by Caroline Lee
Copyright © 2018, Caroline Lee
[email protected]
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
First edition: 2018
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Cover: EDHGraphics
They call him The Playboy Prince, and Viggo Magnusson doesn’t really mind. After all, he’s spent the last seven years carefully cultivating that persona and reputation…all to hide his greatest secret.
His son.
But now, only days before his mother’s remarriage and a royal wedding event of a lifetime, Viggo has decided to share this secret—little Stefan—with his family. But for that to happen, Viggo must convince his co-conspirator, the boy’s caretaker and guardian, to go along with the plan. The only problem is that his well-known charm isn’t going to work on this particular introverted lady.
Marcia Lindqvist has been willing to stay under her father’s formidable thumb in order to protect and care for her nephew, seven-year-old Stefan. The boy might not be physically perfect, but he is her entire world…well, him and Prince Viggo, who is in their lives as much as Marcia’s father will allow.
But Marcia has spent her life as a wallflower, watching The Playboy Prince woo his way through the kingdom. Is there any way they could be happy together? All it will take is a few leaps of faith, and they both could get what they want…
But it will take Stefan being in danger to show them what they need.
***********
Six Brothers. Six books to find love with entirely unsuitable princesses. And six chances to save THE ROYAL WEDDING.
(This book has a heat rating of 1/5)
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
EPILOUGE
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YOU’RE INVITED TO THE ROYAL WEDDING!
The tiny island nation of Aegiria may be Europe's longest-reigning monarchy, but this summer is going to deliver enough excitement to rock their royal world! Six princes are matched with six entirely unsuitable princesses as they work together to discover who's trying to sabotage The Royal Wedding.
The Royal Wedding books:
THE BODYGUARD’S PRINCE, by Caroline Lee
THE ROCK STAR’S PRINCE, by Merry Farmer
THE STEPSISTER’S PRINCE, by Caroline Lee
THE PILOT’S PRINCE, by Merry Farmer
THE INTROVERT’S PRINCE, by Caroline Lee
THE JOURNALIST’S PRINCE, by Merry Farmer
The Introvert’s Prince
The Royal Wedding
Book Five
Dedication:
My mom will never read this, but I was thinking of her throughout.
CHAPTER ONE
Mid-morning on the day of her twenty-fifth birthday, Marcia Lindqvist knocked on the door to her father’s conservatory and stepped inside. She’d been in conservatories attached to other estate houses in Aegiria, and they were humid, green, thick-feeling rooms. Not so her father’s. Earl Linqvist’s conservatory was an extension of himself: immaculate, structured, and harsh.
He looked up with a frown from where he was sitting at his desk, his gloved hands hovering over one of his bonsai apple trees. Instead of rose bushes or palms or any of the other riotous plants he could have chosen to grow, her father cultivated hundreds of rare bonsais, each perched on its own pedestal, neatly and perfectly groomed.
Just like him.
Just like he wanted her and Stefan to be.
When his frown didn’t stop her from walking sedately up the path between the pedestals, her father put down his clippers, removed his gloves, and folded his hands in front of him on the desk. His glare was expectant, but not curious.
“What is so important that you would interrupt the only hour a day I take for myself?”
She could answer “I wanted to thank you for the lovely birthday present you left for me at my breakfast plate this morning.” But since she knew he hadn’t picked out the strand of pearls any more than he’d wrapped them or written the kind words in the accompanying card, she didn’t.
He’d only ordered his assistant to buy the gift so Marcia would have a new trinket to wear to the next public event he forced her to attend.
So she took a deep breath and got right to the point. “As of today, I am able to access the trust Grandmother left me. I am independent.”
Father snorted derisively. “You are wealthy. You are not independent. There’s a difference.”
Yes, I know. “I wish to be independent.”
His knuckles whitened slightly and his lips thinned. “This again? You’re going to move out of my house, are you? Buy a little flat in the slums and what—get a job?”
“I don’t need a job—”
“The only work you’ve ever done is that little charity of yours. I’ve allowed it because it proves you’re a well-connected young lady…but no one would confuse it for real work.”
Marcia pressed her lips together and folded her hands in front of her, trying her best to keep her anger from her expression. Enriching Children was the charity she’d founded several years ago when it became evident she wouldn’t be able to save the only child in her life who really mattered, so she’d devoted herself to helping others. It had been a struggle, to force herself to make so many social connections when she would’ve much rather been in the garden with a good book, but she’d done it because it was important.
And because it was the only thing her father would allow.
What is so important I would interrupt his time? Marcia took a deep breath, and forced herself to meet her father’s eyes. “I want custody of Stefan.”
He didn’t even blink. “Absolutely not,” he said dismissively, reaching for his gloves once more. “Now, run along and embroider something. I’m busy.”
Embroider. She hadn’t embroidered since he’d brought in that teacher for her and Rebecca when she’d been fourteen, because “that’s what young ladies did.” Her sister had embroidered a skull and crossbones, come to think of it. Father had framed the flower bouquet Marcia had done, and hung it in the formal dining room where he could brag to his guests about one of her accomplishments.
Today, though, she wasn’t going to back down. She wasn’t going to slink off and “embroider” something, which was her father’s way of showing he had no idea how she spent her days.
“No.”
He looked up, as if surprised to find her still there. “No?” he repeated with a frown.
“No.” She straightened her shoulders. “I want to know why I can’t have custody of Stefan.” Her nephew was seven years old now, and she was the only mother he’d ever known. For his sake, sh
e plunged ahead. “It’s not like you enjoy his company.” Or mine. “Now that I have Grandmother’s trust, I could take us both out of your hair, and you’d be much happier.”
“Happier?” He slapped the glove down on the desk beside the bonsai tree, but didn’t release it. “Happier? I’d been happier if you had done your duty and married the Crown Prince as you’d promised to do.”
Ahh. There it was, the real reason Father had been angry all summer.
Marcia struggled to keep her voice calm. “As I’ve said before, Prince Alek was the one who dissolved our engagement.” Which was never formalized in the first place. “He has fallen in love, and I’m pleased for him. Even the few times I saw them together, I could tell he was much more interested in Toni than me—”
“That’s because you’re incapable of being interesting!” Father slammed the gloves down this time. “You’re as meek and mousy as your mother, and if I’d allow it, you’d spend your life with your nose in a book! No wonder the man’s attention strayed to someone more warm-blooded, even if the bitch was his bodyguard.”
He grabbed his shears and bent back over the tree, muttering about “unsuitability” and “disgrace to the nation”, without seeming to realize his rudeness. He never seemed to realize his rudeness; Marcia had often suspected he viewed it as his right to voice his opinion, no matter whom he hurt.
She’d met Toni, and knew she was a nice woman. A little brash, certainly, but she was exactly what Prince Alek needed, and it was obvious to everyone that they were very much in love. It had been obvious to Marcia from the beginning that Alek hadn’t suggested marriage because he held any tender regard for her, so it had been almost a relief when he’d finally come to that conclusion and dissolved their unofficial engagement.
Because Heaven knew Marcia wouldn’t have been allowed to.
“Father, this isn’t relevant to my request—”
“Of course it’s relevant.” He didn’t even look up this time. “Your inability to keep a man’s interest is why you’re still living under my roof, at age twenty-five.”
That wasn’t true at all. “This is the twentieth century, Father.” She struggled to keep her voice even. “I am more than willing to move out on my own and—”
“And get a job?” He snorted.
“Yes!” she cried in exasperation. “I would welcome the opportunity to—”
“Again, absolutely not.” Father finished with his trimming and aligned the shears carefully with the edge of the plant’s pot. “I will not become a laughing stock.” He looked up and met her eyes. “Not again.”
The warning in his expression made her shiver, and she forced herself to tamp down the urge to flee. After all these years, it’s still Rebecca he’s angry with. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.
Stefan, on the other hand…
“Father, if you’ll just grant me custody, you can be rid of both of us. We won’t bother you, and we won’t draw attention to ourselves.”
Slowly, he stood, the knuckles of his fists braced on his desk. “It is my responsibility to provide for my child and grandchild. I will not have it said that I shirk my responsibilities.”
So he was keeping all three of them miserable, just so no one spoke slightly ill of him?
“Now that I have grandmother’s money, I can support both of us—”
“That would be even worse! Imagine, a woman living alone with a crippled bastard child! People would talk even more. No.” He straightened and began to roll down his cuffs once more. “This conversation is over.”
She was becoming desperate. “I could pay you—”
“This conversation is over, Marcia. See yourself out.”
Her heart slammed against her chest, and she saw her chance slipping away. If not today, her birthday and the day the family lawyers would arrive to sign Grandmother’s trust over to her, then when? How could she convince Father to give her what they all needed?
“What would it take for you to grant me custody of Stefan? If not money, or self-sufficiency, or a job?”
“What would it take?” Father roared, his face turning an unhealthy red. “Marriage, that’s what it would take to get you out from under my care. Some other man would finally support you, take care of you, and I could be through with you!”
Marriage. The word rattled around inside Marcia’s head. Marriage. Was that why Father had been so keen on her marriage to Prince Alek? No, surely he’d been crowing then because she’d been poised to become the next queen of Aegiria.
Still, the demand wasn’t logical. “How would me being married qualify me for custody of Stefan?”
Father rolled his eyes as he resumed buttoning his cuffs with precise, crisp movements. “For all of your reading, you’re certainly having a hard time understanding this.” He reached for the suit coat hanging beside his desk. “I’ll explain once more, so try to keep up. Your sister’s crippled bastard is an embarrassment to me and the family name. I would be pleased to never see him again.”
Tidy once more, Father picked up the bonsai and moved around his desk to place it on the correct pedestal. He never raised his voice as he continued his explanation, and Marcia was forced to run after him to hear his hurtful words.
“However, I will not have it said that I don’t honor my responsibilities. The Lindqvist family is all about duty and responsibility, Marcia. I am responsible for him, and you will not be responsible for him because you are not even capable of being responsible for yourself.”
Because I’m a woman. It was a ridiculous reason, but he’d said it time and again.
“Until such a time as another man becomes responsible for you, you will remain under my roof with that useless grandson of mine.”
Father found the correct pedestal, and placed the miniature tree on top, arranging it just so, checking the angle of sunlight it received. Marcia’s manicured fingernails dug into her palms, the pain helping to keep her centered when the incredibly outdated injustice of her father’s decrees threatened to send her into sobs.
Think of Stefan. How many times had the boy stood in front of his grandfather’s tirades, how many times had he heard himself called useless and broken, only to laugh and play with her later? He was resilient and lovable and ever so charming, and if he could handle Herman Lindqvist, then so could Marcia.
“To confirm…” She struggled to keep her voice calm and her eyes lowered, as Father preferred. “If I am married, you’ll consider my husband responsible enough to care for me and Stefan? You’ll grant me custody?”
Father studied her. “You would not marry a man just to spite me.”
Marcia almost laughed out loud at the ridiculous notion. “I’ve lived my life under the thumb of one…” Tyrant. Bully, “Man. I’m not in a hurry to become subservient to another.”
“You know the scandal you would cause if you married a man I did not approve of?”
She wouldn’t be the one causing the scandal. It’s the twenty-first century! If she married a man he didn’t approve of, Father would be the one causing the scandal, in his childish reaction.
Still, she forced herself to nod.
Father brushed past her on his way towards the conservatory door. Apparently his hour of scheduled “personal time” was through.
On his way, he called over his shoulder, “Then yes. If and when you marry a man I approve of, I will grant you custody of that cripple.”
It was hardly a moment to celebrate, but it was something. For the first time, Marcia had a faint hope. She had no interest in marrying—and no man interested in her—but it was something. Father was actually willing to consider terms, and that was slightly closer to gaining custody than she’d been yesterday.
Happy birthday to me.
“Mara! Happy birthday!”
Stefan barreled into her in his excitement, wrapping his arms around her middle and nearly knocking her over. He was getting so big! She laughed, her mood instantly lightening, and was grateful she’d gone up to the nu
rsery immediately after meeting with the lawyer.
“Are you ready for our picnic?” she asked.
The little boy nodded vigorously before letting go of her and jumping up and down a few times. “Birthday! I can’t believe you’re not having a party!”
“I am,” she laughed. “A picnic with you is an awesome party! Cook packed all my favorites this time, instead of your favorites,” she teased.
Stefan grabbed her hand and started swinging it. “I can’t help if she likes me better! But this doesn’t count as a party—we go on picnics all the time!”
“Yes, but this time there’s a cake.”
The little boy practically buzzed with excitement. “Awesome!”
When Elsie, the nanny she’d interviewed years ago to help care for Stefan, poked her head around the corner, they both waved to her.
“Stefan and I are going out for another picnic, Elsie. We’ll be back after you leave, I’m sure.”
The older woman was only there for a few hours each day, during which Marcia scheduled most of her meetings for the charity, and occasionally on the rare evenings when Marcia had plans. It wasn’t like Marcia could rely on her father to watch Stefan.
When Elsie waved cheerfully, Marcia tightened her grip on Stefan’s small hand. “Ready?”
“For picnic cake? I was born ready!”
She burst into laughter, amazed by how light her heart could feel around him. She’d been the second person to hold him—after his mother—and had marveled at his tiny perfection. Because yes, no matter what Father—or Rebecca—had said about him, Stefan was perfect. He might have a deformed right hand, but his heart and mind were perfect. And his body was perfect for him, and for her.
And that’s all that mattered. Her father’s—and Stefan’s father’s—opinions weren’t relevant.
