“When I said it before, I meant it,” he says, pausing and looking out across the room. “Gwen, I love you so much.”
The hand that’s holding my waist grips onto me, and I push away the last mouthful of crumpet so I can turn my head up to look at him. Edward is usually so lighthearted and free, but it’s moments like this I can see the true weight of his royal title and how he wields it. He can be serious sometimes.
“I always knew that I wasn’t happy with Ignora, but I couldn’t really put my finger on why. Then I saw you at the ball and…fuck,” Edward continues before looking down into my eyes and smiling softly. “It terrifies me to think that I almost lived a life where I didn’t know you—really know you.”
“Couldn’t have let myself live in your mind as that knock-kneed girl always trying to tackle you during my brother’s rugby games,” I laugh.
“You can tackle me in other ways now.” Edward winks. It’s a gorgeous fucking wink. “You’re everything a king needs—you’re everything I need. Who would have thought that I would find you again, standing in my ballroom, looking so radiant?”
“You mean drunk? Because, my king, I was pretty drunk.”
“You were,” Edward sighs lustily. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman.”
“I used to dream about you, too.”
“You did?”
“I had a crush on you when I was younger, but you were James’ friend. And then as I grew up, I always hoped that I would get to marry a real-life prince charming—just like you.”
“Only like me?”
“I never imagined that I’d end up here! You’re the king, Edward!”
“And you’re the most beautiful woman in the kingdom—no, the entire world.”
I giggle, and I bury my face into Edward’s chest, but he guides my face up to look at him.
“Don’t hide yourself from me. You’re only even more gorgeous when you laugh, Gwen.”
I lean over him to pick up a cup of hot, sweet tea, and I lift it to my lips. I offer it to Edward, and he drinks it out of my hands.
“I still can’t believe that you’re saying these things to me, Edward—to me! I thought I’d be married to the—”
I cut myself short as I remember.
I look up at Edward again, who’s staring down at me in concern—real, genuine concern. Edward loves me, and he wants me to be happy. He’d treasure me and treat me like a queen—he would make me a queen.
You know what? Fuck Marquis de Roach.
Not literally. God, not literally.
Jesus, I still shudder and cringe at the memory of his dry and crusty hands when he forced me to hold them after the ball. Hasn’t he heard of moisturizer?
What woman in her right mind would ever want those lizard fingers touching her in her most intimate of areas?
“To the marquis?” Edward finishes my sentence and pulls me back from my spiraling train of thought.
“Yeah, I’d be married to him…”
“You’re not going to marry Marquis de Roach,” Edward declares, and he lifts up a cucumber sandwich. I bite into it and silently chew while Edward appears to be thinking.
His tone is different than before—before, we were living a dream. We were like two teenagers playing make-believe about what our future is going to be like. And then we let people ruin it for us.
But I can see it in Edward’s eyes that he’s not going to let anyone take our love or our dream future away from us anymore.
We’re young, but it doesn’t mean we can’t make our own decisions.
Like Edward said to me in the garden, he’s the king, and that means he can do whatever the hell he wants. I’ll be the queen, too, and that means I’ll be able to be equally carefree.
So, yeah. Fuck Marquis de Roach.
“What am I going to do about him?” I ask out loud, taking another sip of tea as Edward holds the cup for me.
“You’re not going to do anything.”
“I’m not?”
“No.” Edward places the cup down and takes the macaroon out of my hand, half-bitten, “You don’t ever have to deal with things alone anymore. I’ll be right beside you, and we can deal with the marquis together.”
“But Edward, you know he’ll go to the press, and he’ll sell stories to them about me, and they’ll eat it up.”
“Then we’ll sell our own stories that paint him as a bitter, jealous old monster who doesn’t deserve you in the first place.”
“What about the gossip he’ll spread through your court? You should have seen the way this Earl’s wife was looking at me…I felt so cheap.”
“I’ll ban him from court.”
“You can do that?”
Edward raises an eyebrow at me. “Do you want the marquis at court with you?”
I shudder. “No, no fucking way.”
“Then, my queen, you have the power to do that. We’ll ban him from ours and from anyone else’s.”
Edward smiles at me and strokes the hair out of my face. My heart flutters each time he looks at me, and I want to kiss him all over to show him how grateful I am.
But I don’t want to spill tea and butter all over my silk sheets. We’ve made enough mess in the dining room.
“I’ll never abandon you, Gwen. You’ll never have to go through life alone. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Edward. I love you so much.”
I lean up and kiss him. The teacup in my lap wobbles as Edward captures my face in his hand and holds me tight against him. I could almost cry—everything is so perfect.
I don’t want to have to leave this bed again…except perhaps to get married.
Slowly, we eat our way through the macaroons and the assorted cakes and pastries that were left from tea. Edward feeds me strawberries, and I feel like a goddess as he licks off cream and jam from my skin.
When the food is gone and all that we have left are the glasses of orange juice and prosecco from brunch, Edward leans over and finds the bell that is kept on my bedside table. He rings it, and, within minutes, his adviser enters. He keeps his head down, but I watch him as he glances towards me out of the corner of his eye disapprovingly.
Why does Edward even keep him around?
“Ah, Cecil, thank you for coming so quickly,” Edward says, putting on his royal voice. It has so much authority that I wonder if I can get him to use it in the bedroom.
“I’m here to serve you, my king.”
“Yes, you are.” Edward looks at me almost knowingly, as though he’s remembered himself who really holds the power between a king and his advisor. “I have a lot for you to do, Cecil. Firstly, I need you to call Ignora.”
“What should I say to her?”
“Tell her that the engagement’s off and that she needs to find another sorry soul to sink her claws into. Whatever her family has promised the royal charities, we’ll provide it ourselves. In fact, we’ll double it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Then, I want you to call the wedding planners and have them accommodate everything to Princess Gwen’s taste. She is the new bride-to-be.”
Cecil’s eyebrows raise slightly, but he says nothing more than, “Yes, Your Highness.”
“We’ll be making an official announcement soon, but Princess Gwen is going to be my wife and your queen.” Edward pauses, having also seen the eyebrow raise, I can tell. “And if you don’t agree with that, Cecil, I’m sure it’ll be easy to find someone to replace you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Highness. I hear you loud and clear.”
“I thought you might.”
Edward waves his hand to allow for Cecil to leave the bedroom once again. I can’t believe it. It’s really happening!
“Oh, Cecil, one more thing…”
The old advisor turns to look at us, curled up in bed, and forces himself to smile.
“Take care of Marquis de Roach. I don’t want to see his face anymore.”
“Certainly, Your Highness.”
> “Make sure you exterminate him,” I pipe up, smiling at my new husband-to-be. “I don’t want Marquis de Roach to crawl out of the woodwork again.”
“Yes, of course.” Cecil turns his back to leave, but Edward looks between us and clears his throat.
“Cecil, are you forgetting something?”
“Yes, Your Highness, my apologies.” Cecil turns back to me and forces a smile, before bowing low. “I will get to work on your wishes right away, my queen.”
With that, he scurries out of the room, and Edward pulls me tight into his arms.
A girl could get used to this.
Chapter 19
Edward
This is the best day of my fucking life. Gwen and I are standing side by side on the palace steps, preparing to make the announcement that will forever change our destinies.
Cecil has officially called off our previous engagements. He says Ignora received the news with as much decorum as could be expected, which probably means her head made a 360-degree turn while he tried to fend her off with holy water.
I didn’t ask Cecil how de Roach reacted because I don’t give a shit what he thinks. He was so unforgivably rude to Gwen that even if I hadn’t intervened, someone else probably would have. She’s better off without him.
More specifically, she’s better off with me as her husband and king. And now no one will ever keep us apart. In just a few moments, we’re going to officially announce our plans to become husband and wife, king and queen, lover and most loved.
“Is it true that you’re getting married for real now?” a reporter shouts from the crowd.
The paparazzi are all around us, breathlessly waiting to confirm what the tabloids have been speculating about for days.
The royal party planners have balloons and streamers that are ready to be released as soon as I say the word. This is a celebration, and Gwen and I have agreed that everyone assembled here should be able to share in our happiness.
When it comes to the tabloids, the only thing my people love to read about more than gossip and scandal is true love. Everyone wants to believe that romance is alive and well. Now they’ll know it exists right here in our kingdom.
“Yes,” I confirm, and the balloons and streamers hit the sky in a riot of colors. “Gwen is my fiancée now and my one true queen.” I reach for my bride-to-be, take her in my arms, and pull her close to me, eager to claim her as my own and so grateful that I’ll never have to let her go.
I’m also holding her in front of me to hide my erection. It’s all I can do not to ravish her right here on the palace steps. I love the way her body fits so perfectly in my arms.
I wonder if I could tastefully squeeze one of her boobs right now...no, probably not. Oh, well. We are declaring our love once and for all, and that’s what’s important.
“What made you finally decide to change your mind?” another reporter asks, thrusting her microphone under my face to catch every word.
I smile at Gwen and gently take her hand. Then I lean into the microphone and say for the world to hear, “I couldn’t deceive my people by betraying my own heart. I’ve always loved Gwen, and I don’t see any reason to hide it. This country was founded on honesty and integrity, and I intend to honor that tradition throughout my reign, starting with this wedding.”
“But what about Ignora, your former fiancée? Aren’t you breaking your promise to her and her family?”
This reporter really knows how to kill the mood. She must be one of Ignora’s relatives.
“The promise I made to all of you was to marry the woman who will be best for the kingdom. Ignora is a...wonderful woman...” I stammer.
There’s a fine line between honesty and rudeness, and it’s one I must be careful not to cross with so many reporters in attendance.
“But Gwen is the best woman to serve as my wife and your new queen,” I continue. “She is genuine, enthusiastic, and most importantly, she is progressive.”
“Here’s to progress!” Cecil yells, and the crowd erupts into cheers for our nation, our future, and the royal wedding.
Gwen’s friends rush to the front of the steps to offer her their best wishes, which are long overdue, and I accept their handshakes as well.
When the noise dies down, Cecil calls on another reporter for one last interview before we’re released from our crowd-wrangling duties. She pushes her way to the front of the pack and adjusts the lens of her camera to focus on our faces, which by now must be glowing.
“Princess Gwen,” she says, “how did you know that King Edward was the man for you?”
“For me, it was love at first sight,” she says, blushing. “But as I’ve gotten to know him better, I realize that there’s so much more to him than meets the eye. He rules with his heart because he knows the difference between what is proper and what is right. He has always treated me like a queen, and I know he always will.”
My heart swells at her description of me as a noble bridegroom and ruler—who is also good-looking. But what does she think about me as a lover? I really wish one of these reporters would ask her this because I’m dying to hear her say it.
“How will you be spending your honeymoon?” the reporter asks instead.
It’s not as direct of a question as I’d hoped, but at least she’s getting warmer. In my country, the honeymoon begins in bed and ends when one or both partners are completely spent and simply must give up and rest.
The wedding guests make bets on how long that will be. Whatever the record is, I intend to beat it.
“Our honeymoon? Wow, that’s hard to say,” Gwen says, backing into me and rubbing up on the front of my pants, which are already bursting at the seams. “But we’ll definitely be traveling all around the kingdom so the king can show me how effectively he rules in every province and town.”
Oh my god. First, she helped me defile the throne room. Now, she’s offering to help me defile the entire kingdom.
This could take months. Years, even.
And I enthusiastically and wholeheartedly accept her challenge.
Because that is how much the progress of our nation means to me.
“Thank you all for sharing our special announcement with us!” I say in conclusion, backing away from the crowd. “I will look forward to celebrating with you once again on our royal wedding day!”
Taking Gwen’s hand, I retreat from the cheering crowd and duck inside the palace. “You were wonderful, my love,” I tell her after I shut the door behind us. “You handled those reporters like a true queen.”
“Thank you,” she says modestly. “Where are we off to now?”
It’ll take forever for us to make it all the way to the bedroom with so many staircases and doors in our way, so I settle for the royal coat closet in the foyer.
This will be my first official rendezvous with my betrothed, and I don’t care whose coat or hat knows it. “Now that we’re official, are you ready to make it even more official, my bride and queen-to-be?”
“Yes, my king and husband-to-be,” she replies.
I take her in my arms and lower her onto a cushioned bench. It’s both soft and sturdy, and I will have to thank the palace decorators later for their foresight and attention to detail.
But first, I kiss Gwen slowly and tenderly, savoring this first moment of pleasure since our big announcement. Exploring her body, I find it supple beneath my touch.
I run my finger between her legs until she is slick with desire. When I finally use two fingers to enter her, she closes her eyes and practically hums with joy.
I take my time, moving my hand at her command to give her what she needs in the place she needs it most—for as long as it takes. Because that, you see, is how to behave like a king.
All too soon, the moment arrives. While she moans in ecstasy, I fetch my little bell from my pocket and let it ring.
“Why, Gwen, thank you for coming so quickly. You really are going to make an excellent queen.”
“Long last the king!” she
says, gasping for air. “You’ve really taken those words to heart. Well done.” We’ve been roleplaying as king and queen for a while now, but our sexy game has so much more weight to it now that we have the blessing of the entire kingdom.
I mean, they didn’t specifically give us their blessing to get dirty in the coat closet before we’ve even set a wedding date, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them.
At the end of the day, everything has worked out even better than I’d hoped. It was never my intent to rebel against our families’ or society’s expectations; all I wanted to do was to love Gwen and to be a good king at the same time.
Now, with all these coats and hats as my witnesses, I want to tell Gwen the words that have been on my lips since the moment I laid eyes on her.
“Gwen, I love you more than any king has ever loved his queen, and I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”
Gwen returns my profession of love with a sultry smile. “Good,” she says. “Because I see another bench in this closet that we haven’t tried yet. Why don’t we move over there now? You can show me how much you love me, and I’ll show you how much I love you, too.”
I may be the king, but from now on, Gwen’s wish is my command.
Chapter 20
Gwen
“You look beautiful, Princess Gwen,” my lady in waiting says to me.
She’s right.
Sure, having an entire palace of designers and seamstresses helps, but I make this dress look otherworldly. I know I shouldn’t say that.
Princesses—and especially queens—are supposed to be demure.
Modest. Reserved.
Fuck that.
“No, I look hot,” I correct her.
“Yes, Your Highness,” she says as she leaves me alone with my reflection.
My white dress is covered in delicate lace. The plunging neckline shows off my best assets and Edward’s favorite.
“You’re a vision.”
I turn around to see if Edward really is standing behind me.
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