Her Secret Prince

by Madeline Ash

  He frowned. “Why does moving fast mean getting dropped?”

  “You think I only want a fling.”

  “No.”

  She sniffled again. He was just saying that. “What do you think, then?”

  He shifted closer, voice lowering. “I think you’re comfortable with who you are. You know what you want, and so you take it. But you’re not fickle. You don’t get bored. Moving fast doesn’t mean moving on fast, and if there have been men who think that, you’ve been with the wrong kind of men.”

  Dee stared at him. Her inhale was shaky.

  “I mean it,” he said, reaching out and tucking her hair behind her ear. His fingers grazed down her neck, falling over her breast and stopping with a pistol grip on her waist. His eyes were steady, serious. “I know you. What just happened—I know what it meant to you.”

  She swallowed. “Then you know I want to be with you forever.”

  Shock struck the warmth from his gaze.

  “See?” Her chin buckled under the threat of tears. “You don’t know.”

  “I—hang on, Christ,” he said, and startled her by laughing. “You expect me to take forever in my stride?”

  She lowered her face. Lowered her voice. “I’m pushing, aren’t I?”

  Her skin tingled as his grip tightened. “There’s some unspoken social understanding that makes most people wait before mentioning forever. But you wouldn’t be you if you felt something and didn’t shout it out.”

  Uncertainty clogged her throat. She waited.

  Jed pressed his forehead against hers. “I want to be with you, Dee. I can’t say forever, because I’ve never thought that far, but I want you for every minute of the future I’ve actually considered.”

  “Stop pretending.”

  “I’m not pretending.” He tilted his head, holding her gaze. “Stop trying not to believe me.”

  Hope clambered up her ribs, but she threw it off and crossed her arms. “How are you imagining us working out? I’ve lived in two places my entire life and both are in the same state, same country. I don’t move around. I don’t want to move around. I like having a home. You won’t stay with me. You always move. It’s what you do.”

  She watched his features fall and knew she’d struck an old wound. “I’ll stay,” he said quietly, but his forehead withdrew from hers.

  “I don’t want to move to Melbourne.”

  “I’ll stay,” he repeated. “With you.”

  “How can I believe that?”

  He looked down, the line of his mouth serious. When he met her eyes again, he said, “Because I’ve never had a home anywhere. The closest I’ve ever felt to contentment is being with you. Wherever you live is where I’ll be at home. And that’s where I’ll stay.”

  Disbelief caught in the lungs. For several seconds, she stared at him. Then excitement rushed through her, too much, too quickly, so it erupted in a sudden squealed, “What?”

  He grinned.

  “Jed, you’re serious!”

  “I’ll move to LA when we’re done here. We’ll make it work.”

  She laughed, overjoyed, and said, “I can’t believe in this movie moment you look like heaven and my face is all puffy from crying.”

  “No, it’s not,” he reassured her.

  She raised a disbelieving brow.

  “You haven’t slept in twenty-four hours.” He smiled. “It was already puffy.”

  “Oh, a comedian.” She turned to the fridge, not letting go of his hand. “What are your thoughts on champagne and pastries in front of the fire? And by champagne and pastries, I mainly mean sex, and by what are your thoughts, I mean that’s what we’ll be doing.”

  Jed paused. “I think I’m okay with that.”

  Chapter Six

  ‡

  As he parked near Café Georgette, Jed scanned the quaint city center of Leguarday, ignoring the anxiety punching up his stomach. Hardly any people out—suspiciously few compared to the outer city streets. Might be the rain and fierce wind, but the icy grip of winter rarely halted people from getting on with living.

  Royalty, on the other hand, could halt anything.

  Nerves seemed to restrict his veins, tightening each painful thud of his heart.

  “Okay, let’s do this,” Dee said, unbuckling her seatbelt and twisting to face him. “I’ll wait here until you text me that it’s safe. If I don’t receive anything after ten minutes, I’ll come inside to scope the scene, but pretend I don’t know you. If you look like you’re in trouble, I’ll call the cops. Gendarmes. Whatever. Right?”

  Guilt ate into Jed’s bones as he nodded. He was lying to her and didn’t intend to come clean. Not until he’d met Oscar and got his head around the whole thing. Not until he could explain it in complete sentences and conclude that none of it mattered anyway, because he was going to move to Los Angeles to be with her. That was how the story would end. No questions. He just wanted to wait until he understood how the story got them there.

  It still wasn’t right, especially after she’d been so honest about wanting his future. But about that, he hadn’t lied. Dee was his home. Today was about answering a life-long question, so he could finally settle with her without wondering. That was all.

  “How you feeling?”

  Jed met her concerned blue eyes. “Okay.”

  “Because you look like you’re about to vomit.”

  He nodded as nerves coiled and sprang in his stomach.

  She rolled her eyes. “And that constitutes feeling okay? Remind me not to believe a word you say when you’re sick.”

  Jed’s gaze settled on the café. It had a small two-story street front, tucked in between what looked to be a post office and clothing store. The stone facing made way for large windows and doors on the ground floor, and a neat little balcony on the second. A cobalt awning covered a cluster of outdoor tables—all unoccupied—and a sign of the same blue was being thrown back and forth by the wind. It looked welcoming, comfortable, and innocuous for a place that housed a man who’d been Jed’s biggest childhood fear.

  “You’ll be fine.” He heard Dee’s concern. “You’re meeting in public…even if this place is like a ghost town.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “For doing all this.”

  As she smiled, he took her hand. Ran his thumb over her knuckles. Raised it and kissed her palm. Then he got out of the car and, with his head bowed against the gale, jogged up to the café. Pushing in the door, a bell jingled into silence. Complete silence. Like the whole place was poised and listening.

  Jed closed the door quietly behind him.

  The front seating area was narrow, housing only a handful of tables-for-two. A sole businesswoman sat by the window, and as Jed glanced over, she picked up her mug and met his eye. He looked away, but sensed that she didn’t.

  Now or never.

  “Hello?” he called, for no staff could be seen.

  A waiter glided out from the kitchen and on any other day, Jed wouldn’t have noticed his expectant expression, the excitement in his eyes as they zigzagged across Jed’s face.

  “Bonjour,” the man greeted, and gave a delighted laugh. “Right this way, sir.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised him that the man knew why he was here. Frowning, Jed followed around the far side of the counter and along a short passage to the back of the café. The interior was dark wood—the counter, tables, and walls—with blue chairs to match the sign, and stained timber floors. Amber light glowed richly from hanging lights, working with the aroma of coffee and sweet biscuits to ease the sting of winter. The café soon unfurled into an open space, holding larger tables and several armchairs near a small, crackling fireplace.

  Jed halted in the archway. His heart thudded and nervous sweat wet his palms. There were no more than half a dozen people, each seated alone. All had mugs, no meals, and somewhere else to look. He didn’t miss that two were situated on either side of this exit, another two flanked the back door, and the last pair were within lunging dist
ance of the man in the middle of the room. The whole thing smacked of a strategic seating arrangement and if he’d still believed Oscar was a dangerous man, it would have had Jed bolting for the door.

  At the center table, the lone man rose to his feet.

  Oscar.

  Ever since he was a boy, he’d imagined meeting his father. As years passed, fear had become a resolve to challenge the man who bred panic in his mother. Neither fear nor anger filled him now, but a sudden debilitating apprehension of the unknown. Until recently, he’d known all he needed to about his father. Shady, dangerous, unworthy of his time.

  Now he knew almost nothing.

  Emotion lodged in Jed’s chest as the waiter gestured him forwards.

  Stiffly, he made it to the table and gripped the back of the chair closest to him. Then he met his father’s stare. The same black eyes he met in the mirror each morning, wide with awe in another man’s face.

  “Jed.” So short a word to quaver so dramatically. Oscar splayed a trembling hand on the tabletop. “Or—can I call you Jed?”

  His father had a French accent and a kind voice. His father had Jed’s face and greying hair. His father was sovereign over an entire people.

  Jed nodded once.

  “Jed.” Oscar nodded back, too many times.

  Somehow, his obvious nerves lessened Jed’s own. It seemed ludicrous that a man in such a powerful position should be nervous about meeting him. Despite his tension, Oscar was clearly dignified. His hair was styled, his jaw rasp free. A gentleman’s posture made the most of perfectly pressed trousers and a white shirt, buttoned right up to the neck. Vaguely, Jed wondered whether he’d decided against a full suit so as not to alienate his artistic working-class son.

  “I – thank you for coming.” After a beat of silence, Oscar extended his hand.

  No way to surreptitiously wipe his sweat, so Jed swiped it down his jacket and met his father’s grip. Firm. Warm. Still trembling.

  Shaking his hand, Jed found his voice. “Can I call you Oscar?” As the man started to smile, he added, “Or do you prefer your majesty?”

  Paling, Oscar withdrew his hand with a jerk.

  “You tried to trick me,” Jed stated without warmth.

  “Never.” He sounded aghast. His pained gaze darted to a thin man seated closest him. The man had turned in his chair to watch, silent but alert.

  Jed kept his voice steady. “Sure seems like it.”

  “No, I – I didn’t want to scare you.”

  “Instead preferring to lure me here under false pretenses.”

  “No.” His father’s face was raw with alarm. “I didn’t deceive you for any reason other than I thought it was the only way we could meet without complication. My birthright is not what this is about. I didn’t want it to affect your decision.”

  Birthright. A strange awareness rolled through him, but he shoved it away.

  “I wanted you to meet me because I’m your father, that is all,” he finished.

  “You could have told me.” Jed gripped the chair. “I’m a bastard. I’d hardly have had delusions of grandeur.”

  “Oh, no.” Sadness slid over Oscar’s features. “I would only have to officially acknowledge you as my son, legitimizing you, and you would be heir.”

  Jed froze as panic seized him by the ankles.

  “And I would,” he continued carefully. “We’ve watched you. We know the kind of man you are.”

  He tried to kick off the panic. “But your nephew.”

  “He is fifteen and wants to be prince less than I did. Regrettably, we want him to be prince even less than that.”

  Jed let go of the chair and stepped back to leave. “I’m not interested.”

  “And I’m not interested in persuading you otherwise! This is why I didn’t tell you. Please.” Almost desperate, Oscar gestured for Jed to sit down. “I’m interested in talking to my son.”

  He hesitated. Endeavored to compose himself. Then he settled opposite his father.

  “You didn’t stumble across my website.”

  “No.” Oscar placed both palms on the tabletop, calmer now. “I do love your comic, of course. I own all your graphic novels. But my intelligence service has been keeping track of you for almost ten years. I’m afraid that emailing you through your website was my own idea and—in the words of my private secretary—ill-considered folly.”

  The thin man gave a snort.

  Jed frowned. Ten years. That meant he’d been tracked since he’d left San Francisco. “You’ve known where I was all this time?”

  Regret lined Oscar’s brow. “Your mother,” he began, and paused. “Your mother didn’t realize I was a prince when we met. I was nineteen and…confused.” His gaze flickered once again to the man on the right. “My father was unwell and I knew I didn’t have long before responsibility was inescapable. I met Melissa in France. We spent a few weeks together before I told her who I really was. There was no love between us, just companionship, so I brought her back to show her the castle and not long after that, she left. It was not until many years later—when doubts were raised about whether I would ever marry and have children—that a maid from the castle came forward, discretely. While emptying the bin in my bathroom, the day your mother left, she’d found a pregnancy test. Positive. She hadn’t wanted to pry into royal business and so kept the news to herself.”

  Jed’s mother had fled, knowing she was pregnant with a royal heir.

  Oscar continued. “She must have been scared, as any young woman would be with her whole life ahead of her and an unplanned baby in her belly. I wonder though, whether she’d have handled it differently had I not been the prince; had there not been the risk of the crown dictating her child’s future. If I were a man of less consequence, I wonder whether I would have been permitted to share your childhood.”

  Jed felt his father’s sorrow like a pocket of cool air in an otherwise warm room. “So you found my mum,” he said, staying focused. “In San Francisco.”

  “We searched for her, only to discover she had been moving for years. When Laurent approached her, she was terrified.” At that, Oscar nodded towards the thin man. Jed eyed him, registering a sharp face and level gaze. This would be Dee’s Frenchman. “We backed off, because we didn’t want Leguarday to gain an international reputation for threatening single mothers. I certainly did not want that to be your first impression of me. So I decided to wait until you were a man. You could make up your own mind.”

  “I’ve been a man for years.”

  “And I have lost my nerve many, many times.”

  Jed glanced down, distracted when his phone pinged. A message from Dee, with nothing but a question mark. Swiftly, he messaged back. Sorry, all is okay. Oscar is harmless. Come and join us.

  Then he looked up. “I want you to know that I’m travelling with the love of my life and haven’t told her any of this. All she knows is that you’re my father. She’s about to come inside. You won’t tell her. I’ll do that once I know what the hell to say.”

  After a moment of hesitation, Oscar said, “Of course.”

  “Does everyone in this room work for you?”

  “Ah.” His father glanced around with a sigh. “Yes. We’ve closed down the area to keep the press away.”

  “Make sure they let her in. And she’ll want coffee—could we get a latte?”

  Oscar’s gaze flickered over Jed’s shoulder and the waiter’s footsteps disappeared down the passageway. To Laurent, Jed said, “You’re the one who found us in San Fran?”

  The man nodded.

  “Then you’ve met Dee before. You can’t be here. She’ll recognize you and I’m not that quick on my feet.”

  The man stood, frowning at Oscar for confirmation. At the prince’s gesture, he departed.

  Oscar gave Jed a tentative smile. “What’s her name?”

  “Dee.”

  “What is she like?

  “Lively and unnervingly direct.” The faint ring of the front bell sounded an
d a moment later, he heard, “Oh my God, this place is gorgeous!”

  He grinned.

  “It’s so cold outside! I don’t know how you put up with it.” Her voice grew louder. “Oh, wow, it’s as sweet as an apple pie back here, I love it!”

  Jed turned as she emerged from the passageway. She clasped her hands together and came forward, gaze strapped to Oscar who had stood at her arrival.

  “Dee.” Oscar drew a chair out for her between father and son. “Please sit down.”

  “Thank you.” She sat, pulling an impressed face at Jed. “He’s charming.”

  “Blanket ban on that adjective,” Jed murmured.

  Oscar smiled.

  “So.” Dee set her hands on the table as Jed’s father resumed sitting. “Great news that you’re harmless, Oscar.”

  The smile vanished into perplexity.

  “I was shitting myself a bit, because you could have been anyone, so this is really great.” Then she looked between them, confused. “You don’t have coffee yet.”

  “Yours is coming,” Jed reassured her.

  “Great.” She smiled. “What have you guys been talking about?”

  The men exchanged a glance. Oscar cleared his throat. “Most recently, you.”

  She looked delighted. “And to catch me up to speed, do we know why Ellie was so freaked out about you finding Jed?”

  “A misunderstanding,” Jed cut in, hoping that wasn’t a lie. As far as initial impressions went, he couldn’t imagine Oscar forcing his will on anyone, even for the sake of the royal bloodline.

  Dee pulled a face. “Oh man, that’s sad.”

  “Very,” Oscar agreed, eyes straying on his son.

  “You didn’t actually find Jed serendipitously via his comic, though, did you?”

  “Dee.” Jed gave her a warning look. “Maybe start with lighter questions.”

  “Oh, sorry.” She pursed her lips, rested her chin on her hand, and asked, “What do you do, Oscar?”

  Christ. Guess he’d asked for that. Panic surged to Jed’s fingertips, but his father merely smiled and said, “I’m in management.”