Special Delivery: Winter: An Mpreg Romance Collection

by Aria Grace

  I never wanted the party, and I definitely didn’t want a husband — in fact, I wanted none of the stupid high society stuff — but George insisted it was time for me to grow up and find a suitable partner, so he threw it anyway. To spite him, I got fall-down drunk and took turns insulting pretty much every guest until one of them shoved me, fully clothed, in the pool. Several of their families still wouldn’t return calls or correspondence from the crown, not that I blamed them.

  Feeling guilty, I followed George. It wasn’t that I wasn’t interested in finding someone to help me carry on my family name, I just couldn’t get over how unfair doing so was to my parents — especially this close to Christmas when I most missed them.

  I wished they were still alive so they could meet all the wild Kenway children my mate and I would eventually bring into the world, but they weren’t. Without them, what was the point? Let someone else take the crown and make their own damn dynasty. I never expected or wanted to be king in the first place, and I would’ve traded the crown to have my parents back in a heartbeat.

  I caught up to George in the marble-floored foyer where one of the staff had accosted him to take his snow-covered coat away. I shrugged mine off and handed it to her too. “George, wait,” I called after him as he headed past the towering Christmas tree the staff had erected and decorated near the grand staircase. He froze with one foot on the bottom step and one hand on the carved wooden railing, but didn’t turn around. “I’m sorry. It’s just… You know how difficult Christmas is for me, so it feels disrespectful to be looking for love right now.”

  George turned with a hint of a smile and a twinkle in his blue eyes. “I’d argue it’s the perfect time. Think of the romanticism! A first kiss under the mistletoe. Nights snuggled together in front of the fire. Giving and getting gifts.”

  “I’d rather eat yellow snow,” I said, and though I knew it irritated him, George still laughed and shook his head.

  “You’re either a diamond in the rough or a hopeless case; I can’t decide which,” he said and continued up the stairs.

  “Oh, come on, George! I was joking,” I said and bounded up the stairs after him. It didn’t take much to catch him; he and his bad knees didn’t get along well with stairs. “Let’s go to my room and pick out an outfit. Just like old times,” I said, thinking of the many, many nights before one of my scheduled public appearances as a teen when we’d done exactly that.

  That seemed to get his attention because he flashed me a smile. “I’d like that.”

  “Good,” I said and kept pace with him to the top of the staircase, just to be nice. Normally, I would’ve taken two stairs at a time.

  We crossed the manor in silence, taking several of the hidden shortcuts that only the uppermost members of the staff knew about, and entered my chamber from a door hidden behind a full-length mirror. George wheezed from the effort but still refused to sit, despite the plethora of plush, mostly decorative chairs lining the room. He tried his best not to let his aging show, but I noticed it often. He wasn’t the fit and trim guy he used to be when I was a kid, which was probably another reason he was so intent on finding me a partner — George wouldn’t always be there to look after me.

  Keeping the observation to myself, I crossed the massive room and flung open the equally massive closet doors. The interior was probably larger than most family’s living rooms, and I didn’t doubt there were people who would’ve loved to have such a thing, but I hated it, just like most of the other showy parts of being king.

  It took longer than I thought it would to find the outfits, but when I did, I draped them over one arm and brought them back out into the room to lay them on my boat-sized, four-poster bed. Though he said nothing, scorn rolled off George; he probably still couldn’t believe I hadn’t even unbagged any of them yet.

  I reached for the nearest and pulled the zipper. Inside, a beautiful emerald green suit wrapped in delicate tissue paper waited. “So, tell me about the guests. Who all did you invite?” George raised an eyebrow at me, and I realized I’d made another mistake; he’d shown me the finished guest list weeks ago. “I know I already looked at the list but refresh me. You know everything about everyone,” I lied to cover.

  He pursed his lips but came to help me take the suit out of the bag, anyway. “This will be a smaller affair. After the last time, I thought that might be for the best,” he said and held the suit to keep it from wrinkling while I stripped down to my underwear.

  “Probably not a bad idea,” I said and tossed my clothes that surely cost the crown a small fortune on the floor, prompting a disapproving look from George.

  “I selected six omegas I thought you might like, based on your previously expressed, erm, preferences,” he said, and I blushed. Evidently, there weren’t any bedroom secrets left between George and me. He bent to snatch my shirt and pants off the floor and draped them neatly over the back of the nearest chair. “They’re all promising young men from a variety of backgrounds; most are wealthy, but there’s one commoner.”

  “A commoner? Isn’t that breaking some dumb unwritten royal rule?” I asked, not that I had any personal objection to it. I’d shared my bed with plenty of them over the years, and I almost always found them more interesting than stuffy nobles.

  “Not when we’re out of options,” he said with a look I could only describe as judgmental as he handed me the suit trousers.

  I slipped into them and, unsurprisingly, the tailor had cut them perfectly to fit my legs and accent their best attributes. “I see. Anyone in particular you think I’ll like?” I asked as he helped me pull the suit jacket over my shoulders.

  George stepped around me to fasten the jacket’s buttons and shrugged. “You’re impossible to predict. Maybe some of them will strike your fancy, or maybe you’ll scare them all away. Time will tell.”

  “That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement of your confidence in me, George.”

  “Only because you don’t have the best track record, Your Maj—” he trailed and cleared his throat. “Like I said, it’s an old habit.”

  “You really think I’m going to make a mess of this, don’t you?”

  “You, make a mess? Why on Earth would I ever think that?” George asked as he finished buttoning me and spun me around to look at myself in the mirror-door we’d entered through. He rested his hands on my shoulders and nodded. “Stunning. Absolutely stunning.”

  I examined my reflection and had to agree. It fit me flawlessly, showing off my pecs and the bulge of my biceps, which surely wasn’t an accident given the aim of the event, and the deep, mysterious green color made my eyes pop. “I dunno about you, George, but I don’t think we even need to try the others; we have a winner.”

  “I agree. Now, was that so hard?” George asked as I unbuttoned the jacket.

  “No, but honestly, I’m bothered by what you just said about me. Am I really that awful?”

  “Well, I meant no offense, but for God’s sake, you hadn’t even tried any of these gorgeous outfits on, so I didn’t think you were taking this event seriously, as usual. But it is serious. You’re nearly thirty, Heath. The public is whispering about why you haven’t married.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “They are? Why would they care about that?”

  George looked at me like I was the simplest person he’d ever met. “They’re worried you might never settle down and that Gilmouth might spiral into chaos without a legitimate heir to the throne. I can’t say their fears are unwarranted.”

  “But I’m just a figurehead, you know that. I don’t have any actual power. The crown hasn’t for decades. Parliament would handle things just fine, even if we never had another monarch.”

  “That may be true, but what you lack in political power you make up for with social influence. You’re much more than a figurehead to many people. You’re a symbol of what it means to be Gilmouthan, so the people look to you for an example to follow. In the ten years since your parents’ death, the public has been clamoring for a st
rong royal family to bring a lacking sense of stability back to their lives. It’s time for you to create that family for them and, more importantly, for you. Your parents would want that for you too.”

  I stood staring at George, speechless. He’d never shied away from giving me hard advice I may not have wanted to hear, but this time was different — because it worked. Images from my childhood of both my fathers flashed through my mind like an emotional bolt of lightning, shocking me with a realization: neither of them would’ve wanted me to spend the rest of my life wallowing over their deaths alone in this fortress.

  George chuckled and clapped a hand on my shoulder, anchoring me back in my body. “I know that’s a lot of pressure to put on those strapping shoulders of yours, but I know how strong you are; you can handle it. That said, I don’t honestly expect you to meet the love of your life tomorrow evening, but will you at least try to make a good first impression?”

  “I’ll give it my best shot,” I said, and a warm smile spread across his round, rosy face.

  “That’s all I’ve ever asked of you, Heath. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some more preparatory matters to attend to.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said and watched him swing the mirror-door open and disappear behind it. When it swished shut again, I stared at my stunned reflection and realized that, not unlike the glass in front of me, George had held up a mirror for me to see how the rest of the world viewed me — and I didn’t like what I saw.

  There was only one way to change that reputation, and though it wasn’t my first choice for a reboot, the reception would be a golden opportunity to start. George was right; I wasn’t likely to meet the man of my dreams, but I never would if I didn’t get out there and try. Besides, my parents and their legacy deserved an honest attempt.

  I turned and glanced at the huge, ornate matching paintings of my fathers hanging on the opposite wall in shining golden frames. Kings Pierce and Lawrence Kenway seemed to smile down at me, and I smiled back despite my sudden nerves.

  “Well, wish me luck, guys. I have a feeling I’ll need it.”

  3. Landon

  “You look amazing, Landon,” Dad whispered as he admired the reflection of me in my new bank account-draining suit. Despite the crack that ran diagonally across the mirror hanging on the back of Dad’s bedroom door distorting my reflection, he wasn’t wrong; I’d never looked better.

  Dad had gelled and combed my dark brown hair away from my forehead, and the silk baby blue handkerchief he’d let me borrow to tuck into the jacket’s front pocket made my matching eyes sparkle against the suit’s navy fabric.

  Still, I felt guilty wearing it. With any luck, I’d make it through the night without a spill on the suit and we could return it — but given that my nerves had already made my hands shake, I wasn’t holding my breath.

  “Thanks,” I said and smoothed out a wrinkle on my shoulder.

  “Are you okay? You haven’t said much tonight.”

  “Honestly, I’m a nervous wreck. Who wouldn’t be?”

  “I know it’s easy for me to say, but don’t be. Just be yourself and have fun. It's no different from any other party.”

  “Except it’s at a mansion and the King of Gilmouth will be there.”

  Dad shrugged. “So? He’s human, just like the rest of us. And you know what? If he doesn’t like you, that’s his loss. I won't think any less of you.”

  I appreciated his words of encouragement, but they didn’t make me feel better. While I scoured my reflection for even the smallest of imperfections to fix, all I could think about was how badly I wanted the night to be over with already so I could go back to my normal life and pretend none of this had ever happened.

  The doorbell rang, halting my obsessive nitpicking and sending my heart rocketing into my throat.

  “That’s probably the driver,” Dad said, beaming with excitement. “What I wouldn’t give to go with you. You’d better take plenty of pictures for me!”

  It seemed so extravagant for the king to send a personal car and driver to escort me to the manor, but then again, what did I expect? That was probably how he and all his other rich guests traveled everywhere; they damn sure wouldn’t take the train with the rest of us.

  “I’ll try, but I don’t want to look too much like a tacky tourist,” I said as I followed Dad out of his bedroom to the front door. I didn’t doubt I’d stick out like a sore thumb among the others just for being a commoner, so I didn’t want to do anything to further lower my chances.

  Dad threw his arms around me and planted a kiss on my cheek. “Whatever else does or doesn’t happen tonight, I’m so proud of you. I just wanted you to know that. Now get out there and catch yourself a king,” he said and yanked the door open. A gust of frigid air and snow rushed around a tall, thin, regal-looking man wearing a full body peacoat and top hat.

  The man’s eyes swept over me, and he flashed me an approving smile, which I took to mean the suit was an excellent choice. He offered me a white-gloved hand to shake. “You must be Mr. Richmond?”

  “Er, yeah, that’s me,” I said and gripped his hand as confidently as I could.

  “Pleased to meet you. I’m Adam Wingrad, and I’ll be your driver this evening. Are you ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Very good. Then away we go,” he said and left the porch to return to a classy, sleek black luxury car that must've cost more than I'd made in my entire lifetime. Adam opened the rear door and gestured for me to enter, but I stood frozen in the doorway, unable to believe this was happening.

  “Go on, Landon. I’m not paying to heat the outdoors,” Dad hissed, snapping me back into reality. He handed me my coat, and I gulped and stepped carefully down the frost-covered stairs to the street before shrugging into it. Adam offered me his hand again to help me lower into the car, but I didn’t feel right taking it, so I just clambered in on my own instead and flopped awkwardly onto the dark leather seat cushions, which were extravagantly posh; sitting on them felt like a crime.

  Adam shut the door softly behind me and walked around the back of the car to the driver’s side. My window’s glass had fogged from the welcome heat in the car, so I swiped it away with my sleeve and smiled when I saw Dad standing and waving. I waved back as Adam removed his hat to climb into the car and put it in gear. We rolled away, and Dad continued to shrink until I couldn’t see him at all anymore.

  “Would you like to listen to some holiday music?” Adam asked from the front seat, his brown eyes fixed on mine in the rearview mirror.

  “That would be nice,” I said, grateful for something to break up what would otherwise be an awkward, quiet drive to the manor. Adam smiled and switched on the radio, and the warm, soothing tones of a male singing Winter Wonderland filled the cabin.

  As we wove through the narrow, snow-laden and moodily lit streets of Bryton, the capitol of Gilmouth, it was difficult not to feel like I really was living in a winter wonderland — especially when Kenway Manor’s towering, snow-tipped peaks popped over the horizon as we approached the city center.

  We made it to the gates faster than I thought we would, no doubt thanks to Adam’s smooth driving. How long had he worked for the king? I wanted to ask but didn’t get the chance. Adam turned off the radio and cracked the window as we approached the security guards at the gate.

  “Good evening. I’ve fetched Mr. Richmond,” Adam said to the guard, who leaned down to look me over through the gap between the window and roof.

  “Very good,” the guard said and motioned to another stationed in a small box to let us pass. Moments later, the massive iron gates emblazoned with a giant golden “K” swung slowly open, and we rolled down the gravel toward the manor. I’d felt nervous all day, but a fresh wave of anxiety swept over me as we passed a stunning winter scene and I realized that in mere moments I’d be meeting King Kenway himself.

  At least the view offered a minor distraction. Trees and shrubs dotted the sprawling grounds, each ablaze with so
many Christmas lights that I couldn’t fathom how long it must’ve taken for the staff to decorate them all. The gently falling snow in the dark sky caught the light and glinted, giving the night a dreamy feel, and I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

  We drove over a small bridge that crossed the moat surrounding the manor and around a towering, fully decorated Christmas tree in the courtyard. Adam came to a smooth stop just outside the mansion’s floor-to-ceiling glass double doors and smiled at me in the rearview.

  “Welcome to Kenway Manor, Mr. Richmond. Please enjoy your visit,” he said, and I never had time to thank him because my door opened, and a gloved hand extended to help me out of the vehicle. Against my better judgment, I took it and stepped out of the cozy car’s cabin into the frosty night air.

  “Good evening, Mr. Richmond,” a beaming, short woman with dark hair greeted me. “I’m Lucy. Please follow me. I’ll show you to the reception room.” She turned and walked up the few steps to the doors, and Adam’s car rolled away.

  I took a healthy gulp of the cold air to center myself and followed Lucy. She opened the door for me and moved aside to allow me to enter first. Once inside, she closed the door behind us, and I froze.

  We’d entered a vast, round room with sparkling marble floors and immaculately decorated ceilings. Expensive vases and family artifacts lined the room on podiums, interspersed among small pine trees and wreaths for the holiday. Behind another impossibly large and fully decorated Christmas tree, a staggering, red carpet-covered staircase climbed up in front of us, presumably leading to the various personal rooms for the royal family and staff. I’d seen plenty of pictures of the manor’s foyer, but none of them did the reality of it any justice.