by Liz Johnson
More laughter and this time, there was no air of hesitance. Instead, as Jonah looked out over the assembly, he saw and felt something new and wonderful and precious. Kinship. These were his people. He was their king.
“And of course, I won’t be able to take every suggestion. Nor will I be able to side with every opinion or please every person. But I will listen. I promise to serve you faithfully for as long as I’m able. And may you all have a blessed and merry Christmas.”
Deafening cheers rose from every direction—from the people on the lawn and the staff in the room behind him. He could barely hear himself think as he stepped back in to the warmth of the palace, shook hands and accepted embraces and tried to keep his glasses from sliding off his nose and his crown from slipping off his head.
Until finally, the room began to empty—his advisors, the palace staff, other nobles slowly filing away. And thank the Lord, he might finally get a moment to catch his breath and calm his thumping heart before going down to the assembly hall for an enormous Christmas brunch. Followed by a parade. Followed by, he dearly hoped, a nap before tonight’s ball and—
“Your Majesty?”
He spun so fast his crown wobbled.
And at the sight of Rowan Bell standing in the corner, any hope of catching his breath fled out the still-open balcony doors.
If Rowan wasn’t so irritated at herself for not changing her rumpled clothes after that ridiculously long plane ride and if she wasn’t so worried her hair was a mess and mostly, if she wasn’t so nervous it was probably a good thing she hadn’t eaten since yesterday . . . she might laugh at the complete and total shock on Jonah’s handsome face.
And the way his glasses perched precariously at the end of his nose.
He nudged them up as he stared at her. Then took them off altogether as if to confirm what he was seeing. He dropped them on a nearby table.
“I . . . you . . . what . . . ?”
“I think you must’ve used up all your full sentences out there on the balcony.”
He took a step forward but his crown wobbled again. He reached up and pulled it off, set it next to his glasses. He combed his disheveled hair with his fingers, but only managed to tousle it further. He gave her a crooked grin, sheepish and perfect.
And that was all it took to unhinge her tongue.
“It turns out getting a flight on Christmas Eve is next to impossible. You’d think the busier days would be a day or two before and after the holiday, but no, apparently tons of people travel on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day to get where they’re going. I finally got a red eye flight, but I didn’t sleep for a second. I did, however, drink at least half a dozen cups of coffee.”
His grin widened. “I can believe it.”
“I know what you’re thinking. It’s not the coffee that’s making me ramble. It’s you. I always ramble around you.”
“I know.”
“And you think it’s hilarious and amusing.”
In slow steps, he began to close the gap between them. “I think it’s adorable and endearing.”
“Well, I think your glasses are adorable and endearing. I think all of you is adorable and endearing. Which is obviously why I’m here.”
“Obviously?”
She rolled her eyes as he reached for her hands. “Yes, obviously. I sat in a middle seat, Jonah. Between a married couple who argued for half the flight and when I offered to switch seats so they could sit beside each other they looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. All my life I’ve dreamed of traveling, but if this is what it’s like—”
He cut her off with a kiss. The very kiss for which she’d packed her belongings and traveled across the Atlantic. Pure bliss and oh, it was worth a hundred flights and countless miles to feel his arms around her and his fingers in her hair.
He started to break away, whispered against her lips. “Sorry about the middle seat and the arguing couple and—”
She didn’t let him finish, interrupting him with a kiss of her own. And another. And one more for good measure.
Until he finally took hold of her shoulders and backed away just far enough to look into her eyes. “Not that this isn’t the best, most unexpected Christmas gift ever, but seriously, what are you doing here, Rowan?”
“I came to tell you something. I came to tell you you’re wrong about Charles Dickens.”
Surprise swept through his beaming brown eyes. “Is that so?”
“You called his books bleak and harsh with, and I quote, ‘very little romance and happiness to be found.’ But I’ve been doing some reading, Your Majesty.” She moved away from him, missing his touch immediately, but thrumming with delight as she picked up her purse and pulled out a book. This is why she’d come.
Because when she’d gone looking for a book to read after that parking lot conversation with Eddie, she’d wound up with one Dickens novel in her hands after another.
Because there was a line she’d read in Great Expectations two days ago that had convinced her she couldn’t wait any longer to take the leap her heart desired. She couldn’t wait until things were wrapped up at home and the library moved into its new home. She couldn’t even wait until after Christmas.
Because she was ready to blossom and thrive.
She handed the book to Jonah, loved the curious tilt to his eyebrows as he opened it up and flipped through its pages. When he found her underlined quote, he read it out loud in the deep voice she’d missed so dearly these past ten days.
“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”
He met her eyes. Swallowed. “I guess I stand corrected. Dickens can be very romantic.”
“But you read it wrong. Didn’t you see my mark?” She stepped to his side and pointed to where she’d crossed out the word “her” and written in block letters, “him.”
He set the book down and gathered her in his arms all over again. “Rowan Bell, you wrote in a library book.”
“Worse than that, I took it from the library without checking it out.”
“Speaking of the library . . . ”
“It’ll be all moved into the building downtown by the first week in January. Eddie’s buying the cottage. Can you believe that? He wanted to buy it for me, even after I told him I was leaving. Instead, he and Mom are going to fix it up, then rent it out on Airbnb for a little extra income. But he said I’ll always get first dibs.” She buried her face against his neck just to cut herself off. “I’ll stop rambling now.”
“Don’t you realize by now that I love the sound of your rambling?”
She tightened her arms around him and finally gathered the courage to ask the question she’d come to ask, even if she couldn’t quite make herself look at him as she said it. “Can I stay, Jonah? At least for now? Or maybe forever. I know it’s crazy. I know we haven’t even known each other for a full month. We’ve only been on one date, for goodness’ sake, unless you count all those walks. Liza says they should count.”
He kissed her hair. “I agree with Liza.”
“The thing is, I can help you. I heard your speech. You’re going to get all those letters from your people and you’ll probably want to reply to some of them. Let me assist with that. I’m a good writer, if you’ll remember.”
“I do remember. The talking fruit.”
“I know you’re a king and I’m a commoner and—”
Jonah tipped her chin up with his finger, then cupped her cheeks with his hands. “There’s not one single common thing about you, Rowan. And it’s not a question of whether I’ll let you stay, but how in the world I could ever in a million years let you leave. I quite love you, you see.”
She might’ve cried then. Or perhaps laughed with joy. She might have rambled through her tears in an attempt to echo his words. Because she loved him, too. Oh, she loved him.
But with his kiss, he saved her from babbling and stalled her tears, if not her quaking heart. “So
you must stay,” he said and then kissed her again. “I’m the king.” And again. “I’ll make it a royal decree if I have to.”
And this time, he didn’t stop kissing her until much, much later.
Epilogue
“We’re supposed to be dancing right now, Jonah. I’ve never been to a Christmas ball or any ball and I’m in this amazing dress and you’re looking incredibly handsome in that tux, though, if you ask me, you look just as good in flannel and jeans, but—”
Jonah laughed as he tugged her into the frosty outdoors. Snowflakes twirled in the midnight air, landing on her bare arms and sending chills of delight all the way through her.
“Where in the world are you taking me?” Not that she truly minded leaving the ballroom for a few minutes. This whole day had been a whirlwind. A crazy, hectic, exhausting, wonderful whirlwind. She’d met so many people. Had already seen and experienced so much and yet, surely, she hadn’t begun to grasp what life in Concordia, in the palace was truly like.
But she’d learn. Jonah had given her a private suite. Introduced her to a maid who found her a dress and styled her hair and prepared her for tonight. But as for the rest of it—whatever came next—she’d take it one day at a time.
One glorious day at a time.
“You’ll find out where I’m taking you soon enough,” Jonah said. “Besides, you love nighttime walks.”
“But I also love coats and mittens and—”
“We won’t be out here long. It’s just faster going across the courtyard than through the maze of corridors inside. And we won’t get stopped by a dozen people this way.”
Skillfully shaped hedges and juniper trees, all quilted in snow, blanketed the courtyard. Their steps—Rowan’s jeweled heels and Jonah’s shined shoes—clattered over the cobblestone path. Within seconds, Jonah was leading her in another door and down a short hallway.
“This is reminding me of the night you took me to the newspaper archives.”
“Except this time what I’m about to show you has a little more to do with your future than your past. I hope anyway.” He pulled out a key, turned the lock, pushed open a door.
“That seems cryptic, Jon—” She lost her words as light cascaded into the room, spotlighting the tall, narrow glass case in the center of the space. The object inside sparkled atop a deep red velvet stand.
A tiara. Glittering and gorgeous. Breathtaking.
“It was my Mum’s,” Jonah said softly beside her.
She stepped closer to the case. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s so delicate. Not at all gaudy.”
“Unlike that red and green scarf. I can’t believe you brought it with you.”
“Hey, that scarf matches your crown perfectly.” She looked from the tiara to the man at her side. Nearly fourteen hours later and she could still hardly believe she was here. That this was all real. This was her life. Her real life.
And he was real. Jonah Harrison Archer Davis VI. Looking at her as if she held more value to him than all the jewels in the world ever could. “Why did you want to show me this, Jonah?”
“To see if you liked it. To see if you might want to try it on.” He reached for her hand. “Maybe I should mention . . . Adelaide had her own tiara made. One that suited her. And I want you to know, I’ve been making peace with that part of my past. I don’t want to live in that guilt anymore.”
She kissed his cheek. “I’m so glad.”
“So do you want to? Try it on?” He freed her hand then reached into the case.
“I think so. But is it weird that I’m nervous?” She watched as he almost reverently handled the tiara, turning to face her, holding it out . . .
“It’s only right to be a little nervous before a new adventure.”
“Is that what this is?”
He leaned in close, the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his nearness, the magic of this night—all of it filling her heart with an uncontainable joy as he placed the tiara on her head. “I think that’s exactly what this is.”
THE END
About the Author
MELISSA TAGG is the award-winning author of Now and Then and Always, the popular Walker Family series, the Where Love Begins series and the Enchanted Christmas Collection. She’s a former reporter, current nonprofit grant writer and total Iowa girl. Melissa’s recent releases include a 2018 ACFW Carol Award Winner (One Enchanted Noël), an RT Book Reviews TOP PICK (All This Time), and a Publishers Weekly Spring Top Ten Pick (Like Never Before). Melissa has taught at multiple national writing conferences, as well as workshops and women’s retreats. When she’s not writing, she can be found spoiling her nieces and nephews, watching old movies, and daydreaming about her next book.
Books by Melissa Tagg
MAPLE VALLEY SERIES
Now and Then and Always
WALKER FAMILY SERIES
Three Little Words (prequel e-novella)
From the Start
Like Never Before
Keep Holding On
All This Time
ENCHANTED CHRISTMAS COLLECTION
One Enchanted Christmas
One Enchanted Eve
One Enchanted Noël
WHERE LOVE BEGINS SERIES
Made to Last
Here to Stay
A Place to Belong (e-novella)
The Reluctant Princess
Betsy St. Amant
Chapter 1
Eleanor St. James didn’t even know if she liked oysters, but suddenly, she wanted one more than she’d ever wanted anything in her entire life. She imagined they tasted like freedom.
She folded her arms across the pleated band of her high-waisted skirt, briskly rubbing her palms over the sleeves of her pink peacoat. The thick, dark clouds above the nearly deserted tarmac hinted at snow, and she fought the urge to shiver. It wasn’t proper. But wait, she could do things like that now, couldn’t she? Shiver and eat oysters and paint her fingernails an obnoxious color. After all, who was watching?
“This way, your Royal Highness.”
She tempered back a smile. Of course. Jackson, her companion on flights in her family’s private jet, was watching. Always watching.
He gently ushered her, without touching her, toward a dark limousine stretched across the nearby parking lot. The early December wind tousled his normally impeccable, silver-streaked hair against the collar of his dark suit jacket. His nose tinged red, but he acted as if he suffered nothing. Duty first. “I’ve instructed the car to be 78 degrees, ma’am. It’s only a short jaunt to Tinsel. You’ll be warm in no time.”
Apparently, her mother’s plan to show her how the “other side” lived wasn’t yet in action. Still being spoiled. “Thank you, Jackson.” The kind man couldn’t help it. Thankfully, he wasn’t part of her upcoming adventure, or there wouldn’t be any adventure to be had.
He opened the back door of the car and she slid inside, tucking her skirt around her legs. The rush of warm air through the vents made her a little more grateful for Jackson’s attention to detail.
“Be safe, your Highness.” Jackson nodded at her, then shut the door and tapped the roof twice.
“Where to?” A deep, husky voice sounded from the driver’s seat.
“What?” Eleanor’s heart quickened. “There were supposed to be explicit instructions on my schedule—” Her panicked gaze darted to meet the driver’s in the rearview mirror, and she faltered slightly at the twinkle in his eyes. “I see. A joke.”
“A poor one, apparently. Miles Channing, at your service.” He tugged the brim of his gray hat further over his forehead. What were those called? Beanies, or something unapologetically American and rather immature for a grown man. If her mother, the queen, knew the chauffeur wasn’t appropriately attired, she’d—
Eleanor swallowed back the thought. No. That’s why she was here. To break free of that type of offense at every turn. Her mother sent her to Tinsel to appreciate the protocol of their lifestyle.
But she was here to escape it
.
“It was a valiant effort.” She nodded in a truce, turning the corners of her lips into a forced smile. She lifted one gloved hand through the window at Jackson, who stood motionless in the wind, hands clasped before him, refusing to move until their vehicle pulled safely away. Stoic, as always.
Miles eased the car forward. “They’re tinted. He won’t see you.”
“Right.” She folded her hands in her lap. Then she remembered her suitcase and jerked forward with a start, adrenaline surging through her veins. Then she just as quickly remembered Jackson would never let her bag be left behind. It was most certainly stowed in the boot of the car.
What else would she forget once she arrived in Tinsel and was officially on her own? No bodyguards, no maids, no overbearing mother. No Jackson.
No rules.
Surely no other woman in her mid-twenties struggled with basic independence. She needed to prove to herself—and to her mother—that she could survive in the real world. And not only survive, but thrive. She had goals that didn’t fit the tiara—like family and a normal life. A life where she could volunteer freely to the causes that held her heart.
Without someone else holding the purse strings.
She relaxed against the seat and inhaled deeply. In Tinsel, she’d be free. No more regulation. No more stifling protocol. She could be a normal twenty-six-year-old woman, at least for a while.
As normal as one could get being driven around in a limo, that is. But without a license, she didn’t have much choice. Even she could see the danger in depending on buses or taxi-cabs for the duration of her stay. A small town like Tinsel most likely didn’t offer those services, anyhow. It did, however, provide a measure of security for royals and celebrities, as guaranteed by the mayor and his strict no-media policy. Tinsel was the only place in America her mother would dare let her venture alone. She couldn’t wait to see it, especially with Christmas so near.
