To Love A Prince (True Blue Royal Book 1)

by Rachel Hauck

  “Good, good. He’ll be glad, I’m sure.”

  “And you? What are you up to, besides preserving royal artifacts and helping me clean up dirty dishes?” He turned her face to see where the Frisbee hit. “And getting hit with runaway Frisbees.”

  “I’m well. Fantastic. Just bought a flat in the Clemency district.”

  “In one of those new lofts? I’d live there myself if I weren’t required to live at the palace.” He cupped his hand beside his mouth. “Free rent, you know.”

  She laughed. “I have a lovely view of the city. Even part of the bay.”

  A shout came from the kitchen, then someone called, “Pete!”

  “I’d better go.” He turned back into an American, though it did little to cover his princely stature. Did he know? The light of his identity, his essence, his famous smile never burnt out. “Good to see you, Daffy. We’ve not clapped eyes on one another in eons and now here we are, twice in one day. In another country to boot.”

  “Pete, dude, need you at the bar.” A narrow woman with sunbaked skin and flyaway blonde hair approached with a frustrated and drawn expression.

  “On my way.” Gus paused. “Helene, this is Daffy Caron. An old friend.” He smiled, and the sights and sounds of the pub simply faded. She saw and heard nothing but Prince Gus.

  In an instant, she was young again, running through the palace gardens, playing hide-n-seek with Prince Gus, Prince John, and their cousin, Princess Rachel.

  “Take my hand. Quick, in here.” He led her to one of the gardener’s sheds. “John says it smells like manure. He’ll never look here.”

  But when he opened the door, Prince John burst through and charged at them with a growl like a hungry winter bear.

  Daffy screamed, and with a laugh, Gus snatched her hand and led her away.

  “I found you.” Prince John’s protest hounded them. “I found you. Rachel, ollie, ollie oxen free.”

  “Daffy?” Gus said. “Are you all right? You zoned out and your face is flushed.”

  “Too much sun.” Helene nodded. “Drink a lot of water. Pete, let’s go.”

  “If I don’t see you again, Daffy, good luck on your holiday. Have fun.”

  “Your High—Pete.” She rose up to meet his gaze, the memory of his ten-year-old hand still on hers. “You want to know if Lauchtenland thinks of you? Yes. We miss you. We feel your absence every day.”

  “Are you sure it’s not just because they’re bored, looking for someone to pick on?”

  “The media can do their worst, but the people love you. We feel a bit adrift when you’re away.”

  “Adrift?” His expression softened. “Because they’ve no one to tease and mock? Your friend Leslie Ann run out of princes to psychoanalyze?”

  “Forget Leslie Ann. She loves the sound of her own voice. The people felt for you, they’re for you. They don’t see Prince Pathetic or Pudgy Prince or whatever else they can alliterate. They see Prince Charming, the spare heir who won us over with his brilliant smile and prowess on the football field. The prince who served his country in the Royal Army alongside every other chap called up for duty.”

  “How nice to see the world from your eyes.”

  “Then listen to what I say. Make my picture your picture.”

  “I’ll try. But I still see the pathetic chap, the fool waiting for his bride who never showed.”

  “I see a chap who loved with all his heart.” She touched his hand, then pulled away. “Everyone will be so glad to see you. I promise.”

  “Pete.” Helene appeared again. “Either ask her out or cut her loose. You’re needed behind the bar.”

  “You heard the boss.” He gave her a quick salute. “I must go. But please, keep my secret? I’m not ready to be in the public eye yet. Not from here. Helene would not thank you or me, or Ms. Parker, if her place was overrun with the press and royal seekers.”

  “Mum’s the word.” She mimed locking her lips and tossing away the key. “I’ve got your back.”

  By the time she made it to the loo and returned to her table, her burger had arrived.

  “Where have you been? I was about to call for rescuers.” Leslie Ann set down her half-eaten burger.

  “Long line at the loo.” Daffy peeked at the bar where the bearded prince laughed with a patron and poured a pint.

  “Will you look at this?” Leslie Ann held up her phone. “I am missing all the juicy news at home. Celebrities breaking up, royal wedding details. Lady Holland announced who was making the wedding cake. Still no word on her dress though.” Leslie Ann sighed. “Daffy, are you sure you don’t know anything?”

  “About her dress? How on earth would I? Now, Ella, what about the Space Center? Did you get tickets?”

  “Hold on a moment.” Leslie Ann turned her phone’s flashlight on Daffy. “You’re blushing. Again.”

  Chapter Four

  Gus

  What in the world? A constant pinging sound drew him from a sound, deep sleep. The night maintenance man called in sick, so Gus stayed to clean the vats and hose down the kitchen. It was after 3:00 a.m. before he crawled into bed.

  But what did his phone care? Text after text pulled him from a sound sleep. Gus slapped the side table, feeling for his phone.

  “All right. What? What?” Sometimes his mates from home included him in a funny meme text. Five lads sending smiley face icons or LOL replies got old quickly. “This better be good.”

  Focusing on his screen as the mid-morning light edged the drawn shades of his second-story room, Gus scanned the most recent text.

  It was from John with a link to the Morning Show. What was this? Yawning, Gus ran his hand through his tangled hair then tapped the link. As it opened, another video link arrived from his friend Charles Larrabee.

  Did you see this?

  Same one John sent. What could possibly be so interesting on the Morning Show?

  Gus pressed the play icon. But the screen remained dark and silent. He upped the volume. After a second, a voice sounded.

  “I’m standing outside a pub on the beach in central Florida. The Captain’s Hideaway. Viewers, you are not going to believe—”

  Gus tumbled out of bed. No, no, no.

  A light flashed across a face. Leslie Ann Parker. Standing on Helene’s deck.

  “…is serving pints and clearing tables. Imagine, the man we bow and curtsy to is taking orders from a frizzy-haired, American hippy. It’s incredible. I’m stunned.”

  The voice of the lead anchor, Stone Brubaker, broke in. “Can you get closer, Leslie Ann? I can’t quite make him out.”

  “The pub is closed so I can’t go in, but I see him showering down the kitchen. Let me climb up here—” She stood on the outer deck railing and raised the phone to the window.

  The image faded and bobbled, but after a few seconds, she captured HRH Prince Augustus Carwyn George, shirtless, aiming a hose at the greasy kitchen floors.

  “My, my, my. Our prince. How do you like that?” Surprised laughter elevated Stone’s voice. “Leslie Ann, you’ve captured the story of the year. Our spare heir—a kitchen yeoman.”

  “I rather like his beard.” This from a female voice Gus couldn’t place. “And those abs. Leslie Ann, get closer. Our Prince Pudgy has been working out.”

  He felt sick as the clip zoomed, catching the dirt on the windows as well as Gus’s hard-earned eight pack.

  The time stamp proved she’d been filming him live. Two in the morning in Florida was the second hour of Lauchtenland’s most popular wake-up show.

  Then while he slept, Lauchtenland—the world—woke up to a House of Blue royal wielding a mop. Well, so what? Royals weren’t above honest, hard work. But she identified the Captain’s Hideaway.

  Helene’s quaint little business just hit the global map. Gus skimmed the rest of his texts. Most were of the same clip. A few were links to royal reporters’ or royal watchers’ social media accounts.

  How did this— Daffy. She’d outed him to her friend. The g
irl who’d locked her lips and thrown away the key must have picked it up on her way back to her table. One night. She didn’t keep his secret for one night.

  Gus yanked on a T-shirt and shorts and headed out by way of the pool deck, steam fueling his every move. Crossing the pool deck, he exited the gate and cut through the tall, waving sea grass toward the beach.

  Lauchtenland headlines were one thing. The press portrayed him as they wanted. He was used to it. But betrayal from a friend? No. He’d not tolerate it. Not one more betrayal.

  He’d hid his head in the sand when Coral left and again when Robbi confessed she’d been spending time with her ex. But not this time. Fighting words brewed as he stormed down the beach, sand kicking up in his wake.

  A new text arrived from John with a link to Daffy’s Instagram. She’d posted three pictures of him in various stages of disarray as he cleaned.

  Our Prince Pudgy has abs, ladies. Catch Leslie Ann Parker’s Morning Show YouTube if you missed the story. #royalwatcher #houseofblue #princegus @leslieannparker

  The wind raced with him, pushing from behind while swirling ahead of him. Seagulls soared on the current, cawing their approval. Even the sun burned bold and warm.

  His jog burst into a run when the blue cottage came into view. The seagulls dropped down in front of him and landed on the deck, squawking his arrival.

  Gus hammered the sliding glass door. “Daffy, open up. Now.” He cupped his hands about his eyes and peered inside. “Daffodil Caron!”

  Leslie Ann dashed into the lounge from the hallway, her posture one of surprise, then determination as she opened the door.

  “Your Royal Highness, how can I help?”

  Gus shoved past her. “Where’s Daffy?”

  “Sleeping. What do you want?”

  He flashed his phone. “You know what I want.” He stationed himself at the top of the short bedroom passage. “Daffy Caron, I need to speak to you!”

  “What’s all the commotion?” Ella emerged from her quarters with disheveled hair, her sunburnt legs protruding from a short sleeping shirt. “Prince Gus… Your Royal Highness.” She tugged on the hem of her top and offered a wobbly curtsy.

  “Your sister, if you please.” Stiff-backed, he folded his arms and waited.

  “Yes, sir.” Ella whirled toward the remaining closed door, knocking once, then entering. Muffled voices carried through the wall.

  “Would you like some tea?” Leslie Ann offered him a cordial smile. “I brought some from home.”

  Gus didn’t answer.

  “Are you angry?” He heard the clank of the kettle against the burner. “I’m sorry, but I did my job, Your Royal Highness. I’d do it again.”

  “How is it your job to spy on a private citizen?”

  Her laugh was the mocking he loathed about the media. As if their right to a story trumped everyone else’s rights. Especially members of the House of Blue.

  “You may be on a humble, private beach in Florida, but you are an international citizen and senior member of one of the world’s oldest royal families. By the way, where is your protection officer? Was it the skinny chap with the baggy apron? Doesn’t seem like he could put up much of a fight but—”

  “Daffodil Caron, please, may I speak with you?”

  Daffy’s door jerked open and Gus changed his stance. To battle stations. She appeared in shorts and a T-shirt, her hair in a neat ponytail, her clear blue gaze darting from Gus to Leslie Ann.

  “What’s going on?” She sighed. “Oh, Les, what did you do?”

  “You know what she did. You told her. What happened to keeping secrets?”

  “I said nothing. I promise.”

  He waved his phone. “Then why am I on the Morning Show and splashed all over social media?”

  “What?” Daffy watched the live feed of Leslie Ann reporting on Gus as he swabbed the decks. “Oh my gosh, Leslie Ann. Why? How did you find out?”

  Gus took back his phone. “Clearly you told her.”

  “I never.” Daffy braced herself against the kitchen island. “Leslie Ann, explain this.”

  “I’ve been here over a year in complete anonymity, which is somewhat of a miracle, then the lot of you show up and bam! I’m back in the news. Couldn’t you leave well enough alone? Is that why you’re here? Did you find out my location? Did you come seeking me out?”

  “We didn’t know. I found this place online while Christmas shopping. How would we know you were here?”

  “That’s why my story is the scoop of the year,” Leslie Ann said, standing behind the kitchen island, waiting for the kettle to boil. “You heard Stone say it. You’re my witnesses if he ever denies it.” The kettle blew, and Leslie Ann methodically, with a smirk on her face, filled her cup. “Unless I discover an even bigger story.”

  “Leslie Ann, tell him.” Daffy’s cheeks flamed red. “How you found out. You know it wasn’t me.”

  “Actually, it was you, Daff.” Leslie Ann carried her tea to a club chair and curled up. “You have a tell whenever you’re around the prince.”

  “What’s this?” Gus glanced from Leslie Ann to Daffy.

  “No, I don’t.” Daffy sank into one of kitchen chairs with a weak laugh and pressed her hands to her cheeks. “It’s a story, a fable Mum made up.”

  But her reply lacked conviction.

  “Daffy, it’s my fault. I told her.” Ella’s confession came from the corner by the sliding glass doors. “I thought it was funny, if not a bit odd, since you rarely blush. I never imagined Prince Gus would actually be in Florida.”

  “Would someone fill me in on this ‘tell’?” His anger faded somewhat. Yet, couldn’t he be a normal chap, run his own life, not have someone else deciding things for him? Like where he’d been living for the past year? Or if he married the woman he loved or not?

  Coral decided they weren’t marrying without a word to him. Not even a chance to plead his case or make it right. Now Leslie Ann reported his whereabouts for her professional gain, not caring about how it affected him.

  “Apparently, whenever Daffy is around you, she blushes.” Leslie Ann grinned. “Not a subtle, pinkish hue, but a steamy, blotchy red. I could see it from our chairs on the beach yesterday morning when you two spoke.”

  “How did you know it was— Never mind.” Gus turned to Daffy. “Is this true?”

  “No.” Daffy cradled her head in her hands. “It’s a joke, truly.”

  “Admit it, Daffy, you blush when he’s around.” Leslie Ann sipped her tea. “Yesterday you blushed more in a day than the last twelve years of our friendship. So, being the good journalist that I am, I investigated. First getting Ella to tell me why you blush. Then following up on the chap at the pub. I saw you talking to him. Recognized him from the beach.”

  “Why are there photos on her Instagram?” Gus sat in the nearest chair, his legs weak from the drop of adrenaline.

  “I posted them. She left her phone on the kitchen island.”

  “You posted on my Insta?” Daffy retrieved her phone, the swim of tears in her eyes unmistakable.

  “Yes, and you’re welcome. You’re at ten thousand followers and climbing.”

  Daffy tapped on the screen. “Oh my gosh, Les, you put down the location? The Captain’s Hideaway. I’m deleting this.”

  “Why wouldn’t I put down the location? What great promo for the owner. It’s on my Instagram too.”

  “Except she doesn’t want that kind of promo.” Gus started for the door. He’d had enough. Besides, he must warn Helene. “Hear this, the lot of you, and make no mistake. Leave me alone. All of you.” He pointed to Daffy. “Especially you.”

  This betrayal, innocent or not, called to those of days gone by. He didn’t like it. Not one bit. But at the moment he seemed powerless to move beyond them. They still ached deep in his bones.

  Was he so unworthy of loyalty? Of friendship? Of any devotion?

  Down the beach, he dialed Helene. “Brace yourself but—”

  “Prince Gus,
wait. Please.”

  He swung round to see Daffy racing toward him. “I’ll call you back. But it’s out. My identity.”

  “Please, sir, don’t be angry.” Daffy skirted alongside him. “I don’t know why I blush. It’s silly really. I never took it seriously. Thought it a joke. I never imagined Leslie Ann would stalk you at your job.”

  “But you do blush? When you’re around me?” He gazed into her eyes and thought how a man could get lost in the white and the blue under the shade of long dark lashes.

  She stepped back, hands to her face. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  He lowered one of her hands. “Did you know you’re blushing now?” He leaned for a closer inspection. “A very bright red.”

  “I just ran down the beach after you burst into my house and accused me of betrayal. Of course, I’m blushing.”

  “Daffy?”

  “Yes. All right! I blush, but I don’t know why. I can’t stop it. It’s embarrassing. And if you want to blame someone, blame my little sister. She’s the one who gave me away.”

  “You can’t possibly have a crush on me. Not after all these years.”

  “Of course not. I have a boyfriend. Thomas Dune.”

  “Do you blush around him?”

  She paused, her brow furrowing as she considered his question. “I don’t know.” She covered a low laugh with her fingers. “I suppose I should, but I don’t.”

  Standing next to her, his home world connected to his now world and he felt hope, of all things, and an eagerness to return to Lauchtenland.

  “Well, then, I’m sorry about back there. It’s just betrayal… It feels so—”

  “Painful? I understand. Believe me.”

  “You don’t have to be so kind to me, Daffy.”

  “Why not? You’re trying to apologize.”

  Gus watched the waves for a second. “I don’t blush around you, but I had a crush on you.”

  “Really? You never said.”

  “During my pudgy prince days. You were the cute girl who beat me in a foot race.”