Sovalon Royals: The Complete Series

by Leslie North

  “I was so scared when she cried,” he admitted. “I didn’t know if I should wake you up or get someone, but I just felt like I had to get her to a doctor—”

  This time Kyra interrupted Marcus with her lips, planting them sweetly on his and taking a moment to show her gratitude in a different way. She wasn’t sure how things with Marcus could ever work with her returning to Georgia and him being one of the princes of Sovalon, but at that moment she wished it could. She was more attracted than ever to this handsome man who had taken such good care of her niece.

  “Thank you for taking care of Ava,” she said and kissed him once more, lingering on his lips the way her wish lingered in her thoughts.

  7

  On the ride home from the hospital, Marcus’s lips buzzed. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve a kiss from Kyra, but he wanted to keep on doing it over and over again—maybe without the broken ankle.

  As they pulled up to the estate, Ava released a loud yawn.

  “You could use a nap, I think,” Kyra told her.

  “I’m not sleepy,” Ava said, her words escaping in between yet another monster yawn.

  “I think you are,” Kyra said.

  Marcus helped Kyra tuck Ava in and after telling the housekeeper to keep an eye out for her, they headed outside for a much-needed walk.

  “It’s really gorgeous out here,” Kyra commented as they strolled along a wooded path behind the house. “So peaceful.”

  Marcus nodded. “Edward and Clementine were right about this place. Sometimes my father doesn’t agree with saving every historic site Clem and Edward set their sights on.”

  “Your father doesn’t appreciate history?” she asked, and Marcus laughed.

  “He likes the history that means he’s in charge,” he joked. “But he’s mostly focused on growth, making Sovalon more modern.”

  “I see,” Kyra said.

  “He and Edward bump heads often because of this issue, and my father is a man who’s used to getting his way.”

  “That sounds like it can get sticky,” Kyra said. “But he’s supportive of the restoration of this place?”

  “Absolutely,” Marcus said, although his father hadn’t been thrilled about it at first. He’d wanted to turn the property into a condo community, but Clem had swooped in and rescued it. “This house is really something.”

  “The greatest part is that there’s lots of space to expand on the already large building,” Kyra said. “It would make a wonderful sanctuary for families in need of a place to go.”

  Marcus heard the passion in Kyra’s voice. He admired how dedicated she was to her job. “You’re so good at what you do.”

  She looked away, seeming shy. “I guess. Aside from my family, it’s the only thing I’ve put my whole heart into for a long time.”

  They were silent for a moment until Marcus piped up.

  “I have to admit, I really enjoyed hanging out with Ava today.” He paused then continued. “Until she got hurt, of course. God, I thought I’d die, I felt so helpless and worried that I’d been bad for her. All I wanted was to make things better.”

  Kyra nodded. “That’s what it feels like to be a parent,” she said. “I’ve experienced my share of it between taking care of Maggie and now Ava.”

  “I kind of liked it,” Marcus admitted. “It made me feel like I had a purpose, something more important than myself.”

  “I can understand the sentiment,” Kyra said.

  “And I liked that kiss too.” He grinned at her, hoping she’d take the bait and lay another one on him, but she stuck her tongue out at him instead.

  “We should head in,” she said. “It’s almost dinner time, and I promised Ava spaghetti.”

  “I think the chef should be able to handle that,” Marcus said.

  “No chef tonight.” Kyra had a challenge in her eye. “Ava only likes spaghetti with her special sauce.”

  Marcus frowned. “I can’t cook, Kyra.”

  “Let’s give the kitchen staff the night off,” she told him. “I’ll teach you.”

  Dear God in heaven, this man was not joking when he said he couldn’t cook. Kyra actually had to show him how to use a garlic crusher.

  That wasn’t a deal breaker though. At least he was willing to learn.

  “Do onions make everyone cry, or am I just a sensitive guy?” he joked, and Kyra laughed.

  “So you sweat the onions and garlic in the olive oil,” she said and gave them a stir with a wooden spoon. “Add a generous dash of salt and pepper.”

  “How much is a dash?” Marcus asked.

  He had to be joking, but before she could be sure, she heard Ava’s sweet voice.

  “Can I help?” the little girl asked.

  “Absolutely!” Marcus said. His eyes lit up when they fell on Ava. The housekeeper was ushering the poor girl into the kitchen on her crutches. “Let’s pull up a stool for you.” Marcus grabbed a tall chair from the kitchen island and plopped Ava onto it.

  “Thanks, Jan,” he said to the housekeeper before turning back to Ava. “So, your Auntie Kyra was telling me how much a dash is.”

  Ava giggled. “I’ll show you,” she said and added the salt and pepper to the pan. “Now it’s time for the tomatoes and sauce, right?”

  “You got it, baby,” Kyra said and grabbed the can opener.

  “I can do that,” Marcus said and took the canned tomatoes and sauce from Kyra. Soon, the kitchen smelled of tomato-basil sauce, an aroma that reminded Kyra of home.

  “Mmmmm,” Ava said. “I’m hungry.”

  Marcus flicked the Sonos on, and began dancing around the kitchen, which distracted Ava from her hunger. She burst into laughter.

  “Are you laughing at my dance moves?” he asked and swept her into his arms to join him, spinning her around before gently putting her down again.

  Kyra stood back watching, unable to wipe the smile from her lips. Marcus had such an easy way with Ava. He seemed so authentic in his enjoyment of her and in spending time with Kyra. How simple would it be to let herself love this man? To create a home with him and raise their child in an atmosphere like this? They could dance around the kitchen in their own house.

  Suddenly, Marcus grabbed Kyra and twirled her around.

  She let out a throaty laugh then angled into him.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “What have I done to warrant thanks?” he asked.

  She looked deep into his eyes, hoping he would feel the weight of her words.

  “For today,” she said. “For wanting to prove yourself.”

  He smiled down at her, his dark eyes glinting with what looked like laughter and hope. “Does that mean you’ll kiss me again?”

  Kyra turned around to make sure Ava wasn’t looking.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll stop asking,” he said when Kyra turned away from him. “Mmmm. The sauce smells delicious.”

  When Kyra turned back toward him, she realized she was hungry. And not for spaghetti. She leaned into Marcus and let her lips sink into his. As the kiss ended, she whispered onto his lips.

  “You’re delicious.”

  8

  Marcus sat at the wrought iron garden table on the back patio in the cool air of late evening. His eyes stared out at the thick copse of trees behind the estate but in his mind, Kyra’s face was front and center, in the moment when she’d closed in for a kiss. When she’d leaned into him and pressed her lips onto his, she’d lit him up inside, surprising him and turning him on all at once. His instinct had been to pull her closer, to tangle his hands in her curly hair and ravage her with more kisses.

  But Ava had been right behind them.

  Surprisingly, Marcus didn’t resent the little girl for being a buffer between him and Kyra. He was simply charmed by Ava—she brought out emotions in him that he’d never experienced. Earlier, when she’d gotten hurt, he’d been overwhelmed by feelings of wanting to take care of her every need, to make everything okay. If he didn’t know better, he would
call those feelings fatherly.

  To be honest with himself, he didn’t know better. He had no idea what fatherly felt like.

  But he wanted to learn.

  Spending even one day with Ava and Kyra had shown him that he not only enjoyed playing the role, but that he might actually be good at it. He’d handled the broken ankle situation pretty well. He’d even learned how to cook—sort of—and judging by Kyra’s reaction, he’d done okay.

  As his thoughts jumped from Kyra to Ava and back, he heard the screen door slide open behind him. He turned to see Kyra, wrapped in a light sweater, slipping outside. She smiled at him.

  “Hey there,” he said. “How’s Ava?”

  “She’s out cold.” Kyra took a seat beside him. “I think the events of the day wore her out.”

  “Full belly too,” Marcus said, and Kyra laughed.

  “Yes. That girl can eat her weight in spaghetti.” Kyra eyed the two wine glasses he’d brought out to the patio. She placed a hand on the unopened bottle. “Wine?” she asked.

  “Of course not,” he said. “It’s sparkling cider.”

  “Very thoughtful of you,” she said.

  Marcus poured two glasses and handed one to Kyra. He couldn’t help but notice how her skin seemed to glow in the light of the moon. She wore no makeup, and yet her face shone. Her beauty was all-natural.

  “Well here’s to one successful day of…” He wasn’t sure how to phrase it so it didn’t sound presumptuous, so he raised his glass and went with his original thought. “…parenting.”

  Kyra laughed again and clinked glassed with him. He watched her bring the glass to her lips and take a sip of the bubbly cider.

  “I have to admit it was nice to share duties with someone for a change,” Kyra said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sometimes I feel like I’m already a single parent.” Kyra’s face clouded, and she started twirling her hair around one finger. “My sister hasn’t always been the most responsible person. Somebody has to watch out for her and Ava.”

  “And you’re that somebody?” Marcus asked.

  Kyra shrugged. “Our father left when we were really small,” she said. “Our mama had to make ends meet, so I grew up fast. I took care of myself and Maggie while Mama worked.”

  “What kind of work did your mother do?” Marcus wanted to know everything about Kyra.

  “Oh, she did a little of everything for money—waitressing, retail—but at heart, Mama’s a musician, a singer.”

  Marcus smiled. “Cool. What type of music?”

  “Jazz mostly,” Kyra said. “She played a lot of smaller clubs in Atlanta, nothing big. Once when I was in high school, she had an audition for a really big opportunity in Nashville. She spent weeks preparing for it.”

  “So what happened?”

  “The guy she was dating at the time was supposed to drive her to the audition, and he never showed. We didn’t have a car, and it was too late for her to take a bus or anything else. She was screwed.”

  “Oh man, that’s awful.”

  “It really was.” Kyra shook her head. “I’ll never forget that day. My mama curled up in a ball crying, cheeks all streaked with mascara, smoking a cigarette. She was so mad.”

  “I’m guessing things with the boyfriend fell apart after that,” Marcus said.

  Kyra nodded. “From that day on, she never stopped reminding me to be independent and to never depend on a man to get what I needed out of life.”

  Marcus was quiet for a moment, digesting Kyra’s words. Suddenly he saw Kyra’s insistence on raising their child alone in a different light. It wasn’t a personal rejection of him; it was a dogma she’d been fed her entire life. He longed to make her see that all men weren’t like her mother’s loser ex-boyfriend.

  “Mama continued to play smaller gigs,” Kyra went on. “And work her tail off doing other jobs to pay the bills.”

  “So you and your sister spent lots of time in nightclubs?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  Kyra threw her head back in laughter. “Oh, hell no! Our mama would never allow us to go to her shows. Too seedy. She was strict, and we had a healthy fear of crossing her.” Kyra rolled her eyes then. “At least I did. Maggie became something of a wild child that I had the pleasure of trying to keep under control.”

  Marcus sensed resentment in Kyra’s tone. “A lot of responsibility for a young girl,” he said.

  “There are only five years between us, but I always felt like I was in charge of Maggie, and that responsibility doubled when Maggie got herself pregnant with Ava,” Kyra said, her finger still twirling away inside her dark curls. “Her boyfriend, Ava’s father, was a deadbeat. He couldn’t hold down a job let alone support Maggie and a child.”

  “Does Ava even know her father?” Marcus asked, unable to imagine what it would be like to know you had a daughter out there somewhere but not be a part of her life in any way.

  “No,” Kyra said. “He split soon after she was born and hasn’t been in touch ever since. So, I threw myself into my career and my family full-force—with no time left for anything else. I had to. I knew I had to be successful to provide for us and to deal with Maggie and whatever shenanigans she got into along the way. And any time I wasn’t working, I was taking care of Ava, and making sure Maggie had a safe place to land after another one of her wild ideas fell through.”

  Marcus stared into Kyra’s warm eyes, listening with his whole heart. He sympathized with Kyra but also felt a little sorry for Maggie. She seemed to be the ne’er-do-well of the family, and he knew what it was like to be saddled with that label. He placed a hand over Kyra’s and squeezed, and Kyra looked up at him, her gaze serious.

  “I’ve worked really hard at advancing my career, Marcus,” Kyra said. “I never made time for a social life or relationships. Having kids of my own wasn’t in my plans at all, and I don’t know how a baby will factor into my life at this point.”

  “I’d like to be there to figure it out with you,” he told her honestly.

  She smiled but didn’t respond. He could tell she was unsure about letting herself rely on anyone, and, after hearing her story, he couldn’t blame her. This woman had the weight of her family on her shoulders. She was the sole caretaker. Marcus wanted her to know that he understood.

  “Family is hard to navigate,” he said, echoing her sentiments and adding his own. “I didn’t grow up with financial struggles, but life wasn’t always “palace perfect” in our family either.”

  Warmth flooded him when Kyra managed a smile at his silly pun.

  “So what kind of struggles did you have then?”

  Marcus hesitated. He knew that opening up to Kyra would bring them closer, but still it wasn’t something he loved to talk about.

  “I was always sort of the black sheep in my family, I guess,” he admitted. “I was a troublemaker as a young boy. Not fights—nothing violent—but I guess you could say I was the class clown, more interested in acting out and making people laugh than in focusing on classes. No one took me seriously anyway, and I kind of ran with it.” He shrugged. “The reputation followed me and stuck.”

  Kyra looked perplexed. “But you were a little boy,” she said, defending him.

  “A mischief-making little boy,” Marcus said, half-joking to hide the hurt he felt over the whole thing. “A problem child. And that’s the way everyone has had me pegged since I was ten years old.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  Marcus tried to act like it didn’t bother him but found himself recalling a time from his childhood when he realized how problematic his reputation really was. He was ten and had a crush on the daughter of a prestigious family who was staying at the castle. He’d made friends with the young girl, Lena, taking her for walks on the castle grounds and later playing an innocent game of truth or dare. On the third afternoon of their stay, her parents came to fetch her from the game room where they were listening to music together. Lena had protested, saying she wanted
to stay for a little while longer, but her mother whisked her away. Marcus had surreptitiously followed them down a corridor on their way out, if just to be near Lena for another few minutes. He would never forget the words he heard her mother say to her.

  “If you’re going to be paired with one of the Ashton clan, it most certainly won’t be that one. That boy may be rich, but he’ll never be respected.” The mother paused to tuck a stray hair behind Lena’s ear, and Marcus hid inside a shadow, hoping she wouldn’t see him standing there in his shame. “He’ll be nothing but a playboy, you mark my words.”

  The incident was still painful to think about and even more painful to recount now to Kyra. She put her hand over his and peered sympathetically in his eyes.

  “Marcus, I’m so sorry that happened to you. It must have hurt very much when you were so young,” she said. “But look at you now. That snobby old woman was way off.”

  Marcus snorted. “Kyra, I am a playboy. That’s how everyone sees me, including my family. My oldest brother, Edward, has always been the heir, my middle brother, Alton, was the spare, and I’m the one nobody expected to ever settle down. Nobody’s first choice, always the consolation prize. No one ever wanted to get serious with someone like me, so I used my already sordid reputation as an excuse to stroke my ego with lots of playing the field. Different girl every night—that was me.”

  Kyra’s eyebrows rose, and Marcus was quick to reassure her, “I’ve always wanted it, and truthfully, I don’t regret how things worked out, because it all led me to you.”

  “How?”

  He decided to get totally honest with Kyra. “You don’t know this, but my father placed me on the advisory board for the crisis center as a punishment for “bad behavior.” He placed air quotes around the word for effect. “Some tabloid reporter caught wind of a relationship I was in and smeared me,” he said and rolled his eyes. He finished off his cider and placed the glass on the table with a clink. “Turns out the girl was already engaged to be married—to another prince, no less—even though she never bothered to tell me.”