The Prince's Christmas Vow

by Jennifer Faye

  “It looks to me like you’re an amazing daughter.”

  “I’m doing my best. I was trying to protect you, too. I didn’t want to become a burden to you. You have a country to run—people counting on you—”

  He reached out, cupping his hands over her shoulders. “Don’t you know by now that there’s nothing and no one more important to me than you? I love you. I have since the day we met.”

  That was it. The dam broke. She lowered her head as a tear splashed onto her cheek. “I love you, too. But you would be better off without me. I’m all wrong to be a princess.”

  “I disagree.” His thumb moved beneath her chin and lifted her head until he was looking into her eyes. “I can’t think of anyone who would fit the position better.”

  “What? No. You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m very serious.”

  He wasn’t thinking this through. “What if I have this disease? What if I can’t—won’t—have kids?”

  “Then my brother and his kids will inherit the crown.”

  This couldn’t be happening. He really wanted her, flaws and all. “But I’m a commoner. I have no money, no influence, and no important ties to any foreign countries.”

  “You have something more important. You are the bravest person I know. You took on the world by yourself in order to care for your mother. You have a heart of gold—always putting the happiness of others ahead of your own. And you aren’t afraid of hard work. Just look at this place, it’s amazing.”

  “Really?” When he nodded, she continued. “You aren’t just saying that to make me feel better? You thought about this?”

  “I haven’t thought of anything else. I mean every word I’ve said. I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

  Her heart swelled with the warmth of love radiating from Demetrius. “What does this mean?”

  He gazed deeply into her eyes. “It means I love you with all of my heart. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

  “I love you, too. I never stopped.”

  His hand moved, allowing the backs of his fingers to swipe away her tears. His head dipped, and then his lips claimed hers. She leaned into him. At last, she knew where she belonged. She didn’t know how the next chapter of her life would end, but she now knew how it would start.

  Demetrius stopped kissing her and leaned his forehead against hers. “Come inside with me so we can announce our marriage. I want everyone to know how lucky I am.”

  “What about the annulment papers?”

  “Did I forget to tell you that I accidentally dropped them? They landed in the paper shredder. So it looks like you’re stuck with me.”

  Her vision blurred with tears of joy. “So we’re still married?”

  “That we are. You are now and always will be the princess of my heart.”

  EPILOGUE

  A year later...

  “YOU DO KNOW that you’re breaking with tradition?”

  Demetrius strode into the palace library, finding his wife standing on a step stool with a red shimmery ornament in her hand. He’d never imagined that he could fall more in love with her, but each day that passed, he found himself falling further and further under her spell. And he couldn’t be happier.

  Zoe glanced over her shoulder at him. “I just need to find a spot for this last ornament.”

  Demetrius’s gaze reluctantly moved to the Christmas tree. White twinkle lights shimmered off the dozens of ornaments. “I don’t think there’s room for more.”

  “Sure there is.” Zoe sounded so confident. “There’s always room for more.”

  He smiled and shook his head at her determination.

  Over the past year, so many things had changed. First, they had a splashy wedding to the thrill of the people of Mirraccino—and Zoe, who got to wear a white dress with a long train. After which Zoe decided to get the DNA testing done. There had been some long sleepless nights while they both waited for the results, but to everyone’s relief, Zoe hadn’t inherited her mother’s early onset familial Alzheimer’s.

  And though they’d moved into the palace and Demetrius was fully immersed in matters of state, his father still refused to step down from the throne, even though his doctors had advised him that it would be best for his heart. Demetrius now knew where he’d inherited his stubborn streak. All he could do was be there to alleviate as much of the stress as he could until his father was willing to see reason.

  Zoe held up the sparkly Christmas ornament, regaining his attention. She’d never been more beautiful. He’d swear she was glowing with happiness. She moved the decoration around, still trying to decide which limb to place it on. At last satisfied, she situated it near the top.

  She turned to him, resting a hand atop her slightly rounded belly. Her face was radiant. “It’s time we started a new tradition. After all, you helped me decorate the tree last year and you didn’t do such a bad job.”

  “Hey! I did a really good job. You said it was the prettiest tree you’d ever seen.”

  She arched a brow. “I think they call that revising the past.”

  He approached her, finding himself unable to keep his hands to himself whenever she was in the room with him. “Maybe you should come down here so we can discuss these new traditions.”

  She smiled and stepped down the little ladder until she was standing on the lowest rung. Her eyes twinkled with merriment. “Why, Prince Demetrius, if I didn’t know better, I’d think that you have a lot more on your mind than talking.”

  He wrapped his hands around her expanding waistline and lifted her to him. Her body slid down over his. His pulse raced. It didn’t matter how long they were together, he couldn’t imagine ever being immune to her charms.

  Her arms looped around his neck as she gazed deep into his eyes. “You do know that we’re expected at Residenza del Rosa soon, don’t you? I want to take my mum her presents. I called and this is one of her better days.”

  He had to hand it to his wife. She was the strongest person he’d ever known. Though her mother’s condition was deteriorating, Zoe did her best to stay positive even though her mother recognized her less and less. On the days when Zoe needed a hug, a shoulder to lean on or an ear to listen, he made sure to be there for her. She was his priority. It wasn’t all sunshine and roses, but together they were getting through the challenges life threw at them.

  “Don’t worry. We won’t be late. In fact, I think we have just enough time to squeeze in a little of this.” His lips pressed to hers. He knew from plenty of experience that it wouldn’t take much to sway her into delaying their outing.

  “Hey, isn’t that how you two got in trouble already?”

  With great reluctance, Demetrius released his princess and turned to face his brother. “I don’t think you have any room to talk.”

  “Is my husband causing problems already?” Reese entered the room wearing a blue cotton top with the words Precious Cargo Aboard emblazoned across her rounded midsection.

  Demetrius smiled. “He’s always causing trouble.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Reese pressed a hand to her back. “Did he tell you yet?”

  “Tell us what?” Zoe spoke up.

  “That he’s been up to his antics.” Reese frowned at her prince, but her eyes said that she was only playing with him. “It appears that we’re not having a baby boy, we’re having two—boys that is.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Zoe rushed over to hug her.

  Demetrius gave Zoe a look. “You aren’t carrying twins, too, are you?”

  She started to laugh. “Not me. But I do have a surprise.”

  “I love surprises.” The king entered the room. A smile lit up his face. He looked so much more at ease now that both of his sons were taking on a lot of the workload that the king had shouldered for
so long on his own. “Well, don’t keep us in suspense.”

  Zoe smiled at her father-in-law. Over this past year they’d grown quite close as they took daily strolls through the flower gardens. Demetrius always wondered what they found to talk about, but he didn’t want to pry. Some things were best left alone.

  Zoe moved to Demetrius’s side. “I was planning to save this announcement for Christmas day, but now seems rather fitting.”

  Demetrius’s chest tightened. “You’re starting to worry me. Nothing is wrong, is it?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Everything is fine. Do you think Mirraccino is ready for a queen that looks like me and acts like you?”

  He breathed easier. “It’s a girl?”

  She nodded. Demetrius picked her up and swung her around. He didn’t care whether it was a little boy or girl just so long as baby and mom were both healthy. “Hey, you cheated. You weren’t supposed to consult the doctor while I was off on that business trip to Milan.”

  Zoe glanced away. “I...I had some pains—”

  “What? Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”

  She pressed a hand to his chest where his heart was pounding as adrenaline raced through his veins. Nothing could be wrong with them. He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost Zoe after everything they’d gone through.

  “Relax.” Her voice was soft and comforting. “The doctor told me that it was normal. They were growing pains. Completely natural.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. “He even did a sonogram to assure me everything was fine.” She moved to her purse that was on the couch and pulled something out. “Meet your daughter.”

  Demetrius stared at the photo and then at his wife. His vision blurred a bit, but he didn’t care in the least. He couldn’t believe that he’d been so blessed.

  “This is going to be the best Christmas ever.”

  With that he pulled his wife into his arms and kissed her, leaving no doubt about how much he loved her. Now and forever.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from HIS LOST-AND-FOUND BRIDE by Scarlet Wilson.

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  His Lost-and-Found Bride

  by Scarlet Wilson

  PROLOGUE

  ‘SIGNOR! SIGNOR, VENGA ORA!’

  Logan Cascini was on his feet in an instant. As an architect who specialised in restoring old Italian buildings, to get the call to help transform the Palazzo di Comparino’s chapel for a royal wedding was a dream come true.

  The property at the vineyard was sprawling and over the years areas had fallen into disrepair. His work was painstaking, but he only employed the most specialised of builders, those who could truly re-create the past beauty of the historic chapel in the grounds and the main palazzo. Most of the buildings he worked on were listed and only traditional building methods could be used to restore them to their former glory.

  Timescales were tight in order to try and get the chapel restored for the royal wedding of Prince Antonio of Halencia and his bride-to-be, Christina Rose. No expense was being spared—which was just as well considering he had twenty different master builders on-site.

  ‘Signor! Signor, venga ora!’

  He left his desk in the main palazzo and rushed outside to the site of the chapel. His stomach was twisting. Please don’t let them have found anything that would hold up the build. The last thing he needed was some unexpected hundred-year-old bones or a hoard of Roman crockery or coins.

  This was Italy. It wouldn’t be the first time something unexpected had turned up on a restoration project.

  He reached the entrance to the ancient chapel and the first thing that struck him was the fact there was no noise. For the last few weeks the sound of hammers on stone and the chatter of Italian voices had been constant. Now every builder stood silently, all looking towards one of the walls.

  The interior of the chapel had been redecorated over the years. Much of the original details and façade had been hidden. The walls had been covered first in dark, inlaid wood and then—strangely—painted over with a variety of paints. Every time Logan came across such ‘improvements’ he cringed. Some were just trends of the time—others were individual owners’ ideas of what made the building better. In restoration terms that usually meant that original wood and stone had been ripped away and replaced with poorer, less durable materials. Sometimes the damage done was irreparable.

  His eyes widened as he strode forward into the chapel. Light was streaming through the side windows and main door behind him. The small stained-glass windows behind the altar were muted and in shadow. But that didn’t stop the explosion of riotous colour on the far wall.

  A few of the builders had been tasked with pulling down the painted wooden panelling to expose the original walls underneath.

  There had been no indication at all that this was what would be found.

  Now he understood the shouts. Now he understood the silence.

  Beneath the roughly pulled-back wood emerged a beautiful fresco. So vibrant, the colours so fresh it looked as if it had just been painted.

  Logan’s heart rate quickened as he reached the fresco. He started shaking his head as a smile became fixed on his face.

  This was amazing. It was one of the most traditional of frescoes, depicting the Madonna and Child. Through his historical work Logan had seen hundreds of frescoes, even attending a private viewing of the most famous of all at the Sistine Chapel.

  But the detail in this fresco was stunning and being able to see it so close was a gift. He could see every line, every brushstroke. The single hairs on Mary’s head, baby Jesus’s eyelashes, the downy hair on his skin, the tiny lines around Mary’s eyes.

  Both heads in the fresco were turned upwards to the heavens, where the clouds were parted, a beam of light illuminating their faces.

  Part of the fresco was still obscured. Logan grabbed the nearest tool and pulled back the final pieces of broken wood, being careful not to touch the wall. Finally the whole fresco was revealed to the viewers in the chapel.

  It was the colour that was most spectacular. It seemed that the years behind the wood had been kind to the fresco. Most that he’d seen before had been dulled with age, eroded by touch and a variety of other elements. There had even been scientific studies about the effects of carbon dioxide on frescoes. ‘Breathing out’ could cause harm.

  But this fresco hadn’t had any of that kind of exposure. It looked as fresh as the day it had been painted.

  His hand reached out to touch the wall and he immediately pulled it back. It was almost magnetic—the pull of the fresco, the desire to touch it. He’d never seen one so vibrant, from the colour of Mary’s dark blue robe to the white and yellow of the brilliant beam of light. The greens of the surrounding countryside, the pink tones of Jesus’s skin, the ochre of the small stool on which Mary sat and the bright orange and red flowers depicted around them. It took his breath away.

  He’d hoped to restore this chapel to its former glory—but he’d never expected to find something that would surpass all his expectations.

  ‘Signor? Signor? What will we do?’ Vito, one of the builders, appeared at his
elbow. His eyes were wide, his face smeared with dirt.

  ‘Take the rest of the day off,’ Logan said quickly. ‘All of you.’ He turned to face the rest of the staff. ‘Let me decide how to proceed. Come back tomorrow.’

  There were a few nods. Most eyes were still transfixed on the wall.

  There was a flurry at the entranceway and Louisa, the new owner of the palazzo, appeared. ‘Logan? What’s going on? I heard shouts. Is something...?’ Her voice tailed off and her legs automatically propelled her forward.

  Louisa Harrison was the American who’d inherited Palazzo di Comparino and hired him to renovate both it and the chapel back to their former beauty. She was hard to gauge. Tall and slim, her long blond hair was tied up in a ponytail and she was wearing yoga pants and a loose-fitting top. Her brow was furrowed as she looked at the fresco and shook her head. ‘This was here?’ She looked around at the debris on the floor. ‘Behind the panelling?’

  He nodded while his brain tried to process his thoughts. Louisa would have no idea what the implications of this could be.

  She turned back to face him, her face beaming. ‘This is wonderful. It’s amazing. The colours are so fresh it’s as if the painter just put down his paintbrush today. I’ve never seen anything like this. Have you?’

  He took a deep breath and chose his words carefully. ‘I’ve seen a few.’ He gave a nod to the wall. ‘But none as spectacular as this.’

  She was still smiling. It was the most animated he’d seen her since he’d got here. Louisa rarely talked to the tradesmen or contractors and when she did it was all business. No personal stuff. He’d learned quickly that she was a woman with secrets and he still had no idea how she’d managed to inherit such a wonderful part of Italian history.

  But her intentions seemed honourable. She’d hired him after going along with the request for a wedding venue from Prince Antonio. And with his growing reputation, thriving architecture business and natural curiosity there had been no way he’d turn down the opportunity to do these renovations.