Royally Unexpected: An Accidental Pregnancy Collection

by Lilian Monroe

  I hold her gaze for a few more seconds, as her eyes widen and her body tenses. I grin, taking her fingers in mine and kissing the back of her hand. “See you in a few hours, Elle.”

  When I get back to the castle, it feels like I’m floating. Not only did I find out who my mystery woman is, but she’s not a Raventhal. Even better, she’s the daughter of one of the men I respect most in the Kingdom. I don’t care that’s she’s not a Lady or a Princess… in fact, that’s exactly why I’m drawn to her.

  She’s different. Special. I can tell by the way she carries herself that she’s been through a lot, and that makes me feel closer to her.

  Before I make it to my wing of the castle, Talin materializes in front of me.

  “The King would see you,” he says, gesturing down the hall.

  “The King can kiss my ass.” I brush past him and Talin grabs my arm with a vice-like grip. I stare at his hand, trying to understand why or how this man is touching me without my permission. Dragging my eyes back up to his, I snarl until he lets go.

  Talin takes a step back, clearing his throat. “His Majesty would like to discuss last night’s events with you,” Talin says a bit less forcefully, nodding his head down submissively.

  “Well, tell His Gracious Ass that I’ll be in my chambers. I can discuss whatever events he has in mind there.” I stomp away from the man, my arm still burning where he grabbed me.

  That man—that snake—is getting far too comfortable in this castle. He’s weaseled his way to my father’s side and won the King’s ear, and I don’t know what kind of lies he’s whispering. I shake off the uncomfortable feeling that Talin always leaves me with and I make my way to my quarters.

  It only takes my father a few minutes to knock on the door. He doesn’t wait for me to answer before striding in. “You don’t come when I ask you to anymore? Insolent brat.”

  “I stopped doing your bidding when you stopped treating me like a son.”

  The King rolls his eyes. “That was your own doing, boy. As soon as you fucked your own governess, I knew you’d never be fit to be King. But what can I do? You’re my eldest son, and my hands are tied.”

  I ball my hands into fists, digging my nails into my palm to stop myself from screaming. The scandal with my governess was the last nail in the coffin of my tattered relationship with my father. He can’t bear the fact that I’m his successor. I think it predates the shit with my governess. I think he’s hated me ever since my mother died.

  I take a deep breath and try to keep my voice steady. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to tell me which Lady you’ve chosen as your wife.”

  “None of them.” The one I want isn’t a Lady.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  My father’s eyes narrow and he takes a step toward me. I fold my arms over my chest, cocking an eyebrow. I’m younger, stronger, and angrier than he is, and he knows it.

  “Son—”

  “Don’t fucking call me son like the word actually means something to you.”

  He bristles, inhaling through his nose. “Charles, you need to declare a wife within three months. You’re getting older, and it’s time.”

  “Time for what? Time for me to follow all these stupid traditions?”

  “You need a Queen.”

  “You’re doing just fine without one.”

  “And who’s fault is that?”

  His words hit me like a sledgehammer to the gut. I wince, dropping my eyes and digging my nails further into my palms. “Fuck off. I just found her—that’s all.”

  “Right after you dragged her up to that stupid cabin at Farcliff Lake. You know there are ticks and parasites in the forest.”

  “We never found out what killed her. How could a tick kill someone overnight?”

  The King stares me down, and the familiar well of anger opens up inside me. I always knew he blamed me for my mother’s death, but he’s never come out and said it before.

  I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My chest feels heavy and grief tightens my throat.

  My father grunts. “I’ve drawn up a list of suitable matches. You have two months to declare your betrothed.”

  “Father—”

  “It’s the law, Charlie. If you don’t do this, you can’t be King after me. As much as I would love for that to happen, I’m bound by the laws just as much as you are.” He tosses a paper onto my desk. “Choose one of them, or I’ll choose for you.”

  The door closes behind him with a bang, and my anger simmers under my skin. I stare after him, glued to the ground.

  Finally, I stretch my hands out and shake out my shoulders. Walking to my desk, I glance at the thick paper with the royal letterhead that my father left behind. I skim the names of ‘acceptable matches’ as my lips curl in disgust. Crushing the paper into a tight ball, I throw it in the trash.

  Fuck. That. Shit.

  I’ve already chosen my Queen. She just doesn’t know it yet.

  16

  Elle

  Olivia titters after our meeting as the entire team crowds around her.

  “It was right before midnight when he grabbed me. That’s why the two of us disappeared from the ball. He took me up to his bedroom and ladies… the rumors are true.” She holds her hands out in front of her, stretching them apart and wiggling her eyebrows. “He’s big.”

  I know she’s lying. The Prince was with me right before midnight—but still, her words irk me. Did he do anything with her before he found me? Or after?

  Taking a deep breath, I try to ignore the little, insecure voice in my head that’s trying to ruin this for me. I know Olivia is lying.

  But what if it were true? The Prince doesn’t owe me anything. He can sleep with anyone he wants. He probably does. I’ve heard the rumors. I’ve seen the tabloids. He’s a womanizing jerk, and he never sees a woman more than once.

  My chest squeezes at the thought, and I try to breathe through the tightness. I need to be logical about this.

  How can that be true if he sought me out? He wants to see me again tonight, not Olivia Brundle.

  The horrible little voices pipes up inside my head. I’m probably just the flavor of the week. I’m different from his usual flings, but he’ll get bored with me, too.

  I take a deep breath and push the thoughts away. Even though they’re probably true, I’ll just enjoy whatever is happening between us and keep the memory of it alive for as long as I live. The Prince isn’t in love with me or anything, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the attention. I toss my bag over my shoulder and make to leave when Olivia stops me.

  “How about you, Elle? How did you spend last night?”

  “Not screwing the Prince, that’s for sure,” I say, staring at her.

  Her face twists into a cruel smile. “That’s obvious, sweetie. Even if you’d been invited, he wouldn’t have looked at you twice. He prefers someone a bit more… womanly.” She runs her hands down her sides and shrugs. “But I’m sure there will be some nice man who settles for you eventually. You just have to be patient.”

  I don’t answer. I’m afraid if I say something, I might give in to the urge to rip her throat out with my bare hands. Instead, I turn around and walk out of the locker room as the rest of them laugh.

  I seethe all the way back to my house until I can talk myself down. I don’t know why I let those girls get under my skin so much. They mean nothing to me, so their words shouldn’t hurt.

  But they do.

  Every time Olivia or Marielle or any of the rest of them say something cruel to me, it echoes in my head until I struggle to push it away. I’m confident in my studies and in rowing, but they know how to needle at all my insecurities. They can sniff them out, buried deep in my heart. Those girls unearth my darkest fears and then hold them up and laugh at them.

  Well, not tonight. I shove those insecurities away and get ready for my date. My date with the Prince. Olivia can say what she wants, it’s me he’s
seeing tonight.

  “What are you going to wear?” Dahlia opens the bathroom door and I peek around the shower curtain. She’s eating a piece of toast and sitting on the closed toilet seat. She looks at me. “I think you should go for something sexy yet understated, so it looks like you’re not trying too hard when in reality, you’re trying really, really hard.”

  “Can we talk about this when I’m not naked?”

  Dahlia frowns. “Why? Who cares?”

  “Me,” I laugh. “I care.”

  “You’re so weird.”

  “Uh huh.” I arch my eyebrows and she rolls her eyes, leaving the bathroom. She pokes her head through the open door again. “I’ll pull some clothes from your closet and get them ready for you.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I wait for her to close the door again. By the time I’m finished in the shower, Dahlia has half a dozen outfits for me to choose from. She talks me through all of them, why she chose them and why she thinks they would be a good choice.

  I point to the jeans crumpled on the floor. “How about those?”

  Dahlia just rolls her eyes and shoves one of the other outfits at me. “Wear that.”

  It’s a tight black dress that I forgot I even owned and a pair of black tights. “I’m not sure this is motorcycle appropriate,” I say. “I think the jeans are better.”

  “Jeans are not date-with-the-Prince appropriate.”

  “Maybe not, but they’re very ‘me’ appropriate.”

  She stares at me sideways at me and I laugh. My nerves start to tense up and I take a deep breath. I glance at Dahlia. “Is this a bad idea?”

  “What, the date? Why would it be a bad idea? He’s the Prince!”

  “I know, but… I mean, you know how I am. I can’t really do one-night stands. I fall way too hard, way too fast—and always for guys that are bad for me. The Prince and me… that’s literally a dead end. Never going to happen. No chance. So, what’s the point?”

  “The point is that you’re glowing, and smiling, and I haven’t seen you this excited about something besides rowing… probably ever.”

  “But…”

  “You deserve to have fun, Elle. You deserve to feel pretty and to go out and have dates with attractive men who make you feel special. You deserve to have mind-blowing sex whenever you feel like it. I know that the rowing team is tough, and I see how mean those girls are to you. I think going out and doing something for yourself—just because you feel like it—is a good idea.”

  I take a deep breath and blow it out through my mouth. I nod. “Yeah, you’re right. I just don’t want to get all emotional over this and end up messing up my chances at the Spring Regatta.”

  “Well, make sure you use protection tonight and you’ll minimize the chances of that happening.”

  I laugh, nodding. “Noted. Will do.”

  Eventually, Dahlia leaves my room and lets me get dressed in peace. I choose the jeans.

  The Prince announces his arrival with a loud roar of his motorcycle engine as it tears down our quiet street. Dahlia squeals, jumping up and down as she fluffs my hair for the thousandth time. “You look amazing. Go get sexed up, you little hussy.”

  “I don’t even know if we’re going to have sex.”

  Dahlia just rolls her eyes as if I’m the dumbest person she’s ever met.

  I know what I want to happen—a repeat of last night. Perhaps multiple repeats of last night.

  Whether or not that will actually happen, I can’t be sure. I still don’t understand what the Prince sees in me, or why he’s shown any interest at all. I’m not royalty.

  But my heart flutters and I grin at Dahlia. I’d say I have butterflies in my stomach, but they feel more like a flock of angry birds. They crash around inside me violently as I try to calm myself down.

  The doorbell rings. I jump. Dahlia giggles.

  When I answer the door, Prince Charlie stands there, wearing his motorcycle jacket and a bad-boy smirk. “Hey.” He leans in, brushing his lips against my cheek.

  I’m bright red already. “Hi.”

  He nods to his bike. “You ready?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Don’t sound too excited,” he grins, extending his hand. I slip my fingers in his and an electric thrill runs up my arm. He leads me to the motorcycle, pulling out a spare helmet and sliding it onto my head. He looks deep into my eyes. “How does that feel?”

  It should be illegal for a man to have such pretty eyes.

  “Feels good,” I say, knocking the helmet with my knuckles. “Solid.”

  The Pr—Charlie—laughs—as if everything I do surprises him. Maybe it does. He slips his own helmet on and swings his leg over the motorcycle. “Get on and hold my waist,” he orders.

  I do as he says, inhaling as I slip my arms around him.

  “Hold on tight.” I think I hear a grin in his voice. “Don’t want you to fall off.” My body is pressed against his, my legs hugging his thighs as the motorcycle purrs.

  Then, we take off. I yelp, squeezing myself against him as we fly through the streets. My heart is in my throat for the first few minutes, but then I start to relax. Charlie has complete control over the bike, and I can feel him moving back and forth as if it’s an extension of his body.

  I lean closer to him, loving how our bodies fit together like this. He smells like leather with a hint of aftershave, and I inhale the scent deep into my lungs as the air whips around us. I close my eyes for a moment and a smile drifts over my lips.

  This almost feels like rowing, except… more. It’s the same feeling of slicing through the air, trusting the instrument underneath you as it carries you faster, faster, faster.

  Charlie drives over to Farcliff Lake, taking a winding side road up to a private area of the park. We’re entering the Royal Grounds. He slows the bike down as we climb up, up, up to the top of a hill, finally stopping at a lookout point on the southern tip of the lake.

  I dismount, pulling my helmet off and trying to smooth my hair down. There’s nothing glamorous about this, and I’m happy I opted for jeans.

  Charlie glances at me. “What do you think? Enjoy the ride?”

  “It’s good. Reminds me of rowing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s freeing.” I smile. The Prince tilts his head, staring at me curiously. Finally, he nods.

  I point to the lake below. “I’ve never been up here.”

  “You’d probably be arrested if you did.”

  “Right. My apologies, Your Royal Highness.”

  Charlie’s eyes narrow and his jaw ticks. “You know what I want you to call me.” He takes a step closer to me, taking the helmet out of my hands and placing it on the seat of his motorcycle.

  I grin. “You know how I feel about following rules.”

  His eyes flash. The air between us gets heavy. I clear my throat. Being close to him makes me dizzy.

  “Do you bring all your dates up here? A bit cliché, isn’t it? Bad-boy Prince on his bike, taking chicks up to a romantic lookout?”

  “Usually I just take them straight to my bed,” he answers. “I don’t waste time with things like this.”

  “Oh.” I look away. Olivia’s claim of sleeping with him suddenly doesn’t seem so far-fetched. Maybe not at the Prince’s Ball, but she might have done it another time.

  He takes my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine and forcing me to look at him. “But with you, it doesn’t feel like a waste of time. That’s why I brought you here—cliché or not.”

  The flock of birds are back in my stomach, flapping so violently that I think the Prince might hear them. If he does, he never shows it. He just pulls me in and kisses me, and then leads me down a path I hadn’t noticed.

  It opens up onto a huge log cabin, nestled in the trees and hidden from the road. The cabin perches on the edge of a sheer cliff face overlooking the lake. The Prince leads me to the door, swinging it open and gesturing inside.

  “Welcome to my home away from home.”
<
br />   17

  Charlie

  Elle’s jaw drops when she walks inside. She cranes her neck to look up at the tall A-frame ceiling, and then swings her eyes around to the huge windows that dominate the far wall. With a small gasp, she walks up to them and looks out.

  “This is gorgeous. You can almost see Grimdale from here! I didn’t even know this place existed.”

  “My mother had it built when I was a kid. She used to bring me up here on the weekends whenever she could get away.” My voice chokes up and I clear my throat.

  Elle glances at me and reaches over to squeeze my arm. “I remember when she passed away.” She smiles sadly. “I cried. I never knew my mother, and I always sort of hoped she would be like the Queen—really kind and loving.” Elle glances at me and shakes her head. “Sorry. That’s probably a stupid thing to say.”

  Usually, I hate it when people remind me of my mother’s death. I hate talking about it and thinking about it. I hate the memorials and the pity in people’s eyes when they think of my brothers and I left without a mother when we were just kids.

  But Elle isn’t looking at me like that. She looks genuine. I smile, letting my hand drift over her hip. “She was kind and loving. She’d have liked you.”

  Elle swallows as her cheeks flush.

  I nod to the kitchen. “Drink?”

  “Just water.”

  “Water?” I arch my eyebrows and Elle laughs.

  “It’s rowing season. No drinking, no parties, no drugs.” She pauses. “No men.”

  “Well you’re already breaking one of those rules. Why not a couple more?”

  “The rules don’t say anything about princes,” she laughs. “I figured I could make an exception.”

  I pour us two glasses of water, and suddenly I’m nervous. Maybe I use alcohol as a crutch in these situations. Now it’s just me, and Elle, and… that’s it.

  She takes the glass from my hands with a smile and keeps looking out the window.

  “There’s the Farcliff University Rowing Club,” she says, pointing to the far end of the lake. “I can see the lights at the end of the pier. I usually row down to…” her eyes follow the shoreline, “…over here. To that buoy.” A smile flashes on her face. “It’s so different seeing it from up here. It all looks so small.”