by Anne Marsh
Having grown up (or not) in the palace, I have the advantage on my pursuers. I slip through an almost invisible opening in the boxwoods. There’s a courtyard just on the other side and a midnight garden. It’s always been one of my favorite places in the palace. It smells like heaven, all flowering jasmine and white tea roses, while lots of naked cupids some romantic ancestor imported from France look on. There’s a fountain in the middle of the small square that my ten-year-old self decided looks like a giant cupcake, three tiers of stone dripping water into an enormous basin at the bottom.
It’s a landscape artist’s wet dream, but Edee ignores it. All of her attention is focused on me and that feels fucking great. She’s pissed off and I’ve screwed up epically, but I’m all in now.
All I want is to fix this. Fix us. And that means the rest of the world—my king, the guards, the ballroom full of aristocratic guests and wannabe princesses—will have to wait. Edee comes first. She’ll always be my first. My first lover, my first princess, and hopefully my first and only wife.
I set her down. I’m not stupid. I keep my body between her and the exit. If she wants to leave, I’ll have to let her go, but I don’t have to make it easy. She told me in Vegas that the men in her life had been a revolving door—that boyfriends left and the number one rule in the Edee-verse was no chasing after them. But she’s here.
She shakes her head. “I’m not having sex with you in the garden. Do you take all your girls here?”
God, she’s fucking amazing. I lay my hand over my heart and sweep her a bow. “That wasn’t my plan, although I’m willing to entertain suggestions.”
Her updo thing wasn’t designed for mad romps through the garden. What my chase didn’t undo, our bursting through the hedge has. Edee’s hair tumbles down around her shoulders, thick and tangled. My fingers itch to smooth out the curls someone has painstakingly created. Her hair is usually pin straight, falling below her shoulders and ending in just a tiny, naughty flick. Edee’s hair behaves. It’s good girl hair. Tonight’s fancy do is pretty, too. Tumbled and tousled, all sexy loops as if she’s just rolled out of bed.
And when she crosses her arms over her chest—I suspect she’s holding herself back from killing me—her tits threaten to spill out of the pink cups. The ribbon that wraps around and around her ribcage just begs for one good tug. So I can unwrap her and eat her up.
“What do you want from me?”
“I want to show you something.”
Her gaze drops to my crotch.
“Not that. Not yet.” A man can hope after all.
“Start talking then.”
I drop to my knees. “I forgot my boom box, so I can’t stand outside your window and serenade you. It’s too dark for a skywriter and clearly I suck at the ballroom thing.”
“You can’t. You were born for this.” She stabs a finger back toward the palace.
And yes, my house is crazy rich. I have a hundred bathrooms where normal people make do with one or two. I have two dozen sports cars, a private island, and enough royal jewels to open my own Tiffany’s. But that’s just stuff.
Stuff doesn’t matter.
People do. Feelings do. “I was born for you,” I correct.
Edee freezes. I don’t know how neither of us saw that coming. Because it’s true. The moment she strode into my life, my life changed for the better. It just took me a little while to realize the truth, that there’s only one princess for me. One queen.
“That’s it? That’s your big declaration?”
Edee’s a tough audience.
“Pretty much.”
She opens her mouth and I’m no lip reader but I don’t think I’m going to like what she says next. I hold up my hand. “But there is one other thing.”
My voice sounds like sandpaper but that’s nothing on how my stomach feels. Someone’s taken a sander to my insides and everything feels raw and rough. Like a blowtorch to the heart.
“Oh?” She leans forward, arms still crossed over her chest. “Do tell.”
“I love you.”
“Oh,” she says again, but the pain and the fire inside me ease up some. Because that word is soft and wondering. And yes, it’s also hesitant and skeptical because love is so damn hard that it makes us both crazy.
“Yes, we come from two different worlds, and mine’s the crazy one. The one where if you have enough money you can go swimming in the Bellagio fountains and wear a crown and be hounded by a million paparazzi. But it’s also the world where I love you with everything I am.” My hands curve around her knees, pushing, asking her to make space for me. “I don’t deserve a second chance, but my question is, can I have it anyway? Will you do that for me? Can you forgive me?”
My throat’s so dry that the water in the fountain looks downright drinkable, but I keeping on going because I have to get the most important words out. “I’m sorry. I’ll probably fuck up again and it might be as soon as tomorrow, but I’ll be sorry then, too. And I promise that I belong to you and I’ll always kiss it better. I’ll always come back to you or I’ll be waiting for you to come back to me. Lady’s choice.”
And then I shut the fuck up.
And wait.
Edee stares at me. Her lips part, but no words come out. I can’t tell if this is good or bad. All I can do is wait. And fucking wait some more.
And I touch her, too, because she’s killing me and I totally deserve it. I run my thumb over the silky skin behind her knee.
“I’m not a princess,” she whispers. I suspect she’d rather yell at me but there’s a sudden clamor outside our sanctuary. The guards are definitely looking for me. Raised voices carry in the still night air—a girl shouting something that sounds awfully like Nik’s name. Not my circus, not my monkeys—not now. While Vale may lay claim to most of my daylight hours, it can’t have these stolen moments with Edee.
“You’re mine.” I run my hands up her thighs and wrap them around her waist. “Say yes.”
“Because you love me?” I breathe her in, pretending my eyes are full of water from the fountain and not for any other reason.
“Yes because I love you—and because I think you love me.” I’m totally taking a chance on this.
Her sigh ruffles my hair. “You live in a fishbowl, Dare. You’re on public display all the time. I don’t belong here.”
I tilt my head back so I can see her face. “Maybe you don’t and I don’t, but I have a better idea.”
She thinks about it for a moment and then she asks, “Tell me?”
“We belong together, wherever that is, and there will always be time for just us. If I promise you that, if I buy us a mountain retreat and throw all the reporters off the side of said mountain, would you give it a shot?”
The corner of her mouth quirks up and my sad, stupid heart perks up. She’s thinking about it! “Is there a bed in this mountain aerie of yours?”
“A dozen,” I say gravely. “One in each room. Is that a yes?”
“It’s not a no.”
And that’s all I need. A chance. “Let me show you?”
When she nods, I stand up and cup the sides of her face with my hands. There are tears in her eyes and damp tracks down her cheeks. I kiss the silvery marks away and she lets me.
“Do you remember that night in Vegas? When it was just us before all the crazy hit?”
“I do.”
“I made you a promise that day and I intend to keep it. For better or for worse. We can have that. Together. We can do all the crazy things or none of them. Some of them will be fabulous—and some of them will suck. But we’ll do them together. We’ll be together. Those are my favorite moments and I want more them. With you.”
I’m babbling.
I’m—
She slides her arms around my waist. She’s so close that I breathe her in with each breath I take.
&nb
sp; “Dare,” she says, resting her cheek against my chest. “I like those moments, too.”
I could stay like this forever because I love her and it’s so much more fucking perfect than I ever imagine. My heart’s pounding in my chest like I’m growing a minialien and I’m about to burst wide open and there are still so many things I haven’t told her yet. It would take days, months, years to share everything with her and—
“I think I’m having a heart attack. My chest is all tight and achy.”
A smile tips up the corners of her mouth. “Those are feelings.”
“Are you sure?”
The smile gets broader, happier. “Lovely feelings.”
“Because I might need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Or maybe you could kiss it better.”
Her beautiful mouth forms a perfect O.
“You make me better, so I’m hoping you’ll make me yours.”
A soft smile curves her mouth. “Such a wishful thinker.”
“Because I can change. I can be whatever you need.”
“I need you.”
I nod. Okay. That’s good. That’s . . . perfect. For a long moment, we hold each other tight. I run my hands over her shoulders, down her back, and yes, I cup her ass. It’s as perfect as the rest of her and deserves some attention, too. Unfortunately, the clamor in the garden is getting louder. Not only is it distracting, but it’s ruining my romantic moment.
“Are they hunting us with dogs?” Edee sounds horrified.
“How backward do you think we are here?” When she stammers a retraction, I press a quick kiss against her mouth. “Of course they’re hunting us with dogs. Queenie keeps an entire pack. There was never any winning hide-and-go-seek when my uncle played.”
Edee splutters something that sounds suspiciously like omgyousuck, the dogs bay louder, and I love this. It’s farcical and imperfect and so goddamned funny that I’m smiling like a loon. I love the way I feel when I’m around Edee.
I love her and it all comes down to this.
“Marry me?”
Marrying a princess in a binder seems so crazy now. A boy’s desire to make his king happy. I will always serve Vale. I’ll be her right-hand man, and whatever I can do, I will do. Yes, I’ve done some growing up. I won’t be king because that’s what Nik does best and being kingly is simply part of who he is, like a third arm or some weird dick appendage. Nik is strong and courageous and bold enough to lead Vale into the future, but I can still be his prince—and Edee’s.
“I’ve spoken with my uncle and he’s given his blessing. So if you could see your way to marrying me again, I’d be grateful.”
I fish in my pocket and hold out two rings. The first one is Rose’s. I hold it out. It’s delicate and sparkles in the moonlight, which is probably Rose’s doing. I’m sure she’s watching from up there in heaven, probably wondering what took me so long. She’d like Edee.
“This was my aunt’s engagement ring.” I slide the ring onto Edee’s finger. “And this is from me to you.”
I add the wedding band. It has diamonds from a dozen queens and it’s gorgeous. One of a kind.
Just like Edee.
She twists the band on her finger. “You weren’t planning on marrying one of the ballroom girls but you just happened to have a priceless ring in your pocket?”
I hold up her hands so we can both admire the rings. “Honestly? No. All appearances to the contrary, I planned to keep on walking. Up one set of stairs, down the other, and out the door.”
“And do what?”
I shrug. “Look for you. I’ll always be looking for you, Edee. This prince in a suit? This is just part of who I am—the outside part. And while he wants you on his arm and by his side in public, all of me loves you. Let me show you.”
And . . . cue the waterworks. Christ, she’ll kill me later. But for now I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight.
She glares at me through her tears. “How? How do you strip down the outside just like that?”
“Show and tell time, brown eyes.”
I told her before and I meant it. We don’t always have to be on display. I will always make time for us.
For love.
So I force myself to lift her off my lap and then I stand up and start stripping. I unbuckle, unzip, and undo. The uniform jacket hangs off one of the wings of one of the fat, naked cherubs decorating the fountain. My shirt goes next, hitting a nearby rose bush, and then I bend over and yank off my boots.
“Dinner and a show.” Edee swipes at her eyes with the back of her hand and then makes a give it up gesture.
I look at her and fall just a little bit more in love. “See me.”
And then I unbuckle my belt, shove my pants down my legs, and stand there in just my boxer briefs. I’d lose those, too, but we’re going to have company sooner rather than later.
“What are you doing?” Laughter fills her voice as she drinks me in. See? She totally likes what she sees. All is not lost.
“I’m going for a swim.” I vault over the fountain’s edge. It’s summer and the water is still pleasantly warm. Mostly. At least I won’t freeze my balls off in the next ten minutes. “Join me. Think of it as water therapy. Or a wet tell-all booth on one of those reality TV shots. Come in here and tell me what you’re thinking.”
I drop to my knees and hold out my arms for her. I’ll wait as long as it takes because I’m hers forever.
She stares at me. “Are you crazy?”
“Crazy mad for you.” I don’t move, not even when she slides her phone out of some hidden pocket and snaps a picture of me.
“Still mad?” She sets the phone down and does some more looking. The water’s soaked through my boxer briefs and all of my assets are on full display. Did I mention that the water isn’t frigid? Because parts of me are definitely standing to attention.
“Edee.” I mock growl her name. “It’s not nice to leave your king on his knees.”
“Hmmm.” She toys with the ribbon on the front of her dress. “But we’ve already established that I love having you on your knees.”
And then God bless her, she pulls on that ribbon like it’s the ultimate ripcord and her dress drops to the ground. She stands there, a hint of pink coloring her cheeks, and wearing just a pink thong—pink is definitely my new favorite color—and a strapless corset.
I hold out my hands to her. “Please come here?”
There’s more laughter in her voice as she does, especially when I have to help her negotiate the fountain’s stone lip. And then I hold up a staying hand when she’s balanced on the edge. It’s important to have things clear. “Are you all in, Edee? Am I yours and you’re mine? And we’re doing this together?”
She drops down onto me and my arms close around her.
“Yes.”
“Let’s tell everyone then.” I fish in my jacket pocket for my phone and then I take a picture of the two of us in the fountain together and I tweet it to the world. I’ve met The One. I can’t think of a more perfect caption, can you?
She pulls me closer, her arms brushing my neck. “I love you.”
And that’s good enough for me. That’s the perfect ending for tonight—and an even better beginning for the rest of our lives. I’m going to make her happy. This prince and princess are getting their happily-ever-after.
Anne Marsh is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than forty-six novels, short novels, and novellas. Before she was a writer, she was a burger flipper, grocery bagger, Russian teacher, librarian, manuscript typist, staple picker (yes, they do pay people to remove staples), and writer of technical manuals for a film studio. She lives in Northern California but would move to Tikehau in a heartbeat if only there were bookstores in the South Pacific.
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