by Zoey Oliver
I don’t want stolen moments. I want to hold her hand and kiss her, in public. In front of everyone, fuck all of them. The idea is preposterous on so many levels, yet I can’t get it out of my head.
For starters, being linked to me would absolutely tarnish Abi’s fine reputation. Spencer would never forgive me. And her parents would likely have a coronary, right there on the spot. And lastly — but certainly not the least concerning to me, personally — since when the fuck did Crown Prince of Ostwyn start fantasizing about holding a girl’s hand? What the hell is happening to me?
Since she arrived at my palace, I’ve spent every possible moment I could with Abigail, even arranging us to be sat near one another at events and making excuses to leave the festivities early whenever I could. But every moment with her just makes me want more.
I even found myself getting sucked into researching whether honeysuckle nectar comes in jars like honey, thinking it would be a lovely gift to surprise her with. But it doesn’t.
And that right there, that’s exactly what has me frazzled. I’ve never given a shit about presents before. Sure, I’ve dated women during birthdays and holidays — and Pierre or one of my assistants were sent to fetch whatever expensive trinket was in vogue at the time. But personal gifts? Not me.
Not until Abi.
I would give her every single item on her wish list if I had the power to make it happen. If I could pick up the wilds of Africa, and carry it on my back to lay it at her doorstep, I would.
While the palace guests are out admiring the various gardens, visiting the orchards and the stables, or taking the long, winding path through the woods to view the colorful autumn leaves, I have Abigail all to myself. I’m content to hold her, to enjoy her warm softness pressed against me, to smell the sweet scent of her hair as it tickles against my face. I could enjoy this for days, just lying together, her leg draped over mine, her palm on my chest, listening to her tell stories about her time in Africa and tales about the pranks she pulled on her brother and me when she was a kid. Half of that stuff I hadn’t even realized was her. I never gave clever, sneaky Abi the credit she was due back then.
But today, she’s not talking about wild landscapes and childhood mischief. Instead, she’s just asked me to do something that even I’m surprised by.
“What you’re asking is… well, it’s unusual for an inexperienced woman to want that. I mean, before other things, at least.”
She rolls toward me and wraps her hands around the back of my neck then slides herself against me, her mouth on mine, kissing me deeply. She slips her leg over my thigh and grinds against me. “I need you inside me, Henry,” she whispers.
“And God knows I want that, too. But you really have to be relaxed for me to go back there, Abi. I don’t want to hurt you.”
But she’s already away from me, with her back turned, her ass tempting me. I love the sound of her breathy voice, pleading and hungry for me. I kiss her back and shoulders, pouring every ounce of desire I can into the caress of my lips on her skin.
“Don’t you want it, too?” she asks, looking at me over her shoulder, twisting her back in a way that creates the most sensual curve across her torso.
I shift onto my side, spooning her, and bring my left hand to her face, stroking her softly with my fingers, cradling her cheek in my palm. “Are you kidding me? I want to be inside of you so much it fucking hurts. It keeps me awake at night, the need to be with you, it’s tormenting me.” More honest words have never left my lips.
“Then, do it,” she pleads.
I hesitate before answering. My cock is twitching, hard and ready just from having her next to me. It’s nestled against that beautiful, plump ass of hers, and it’s so fucking tempting, but I’m calling on every ounce of reserve I have to be a gentleman with her.
Her eyes search mine when I don’t reply. “You’ve done it before, right?” she asks.
I know she’s aware of the long list of women the media has connected me to, but I don’t want to talk about other women with her. They were then, part of my former life, and they were just flings. One-night stands, if that. It meant nothing to them and nothing to me. There is just no comparison — Abi is the best thing I’ve ever held in my arms, but I don’t know how to convince her of that.
“It doesn’t matter what I’ve done before. Every moment with you is new and exciting.”
Abi flashes me a wry smile, the corner of her lips creased with humor. “Very smooth. Does that work on all the ladies?”
I give her my most solemn look. “I swear to you, I have never said that before, to anyone.”
She swats at me playfully. “You’re just full of these lines, aren’t you?”
“I’m totally serious. You’re… you know…” I struggle to find the right words, but I don’t have experience with this sort of thing, and my vocabulary is lacking. “…special to me. One-of-a-kind.”
“Stop!” she says, laughing. “You’re just making it worse!” She plants a little kiss on the end of my nose. “But I forgive you. Now, get back on topic, mister. Are we going to do this or not?”
I stifle a sigh of resignation. In her mind, I’m a troublemaker, always looking for a good fight and hot fuck, doesn’t matter with who. I’ll never convince her of anything different.
It’s a pointless hill to climb, anyway, because our time together is only temporary. She’s still entertaining suitors and dead-set on getting married to someone with an unsullied reputation and good social graces, which obviously isn’t me.
This thing we’re doing here? It’s going to end, sooner rather than later. We both knew that going in, and it’s always ever just been about having a bit of fun — for her.
That’s all I wanted when I started this, too.
But that doesn’t make it any easier to think about now, especially with my hard-on and her rubbing her soft, round ass against me like that. But something’s changed. I don’t want to do random hookups; I just want her beside me, naked and smiling and looking at me in that sweet way she does.
I shift away from her ass and roll her toward me, her back resting against the bed. I lean on one elbow beside her, her face below mine. I run my fingers up her thigh, across her hip to her bare stomach, tickling her with a light touch.
“As much as I want to savor every inch of you that I can right now, you don’t need to offer that to keep me interested.”
“But—”
I put a finger to her lips, cutting her off. “When you’re ready, I’d be honored to be your first, in every way you can imagine, but let’s put a pin in that idea for now. I promise, you’ll thank me later — it’ll be so much better if we save that particular activity for once you’re experienced.”
A cloud comes over her beautiful features, and she lets out a big breath. “We can’t. I mean, you can’t be my first like that. I promised.”
“Promised who?”
She shrugs, but I can tell it isn’t carefree. A tightness washes across her face and she sighs quietly before answering. “Myself, my family, God, the court — what does it matter? It’s the same outcome.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve known since I was girl what’s expected of young women of noble upbringing. Things are just different here, aren’t they? It’s like time never moved forward for women of nobility in Ostwyn. The antiquated views on chastity before marriage still stand — but only for the ladies, of course, it’s never really applied to the men, has it?”
I swallow hard, choking back the tide of emotions swelling inside me — sorrow for the news that I can’t be with her in that way, embarrassment at the inequalities between our genders that have been allowed to carry on in my country, and frustration at the unjust obligations laid at her feet simply because she was born female.
“Anyway, it’s all very political and far from sexy. I figure whoever I marry will want to be my first, that it will matter to him, you know?”
I furl my eyebrows, an inexplicable anger ris
ing. I open my mouth, but think better of saying anything and shut it.
Abi notes my expression and shakes her head. She gives me this world-wise, sad smile that makes her look much older all the sudden. “You don’t believe me? You think Horrible Horace wouldn’t care if his bride were a virgin?”
I stuff down my revulsion at the thought of Abi with any other man. “Horace is nearly fifty, and he acts like he’s living in the fifteenth century. Of course he would think it matters, but he doesn’t count.”
“Right,” she says. “Then how about Finley? He’s about your age. Think he wouldn’t mind?”
Fucking Finley. Bile rises in my throat at the very thought of Finley claiming Abi’s virginity — at the very thought of him even laying eyes on Abigail’s glorious naked body and tempting curves. I resist springing to my feet and throwing every goddamn object I own at the walls, picturing his head as they shatter. Grinding my teeth, I manage to choke out a few words. “I don’t know.”
She places her palm against my cheek, a gentle touch that goes a long way in calming my anger. “A lot of guys would care, Henry. Here, at least. Not much has changed in Ostwyn, not with the nobles and the court.”
I close my eyes and purse my lips, trying to get the unwelcome thoughts of Abi and Finley out of my brain. My stomach is clenched in hard knots and I’m growing physically ill at the images tormenting my imagination. “Can we change the subject?”
“Of course,” she says, running her hand down my abdomen and to my cock, which is decidedly softer after having thought about Finley.
“I believe we were talking about where to put this,” she says, brushing her fingers across my member, stirring me back to life.
Her touch jostles me out of my darkness, a smile breaking over my lips. “Lord, woman, you have a one-track mind.”
“You bring it out of me.”
“That’s good to hear,” I say, giving her a wink.
I hope that’s not all I bring out of her. These brief moments with Abi, they have become so much more than just a titillating distraction from the pomp and circumstance of the festival. They’ve become the highlight of my day.
“So, are we doing this?” she asks, her eyes searching my face.
I shake my head. I want every new experience she has with me to be pleasurable, to be what she deserves. As much as I crave her, she has a long list of things to experience first. “You should save that, too. It’s really putting the cart before the horse.”
“Fine,” she says, giving me a playful pout. She shifts onto her side and props an elbow under her head, changing topics once more, probably because she sees that look coming over me again. “So, when your family isn’t hosting a huge festival, what do you do with your time, Henry? What’s the life of a prince like?”
“It’s pretty boring, actually.”
“Ha! That’s not what all the tabloids say.”
I nod. “True. Until this spring, I suppose my life looked pretty exciting. The gossip rags certainly found it interesting, at least. Although, to be fair, I did give them quite a lot of headline material.” What I stop short of telling her, is that underneath all the scandalous headlines, it was an empty existence. I’ve not felt about it that way about it until lately, though. Not until she showed up.
She cocks her head. “What happened this spring?”
“Oh, I finally took it too far, I guess.”
“What do you mean?”
“The royal council lost their patience with my shenanigans. One party too many, one headline too much.”
She raises her eyebrows and gives me a pointed look. “I’m surprised it took them that long, Mr. Scandal. Was it the high-priced escorts or the Russian mafia on the yacht?”
“Ha! I guess I deserve that.”
“Well, if the duck’s wet…” she says, poking me in the arm. “So, what happened, though? What did they do?”
“They called a private hearing and basically said if I didn’t get my act together, they’d support the outlandish Reformation Act that’s been quietly circulated by certain members of the court.”
Abi frowns and raises up on her arm, looking concerned. “I haven’t heard about this. What would this Reformation Act do?”
“Well, it would strip my family of power, for starters. It would allow the citizens to not only bring charges of impropriety, but also to call leaders by vote rather than royal decree. That was a sobering moment.”
What I don’t mention is that I’m pretty sure fucking Finley is behind the Act. He’s been envious of my power and status since we were kids and angling to snatch at it. He’d love nothing more than to see my family dethroned and the Crown stripped from my future. A small handful of other misguided nobles and members of the court have latched onto the idea that any power taken from royal family must be dispersed elsewhere, so why not to them? The Reformation Act reeks of Finley’s handiwork.
“Wow, I bet.” She flops back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I’m so glad I don’t have the expectations of a whole nation hanging over me. I can’t imagine how intense that weight must be. I only have the expectations of my family, and that’s quite enough.”
“It’s not all fun and games, that’s for sure.”
She rolls back over onto her elbow. “You know, Spencer never mentioned anything about this. Did you tell him to keep it under wraps?”
“Actually, I’ve not mentioned it to anyone outside that hearing.”
She looks at me with surprise. “Really? I’m the first one you’ve told?”
“Yes.”
“Why keep quiet about it?”
“I’m not sure,” I say with a shrug.
Abi grows quiet beside me and lays her head down on a pillow, staring at me, her eyes searching my face. She’s looking at me in a way that makes me feel like she’s not sure what to think, like maybe I’m hiding something dark and awful. I decide to tell her the truth.
I roll over on my side to face her, laying my head on my elbow. “After the hearing, I did a lot of thinking. Soul-searching, I guess. Decided that either I become the King my country deserves, or I should support the Reformation Act, too. I guess I decided it was better to show that I’m trying, rather than just tell everyone. So, I’ve just been head down, trying to be a better man.”
She nods solemnly. “I understand. It’s hard to come to the realization that other people’s lives are depending on you to do the right thing, and it’s even harder to actually do it.”
I stare into her eyes, deep emerald pools of sincerity. There’s a sadness there that I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s not the first time I’ve noticed, but like before, she quickly moves past whatever it is and gives me a smile.
“How’s that turning out for you?” she asks, looking cheerful once again. “Being out of the spotlight?”
I take a long draw of breath and think about it. “It’s going pretty good, I guess. It has its upsides, like spending time with my parents. When my father steps down from the throne, they’ll be moving to the small estate at Highthorn, on the coast. My mother is already planning their social calendar, and my father wants to take up sailing. So, it’s been nice to be here with them before they go. But none of it is as exciting as my former media scandals, I assure you.”
“That’s probably a good thing,” Abigail quips with a smile. “But I bet you miss it — maybe not the scandals,” she says quickly, “but the exciting stuff that lead up to them.” She shakes her head, looking embarrassed, and waves her hands in the air. “Forget I said that. Tell me what your days are like now.”
I chuckle at her adorable awkwardness, but decide not to tease her about it. “Let’s see… I start every morning with a briefing from the advisory council, and it’s all downhill from there — piles of paperwork and dull meetings until dinner. Visits from dignitaries, travel to meet with other heads of state, a lot of political handshaking and socializing.”
“Sorry, you’re not selling it mister. You’ll never convince me the li
fe of a Crown Prince is too bad. I mean, for starters, you live in a massive palace.” She shakes her head and gives me a look of mock pity. “You poor thing.”
I laugh. “Yeah, okay, you’re right. At the end of the day, I can’t really complain.”
“And your evenings? Who warms your bed at night, Your Highness?”
Her tone is light and teasing, but her eyes are searching my face uneasily, and I notice the way her stomach and jaw have tensed as the question hangs in the air. She needn’t worry. Save for the occasional short-term visitor arranged at Pierre’s doing because he’s convinced I’m going to swing the pendulum too far the other way and become a celibate recluse, my evenings have been spent alone more often than not.
“You do, my Lady.”
Abi pokes me in the ribs. “You can’t give me a straight answer to save your life, can you?”
“Now, why would I lie about a thing like that?”
If only she understood. Being alone is unavoidable. I’ll be assuming the full duties of the crown soon, and there is no room for missteps — and me, of all people, will not be afforded the sort of privacy needed to date someone seriously. Not by the media who is waiting with baited breath for the tiniest shred of gossip to emerge from Pridemore Palace. TV show ratings and tabloid sales are undoubtedly decreasing now that I’m not writing the headlines for them. News of a romantic entanglement? The barest whisper that I might be dating someone? They’d circle like starving piranhas. I can’t afford even the appearance of a scandal if I’m to convince the country I’m worthy of becoming their next King.
“Because they’re lined up, just waiting for their turn, but you’re too kind to tell me,” she replies.
“Who is waiting?”
“Every woman on earth, that’s who.”
“There’s only one woman in my bed, Lady Abigail Lisbeth Strathmore,” I scold in a firm, loud tone. “And she’s been misbehaving, badly.”
“Oh?” Abi’s cheeks grow pink, and she’s biting her bottom lip in that shy, excited way she does. “What will happen to her?”
