Royally Wild (Crazy Royal Love Romantic Comedy Book 2)

by Melanie Summers

  He tilts his head and opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “You know what? Don’t answer that. Turns out I don’t actually care. No offence.”

  “None, taken, Your Highness.”

  “Oh good, because I’d hate to offend you. You really are so dear to me.”

  “Of course, Miss,” he says as we hurry down the long hall. “But, may I say what a pleasure it was to see you break out of your shell like that?”

  “You approve, then? No, doesn’t matter. Anyway, that felt amazing! Honestly, I knew I had some grit to me when I was in Zamunda. I mean, I really was quite fierce by the end, but it’s easy to be fierce in a life that’s not your own and entirely another thing to be fierce in a setting like this. This is high stakes, Bellford,” I ramble on as we near the front doors. “This is me bidding farewell to the timid, people-pleasing princess I used to be once and for all. I just dare anyone to try to tell me what to do from now on. They’re really going to have it coming.”

  24

  The Best Laid Plans (For Getting Laid…)

  Will

  Okay, so things haven’t exactly gone the way I hoped, but that doesn’t mean tonight’s not going to be incredible. As it turns out, one cannot simply pick up a princess and take her on an overnight date in his rented Mercedes. At least not without said car being given a one-hundred-point inspection by a royal mechanic, which, due to the hour, would’ve meant Arabella and me waiting until the head mechanic could finish his dinner, then drive back to the palace. Rather than delay things, I opted for the alternative, which was to borrow one of her family’s many vehicles. Apparently, the only one they were willing to part with for the night is a very boring sedan, even though there are three Porsches, one classic Mercedes Gullwing, and a Lamborghini sitting in the massive garage. Not that I’m complaining about driving a Rolls Royce, mind you. But they’re not exactly sexy, are they? Also, borrowing a car from your girlfriend’s father so you can take her out is beyond demeaning for a man in his thirties. I could almost imagine my voice cracking as I say, “Don’t worry, Sir, I’ll have your daughter home before curfew.”

  The other thing that happens when you take a princess out is that you must bring along chaperones. In our case, this includes her head bodyguard, Bellford, and her regular armed driver, Norm, who are following in a Mercedes. Behind them, another car bearing the two nightshift guards, who will be periodically checking the property and outside of the house throughout the night, but will otherwise remain in their vehicle overnight, which is just plain weird, not to mention unnecessary, if you ask me. I’m pretty sure I can keep her safe in a house, for God’s sake. We’ll be inside having the most romantic night of our lives while two men wait outside. The entire thing has me slightly nervous and I keep checking the speedometer to make sure I’m not going even one click over the speed limit.

  All of this seems very natural to Arabella, who has her head leaned against the seat with a contented expression on her face as she rests her delicate fingers on my thigh. But for me, it’s awkward AF.

  I’m going to have to figure out a way to forget they’re out there so I can give Arabella one-hundred percent of my attention, if you get my meaning. But honestly, just knowing they’re going to be out there the entire time (and that they’ll know what we’re doing) gives me a squishy feeling, like one gets when you watch a video compilation of guys getting bagged.

  Okay, none of that, Will. Buck up. After tonight, we’ll be on our way to freedom from her family, and our perfect new life can begin.

  Smiling over at her, I pick up her hand and give her a kiss on the knuckles. “It’s so nice to be able to do that.”

  “Agreed. These last couple of weeks have been absolute torture,” she says. “Especially with that awful fight and not being able to make up with you properly. Let’s hurry up and get wherever we’re going so I can show you exactly how sorry I am.”

  It’s been so long that my entire body reacts to the thought of her showing me anything. “You have no idea how badly I want to speed right now.”

  “Then do.”

  “No way. Not with the men in black following us,” I say, glancing in my mirror again. “They’ll definitely rat me out to your father if I’m endangering your life.”

  “They will not,” Arabella says. “Bellford’s a good egg.”

  “Oh yeah?” I say, glancing at her. “Then why did he tell me if I do anything to risk your life, he’ll make sure your father finds out?”

  She purses her lips together and makes a groaning sound. “Did he really? Well, I’ll have a little talk with him when we get back home.”

  “Look at you being all tough.”

  “I rediscovered my inner Furiosa when I was in Vienna and came back bound and determined not to let anyone tell me what to do ever again.”

  “I’m impressed, Your Highness.” I say, squeezing her hand a little. I’m also thrilled, because if she’s in her ‘I’m a force to be reckoned with’ state of mind, she’s far more likely to agree to a) marrying me, and b) The World’s Best Survivor Challenge. I haven’t mentioned it yet because it seems like the kind of thing that requires exactly the right moment. Not that I don’t think she’ll want to come, because I’m sure she will. Although she may be a little irked to find out Dylan will be the showrunner on that one. Also, I’m not exactly sure if she’ll be excited to spend a month in Greenland in November. But, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

  Oh, I picked out the perfect ring, by the way. The moment I saw it, I just knew it was the one for her—it’s got a round brilliant-cut diamond with several smaller diamonds set in an engraved platinum band that is meant to invoke the beauty and flow of the Avonian Wild Fern. Currently, it is safely zipped into my shaving kit, waiting for the perfect opportunity to surprise her. I spot the sign for Half Moon Bay, and slow down to make a left turn, signalling far earlier than I normally would.

  “I cannot wait to get you to the beach house and get you naked,” Arabella says.

  “Get me naked? I’m going to be the one getting you naked.”

  “I don’t think so, sir. I’ve had five lonely nights in my hotel room in Austria to come up with all kinds of things I want to do to you.”

  “Really?” I asked, smiling down at her. “In that case, we might have to see if we can stay an extra couple of days.”

  We reach the small village and wind our way through the tree-lined main street, and past all the quaint seaside homes. I try to relax and forget about the cars tailing us, but that seems about as likely as…well, something that’s not very likely.

  “This is lovely,” Arabella says. “I’ve actually never been out this way if you can believe it. My friends used to come to Half Moon Bay to party when I was in uni, but I was never allowed to go.”

  “Well, we’ll have to be especially wild then to make up for it.”

  She grins at me, then turns to look out the window as we leave the village and continue on down toward the cove. The farther we are from town, the larger and more spread out the cabins and homes become. By the time we make our left turn onto Seaview Lane, I find myself feeling almost giddy with excitement. This is going to be one of the greatest nights of both of our lives.

  “Do you think he might keep his Academy Award here?” she asks as we pull into the driveway of a large two-storey beach house with a wall of tall windows and a steep roof that peaks at the centre of the structure.

  “I’d imagine he keeps it in his flat in London or some such,” I say. “But if it is here, we should take turns giving acceptance speeches.”

  “Oh, yes! That sounds delightful. And we’ll finish them with ‘Kids, get to bed. It’s way past your bedtime,’” she says, pretending she’s holding an Oscar.

  I laugh as I park the car, then take the keys out of the ignition just as Norm and Bellford pull up beside us. Oh, good. They found the place.

  Pocketing the keys, I say, “Let’s go.”

  Arabella shakes her head. “They’ll need a few
minutes to check the house and secure the grounds,” she says, apologetically. “But as soon as that happens, we can pretend we’re completely alone.”

  I smile and nod to hide my slight irritation. “I’ll give them the keys.”

  “I can’t believe we didn’t even make it up the stairs,” I say, panting slightly. “You weren’t lying about getting my clothes off fast.”

  She trails a finger down my bare chest and gives me a satisfied grin, looking thoroughly relaxed, even though we’re on the tile floor in the foyer of the house. “I can’t tell you how badly I needed that,” she says as we both stand and start picking up our clothes.

  She tugs her wool dress over her head and pulls it down. “That sounded terrible, as though I meant it in the ‘I’m using you for sex’ sort of way, but in reality, I meant it in the ‘I really needed to feel close to you,’ sort of way.”

  I pull my jeans up, then lean down and give her a lingering kiss. “Don’t worry. I always know what you’re thinking.”

  “Really?” she asks, giving me a quick peck on the lips. “What am I thinking at this very moment?”

  “That you would kill for some river fish and yam tubers,” I say with a grin.

  She laughs. “How did you know?”

  I slip my arms around her waist and pull her to me. Ah, having her pressed up against me again is the sweetest of relief. It’s enough to make me completely forget that I gave up a lucrative outdoor gear line. Kenneth who, right?

  I am finally happy again. I lower my head down and we snog some more.

  When she pulls back, she gives me a skeptical look. “That’s not what you’re making for dinner, though, is it?”

  “No,” I chuckle. “I think we’ve both had enough of yam tubers for quite some time. What I’ll be preparing is a surprise, and it’ll be a nice one, I promise. Hopefully enough to make up for taking off to London, then Italy, then Thailand.”

  “Don’t forget, back to Avonia instead of Austria,” she says with a wink.

  I feel my jaw tighten a bit with irritation, but then remind myself it’s not her fault that she’s holding a bit of a grudge about that one. After all, she has no idea what I saved her and her family from.

  An hour later, we’re sitting at a table outside on the large deck attached to the house, under the heat of a patio lamp. Gentle waves lap against the shore, and the stars are out in full force as we finish our dinner of grilled lobster, roasted vegetables, and garlic smashed potatoes (all recipes I got from Emma). I’m a little on edge, expecting one of her bodyguards to come walking around the corner at any moment, but so far, they’ve kept their distance.

  Arabella and I have finally managed to properly catch up. We sipped wine while I cooked, and I gave her the highlights and lowlights of my globe-trotting with Kenneth. Arabella told me all about the conference and we had a few laughs about the horrible Dr. No Brows. Dinner has been a fun combination of flirting, saying annoyingly mushy things to each other, and her telling me what an amazing chef I am. So far, Operation Propose to the Princess is a go.

  Arabella sighs happily. “What a perfect evening, out here under the stars, alone. This is exactly what we needed.”

  “I want to give you a lifetime of perfect evenings, just like this one,” I say, my heart beating faster. Dammit, I should’ve put the ring in my pocket because this is the exact right moment. Maybe I should run in the house, then come back and just ask her? The thought makes my heart skip a couple of beats. That’s it. I’m doing it. “I’m going to go get dessert. I’ll be right back.”

  “Oh, let me help,” she says, starting to get up.

  “No, you relax right here and enjoy the stars. I want to surprise you.”

  “All right. But bring more wine.”

  “How about champagne? I think we need to celebrate your success.”

  25

  How to Ruin the Perfect Date…

  Arabella

  I lean back in the wicker chair, feeling the warmth of the propane lamp on my cheeks. I turn to look through the window, and see him rushing around the kitchen, with a giant grin on his face. A lifetime of evenings like this. There is nothing I want more. Our big fight when he was in Thailand seems like ages ago, even though technically, it’s only been a week.

  Huh, I guess we should probably talk about what happened. I was so relieved to see him and still so high from what happened in Vienna that I completely skipped the bit where we figure out how to avoid this type of fight in the future. And now that I think about it, a lot has gone wrong in a very short period of time, and he still hasn’t explained why he came back to Avonia instead of meeting me in Vienna.

  My mind wanders to the auditorium this afternoon, and my words about hearing your own voice make me realize we’ve had a rather fraudulent date so far, including the sex. We’ve put the cart before the horse, and as much as I hate to, I need to right things if I want to be the woman I told all those other women I am. My gut tightens a little at the thought of speaking up. The last thing I want to do is ruin this wonderful evening Will’s put together.

  But surely I can find a way to calmly speak my mind, and keep things light and airy, so we come out the other side stronger. Yes, of course I can.

  The door opens and Will comes outside carrying a tray with a bottle of champagne, two flutes, and two plates of cheesecake. He grins at me as he crosses the deck. “Your favourite—New York-style topped with blueberries.”

  “You remembered,” I say, watching as he sets the tray on the table and sits kitty-corner to me again. “You’ve really pulled out all the stops to make tonight incredible, and I want you to know it means the world to me.”

  “Of course I would,” he says, reaching for my cheek. He rests his fingers gently on my skin while he talks. “The last few weeks have been awful for you and I wanted to make up for not being here. You’re the most important person in my life, Belle, and I am always going to put you first.”

  “I feel exactly the same way, Will,” I say, taking both of his hands in mine. “Let’s never fight again.”

  “Agreed.”

  “That was absolutely the worst feeling I’ve ever had,” I say, lifting his hand and kissing his palm. “Being so far away and needing so desperately to fix things. Which is why I think it might be wise to set up some ground rules for our relationship. You know, so we can avoid anything like that again.”

  He pauses for a moment and glances at the champagne bottle, then back at me. “Okay, ground rules. What do you have in mind?”

  “Nothing crazy,” I say with a reassuring smile. “But I was thinking we should do something Faith Hill and Tim McGraw do. Oh, are you familiar with them?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “They’re both famous country singers from the US, and they’ve managed to stay married for decades in spite of their fame. They say their secret is that they never spend more than three nights apart. Now, I’m not saying that we would have to follow the exact same rule as them—I know sometimes your work will take you away for several days at a time and mine will too. It’s just an example, more than anything.”

  “So, not three nights then?” he asks. “What are you thinking, maybe eight?”

  “Sorry, no, I didn’t mean for us to pick a set number of nights. I know that likely wouldn’t be possible. But maybe we should come to some sort of agreement about how we decide which opportunities we take and which ones we turn down. I’d like to make those decisions together, especially if it involves one of us having to fly off somewhere.”

  “Okay, deal,” he says, leaning in and giving me a kiss.

  Mmm. Lovely. This is going well, isn’t it? I’m so glad I brought it up. “Perfect. So, we won’t say yes to any more trips without discussing it first.”

  “Exactly, from now on, we check with each other.” He smiles while he places the cheesecake in front of each of us.

  “Yum,” I say, picking up my fork.

  Will digs into his dessert, and as his first bite is on his
way to his lips, he says, “Glad that’s settled.”

  “Me too.” I let out a sigh of relief. “We just have to get better at communicating with each other, is all.”

  He swallows, then nods. “Absolutely, it’s probably more of a habit than anything, right? Neither of us are used to being accountable to someone else.”

  “Well, you less so than me, really. I’m accountable to an entire kingdom,” I say with a light chuckle.

  “Right. I guess it’s something I need to work on then,” Will says, his smile fading. “Although now that I think about it, I did try to get a hold of you several times before I agreed to go to London, but you didn’t pick up so I had to make a decision.”

  “True, true,” I answer, feeling a chilly breeze at my back. “But that’s obviously not a normal situation—having someone call you at the last minute like that. So it won’t be a problem in the future.”

  “Exactly,” he says, then he narrows his eyes a bit. “But just to be clear, you do agree it was the right call for me to go, right? The commercial was a big step forward for us as far as being able to be financially independent.”

  I lift my first bite to my lips, then set it down again. “Sorry, darling, I’m a bit confused. How exactly?”

  “Well, it was an incredible opportunity for me, and I’m now in a position where I need to earn a lot more money than I have in the past,” he says, clearly trying to sound casual, even though I know I’ve touched a nerve. “These types of chances don’t come along very often, believe me. In fact, I’ve been waiting for years for something like that, so when it happened, I had to take it.”

  He slices into his cake with the side of his fork, then scoops up some blueberry sauce.

  “But sweetheart, we have money.”

  Will pauses, midbite. “To be fair, we don’t have money. Your family has money and theirs comes with all sorts of rules and obligations and strings attached. Mine will mean freedom and independence and us living exactly the way we want to for the rest of our lives.”