“I’ll go get him.”
Just as I grab the stair railing, Christian appears at the top of the stairs with Tyler in his arms. “No wonder he couldn’t sleep. He was full of poop. It leaked out of his diaper, so we should probably throw away the bassinet and just buy a new one, but I took care of his clothes and put on a fresh diaper.”
I hold up a hand to stop him and then hitch a thumb towards the living room, but Christian is oblivious.
“The next two poops are on you, though, because that one counted as two, at least. Who was at the door?” he asks, kissing Tyler’s chubby cheek. When he finally looks at my face, he frowns. “What’s wrong?”
Once again, I point to the living room. This time, Christian follows my point, and his mouth falls open.
“My parents,” he mouths.
I nod. “I know.”
Christian hands Tyler to me, smooths down his shirt—which has baby drool on the shoulder—and walks confidently into the living room to stand in front of his parents. I decide to stay by the stairs.
Their greeting is stiff and formal. His parents do not stand up as he enters, and he does not sit down.
“To what do we owe the surprise?” Christian asks.
“You would not take our calls,” his mother says more gently than I would have expected.
“There seemed nothing else to say,” Christian says. “I have made my decision.”
“But you did not allow us to make ours.”
The Queen stands up and walks around the coffee table covered in pacifiers and burp rags to stand in front of her son. She wraps her arms around his middle, and that is all the persuasion Christian needs. He hugs his mom, head resting on her shoulder. The King seems unmoved.
When they break apart, the Queen turns to look around the room. When she sees me lurking by the stairs, she waves me into the living room. “This involves you, Jane-Ann. Please come join us.”
I look at Christian for direction as to how I should handle this, but he shrugs and waves me in. So, I stand next to Christian, our son in my arms. Christian’s mother does not say anything about Tyler, but I catch her stealing glances at him. It is the first time I allow myself to think about the fact that Tyler’s grandparents are royalty. My grandparents were cattle farmers, so it is a lot to swallow.
“We are here to speak to you as your parents, not monarchs,” the Queen says to Christian before turning to her husband and nudging him. “Isn’t that right, Ranell?”
The King, who has been mostly silent since I opened the door, looks up at his son for the first time and nods. “It is.”
Christian looks rightfully nervous, his brow furrowed. “Okay. Then, what do my parents have to say?”
“Have you kept up with the local news since you left?” his mother asks.
Christian shakes his head. The week had been spent cuddling Tyler, unpacking, and getting each other naked as much as possible. Deep down, I know Christian has been burying his true feelings about leaving Sigmaran and his family behind, but I didn’t want to press. He will face those feelings when he is ready.
“Then you two won’t be aware that since you left a week ago, there has been a rush of public affection for your…match.” She pauses and lifts her chin. “The people are pleased with the idea of the first commoner princess. They find the idea of Prince Christian and Princess Jane-Ann romantic.”
“But she won’t be a princess,” Christian says. “Because I am no longer a prince.”
The King slides forward to rest on the edge of the couch. “The people have not been informed of that decision yet. No one has, in fact. Not even your brothers.”
Christian frowns. “Why not?”
The King looks at me and then Tyler. I can’t read his expression. “Because we hoped you would change your mind and come home.”
Christian’s arm wraps around my shoulders. “I won’t change my mind about my family. I’m not leaving them.”
“We know,” the Queen says quickly. “And we were wrong to ask you to. We see that now.”
This time she doesn’t need to prompt the King. He nods in agreement. “You shouldn’t have to choose between your birthright and your son.”
What is happening? I’m trying to keep up, but I’m also stuck on Princess Jane-Ann. How weird.
“What are you saying?” Christian asks.
The King stands up, and I realize he is the same height as his son, though thicker around the middle. He seemed bigger than life when we were in Sigmaran, so large and overwhelming. Now, in our small house, he looks like any normal man.
“Your mother and I have done a lot of thinking since you left, and we realize we were wrong to dictate your life,” he says. “You needed to grow up, but pushing you to marry someone you did not love was unfair, and barring you from marrying the woman you do love was worse.”
Christian looks stunned. He blinks and stares at his father like he thinks he might snatch the words back and laugh at how he fell for such an obvious joke. But the King does not take the words back. He continues.
“It has always been my greatest wish for you to succeed me as king, and that wish remains regardless of who you love.” He turns to me. “And what I said to you when you were pretending to be Lady Ann remains true. I think Christian will rule Sigmaran all the better because he will have you by his side.”
Christian reaches out and grabs my hand, and I squeeze his fingers back. I kind of wish he would pinch me because this all seems too good to be true.
The Queen stands up, hands folded in front of her. “Will you please come back, Christian? We do not want you to renounce your crown or your family.”
The King and Queen of Sigmaran stand in front of their son, apologetic and hopeful, yet Christian turns to me. He reaches out and brushes a finger across my cheek. “What do you think, love?”
“Me?” I ask, looking at his parents and then back into his sea-glass blue eyes.
He nods. “I will not make any decision without you. If I agree, we would move to Sigmaran. Tyler would be in line for the throne. It will change everything about our entire lives. I won’t do that without your full support. Because I am happy here with you. I will gladly stay in Texas and raise a little cowboy. It is your choice.”
I look up at the man who gave away everything for me. Who turned down wealth and power and connection to become my husband, and my decision comes easily.
“We can still raise a cowboy in Sigmaran.”
Christian’s mouth lifts in a smile. “Is that a yes?”
“That is a yes.”
We turn back to his parents at the same time, and they are both beaming, relief obvious in their faces. Christian chuckles and claps his hands together.
“Well,” he says, “now that that is sorted, how would you two like to meet your grandson?”
The Queen crosses the room faster than I think should be humanly possible, the King not far behind. They spend the next several hours cuddling and getting to know their grandson.
Christian’s parents leave after a royal dinner of pepperoni pizza and breadsticks, and Tyler, exhausted from the excitement, is dozing in his bassinet. Contrary to Christian’s claims, there was not enough poop on it to warrant throwing it away. It just needed a good scrub.
“What a day,” he says, tucking me into his side on the couch, his legs crossed and propped up on the coffee table.
“I’m going to be a princess,” I say for the first time.
He sits up and looks down at me. “Are you okay with that?”
I think about it and nod. “I think so. It’s just weird. It sounds so important.”
“That’s because you are important,” he says, bending down to press a kiss to my neck.
I arch my neck to give him better access. “Not important enough for people to bow down to me.”
Christian licks a line from my collarbone to my jawline. “I’ll bow in front of you, love.”
“I’m serious,” I say, smiling even though my breathing
is becoming heavy.
Christian presses one of his knees between my legs, separating them, and then holds himself over me. “So am I.”
Despite the excitement of the day and all of the changes looming over us, my desire for Christian has not changed or let up in the slightest. Because with his body hovering over mine, his smell and heat so close to me, nothing else matters.
I hook a leg over his hip and pull him down on top of me. My fingers tangle in his pale blond hair, and I groan against his mouth as he bites and sucks my lower lip.
I want to luxuriate in the feeling of him. I want to undress him slowly and then stand before him, baring myself one piece of clothing at a time, taunting and teasing him until he can’t stand it. But having a baby does not allow for such games. In the last week, we have learned that brevity is key.
Christian wraps an arm around my lower back and moves me so we are laying across the couch. Then, he kisses a line down my body while his fingers undo the button of my jeans. I lift my hips, and he slides the denim down my legs, his fingers trailing fire in their wake. Everywhere he touches me burns.
I reach down to try and unbutton his shirt, but Christian captures my wrist and then the other one, holding them both in one of his hands. He lifts my arms above my head, pinning them to the couch cushion, and slides his other hand down my stomach. Lower and lower until I gasp and buck my hips.
“Don’t be so surprised,” he purrs, circling over my most sensitive spot. “You are a bad girl, after all. Remember?”
A snarky comeback is on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it down as Christian slips a finger inside of me. My body arches, and the first shockwaves of my impending orgasm race through me. But not yet. Not like this.
“Let go of my hands, and I’ll show you how dirty,” I tease, lifting up as much as the positioning allows me to bite his lower lip.
With no further pleading, Christian lets go of me, and I roll him over and straddle his hips.
In a flash, his clothes join mine on the floor, and I run my fingers down his muscled body, enjoying the ridges and grooves of him. But I’m ready to enjoy something else even more. I grab his length in my hand and position him at my opening. Then, I slide down him slowly, savoring every inch.
Even with a two-month-old, the last week has been like a honeymoon of sorts. We have been enjoying one another whenever the opportunity presents itself with no sign of slowing down.
Christian grabs my hips, his fingers digging into the soft skin there, gripping me as I ride him. There was a time in my life when I would have been too shy to be so bare in front of someone. To be exposed during the day with all the lights on. But Christian has never made me feel anything but beautiful. He worships my body with his words and his own body, and I feel safe with him.
So when heat begins to build in my center, I don’t hide the way my brows pinch together or my mouth falls open. I don’t bury my face in his neck and hide. I let myself fall apart in front of him. I let him see what he is doing to me. Seconds later, Christian follows. His blond brows are heavy and low over his eyes, which are squeezed shut. His wide mouth is open, his chest rising and falling with every ragged breath.
When we are both spent, I lay on him, my cheek pressed against his bare chest, and realize that no matter where in the world we are, he will always be home.
Epilogue
Ten Months Later: Jane-Ann
The less formal of the two dining rooms has been decorated within an inch of recognition. Distressed sections of fencing line the room, hay bales are scattered around for both décor and seating, and life-sized stuffed versions of barnyard animals and horses are positioned near the grand fireplace, which has been covered with a large painting of a red barn. Tyler’s cowboy birthday bash is grander than I ever would have imagined.
“The Queen does realize Tyler is one and won’t remember any of this, right?” Blakely asks, a miniature cowboy hat perched on the side of her head.
“She got really excited when I mentioned the theme,” I say. “She was having so much fun that I couldn’t stop her.”
“Perks of being a royal. You better throw me an incredible surprise party when you’re the queen,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me.
The King is healthy as a horse and shows no desire to abdicate his throne, so I have no reason to believe I’ll be Queen Consort anytime soon, but I don’t explain this to Blakely. I just nod and wink.
Christian and I will have plenty of time to enjoy married life, and I’ll get used to being part of the royal family, way before Christian ever becomes king. We can raise Tyler and have the same experiences as other parents. But first, we have a royal wedding to plan.
“I can’t believe I’ll be back here in two months for your wedding,” Blakely says, almost as if she was reading my mind.
“I can’t, either.” It’s true. The last year has flown by, even more so than the year leading up to Tyler’s birth.
“Is it going to be like—” Blakely waves her hands around the room at the over-the-top décor. “Or is it going to be a bit more—” she points at me.
I laugh. “It will be more me. Understated. Simple. I’m going to wear boots with my dress.”
“Yee-haw for that,” Blakely says, twirling her mini cowboy hat in the air.
Blakely comes up to visit once every couple months or so. Christian flies her in on the recently acquired royal jet—the same one we take once a month to visit my parents back in Texas—and she has become like a member of the family.
Once Christian found out exactly how much Blakely took care of me when I lost my job and my apartment, he made sure she was compensated and then some. The extra money has given her the ability to take time away from work and travel whenever she feels the urge, which usually means coming to see me. And I’m not complaining. Sigmaran has been more than welcoming, but having my best friend around makes it feel even more like home.
“Clear the way. Birthday cowboy coming through.”
I turn and see Tyler perched on my dad’s shoulders, decked out in a red plaid shirt, denim jeans, and his little cowboy boots. He is so cute I could cry.
“Stick ’em up,” Blakely says, pointing her fingers at Tyler.
He giggles and claps, wanting Auntie Blakely to hold him. She snatches him off my dad’s shoulders and takes him to the giant stuffed horse in the corner.
When I feel hands snake around my waist, I don’t have to turn around to know who they belong to. My body knows when it is Christian. I lay my hands over his and lean my head back on his chest.
“Hi,” I whisper.
He presses a kiss to my neck. “You were gone this morning when I woke up.”
I gesture around the room. “Lots of planning to do.”
His lips move upward until he is nibbling at my earlobe. I look over at my parents to make sure they aren’t watching, and then moan.
Christian whispers against my skin. “I had plans of my own this morning. Plans that were spoiled when you weren’t there to ravish.”
Heat moves through me, and I have to push away from him before I grab his hand and find the nearest closet. “There will be plenty of time for ravishing after the party.”
He pouts out his lower lip. “No fun.”
I spin around and press my hips against his as I stretch onto my tip-toes to give him a kiss. “Be patient.”
The King and Queen arrive, and amazingly, they are both wearing jeans and cowboy boots. The boots look shiny and brand new, and their jeans are creased down the front like a pair of dress slacks, but they are dressed up, which is all I could ever ask for. It is all Christian could ever ask for, too, because he spends the vast majority of the party standing with his brothers and teasing his parents.
After Tyler smashes his way through his first slice of cake and covers himself head-to-toe in frosting, his grandma, the Queen, picks him up from his high-chair, presses a kiss to a tiny bit of clean skin above his ear, and then places him on his feet next to the table.
I gasp. “Christian!”
“I saw,” Christian says, his eyes and mouth wide next to me.
“He just took his first step.” I squat down and clap my hands. “Come here, baby. Come to Mama.”
Christian squats down next to me. “No, come to Papa.”
“No, come to Grandma,” my mom says, bending down across the room.
Blakely grabs a piece of cake from the table and wiggles it in front of Tyler’s nose. “No, come to Auntie Blake. She has cake.”
Thrilled with the attention, Tyler just giggles and refuses to move. But by the end, every member of our weird, mix-and-match family, even the King, is down on the floor, begging the future King of Sigmaran to take his first stumbling steps toward them.
The End
We hope you’ve enjoyed Christian and Jane-Ann’s story! Keep reading for the first chapter of the next book in our Scandalous series, The Baby Scandal
Happy reading!
Layla & Holly x
The Baby Scandal
Chapter 1
Grace
December 1
“Amelia Hornsby-Harris,” I said to myself as I drove. “What an important-sounding name. Amelia is nice, though. Brings to mind a friendly, bookish sort of girl. Not that I’m expecting her to be the girl next door or anything, not with a penthouse in New York and a castle or mansion or whatever somewhere else. I do hope it’s a castle. Castle-ish, at least. I’ve never worked on a castle.”
I was babbling and I knew it, but that was fine. I was hoping to get it all out of my system before meeting the woman herself. I bounced in my seat and tapped a beat on the steering wheel, whistling snippets of different tunes as I hit traffic. Patience was never one of my strong suits.
Prince Baby Daddy - A Secret Baby Royal Romance Page 21
