by Alyssa Cole
“Oh shit,” Portia said, and the reporter beside her glanced her way. Her phone was vibrating incessantly in her hand, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Tavish.
“What are you doing, mate?” a reporter asked. “I mean, Your Grace?”
“I’m publicly declaring my love for someone who was hurt because of me and by me.”
“He’s groveling,” the Queen said with just the right amount of royal contempt, then turned a kinder gaze onto Tav. “Go on.”
“Right. Portia, I would like to say, for posterity, that I was the fuck-up here. I thought I could protect you—”
Portia remembered her talk with Reggie and cringed, but something also loosened in her chest. He had wanted to protect her. Because he loved her, and sometimes or maybe all of the time, what people did for love was pretty damned illogical. She began pushing her way through the crowd of reporters, who were jostling to capture a member of the peerage engaging in dramatics that would make everyone forget Johan’s asscheeks had ever graced the front page of the papers.
“—I did what I did because I thought to protect you, but I didn’t bother to ask if you wanted to be protected, or how. So. That’s about it, Freckles.
“I don’t expect her to take me back, but everyone should know that nothing a paper says, nothing about her past, could change the fact that I love Portia Hobbs. Right. Um, you can stop videoing now. Thank you.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and stood awkwardly, but his hands dropped to his side as he caught sight of Portia pushing past the reporters.
“Bloody hell. You’re here?”
“This is much more entertaining than the previous garden parties,” the Queen said. Portia forgot what Debrett’s recommended, but curtsied because she certainly wasn’t going to shake the Queen’s hand.
“Pardon me,” Tav said, and once the Queen nodded her assent he turned to Portia. “You were supposed to watch the video on your tablet and then decide what you wanted to do.”
“My tablet is at the hotel. Should I . . . go watch it and come back?” she asked. “It was pretty good in person, but I can do that if you want.”
Tav shifted from foot to foot, his face suffused with pink. He looked like he could break a man in half but he stood there blushing as the Queen patted his arm in support.
Portia loved him. But she had something else to deal with first.
“I didn’t get drunk that night,” she said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Tav said. “We can—”
“It does matter. It means I didn’t mess up. It means someone drugged my drink.” Chatter burst from the reporters as Tav stepped down from the dais and approached her.
“What do you mean?”
“Remember when Cheryl painted my nails? It was special polish that changes color if you’ve been drugged at a bar or by your date. And someone noticed my nails were a different color when you carried me out.”
Tav’s face was still flushed, but with rage this time. He looked furious, but when he reached out to cup her face, his touch was gentle.
“Who?” His gaze bored into hers. “Who am I going to kill?”
“I can’t say for sure and it is very clear that you’re joking about killing anyone.” She glanced at the reporters in her peripheral vision. British libel laws were no joke. “But I will say that, unrelated, I found out some stuff about David Dudgeon. Like, how he’s into real estate, using a shell company to buy up property in Bodotria and artificially jack up the rental rates. The same company that was going after Mary’s bookshop.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes. “And the same company that was trying to buy the armory.”
Portia nodded. “He knew who you were all this time. He was hoping to buy the armory before you knew who you were. He also had control over several of your father’s companies that had been buying from the armory, and bad reviews of the products were traced back to his IP address . . .”
“Oh dear.” Leslie’s voice was almost lost in the commotion of the reporters. “I told him to just honor the duke’s will and let you know. To let you decide whether you wanted it or not. But he said he’d been waiting all his life. I didn’t think he would hurt anyone, though.” She glanced at Portia. “He said he’d looked you up and that if he got a drink in your hand maybe you’d be out of his hair.”
Portia glared at Leslie, but her anger with the woman for not warning her was a discussion for another time.
“Is he here?” Tavish asked.
“I would also like to have a word with Mr. Dudgeon,” the Queen said, cutting in. “And I believe Scotland Yard would be of the same opinion.”
She looked at Tavish and Portia for a moment, and then shook her head. “I do believe it’s time for tea. But perhaps later we can discuss what happened.”
“Yes,” Tavish said, bowing deeply. “Whatever you desire of me.”
“That was an exquisite bow,” Portia said after the Queen was on her way.
“I had a great instructor,” he said. “You weren’t so bad either.”
His hands went to her hips, pulled her close.
“At least half of the British media is watching,” she said. That didn’t stop her from bringing her hand up to his face, tracing the curve of his jaw and the shell of his ear, and smoothing back those salt-and-pepper strands.
“I know. It kind of puts you on the spot, which is why I wanted you to watch the video somewhere else. Pressure leads to bad decisions, like telling the woman you love she should leave. Christ, what kind of sense did that make?”
“I work best under pressure, actually,” Portia replied.
“Is that so?” Tav asked.
“Aye,” she replied, happiness bursting through her when he grinned. “We still have a lot to talk about you know.”
“I am here for any and all Dr. Phil shite, except I’d prefer it from an actually licensed therapist,” Tav said. “We’ll talk. We’ll figure this out, my liege.”
Portia kissed him then, and because she knew it would make the front page, she put everything she had into it. She could be called many things, but she had never been one to half-ass the things she truly cared about, and she certainly wouldn’t start with Tavish. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.
A Prince on Paper
(yes, Johan’s story!)
Coming Spring 2019
From Avon Books
Nya looked up into Johan’s eyes. They were an impossible shade of blue, and his lashes were long and thick, and goddess why was he kind to her on top of looking like one of her sim dating heroes come to life?
She blurted out the first thing that came to mind Anything that would drive away the looming embarrassment of what had happened between them the previous afternoon.
“Do you use Jamaican Black Castor Oil?” she asked.
“Pardon?” His auburn brows rose in very reasonable confusion.
“Your lashes. They’re very . . . lustrous.”
Embarrassment flamed through her—one brisk wind from the mountains of Thesolo was all it would take to scatter her ashes. It seemed she couldn’t be in this man’s presence without humiliating herself. This was why she stuck to the dating sims. Choosing a pithy response from a pre-populated list was easier than coming up with one on your own.
“Thank you,” he said, that deep, accented voice of his tinged with amusement. “I’m glad my lashes please you.”
“I should go,” she said, turning away from him before more silliness flew from her mouth.
“Nya.”
He didn’t reach out to stop her, but the beckoning in his voice was as good as his fingers curling around her wrist. She looked back at him over her shoulder.
His gaze was warm and inviting and if Nya Jerami didn’t know better, she might imagine that the Tabloid Prince of Liechtienbourg fancied plain, boring her.
His full lips pulled up into a mischievous grin. “You should stay.”
About the Author
ALYSSA COLE is
a science editor, pop culture nerd, and romance junkie, who lives in the Caribbean and occasionally returns to her fast-paced New York City life. In addition to writing, she founded and hosted the Jefferson Market Library Romance Book Club and taught Romance Writing for Beginners. She speaks on topics such as writing erotic romance, writing multicultural romance, and self-editing. She has contributed romance-related articles to publications, including RT Book Reviews, Heroes and Heartbreakers, Romance at Random, and The Toast. She has also started a bi-monthly column in the Romance Writer’s Report, Romancing the Globe, in which she chats with romance writers from around the world. When she’s not busy writing, traveling, and learning French, she can be found watching anime with her husband or tending to her herd of animals.
www.alyssacole.com
www.avonromance.com
www.facebook.com/avonromance
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
Also by Alyssa Cole
Reluctant Royals
A PRINCESS IN THEORY
A DUKE BY DEFAULT
Coming Soon
A PRINCE ON PAPER
Loyal League
AN EXTRAORDINARY UNION
A HOPE DIVIDED
Off the Grid
RADIO SILENCE
SIGNAL BOOST
MIXED SIGNALS
THAT COULD BE ENOUGH
LET US DREAM
LET IT SHINE
BE NOT AFRAID
AGNES MOOR’S WILD KNIGHT
EAGLE’S HEART
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A DUKE BY DEFAULT. Copyright © 2018 by Alyssa Cole. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Excerpt from A Prince on Paper copyright © 2019 by Alyssa Cole.
Cover design by Nadine Badalaty
Dress designed by Nicole Simpson (Adorned by Nicole)
Emojis throughout©browndogstudios/Shutterstock, Inc.
Avon, Avon & logo, and Avon Books & logo are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
HarperCollins is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
FIRST EDITION
Digital Edition AUGUST 2018 ISBN: 978-0-06-268557-5
Version 05272018
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-268556-8
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