The Princess I Hate to Love

by Iris Morland

  I kissed her hand. “Thank you.”

  Returning to my quarters, I found myself going into Niamh’s instead. I picked up her pillow and inhaled its scent. I didn’t know if I was making the right decision, but at the very least, this burden that had hung about my shoulders would be lifted.

  I wandered through her bedroom, noting that she’d left a stack of books behind, along with lip balms, bobby pins, hair ties, and other knickknacks. I flipped through one of the books, realizing that it was one of the romance novels she’d bought at a used bookstore in Paris.

  I wanted to return to Paris with her and show it to her as my wife. I wanted to see her smile and moan as she ate an eclair again.

  I went into her bathroom, feeling rather idiotic for wanting to mentally catalogue all of the items my wife had left behind. Her toothbrush was gone, but a new tube of toothpaste still sat on the counter. Her hair dryer was also still on the counter, along with bottles of shampoo and body wash in the shower.

  She’d left in a hurry, obviously. But I wondered: had she left with the intention of returning?

  I was so distracted that I accidentally kicked over a small trashcan near the toilet. Swearing, I kneeled down to pick up the mess, wondering why the trash hadn’t been emptied yet. Then again, Celia had been so terrified that she’d probably forgotten.

  Right there on top of the scattered trash was a pregnancy test. The result: two pink lines.

  I swore. What the hell did that mean? Did that mean it was positive? Negative? Twins? Wait, one line was kind of faint compared to the other one. Did that mean “maybe, try again later?”

  Shit, I didn’t know what pregnancy tests told you. I hadn’t exactly had a reason to use one myself. I cursed myself for being the greatest idiot alive.

  I began to sift through the trash, hoping the box was in the there, hating myself for having to dig through my wife’s trash. At the bottom, I found the box, my heart pounding as I looked for the meaning of two lines.

  Two lines: positive.

  Niamh was pregnant.

  My wife, pregnant, with our baby.

  And she’d not only not told me, but she’d run away without so much as a goodbye.

  “Laurent!” I shouted from the bathroom. “Book me a plane ticket to Dublin immediately!”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It was a strange time to be alive when I found myself barred from entering my wife’s estate by a tiny slip of a maid.

  “She doesn’t want to see you,” the maid said in a heavy Irish accent. “She explicitly told me not to let you inside.”

  The butler, a granite-faced man who could’ve been thirty or seventy, stood behind the maid and nodded.

  “I need to speak with her,” I repeated slowly. “It’s urgent.”

  The maid just shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s not possible—Your Highness.”

  And then a door was shut in my face. Me, a prince, heir to the throne of Salasia. I had to admit that had never happened before. People tended to open doors for me, not close them.

  Then again, Niamh had done the same thing to me multiple times now. Clenching my jaw, I went to gaze out at the vast Irish Sea, the sea air cool against my face.

  I didn’t understand why Niamh was literally shutting me out. Had the maid even told her I was here, in Dublin, begging to see her? Did she want me to climb some trellis to her window like Romeo? I’d be more likely break my neck with such a stunt than win Niamh’s heart back.

  I’d worked at the estate for a brief time, disguising myself as a gardener to gain access to the family’s library. Smiling darkly, I remembered that the main gardener, Jamie, tended to leave the door from the back gardens to the kitchen unlocked.

  If Niamh wouldn’t let me in through the front door, I’d sneak in through the back.

  On my way to the gardens, I snagged a cap that someone had left on the handle of a shovel. I also was glad that I’d worn casual clothing. Acting as though I belonged there, I opened the creaky gate to the kitchen gardens, where a variety of vegetables were growing, and got to the back door without anyone stopping me.

  I need to discuss better security for this place, I thought to myself as I bounded up the servants’ stairs to the second floor, where I knew Niamh had been given quarters when she’d last stayed here. I just prayed I didn’t run into her maid or that butler. They looked like they’d happily tie me up and toss me into the sea without a second thought.

  I nearly ran into another servant as I wandered down the long hallway. I hid in an alcove just in time for a maid to walk past without seeing me. After I’d made certain she was descending the stairs, I went straight to Niamh’s door.

  As I was about to knock, though, I heard voices, loud voices, and they seemed to be coming from the library. When I heard my wife’s voice, I rushed straight to the library.

  I didn’t think twice about bursting through those library doors or about how Niamh probably wouldn’t be happy that I’d shown up unannounced. Apparently, I’d decided to pull a Liam and just fly over without so much as a note.

  Niamh was standing, while there was a man sitting in an overstuffed chair. Niamh immediately spotted me, her expression shocked.

  “Olivier? What—?”

  I rounded on the man in the chair, knowing before I’d even seen his face who it was: Connor Gallagher.

  Connor laughed when he saw me. “There he is, the prodigal prince. I told you he’d come for you, my dear. He isn’t going to let what’s his just wander off.”

  “Shut up,” I said to Connor. To Niamh, I said, “Why are you talking to him?”

  Niamh rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, is every guy in this family a drama llama? You show up here, like you’re one of the Avengers, and I’m supposed to swoon at your feet?”

  “What is he doing here?” I repeated, my teeth gritted.

  “I asked him to come here.”

  I stared at her, incredulous. Connor started laughing again, until the laughter turned into an ugly cough.

  “Now, can we all sit down like civilized people and talk about this?” Niamh gestured for me to sit.

  I chose to stand. I didn’t want Connor to try anything, even if he looked like hell. He hadn’t been lying that he was dying. He looked like he was one foot in the grave already.

  “As I was saying before I was interrupted,” said Niamh, “I wanted Da to come here because I wanted him to admit to my face what he’d done.”

  Connor snorted. “Then what? You say you forgive me and we hug it out?”

  “I have no interest in hugging you. I do, however, want to give you a chance to apologize before I file charges against you.” Niamh smiled grimly.

  “And if I say I’m sorry, then what? You won’t have me arrested?” Connor scoffed. “I don’t see the point of any of this.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.” Niamh inhaled a deep breath. “I wanted to give you one last chance. Why? I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to believe that my own da would feel badly that he’d hurt me so deeply. Maybe I wanted closure, closure that I knew deep down would never happen.”

  Niamh rose from her seat to stand over her father. “Or maybe I just wanted to tell you that I was your one last chance at family, the last person who gave a shit about you, and you destroyed it. You have nothing and no one. And you will die alone. Whether in a jail cell or your rundown, depressing flat, I don’t know. Then again, I doubt your landlord would enjoy renting to someone charged with distributing what amounts to illicit photographs of his own daughter.

  “So, it’s your choice: either apologize and grovel, or you die homeless on the street or, better yet, in a jail cell.”

  Connor stared up at Niamh, shock written all over his face. “You have no evidence it was me.”

  “I have my husband’s own word against you that you threatened him and me. And I’m going to guess that any judge and jury would be more inclined to believe him than someone like you.”

  I could tell that Connor knew he was cornered. Li
ke a wild animal lashing out, he said with a sneer, “File whatever you want. I’ll be dead before anything happens. I have only a few months to live, so think about that when you have me thrown out on the street.

  “Besides,” he added, looking at me, “I can still reveal the truth about your parentage. Or did you forget that? Do you really want me to tell the world that you’re a bastard?”

  Niamh glanced at me. I could see in her eyes that she knew that that was my decision, not hers. My heart lifted a little. If she still cared what happened to me, then there was hope for our marriage.

  “I hate to burst your bubble, but I’ve already contacted a journalist to tell my story. The entire thing, including that my father is not actually Prince Étienne.”

  Niamh and Connor stared at me shock. Niamh’s eyes were shining with tears, while Connor looked like he was one second away from strangling me.

  “You’re lying. You’d throw away everything? For what? Just to get back at me?” said Connor.

  “Despite what you might believe, not everything is about you. Or me.” I went to Niamh and placed a hand on her waist. When she didn’t pull away, a thrill shot through me. “I’m doing it for us. Because I’m tired of living a lie.”

  “Olivier, are you sure? You’ll lose everything,” said Niamh in a tremulous voice.

  “I’d rather lose my throne and my crown than lose my wife.”

  Connor, as was his wont, ruined the romantic moment with a scoffing noise. Getting up, he said, “He’s most likely lying to lure you back, Niamh. I wouldn’t believe him, if I were you.”

  “You’re delusional if you think I’m going to take advice from you.” Niamh pointed to the door. “You can go now. If I ever see your face here again, I’ll have you arrested.”

  “You don’t have the spine to do that. Look at you, practically falling at your prince’s feet when he’s lying to your face.”

  I grabbed Connor by his shirt collar, shaking him until his teeth rattled. “Get the fuck out of here before I toss you out myself,” I warned.

  Connor spat near my feet. “Go fuck yourself. You’ll come crawling back to me in the end. You know it, and I know it.”

  I let him go, and he swore again before limping to the door. Both Niamh and I flinched when the door slammed shut.

  We went to the window to watch Connor leave. He looked back at the window, and although I was sure I was imagining things, he nearly looked sad.

  “Good riddance,” I said. “Are you really filing charges against him?” I said to Niamh.

  She sighed. “Probably. I don’t know yet. It’s not that he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s dying. Why put myself through the stress if he keels over before anything can happen?”

  “I’d be tempted to do it anyway, just to see him sweat.”

  “I just want this to be over.”

  I caught her gaze, and we simply stared at each other for a long moment. Her hair was in a long braid, her face pale. She seemed thinner, too, just as Liam had pointed out.

  Cupping her cheek, I said, “Why did you leave? And without saying a word to me about it?”

  She swallowed. “I don’t know. I just…had to get out. I felt like I was choking, like I couldn’t take one step without someone telling me I was taking the wrong step. I had to go somewhere to clear my head.”

  “You could’ve still told me.”

  “I know.” She covered my hand with hers. “It was a stupid, impulsive decision.”

  “And you ignored all of my messages.” I couldn’t keep the accusatory tone out of my voice.

  “I know, I know.” Niamh moved away, wrapping her arms around her waist. “I just couldn’t deal with it. Sometimes, when I feel that overwhelmed, I have to completely disconnect.” She turned back to me. “It’s not a great coping mechanism. I know that. It’s not fair to the people around me. Yet when it happens, it’s almost like…I have no choice but to go hide in a cave until it passes.”

  “I’m not going to say I understand, but I just ask that you try to talk to me about it beforehand. Finding out you’d left, it was terrifying. I didn’t know if something had happened to you. What if you’d been kidnapped, Niamh? Or had gotten hurt? You can’t just run off when things get too hard.”

  She let out a breath. “I did tell Celia,” she mumbled.

  “Who you forbade from telling me.”

  “Considering you’re here, I’m going to guess she didn’t keep her promise.”

  “I forced it out of her. And no, telling your maid and not your husband isn’t enough.”

  Niamh hugged me. “I’m sorry.”

  I let the tension in my body melt away. Hugging her close, I replied, “I’m sorry, too.”

  “We’ve both been pretty fucking stupid.”

  “Yes, we have.”

  She licked her lips. “Were you telling the truth? About revealing your secret to the world?”

  “Yes. The interview is scheduled for next week. I’ve already disclosed what it is to the journalist so they can prepare themselves for the frenzy afterward.”

  “And then what happens? Does Liam inherit? Me? Will you be kicked out entirely?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. More than likely, your brother will abdicate, and then it’s up to you.” Going down on one knee, I took my wife’s hand. “The only thing that matters is how much I love you. I want to make a life with you, Niamh. Whether that’s as a royal or as a private citizen. We can live here in Dublin, or in the States, or in some shack in Siberia if you want. As long as I’m with you.”

  I took a deep breath. “And with our baby.”

  Niamh’s eyes had filled with tears, but now she was blinking in confusion. “Our baby? Do you mean our future children?”

  “Niamh, you don’t have to lie. I found the pregnancy test. I know that you’re pregnant.”

  Niamh helped me stand, looking at me like I’d finally lost my mind. “What pregnancy test? I didn’t take a test. The last time I took one was three years ago, actually. I’ve been on birth control ever since. Hell, I just got my period, if that makes you feel better.”

  It took a long moment for my brain to compute what she was saying. “You’re not pregnant,” I repeated.

  She shook her head. “Did you think I was? Oh my God, and I ran away, too. Did you think if I were, I wouldn’t tell you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m stupid and impulsive, but I’m not cruel.” She took my face in her hands. “I promise you, I’m not pregnant. I can take a test right now, if you want.”

  I was tempted to ask her to, but then I realized that I had no reason to distrust her. I shook my head.

  “I believe you.”

  “Why do you sound disappointed?”

  I didn’t realize I was, but in that moment, I actually felt disappointed. I’d been so convinced that Niamh was pregnant, thinking about that on the flight here, that knowing she wasn’t didn’t make me feel relieved. It made me feel…hollow.

  “I had the hope that you’d have more reason to come back if you were pregnant,” I admitted.

  “Oh, Olivier. You idiot. I love you. And you’re willing to throw away everything for me. You’re amazing. I don’t deserve you.” At that admission, her voice hitched.

  I kissed her hungrily, and she kissed me with just as much enthusiasm. I tasted her tears, and I caught words of love from her mouth as I kissed her, and I knew that no matter what happened, we’d make it.

  Sometime later, sitting together, Niamh in my lap, she said suddenly, “So whose pregnancy test was it?”

  “Laurent’s?” I joked.

  Niamh’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, it was probably Mari’s. That sneaky little bitch. I’d noticed she wasn’t drinking, but she said it was just because she didn’t want the empty calories. She’s totally preggo. And Liam said that he was getting snipped after two. Those liars.”

  I laughed. “It was probably an accident.”

  “Probably. And now they’re going to
have a third kid. Serves them right.” She looked up at me. “Can you imagine three of those kids together?”

  I shuddered and then thanked God that that trio of hellions would be thousands of miles away from us.

  Epilogue

  Once upon a time, a prince married a girl who didn’t want to marry him. Their marriage was rocky, and the prince realized that, if he was going to keep his new princess by his side, he’d have to make the ultimate sacrifice.

  The princess, touched by his generosity, accepted his heart, and he hers.

  I never thought I’d have a fairy tale romance. I might be a prince, but they were fairy tales for a reason.

  Niamh, of course, had proven me wrong entirely about that.

  Five years after we’d married, the palace held a ball to celebrate the coronation of me and my princess as the new reigning sovereigns. My parents had decided to abdicate, feeling that their time in the spotlight had come to an end.

  “We’re going to be late,” I said to Laurent. We were waiting for Niamh and company to arrive for our grand entrance into the ballroom.

  “I heard something about a ‘kitten explosion,’ Your Highness,” replied Laurent gravely.

  “I don’t even want to know what that means.”

  With only a minute to spare, Niamh arrived, dressed in a deep red gown that complemented her dark hair and blue eyes perfectly. She’d only grown more beautiful in the intervening years since we’d married.

  She’d grown from an awkward girl who wanted nothing to do with her role to a confident princess who became immensely popular. People gravitated to her. She somehow managed to make everyone from grown men to tiny babies enamored of her.

  After the news had broken that I wasn’t the true heir, the scandal had been explosive. Public opinion had been split, one side wanting me to abdicate entirely, the other wanting me to stay. Strict monarchists especially had been horrified at the idea that a true Valady wouldn’t be sitting on the throne.

  Until the public realized that a Valady heir was closer to the throne than they thought. When Liam had refused to claim his rights to the throne, sighting that he was a “bloody American and had no business sitting on any throne,” that left Niamh as the rightful heir.