His to Princess

by Theodora Taylor

  For a moment, Hervé doesn’t move. He’s clearly not amused. But then with a disgusted flicker of his eyes, he storms out, giving them the room.

  Bernard quite literally gives a small sigh of relief. Then turns to Aldrich. “Well, now you’ll meet with the duke when we’re finished…” Bernard moves a few blocks around with an index finger, adding a new one titled: Hervé, Duke of Diamant: subject, Unknown.

  “Then you will meet with Madame Jeffries’s doctor, and after that, you have a conference call with the Terre d’Or project developers—”

  “Tell me Talia’s schedule for the rest of the day,” Aldrich interrupts.

  “Of course, Sir,” Bernard seems surprised, but swipes a new schedule into view. “Let me see…right now she should be finishing her weekly appointment with the OB/GYN, then she will brunch in her quarters with her staff—those Americans, so casual! Afterwards…she’ll take her daily walk with her guard on the beach.”

  Aldrich’s gut tightens. It’s bad enough that she’s forced him to designate a time when she can walk around outdoors, like a real prisoner. But he’s even more vexed that she’s forbidden him to attend her medical checkups.

  Seeing the look on Aldrich’s face, Bernard says, “Sir, do not fret. The doctor will bring you a full report after Madame Jeffries’ appointment. And if you like, we can arrange it so you’re present during the next appointment, no matter Madame Jeffries feelings on the matter.”

  “We could…” Aldrich says, nodding. But arriving uninvited would most definitely upset Talia, and she’s already so angry at him. No matter how annoyed he might be with her, he certainly doesn’t want to cause her any further upset while she’s carrying his twins.

  “Shall I schedule you in for next week’s appointment?” Bernard asks.

  “I’d like her to meet daily with the OBGYN from now on,” Aldrich says.

  “Is that really necessary, Si—?” Bernard begins to ask.

  “And,” Aldrich adds, cutting him off, “I would like to meet with the doctor now. Before I speak with my uncle.” He rises from the throne, stretching his now stiff leg muscles. “The duke can wait.”

  “But Sir…” Bernard starts but abandons his attempt to sway Aldrich. He’s already standing, and very clearly expects his wishes to be fulfilled regardless of his diplomatic duties.

  “Very well, Sir. I’ll speak with the doctor now,” Bernard says, quickly gathering his tablet and papers. But before he can leave the throne room, his phone beeps. Bernard stops to look at the message, then frowns.

  “Sir,” he says, turning back to face the Prince Regent. “I’m afraid we have a problem.”

  Chapter 25

  “Do you know, Madame, this is the first time I’ve had your American macaroni and cheese,” Pascal says, scooping up another mouthful, “And I must say, it’s wonderful!”

  “If a little rich,” says Nelly, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with one of the many linens Loïc now provides at every meal.

  Talia smiles. “That’s why we love it so much,” she says, disappointed that her squashed stomach won’t make more room to finish her plate. Loïc outdid himself this time. A heavenly take on a classic American dish, that includes truffles, rock lobster, and three French cheeses, but maintains the ooey-gooeyness of the original recipe.

  Unfortunately, they couldn’t convince the chef to join them this morning. It’s all hands on deck in the kitchens as they prepare for the upcoming week of celebrations before the coronation ceremony. “And after that, I hear we will prepare for a royal wedding,” Loïc said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively as he left.

  None of the Vickees brought the wedding up though, probably because they’d been carefully prepped by Pascal before Talia took a seat at the table.

  But apparently, the elephant in the room has become too much for Aleeza to ignore. Midway through brunch, she interrupts Pascal’s story about his ailing grandmother with, “Will there even be a royal wedding, Madame? You sent away the doctor, and we know you had a row with Prince Aldrich after the ceremony yesterday. It’s just…well, I need to know because all my people on Terre d’Or are calling me non-stop, wanting me to tell them if we’re really going to have a Vickee queen.”

  Talia sighs. She’d stopped reminding them she was only half-Vickee weeks ago. And now it appears the island has also decided to conveniently forget her U.S. citizenship and claim her as one of their own.

  Nevertheless, these people are more than servants to her. They’ve become her friends over these last four confusing weeks. She has to tell them the truth. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “But why not?” Nelly demands, abandoning her usual deferential state. “We look ‘pon you, and it’s evident you nice together. And I no like the rusties so much, but I hear you done two times in the lagoon Friday night, so what be the problem? Why you not stay with us, like prince ask?”

  Talia blinks, stunned at the usually meek Nelly’s demand for answers.

  “Because I have a life and a home back in New York,” Talia gently reminds her, deciding to ignore the comments about her activities in the lagoon with Aldrich. “And because he didn’t even ask me. Ever. I was brought here at his will. I’ve been forced to stay here at his will. And now he wants me to marry him at his will. All of this without ever asking what I want. So yes, I know it would be nice to have a fairytale ending, but see…I’ve been bossed around by my parents my whole life, and I’m sick of it.”

  “So…you no like him,” Aleeza asks. “Even a petit peu?”

  Talia jerks her head a little, once again knocked off her prideful course by an unexpected question. “Yes, I did like him,” she says, deciding to go with the truth. “But not enough to want to be under his thumb for the rest of my life.”

  “Then marry him!” Nelly insists. “Gwan get de ring on your finger! After, wife is boss. It you who say boy king how it go after dat. Everybody know this.”

  “Ouais, get de ring,” Aleeza says. “Me maman run everyting in her house.”

  And for the first time since the argument with Aldrich, Talia finds herself laughing. “Okay, okay. I get what you’re saying, but in my opinion, a relationship isn’t the right place for power games. I think a relationship should—”

  She eeps when the door bursts open and the Prince Regent, of all people, charges into the room.

  Pascal jumps to attention, nearly knocking back his chair. Nelly and Aleeza literally drop their forks to the floor as they jump to their feet and curtsy.

  Talia, on the other hand, calmly sets down her fork and folds her hands in her lap, waiting for the command she knows will come next.

  “Give. Us. The. Room,” Aldrich growls out to the three standing staff members.

  Talia clamps her teeth together to keep from telling her staff they don’t have to go anywhere. She knows by now that everyone jumps at Aldrich’s every command, no matter how ridiculous it may be. Like forcing them to leave in the middle of brunch just so he can yell at her.

  “You cannot refuse to see a doctor!” he roars once the staff is on the other side of the now closed door.

  “Yeah, actually I can,” Talia says, her back stiffening. “You can’t tell me what to do with my body. Women’s rights, 101.”

  “This isn’t about your rights! It’s about the health of our babies. My babies.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, I’m sorry, but I’m not just some accessory you use to carry your heirs. I am a person, with my own needs. And I demand you stop treating me like a roly-poly in some spoiled prince’s bug collection jar—”

  “First of all,” he starts off with a raised voice, but then catches himself and takes a breath. “First of all, I have no idea what a roly-poly is. And I am not keeping you in a bug collection jar. I know you are not a plaything. Talia, I am trying to keep you safe.”

  She shakes her head firmly. “No, Sir. What you’re doing is playing power games with me.” She sends him a leveling look. “Everything you say to me is a lie. Everything you
do is manipulation.”

  “Talia, please.” Aldrich reaches down and cups her shoulders, pulling her to her feet. “Do not say these words to me. This is not a game. Please understand, I want us to be a family. But if I let you leave the country, I don’t know if I will ever see you again, or the children. You are not a thing to me. I-I don’t want to lose you. Not because I’m sterile, but because what we have is new for me, and very, very special. We are friends, oui?”

  Talia shakes her head, “Al…”

  “Oui, we are friends. You still call me Al. We have what my parents never did. We make each other laugh and we challenge other. We support each other in the best way. And because we are friends, I know this union will work. I want to live happily ever after with you. So please…”

  He squeezes her shoulders, “Please see the doctor and keep our babies healthy and safe, so we can be a family.”

  Talia’s heart flutters at the thought of the future he’s proposing. But… “No, Aldrich. I’m sorry. But I can’t trust you. All you’ve done since we’ve met is lie—”

  He stops her with a kiss, spreading her mouth apart with his tongue, and wrapping his strong arms around her. “I’m not lying to you now,” he groans against her lips, pressing his hard length to the side of her belly. “Feel what you do to me, Talia. How much I want you…”

  Talia stiffens, and pushes out of his arms. “That’s just the problem! It’s always about you. I stayed on in Terre d’Or to get away from my parents’ plans for me. And now you’re using my love of the island to keep me here. To make me marry you as part of your rebranding plan. Because it’s only about what you want. Never what anyone else wants.”

  Aldrich pulls away, releasing the physical pressure of his desire on her, leaving an empty void in its stead. But she continues.

  “And no, of course I don’t want to hurt these babies, but what will happen if the children and I stay here and they go against what you want for them? How about if one of them is gay or, heaven forbid, doesn’t want to become a ruler at all! I spent my entire life doing exactly as my parents said, and now you want me to resign these babies to the same fate?”

  Aldrich shakes his head at her. “I’m not the monster you’re making me out to be. And Talia, this isn’t exactly a prison.”

  Her eyes blaze again, but before she can deny his words, deny him, and the future he’s offering, he asks, “Talia, did you lie to me?”

  She blinks, confused by the question. “No! I never—”

  “When I asked if you loved the father of your baby, did you lie when you said you used to?”

  That stops her cold.

  A huge smile spreads across his face. “So you did love me! And while you have been here, did you come to love me again, as I have come to love you?”

  Now she really can’t talk. Is he trying to convince her this whole thing was more than a marketing scheme for him? That he really has feelings for her?

  “Because if you do love me as I love you,” he continues, “we owe it to the babies, our babies, to at least try. I’ll do anything to make this work, Talia, but you’ve got to want it to work too. Do you love me?”

  Ugh. She slams her hands down to her sides, because of course she loves him. Spoiled entitled brat that he is.

  Aldrich is the only person she’s thought about for months. Being around him is so hard, because even when he annoys her—and he does—even when she’s mad at him for throwing his power around, for holding her prisoner, for making ridiculous public announcements about her life without consulting her first, for threatening Terre d’Or and her grandfather to keep her from talking to the press…

  Even then, she can’t escape her feelings for him. Can’t help but recall the good times they’ve had together. At both Old and New Vick.

  She stares at him silently, taking in his handsome face, the hopeful look in his eyes. So very different from the arrogant man she fought with on Saturday night. So similar to the man she’s spent the last four weeks avoiding and resisting until that night in the lagoon…that incredibly hot and passionate night in the lagoon.

  But is she ready to spend the rest of her life with this man? More importantly, is it safe for her to do so?

  No. How can it be? After everything that’s happened? Talia must do the intelligent thing. The practical thing. For her. For the babies. She shoves her feelings for Aldrich into the furthest reaches of her mind, and slams the door shut. Her face hardens. “I am not going to discuss this with you,” she says, shaking her head. “My plane ticket home is the only thing I want to talk with you about.”

  To her surprise, Aldrich’s face hardens, too. But not in anger. It’s disappointment, true disappointment. And something else. A vulnerability that looks an awful lot like hurt. The kind you feel when your heart, not your ego, has been stabbed through by someone else’s words or actions.

  But Talia remains resolute. “We can either talk about flight schedules, or you can get out of my room. Take your pick,” she says firmly.

  However, Talia’s steadfast voice belies her inner turmoil. Her chest contracts in pain just giving him this ultimatum. Yet she knows it’s the right thing to do. They may know how to laugh together and work together, but what’s going to happen between them in the future? Does he plan to send her to her room every time she displeases him? And what about the children? All the money and luxury in the world isn’t enough to convince her to give up her freedom, or theirs.

  Aldrich stares at her for a long moment, his eyes dull and sad. Then: “D’accord, Talia, d’accord.” And with a huge expulsion of breath, he turns and leaves the room.

  A moment later, Pascal returns, his face showing no knowledge of what’s just transpired.

  “Would you like to finish your breakfast, Madame Talia, or shall we go for a walk on the beach?”

  She doesn’t answer. Her eyes are fixed, gazing at nothing but the empty space Aldrich occupied only moments before. Her belly all twisted up for more reasons than the twins. She tries hard not to feel like she’s just made the hugest mistake.

  Chapter 26

  Bernard follows Aldrich back into the throne room. The normally fastidious, well-spoken man appears to be completely beside himself. Aldrich would probably be amused if he weren’t so miserable.

  “Are you certain, Your Highness? Very certain?” Bernard sputters for what must be the hundredth time in the last five minutes.

  Aldrich leans back as far as he can in the uncomfortable chair, which is not far at all, perfectly aware that his decision will ruin every plan he and the council have made. In fact, it will be disastrous, but…

  “I have no choice,” he tells the other man.

  “Sir, if I may be so bold, I advise you to reconsider. Perhaps…perhaps you can speak with your mother before making any hasty, rash—”

  “Matthis,” Aldrich calls out, cutting Bernard off. “Fetch Madame Jeffries and bring her to my private office please.”

  The guard nods and leaves the room.

  “And Bernard, you may show my uncle in. He must be feeling very impatient by now.”

  Bernard, looking like a balloon that has lost all its air, morosely stacks his papers and leaves to collect the duke. Only seconds later, the dignified gentleman storms into Aldrich’s view.

  “Finally!” he says, his voice booming with anger. “Good God, nephew! I realize you are the Prince Regent, but I must remind you that I am a Duke of Diamant, the leader of my own country, and brother to your mother! It is incredibly rude of you to cast me aside like this. I’ve got half a mind to leave this instant!”

  “But you won’t,” Aldrich answers, already bored with this conversation. “Whatever it is this time, uncle, you’re clearly desperate to speak with me or else you wouldn’t have waited for so long.”

  Hervé stops, and eyes his nephew with distaste…right before a grim smile creeps across his face.

  “Actually Your Highness, it’s quite the opposite. I am merely here as a courtesy, because even t
hough the marital union of our two countries has been disintegrated,” the duke gives him a bow that comes off as mocking, “I remain a courteous and respectful member of your council.”

  Aldrich raises his eyebrows. “Of course. If you say so.”

  “Which is why I’ve come to inform you that my son, Prince Louis, will be installed as the next king of Les Iles de la Victoire.”

  “Is that so?” Aldrich asks, leaning forward as if fascinated. “Do tell.”

  “It is strictly stated in the marriage contract between my sister and your late father that a non-Catholic marriage is in violation of royal requirements, and therefore no non-Catholic person may sit on the throne.”

  Aldrich laughs. “Tell me. uncle. When was the last time you attended church? Or I? I cannot even remember.”

  “That is neither here nor there. The important thing is you were baptized Catholic, and followed catechism to your first communion, which I know you did because I was there. I expect nothing less of your bride.”

  Aldrich shakes his head and looks at Bernard, who raises a finger.

  “And I’m quite certain your future bride is a Protestant. Methodist, if my sources are correct.”

  “If I may be so bold, Your Grace, a Christian is a Christian,” Bernard says, perched on the edge of a sofa. “Madame Jeffries can easily convert to Catholicism if it is so important to His Grace that she meet every royal requirement, no matter how small.”

  Bernard is right. It is indeed a very small detail.

  Aldrich recalls going over some papers with his father several years before, soon after they discovered Father’s illness would end his life in a matter of years, not decades. At the time, even his father—usually a stickler for rules and regulations—had implied that while Aldrich’s betrothal to Philomena was supported by her being Catholic, if they had found him a “better girl”—his words, not Aldrich’s—her religion wouldn’t have been a dealbreaker. As far as his father was concerned, the most important thing was for him to marry someone who would ensure the continuation and economic stability of the family line.