They walked into the kitchen, where Edward marveled at the beauty of the copper sink.
“This sink is so cool,” he said. “We should install a matching copper ceiling rack to hang pots.”
Clem’s face lit up. “I love it!”
Edward nodded then noticed two large cardboard boxes on the floor, a note attached to one of them. He went to it.
“It’s from my brother, Aldon,” he said, perplexed as to why Aldon would have left him a note here at the farmhouse.
“Read it out loud,” Clem said.
“Dear Edward and Clem. During castle restoration, I moved Aunt Ellie’s antique china so it wouldn’t get damaged.”
Clem’s eyes grew wide. “Isn’t that the china you thought I stole?”
Edward bit his lip and continued.
“You know what a romantic I am, and I always thought I would be the first to find love and have a home somewhere these pieces would fit, but alas, you beat me to it, big brother. I can tell how much you adore your Clementine, and I know with her flair for relics, she will get a kick out of these plates and saucers and such. Happy housewarming!”
A smug look crept onto Clem’s face.
“I guess you’re not a petty thief after all,” he said. “Too bad, because your bad girl side really is a turn on for me.”
She shrugged. “From time to time, I can be found stealing things at sundown,” she teased. “But only from demolition sites, so it’s technically not—”
Instead of letting her finish, he crushed her lips with his. “Still a turn on,” he whispered.
He snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her body into him. “I love you, Clem.” And he meant it. He’d never said the words to any woman before.
“I love you, too,” she said and leaned in to kiss him.
Edward’s hands travelled the length of Clem’s back and under her shirt. Her skin was hot to touch, and it turned him on.
“Want to check out the upstairs?” he asked.
“I’d like nothing more,” she said.
He followed her up the steep wooden staircase to the second floor and to the empty master bedroom. As the warmth of afternoon blazed through aged casement windows, Edward took his time rediscovering Clem’s perfect body. Her naked skin gleamed in the sunlight, her cries of pleasure echoed in the empty house, filling him with sheer joy. Afterwards, they lay in front of an empty fireplace, and Edward silently concluded that they wouldn’t need it. Together they created more heat in the room than any inferno could muster.
Wrapped in each other’s flesh, Edward kissed Clem sweetly on the shoulder. He leaned into her ear and whispered.
“Welcome home.”
Epilogue
5 Months Later
Clem sat at the dining table, watching the snow fall peacefully over the grounds of Kawell Castle. A blanket of white crystals covered the patch of her garden that had thrived with tomatoes and peppers just months ago. She sipped at her coffee, remembering a moment when she’d sat in this very place, dreaming of what it would be like to live here.
Now her dream had come true. Not only did she and Edward live at the castle through the winter, but she had the privilege of leading historical tours through their beautiful restoration all year long. How rewarding it was to hear people comment on an architectural characteristic she’d lovingly renovated herself. She sighed happily, as the click clack of Edward’s loafers announced his arrival.
“Good morning, love,” she said, and he sat down next to her, a stack of papers in his hand.
“Morning.” He leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek. “What’s on your agenda today?” he asked.
“I have a tour at ten, then I’m heading over to the shop to work on a project with Uncle Stoddard.” She poured him a cup of coffee and passed him the sugar because she knew he liked it sweet. “You?”
“I have a meeting at the Chantalaine complex at two. It’s almost move-in ready, and, as I suspected, there’s already a waiting list.”
“That’s great news,” she said, happy for him that his current urban development was a success.
“Things are looking good for Sovalon,” he said. “We’re in a good place.”
She took a bite of a sweet roll and nodded. “I bet your father is over the moon.”
“You can’t even imagine,” Edward replied.
It had taken King Hansen some time to get used to the idea that Edward wouldn’t always play the same cards as him, but once he realized that Edward’s ideas were valuable ones, things started to turn around. Now, Edward’s father had virtually turned the power over to his son to both rejuvenate and restore the Kingdom with his building projects. Father was happy with the outcome, and son was happy that he had the trust and respect of his father back.
Clem smiled. She and Edward had found a balance with each other, as she’d hoped. They split their livin
g between Edward’s penthouse, the farmhouse, and the castle, which kept things feeling fresh and new. To Clem’s surprise, there were some aspects of modern living that she actually appreciated. Reliable hot water was one.
They’d managed to find a nice balance between preservation and progress, with new housing developments being built, prioritizing Edward’s progressive, modern green initiatives, but with an eye toward maintaining historical details. There was plenty of work for Wicke Restoration, keeping the business booming and Clem still working to preserve any smaller historic sites she could, ones that weren’t ideal for development. She’d never believed that two people could find such a happy medium between two opposing world views, but here they were, marrying the best parts of the old and the new and creating something utterly unique that they could both be proud of.
“Clem,” Edward said quietly, “I’ve never properly thanked you for believing in me and giving me the confidence to be my own man.”
“Edward,” she said, blushing, “no thanks needed. Besides,” she said and shot him a naughty look, “you thank me in other ways.”
“Completely selfish, let me assure you of that.” He laughed then became quiet and serious again. “I can’t imagine my life without you, Clem.”
He pulled a black velvet box from his pants pocket and got to one knee.
Clem gasped and placed a hand over her mouth. Was this really happening?
“Clementine Wicke, will you do me the great honor of becoming my partner in life?”
The ring he offered her was an antique—a ginormous blue diamond, princess cut and set in white gold, with smaller diamonds encircling the main stone. She recognized it as one she’d seen up for auction recently. She’d oohed and ahhed over it but never imagined it would someday perch on her finger. Tears flooded Clem’s eyes as she stared at Edward, this man who was unexpectedly the love of her life. A memory flashed.
Dusk.
A tall, casually dressed man flashing his cell phone light at her, accusing her of stealing.
A tumble and a passionate kiss with a handsome stranger.
The surprise realization that he was the arrogant Prince Edward, the man responsible for destroying historical sites across the kingdom.
Then later, the shocking discovery that she loved him anyway.
And that she was willing to work to find sameness within difference, because their love was beautiful and worth preservation.
“I will,” she said. He slid the ring onto her finger, got to his feet, and took her in his arms, kissing her as passionately as he had during their tumble outside of the old schoolhouse so many months before.
Clem leaned into Edward, fully confident in her choice to be his wife. An idea blossomed in her imagination, one she couldn’t wait to share with him. She pulled back and peered up at him.
“Let’s get married at the mill,” she said, and his eyes lit up.
“On the banks of the stream,” he replied and winked at her.
She nodded. “It’s perfect.”
Edward ran a finger down her cheek and kissed her lips gently once more.
“You’re perfect,” he said.
Clem knew she wasn’t. He wasn’t perfect either. Nobody was, but together they’d nurtured a love that was as near ideal as possible.
Hand in hand, they crossed the room to the long row of windows that overlooked the grounds. Swaddled in the peace of winter and the promise of shared adventures, the two stood side by side and watched the quiet snow drift and dance over the kingdom of Sovalon.
End of The Billionaire’s Prince’s Stubborn Assistant
Sovalon Royals Book One
Blurb
There isn’t much Marcus Ashton, third prince of Sovalon, likes more than a spirited night out, a beautiful woman on his arm (and in his bed), and a fine glass of whiskey. However, when his playboy exploits get to be too much for the royal family, he’s ordered to take a step back from his frivolous lifestyle and work on a serious project. But when he sees American Kyra Rogers, a consultant to the board he’s been forced to join for the women and children’s crisis center, he just can’t resist one last night of fun. While they both agree afterward that their one-night stand was a mistake, Marcus finds himself intrigued by Kyra, who is far different from the type of woman he’s normally attracted to. She’s as smart and serious as she is sexy. So when Kyra finds out she’s pregnant, Marcus wonders if this is a sign that it’s time to grow up and prove he’s worthy of being a father.
Kyra has always regarded herself as a no-nonsense, self-made woman. She’s handled everything life has thrown at her, and she has no problem with the idea of raising her child alone. Though her and Marcus must work closely while they check out a possible site for the crisis center, Kyra is determined to keep their relationship strictly professional. She has no interest in co-parenting and is fully prepared to return to the United States once her job is done. There’s only one problem: as soon as Marcus learns about the baby, he starts trying to prove he’s perfect father and husband material. Kyra knows better—once a player, always a player. Besides, she doesn’t need a man in her life—even if this man is becoming more and more appealing every day. If only he wasn’t so charming. So darned sexy. So determined. If only she could figure out a way to deny what her heart is feeling…
USA Today Bestseller Leslie North presents another oh-so-satisfying billionaire romance with an unforgettably hot-blooded bad boy royal and the unyielding woman who tames him...
1
Sovalon’s Center for Social Welfare buzzed with stiff suits and ties, women with their hair in tight buns and men with thin-rimmed glasses perched on their noses. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry to get to their cubicles or meetings so they could tackle whatever pressing things were on their agendas this morning.
Prince Marcus Ashton was in no hurry.
He groaned inwardly, dreading the idea of spending an entire day trapped inside this building, at a board meeting for the new women and children’s crisis shelter that was being constructed in the city center of the kingdom.
“It will be a good experience for you, dear,” Queen Therese had said just yesterday at the castle. “It will ground you and show you how others struggle. You can afford to learn some compassion, Marcus.”
“You know I’m compassionate, Mother,” he’d argued, and she’d placed a hand on his arm.
“Remember your friend Timmy from primary school?”
How could Marcus forget? Timmy was always showing up with bruises on his dirty face, and he’d had no coat to wear in the winter. Marcus had thought his family was poor, but he came to realize it was more than that. Timmy’s father was abusive to his mother and thought nothing of shoving Timmy around as well. Marcus had gone to his parents about it, and they’d tried to help Timmy’s mother. It hadn’t ended well.
“Your work on the crisis center will ultimately help women like Timmy’s mother,” the queen said.
Her words had hit home, just as she’d expected. But that didn’t mean he was optimistic about being able to make a difference. In order to do some good on the board, the others would have to take him seriously, and that hardly seemed likely.
No one ever had before, after all.
“More importantly,” his father, King Hanson, echoed a note of sternness in his voice. “It will be a lesson in responsibility. You are to take this position seriously, Marcus. Time for you to grow up and put the playboy antics to rest.”
“Father, I can handle responsibility,” Marcus had argued, but his father scoffed, as usual.
“I find it hard to take you at your word.” The King placed a hand on Marcus’s shoulder and gave him a squeeze. “This position is your chance to show us what you’re capable of. Do a good job, and you’ll secure your inheritance and your position in the kingdom.”
“I know you can do it, Marcus.” Despite her encouraging words, his mother was wringing her hands as if she were altogether unsure of him.
Marcus sighed and
attempted to argue. “This is just punishment for—”
“Watch your step, son,” his father scolded. “If you end up in the press again for anything other than your stellar work on this crisis shelter, I’ll have to consider somewhere else to invest your inheritance money. Are we clear?”
Blaming him for the fact that his short-lived fling with that dignitary’s daughter had blown up into a saucy front-page scandal was really unfair. It wasn’t as if he’d known she was engaged to someone else. When he’d met Marta, she hadn’t let on that she was attached. Only later, when pictures of them snogging in the corner of a nightclub wound up plastered on the pages of every gossip mag, had he found out about her engagement to the Prince of Jovingston.
He wasn’t the one who’d cheated while in a committed relationship. But according to his parents, it was his fault that Marta’s wedding was now on hold. Marcus was, as always, the irresponsible playboy. Every time the tabloids took a picture of him doing a shot at a club or with a different girl on his arm, his father would scold him for bringing shame on the kingdom or disgracing their family name. But this time, he’d decided to take a step beyond just scolding. This time, Marcus’s inheritance was on the line. Quiet down, stay out of the tabloids, and serve on the board to get the shelter built like a good boy, or lose everything.
Worse than the ultimatum was how certain his father seemed to be that he’d fail. Just because he enjoyed a variety of women and liked to party didn’t mean he couldn’t be accountable. He could hold down a job—especially when all it entailed was attending some meetings.
He had no burning desire to do so, but he could if he had to.
“Prove it,” his father had said.
And so, at seven a.m., an hour far too early for his liking, Marcus had forced himself out from under his comfortable silk sheets. He’d shaved and dressed in this tragically dull and conservative—and uncomfortable—suit and prepared himself for what would surely be the most boring experience of his life.