by Caroline Lee
Marcia’s brow twitched, but she just smiled graciously at the welcome. It was Viggo who felt as if he’d been kicked in the chest. Mom had known? That he and Marcia would be perfect for one another? How could she possibly have known that? Marcia was sweet and kind and shy as hell, and he was—he was—he was The Playboy Prince. No one in their right mind would’ve guessed the two of them would end up together, especially not after the history between their families.
Unless…unless Mom had seen through the role he played, seen the same thing Johan had always known. Had seen what Viggo really wanted out of life, before even he knew.
Man, moms had some weird superpowers.
“Wait, Marcia? Viggo married Marcia?” Kristoff called out from behind them, only to be silenced by someone’s hiss.
“Viggo got married?” Arne said with laughter in his voice. “He beat us all.”
“He even beat us, Schnookums!” William said with a smile as he wrapped his arm around Mom. “Isn’t there a rule about only one royal wedding at a time?”
“Mmm.” Mom made a noncommittal noise as she studied the pair of them. “Not if it’s not announced until after our wedding. But what I want to know…” She dropped her gaze to Stefan. “Is who this handsome young man is?”
Handsome. She probably thought the kid looked like Viggo and his brothers did at that age. I wonder if she’s figured it out yet?
Viggo took a deep breath, a hell of a lot more nervous about this announcement than he’d been about the first one.
But he was saved from answering by Aunt Marina, who burst into the room from the back corridor, a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other, looking completely frazzled by all the last-minute details she was seeing to.
“What’s this I hear about Viggo getting married? He didn’t ask me if he could do that!” She skidded to a stop in the middle of the room, glaring daggers at him. “You can’t just go off and get married whenever you want to! You’re a prince!” She waggled the pen at him. “You’ve pulled some stupid stunts in your life, Viggo, but this is the worst. And to marry her?”
Aunt Marina thrust the pen at Marcia, who actually took a step back from the vitriol in Marina’s expression. Viggo reacted immediately, knowing only that he had to protect Marcia. He stepped in front of her, putting his broad shoulder between the two women.
“Marcia has been my friend for years, Aunt Marina. I begged her to marry me.” It was a slight exaggeration, but it wasn’t going to hurt. “When she said yes, I didn’t want to wait.”
Marina snorted, and settled her hand on her hip. “Oh really? And how does her father feel about this match?”
From over his shoulder, Marcia whimpered slightly. She was so strong, but it had to be difficult, standing here in front of the royal family and have accusations thrown at her. He wanted to defend her, but wasn’t sure why Marina was being so rude.
“Earl Lindqvist was pleased when he thought she was marrying Alek,” he pointed out. He wasn’t sure why Lindqvist’s opinion would matter to his aunt—she hadn’t had anything to do with the man in years.
His oldest brother spoke up from across the room. “Or is it Viggo you think he’d object to, Marina?”
The way their aunt scoffed told Viggo they’d hit on the reason.
Mom was the next one to come to his defense. “Any father would be pleased to have any of my sons as in-laws, and I’m sure Herman is thrilled for Marcia.”
Marina wasn’t convinced, judging from her eye-roll. “That man wouldn’t be pleased with anything his youngest daughter manages.”
Marina and Herman Lindqvist had been involved years ago—some kind of romance after his wife died. As the youngest, Viggo and Johan hadn’t paid much attention to the scandal, but for some reason the relationship had ended right after Rebecca’s death. Viggo had been too wrapped up in his own drama at the time—trying to figure out how to build a relationship with his infant son—to remember the details.
The breakup had been public and messy, and all of Aegiria knew that Princess Marina now loathed her old flame.
Still, that long-ago relationship might explain why Marina knew Lindqvist’s opinions so well—or at least guessed at them. Why she thought his opinions mattered to Marcia was a different matter though.
“Marcia is twenty-five, Aunt Marina. She’s only been living with her father to help take care of her nephew.”
“Yes,” Marina sneered dismissively at Stefan. “I see you’ve brought the crippled bastard with you. What will the press think? Did they see you with him as you came aboard? Oh God, they did, didn’t they?” She threw up her hand in frustration while everyone else was too stunned by her rudeness to reply. “That’s the last thing I need right now! The flower arrangements are wrong, the seating chart is all messed up, and now this? How are we going to clean this mess up? The Playboy Prince is married to—to—to—”
Not many of them were paying attention to Marina’s rant, not after she’d uttered that insult to Stefan. Viggo’s brothers had expressions of shock and distaste, and more than a few looks of pity were directed towards the boy. It was Marcia who said something, however.
“Excuse me.” She dropped Viggo’s hand and stepped around him to take Stefan’s free one. “I am my father’s daughter, and thus have learned rudeness and cruelty from the best. I should inform you that upon my marriage to Viggo, I gained custody of Stefan. He is now my son, and if you insult him again, I’ll make certain you regret it.”
Silence reigned for a few seconds after that haughty speech. Aunt Marina wore an expression like a rottweiler who just realized the kitten had claws; torn between embarrassment and disgust. A few of the princes were nodding in agreement, and Marcia…
Well, Viggo doubted anyone else knew her well enough to tell, but she was terrified. Sure, she hid it behind a serene expression, but he could see the pulse frantically pounding at the base of her throat, and could see her shaking. It was probably a combination of adrenaline and anger, finally pushing her to stand up for—not herself, but her nephew. Now, her son.
Viggo’s smile was wide and sudden and incredibly proud. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him, while placing his hand on Stefan’s shoulder. The boy had sunk against his Mara, but as soon as Viggo stepped up to lend them both his support, the pair leaned into him.
And for the first time in a long while, he felt truly useful. This he could do. He could stand with his wife and son against the world, if that’s what was necessary.
Viggo raised his chin and his brow, and stared at his aunt, challenging her to say anything else.
“That’s enough,” Mom said quietly. Attention shifted to her, but she kept her steely gaze on her younger sister. “You’ve said enough, Marina. I believe you have some wedding preparations to see to…elsewhere.”
Marina recognized a dismissal, apparently. For a moment it seemed like she was going to object, to defend herself. Instead though, she snapped her mouth shut, sent a glare towards Marcia, and turned to the door she came in through. It should have been impossible to slam a swinging door, but she managed it.
In his arms, Marcia breathed a sigh of relief, and seemed to sink against him even farther. Viggo tightened his hold on both of them.
Stefan, however, seemed to get his gumption back as Marina left. His eyes still on the door, he said, “I don’t think I like her, Mara.”
Marcia snorted softly, but then blushed again. Embarrassment for her outburst?
Then a response came from an unexpected source. “I don’t blame you. She’s difficult, but my poopsie is a forgiving queen,” William said from his spot beside Mom.
He dropped her hand and stepped towards Stefan, holding his hand out to the boy. “Hi there. I’m William. Viggo is supposed to call me ‘Pops’, so I guess you can call me that too.”
“Hi,” Stefan said softly, eyeing William’s hand. “I’m Stefan, and I…” Slowly, he pulled his right hand out of Viggo’s, and offered it to William. “My
hand is different.”
“Hmm.” William shook the boy’s hand, then turned it over in his to examine it, as if it was some kind of interesting specimen. He peered at the boy’s two large fingers over the top of his glasses, tracing the bones, as if wondering if they were four fingers fused into two.
Marcia sucked in a breath and straightened, obviously ready to go all mama-bear on someone treating her baby like an oddity, and Viggo was right there with her. However, he knew William well enough by this point to know he wasn’t doing this to be cruel—he was just a scientist. And Stefan didn’t seem embarrassed…
“Fascinating!” William exclaimed, seemingly oblivious to the awkwardness surrounding him. “Do you have a full range of function?”
“Huh?” The boy was also peering at his own hand, as if trying to see what ‘Pops’ was seeing.
“I mean, you can wiggle them? Are they fully articulated?”
This was getting rude. “Come on, William,” Viggo muttered.
But Stefan didn’t seem to mind. “Oh! Yeah, check it out!” He made a fist, wiggled all of his digits, then dropped Marcia’s hand to grab his other one and do the “This is the church, this is the steeple” rhyme Viggo had taught him years ago.
William laughed with delight when he saw that. “Remarkable! How about this?”
To everyone’s surprise—well, at least everyone who didn’t know him as well as Cass and her brothers, who were currently rolling their eyes in embarrassment—William grabbed onto Viggo’s arm to steady himself, then lifted his left foot and peeled off his shoe and sock. Then, in a stunning display of agility for someone as bumbling as the American scientist, he lifted his foot until it was clearly visible to all.
Where the fourth and fifth toes of his left foot should’ve been was one thick toe, as if the last two had fused together. He had four toes, and when he wiggled them all in front of Stefan, the boy laughed as well.
“Twinsies!” Stefan cried, and held his hand up to William’s foot. “High five!”
William kicked at his hand. “Technically this is a high four, I think?”
“High three!” Stefan squealed with joy and slapped at William’s foot again.
Viggo shared incredulous glances with Marcia. He couldn’t remember Stefan ever opening up so completely to a stranger this quickly, much less laugh like this with anyone besides the two of them. William might’ve been completely unsuited for court life, but Viggo had to hand it to him; the man had known exactly how to set the kid’s mind at ease.
Watching his son’s expression now, Viggo knew he’d be forever grateful.
He cleared his throat. “You know, buddy, William is going to become my stepdad in two days. That means he’ll sorta be your grandpa.”
Stefan’s head whipped around to meet Viggo’s eyes, as if he were looking for the truth. When Viggo nodded slightly, the boy sucked in a happy breath, and turned back to William, who was finally standing up straight again, albeit minus a shoe and sock.
“That’s true? You’re going to be my grandpa?”
“Well…” He shrugged. “I’ve never had a grandkid before—that I know of,” he added, sending a glance towards the clump of his sons standing beside Cass and Kristoff, “but sure. Or Grandpops, maybe?” he suggested.
“Grandpops,” Stefan said thoughtfully. “That’s nice. My mom’s father makes me call him ‘sir’, so I like Grandpops better. Or maybe Pops. Or Poops!” He cracked himself up and doubled over with laughter.
“Grandpoops, maybe?” William suggested.
Stefan laughed harder while Marcia closed her eyes, clearly embarrassed, and pinched the bridge of her nose.
William offered Stefan his hand, and the two of them moved a little out of the way. Marcia’s attention went with them, and Viggo felt conflicted. He was pleased they were both feeling welcomed, but he missed holding them.
His mother stepped beside him. She’d been watching William’s strange antics up until now with a benevolent smile, as if she understood. Maybe she knew her fiancé was a complete dork, unsuitable for the throne room with his clumsy antics…but that there was value to them here, in private. Maybe she’d seen this side of him all along.
Viggo’s smile was wry when he turned to his mother. This wasn’t at all how he’d pictured finally making this announcement, but with Stefan over there talking about grip-strength and learning scatology from Pops, now was as good a time as any.
“Mom, I’d like you to meet Marcia, my wife, and Stefan.” He took a deep breath. “Stefan is my son.”
Behind him, he heard a few of his brothers muttering something, but he kept his attention on his mother. She stared at him for a few heartbeats, then turned her attention to the boy. He watched her eyes flicker over Stefan’s features, and knew the exact moment she realized the truth.
It was there in the color of his eyes—so like his father’s and uncles’—and the shape of his nose. Even his smile was the same as Viggo’s, although his was pure and innocent while Viggo’s was often wry.
Viktoria slowly turned back to her son, tears in her eyes. “Viggo,” she said in a choked whisper. “Thank you for telling me.”
She lifted her hands and cupped his cheeks, forcing his world to narrow to just the two of them. “Thank you,” she repeated.
And in that moment, Viggo knew his twin had been right. Johan had said that Mom would want to know before her wedding. Sometimes, Mom seemed all-knowing, so it was impossible to know if she’d guessed the secret of Stefan’s parentage long ago. But here and now, he could tell she was grateful to hear the truth from him.
So Viggo smiled—his real smile—and nodded as best he could. Then he wrapped his arms around his mother and squeezed. “Thank you,” he whispered against her hair.
Conversations sprang up around them…
“Hey, Marcia, come meet Emma.”
“Oh my God, your ring is gorgeous!”
“Did you see how angry Aunt Marina was? What was up with her?”
“You know, I’m still suspicious of her confession last week.”
“That kid sure is cute.”
“You think he’s really your nephew? Like, in blood?”
“Check out that smile next time Pops makes him laugh—he’s a Magnusson alright.”
“It’s about time Viggo acknowledged him and got them both out of there.”
“Wait, you knew about this?”
…but Viggo just smiled. He hadn’t needed Mom’s approval, but having it felt damn good. She was wiping away her happy tears now as they watched William interact with his son, and Viggo knew Johan was right; this was long past due.
But now his wife and his son were being welcomed into his family—by everyone but Marina, apparently—and together they’d figure out what to tell the press about Stefan, if anything. Maybe they could figure out a way for the boy to stay out of the spotlight, so he could grow up to be whatever he damn well wanted to be…instead of being forced into playing a role.
Yeah. Viggo sighed in happiness. And tonight, he was going to get to take his wife back to his home and introduce her to her new life…in his arms.
Life was finally going how it was supposed to.
CHAPTER SIX
It was her wedding night, and she was wearing flannel pajamas with smiling cats printed on them.
It had been quite the afternoon. After standing up to Princess Marina in defense of Stefan, Dr. Hayes had surprised the living daylights out of Marcia when he’d figured out exactly how to connect with the boy. Throughout that crazy and busy family gathering, the one thing Marcia focused on was the fact that her baby had found a grandfather who would really love him.
Well, that and Viggo’s closeness. He’d never been far from her, and often held her hand like they were old friends…which she supposed they were. But having him there with her, fondly watching Stefan make new friends and charm his uncles, had seemed so…normal. Natural. Like they were where they were supposed to be.
And honestly, si
nce his confession out here by the cliffs, since his proposal, Marcia wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be thinking of this Playboy Prince. All these years she’d assumed he hadn’t acknowledged Stefan because he was embarrassed by the boy, but that wasn’t the case at all. He’d done it to protect his son, and the way he’d proudly introduced Stefan to his family today had been all the proof Marcia had needed.
Her last reason to keep herself from falling in love with Viggo had been stripped away, and she was lost. Each moment she spent with him—each time he smiled at her—each time he took her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world—she fell a little more in love with him.
She was in love with her husband.
And tonight was her wedding night.
After their outing today, Viggo had driven them back to his home in his convertible—with Stefan yelling “wheeeeee!” every two minutes—and given them a tour. It was a royal residence, and she’d been to two different events hosted here by the royal family in the last eight years. But today she saw it as a home. Viggo’s home. And it would be hers and Stefan’s too. She heard the pride in Viggo’s voice, and the excitement too, as he showed Stefan the suite of rooms which would be his, as well as the entertainment room next door. The two of them had gotten equally excited by the retro gaming systems and cartridges, and when Viggo had explained all the cool stuff he wanted to share with Stefan, the boy had thrown himself into his father’s arms and laughed with pleasure.
Viggo had done that. He’d made her baby joyful, just by being himself.
And he made her joyful too, just by being himself. He also made her hot, thinking about his arms and shoulders and that sexy little smile of his. But things had moved so quickly, and she had no idea what their next step would be. He hadn’t said anything about wanting a wedding night with her…
Which is why, when he’d showed her to a guest suite down the hall from Stefan’s new room after they’d tucked the sleepy boy in together, she’d assumed he didn’t want to sleep with her. He said he’d be back with a snack though, so she didn’t want to climb into bed.
