by Caroline Lee
And last night, she’d given him so much more. Their lovemaking had been slow and delicate, each feeling the other out, making sure they were comfortable. It hadn’t been anything like any of Viggo’s past experiences, but when they’d finally come together—when her adorable flannel pajamas were lying on the floor of his bedroom—it had been…
Well, “magnificent” didn’t seem good enough to describe it. It had been a life-altering, mind-shattering experience. She’d given him her body, and he’d worshipped it as well as he’d been able.
And while everyone else might think she was an introvert, with those blushes of hers, he knew different. He knew the way she screamed and begged and licked. And he’d never forget it.
He was getting hard at the memory—and the memory of what had happened again that morning, too. Viggo shifted slightly, glad the tailored suit he was wearing wasn’t as restrictive as tomorrow’s formal uniform.
At the other end of the line of brothers, Alek had taken his place between Arne and the altar, as Mom settled beside William. Captain Nilssen was talking to them in a low voice, probably going over exactly what would be said tomorrow, and reminding them of their responses. On the other side of the groom, Cass was making faces at Kristoff—who was probably trying to outdo her—and her brothers’ expressions ranged from thoughtful to bored.
Aunt Marina was pacing back and forth along one wall, her clipboard in hand, hissing quietly into her cell phone. She kept most of her attention on the rehearsal, but apparently didn’t see anything to yell about. For a change. Since taking over as wedding planner, she’d been a little tyrant…and since last week, when she confessed to being the one who’d tried to stop Mom’s wedding, because she wanted more time with her sister, Marina had been frantic. It was like she was trying to prove to Mom—to them all—that she was now supporting the wedding.
It didn’t matter to Viggo how the food tasted, or if the decorations looked okay. All he cared about was Mom smiling like that at Dr. Hayes. And the fact that Aunt Marina hadn’t objected when he’d announced Marcia and Stefan would be attending. Sure, she’d done that thing where she pursed her lips and stared down her nose—Marina had really mastered her “royal sneer” over the years—but she didn’t say anything rude about Stefan, and both of them had been added to the guest list and reception.
And that’s why the two people who were coming to mean the world to him were sitting back there, whispering about the mock ceremony.
“You love her, don’t you?”
Johan’s quiet question jerked Viggo out of his happy thoughts. He swung his head to frown at his twin.
But Johan just smirked slightly, his attention on Mom and William. “You’ve been staring at your new wife with googly-eyes since this whole thing began. You’re as bad as Kristoff.”
Had he? Viggo shrugged and settled into a more comfortable stance. “I’m glad I can acknowledge Stefan now.”
“Oh yeah?” Johan paused. “Are you going to acknowledge him as your son, or your step-son?”
A hell of a lot had happened in the last few days, and Viggo hadn’t had time to think about that. “I still don’t know,” he said in a low voice as Captain Nilssen began calling out instructions. “All these years I wanted to protect him, and now I’ve brought him right into the middle of things. But I don’t regret it, you know? I didn’t realize how happy it would make me, to have him with me like this.”
“People are going to guess he’s yours biologically.”
Viggo shrugged again, not sure if he cared. If the tabloids began guessing, maybe it would be better to just share the full story. “I suppose it’ll matter how Lindqvist responds.” The old man would be livid if Rebecca’s nasty end got dragged back into the papers again.
Viggo and Marcia had a meeting with her father planned for this afternoon, after the rehearsal luncheon. While he couldn’t imagine bringing up the topic of Stefan’s impending acknowledgement, Viggo would see what the boy’s grandfather did. As far as he knew, Lindqvist didn’t even realize Viggo was Stefan’s father; all the family interviews had referred to an “unknown sire.”
Rebecca—and later Marcia—had kept the secret well.
Even Stefan didn’t know.
“Soooo…?” Johan actually nudged him in the side with his murmured prompt.
Viggo blinked, and realized the rehearsal was wrapping up. “So, what?”
“So, have you told her you love her yet?”
He scoffed. “I just married her yesterday, Johan. And proposed the day before.” And he hadn’t gotten her a birthday gift. But he’d called his jeweler last night while Marcia was getting ready for bed, and the little black velvet box had been delivered that morning. He was carrying it in his pocket, waiting for just the right time to give it to her.
It was perfect.
Johan, however, wasn’t convinced. “You married her yesterday, sure. But you’ve been friends with her for a long time. I’ve heard the way you’ve spoken about her. And I was the one who held your punching bag when you found out Alek had proposed to her, remember? I kept my mouth shut then, but that was definitely jealousy.”
From the other side of Viggo, Mack leaned around and hissed a “Shhh!” with a warning glare.
Solely on instinct—years of experience pissing off his older brothers—Viggo shot him an innocent Who me? smile. Mack’s glare said he didn’t appreciate it.
The smile slipped away as Viggo considered his twin’s words. Had he been jealous when Alek announced he’d chosen Marcia as his bride? True, Viggo had known it was a bad match…but was that because he’d been jealous.
He took a deep breath, held it while he considered, and let it out.
Yeah, yeah, he had been jealous. As hell. Even then, he’d wanted Marcia—although he’d thought it was just as a friend.
Now that she was his wife, he knew the truth. He’d been in love with her for a long time, and hadn’t even realized it.
“Yeah, maybe,” he murmured to his twin.
Johan flashed him an approving grin. “Good luck,” he whispered.
Captain Nilssen raised his voice and his gaze to the gathered family and said, “It’s customary to end the marriage ceremony with a kiss, and I’m sure it’ll happen tomorrow. Today, however—”
The older man shut his mouth when the royal couple in front of him threw themselves into one another’s arms, kissing enthusiastically. Where once—even a few weeks ago—Viggo would’ve groaned and rolled his eyes, today was different. He was different.
He grinned at his mom, clapping along with the rest of the audience.
The toasts seemed to last forever. In true Aegirian fashion, each person offered a story about either Viktoria or William and ended by trying to outdo one another with an even-more-ridiculous wish for prosperity. Marcia was surprised how many of the stories about the queen she was familiar with. What she hadn’t experienced first-hand, thanks to years of being part of the royal court, Viggo had told her about during his visits during the last seven years. He’d become her closest friend, and that had meant sharing embarrassing family stories.
After all, he knew all of her family’s embarrassing stories.
He held her hand throughout the toasts, under the table. She liked the way the warmth of his thighs spread up the back of her hand, reminding her of all they’d shared last night…and this morning. She was probably the luckiest woman in all of Aegiria, to have finally landed The Playboy Prince…but all she could think of was that she’d married Viggo. Her friend. The man she’s been crushing on for years, and now he was all hers.
And the occasional winks he sent her way told her he wasn’t regretting his rash marriage proposal either.
Stefan sat on her other side, being surprisingly well-behaved. Well, he was a well-behaved kid to begin with—being raised in Herman Lindqvist’s household had necessitated it—but he had enough of his father in him to be mischievous. She could never bring herself to begrudge him that. So she’d expected him to be
come bored and start goofing off at the rehearsal luncheon, like any normal seven-year-old. But he didn’t.
Or rather, he did, but he had a partner in crime.
Dr. Hayes sat on Stefan’s other side, and for every joke or story which was told, leaned in to explain it to the boy in a whisper. The two heads—one greying, the other light-brown—were bent together and occasionally shaking with giggles.
It was adorable, and judging from his sons’ expressions—ranging from wary to doting—unusual behavior for William.
It was incredible that Marcia and Stefan had been included in the rehearsal luncheon on such short notice, and even more so that they’d been seated beside the groom. William had probably had something to do with that seating arrangement, but it was Viggo acting in all the audaciousness of The Playboy Prince who’d insisted his wife and son be included at all.
On the way to the yacht that morning they’d argued about it, even with Stefan in the backseat. She’d tried to talk Viggo into agreeing to let her and his son sit out the wedding.
“Absolutely not,” he’d said, aghast, glancing over at her. “You’re my family now, and I don’t want to go to my mother’s wedding without you.”
“But the wedding is so exclusive, everyone will wonder why me—and my nephew—were invited. And last-minute, too.”
He had frowned, his attention on the road. “You’re a member of the Aegirian nobility. You’ve always been welcome at royal events.”
“Yes,” she’d said gently, “but few members of the Aegirian nobility have been invited to this particular royal event. Not even my father, and he’s still irritated by that.”
She remembered the rage he’d gone into when he’d gotten word about the exclusivity of the royal wedding. He was vocally opposed to many of Queen Viktoria’s progressive policies, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t angered by the lack of invitation to her wedding. He’d blamed Rebecca’s ignoble descent once again and cursed his bad luck for being left with “her crippled bastard”.
Which were the same words Princess Marina had used to describe Stefan yesterday, come to think of it.
But that morning in the car, Viggo hadn’t had a good response to her argument. He’d just taken her hand and squeezed her fingers, his eyes still on the road. “I need you by my side, Marcia. Both of you.”
And she couldn’t argue with that. Because, truth be told, there was no place she’d rather be than at his side.
The meal was fun, despite her awkwardness about being invited. Princess Marina shot a few unreadable looks from her end of the long table, but both Marcia and Viggo shook them off.
As the dessert plates were being cleared away, he stretched his arm over the back of her seat and leaned towards her to say in a low voice, “I’m sorry I took this from you.”
“Took what?” she asked.
“A rehearsal. A wedding lunch. A real wedding.”
She smiled, and butted her shoulder against his playfully. “Viggo Magnusson, you’ve known me for how many years? How could you possibly imagine I would want a big wedding and all the pomp and circumstance which goes along with it?”
His grin was a little rueful. “That’s true. I guess I forgot.”
“Or you were projecting.”
At his confused expression, she elaborated.
“You have no problem being the center of attention. Are you sure you’re not the one who’s regretting skipping out on a big fancy wedding?”
He had the good grace to look chagrined. “You might be right.”
“Might be?”
“Well, okay, yeah, I like getting dressed up.” His fingers began to fondle the skin at the base of her neck.
She winked playfully at him, not bothering to suppress her shiver of pleasure at his touch. “Then I promise you, Prince Viggo…after this royal wedding, I’ll let you have the biggest, fanciest party you can image to celebrate your marriage. But I’m going to wear something comfortable. Deal?”
He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. “Deal,” he murmured right before their lips met.
“Grandpops, they’re doing it again.”
Stefan’s exasperated complaint pulled Marcia and Viggo apart, but not far. Instead of sitting upright, Viggo pressed his forehead against hers, and seemed to be breathing heavily.
“Marcia, I—”
He bit off whatever he’d been about to say, and Marcia found herself aching to hear why he looked as if he’d been about to confess some secret. She never found out though, because from the other side of Stefan, Dr. Hayes chuckled loudly.
“That’s what it’s like when two people are in love, boyo. I can barely keep my hands off your Grammy, after all.”
Grammy? Marcia’s incredulous thought was echoed by several voices around the table, not least of which was Her Royal Majesty Queen Viktoria II. It was impossible to think of the stately woman as anyone’s Grammy—
Wait. Love?
Dr. Hayes had said she and Viggo were in love, but how could he know? Marcia had long ago resigned herself to loving The Playboy Prince from afar, but if it was obvious to Dr. Hayes, who else was it obvious to?
When two people are in love.
But Dr. Hayes was wrong about that. Viggo didn’t love her; he couldn’t. he’d only married her so they’d both be able to parent Stefan openly.
Hadn’t he?
Around them, conversation turned to plans for the afternoon. The queen would be returning to the palace and her quarters, to begin an afternoon of pampering, and the women at the table had a grand time teasing her enviously. Marcia had to admit that the seaweed wrap sounded intriguing, and even Toni looked a little intrigued by the planned manicure and pedicure with hot-stone massage.
Not to be outdone, the men began teasing Dr. Hayes about his upcoming stag night, which was apparently news to him.
“No, no,” he deferred, laughing. “I’ve got work back at my office. I figured I’d head back there for a few hours, then get a good night’s sleep.”
“Sure, Dad,” one of his sons called out from the other end of the table. “But without someone to remind you, you’re likely to get caught up and miss your own wedding!”
Everyone had to laugh at that, even the groom.
“What kind of work?” Stefan asked.
Instead of dismissing the boy’s question, Dr. Hayes launched into an explanation. “All sorts of things to do! I’m drafting some legislation now that I’m hoping your Grammy will pass after the wedding—transparency laws in the banking industry, since Aegiria’s got so many hidden loopholes in how people store money. It’s not related to the environment, of course, so it’s not as important as the issues with the fishing industry, but a man’s got to diversify his interests, you know?”
To everyone’s surprise, Stefan nodded seriously. “Yes, I agree.”
Viggo chuckled. “Well, we’re off to the lawyer’s office to meet with Earl Lindqvist.” He removed his arm from around Marcia’s chair, but took her hand instead. “My lovely wife and I need to finalize custody papers for our son.”
Our son.
Before Marcia could get all misty-eyed at that public confession, the boy in question groaned loudly. “Sounds boring,” he declared, with all of the world-weariness of a spoiled seven-year-old. “Just a lot of papers. And I don’t want to see the Earl again,” he pouted.
She couldn’t blame him—she didn’t particularly want to see her father again either—but Stefan also had to know he couldn’t make declarations in public like that either. Besides, with Elsie back home—back at the Lindqvist estate—overseeing the packing of their things, there was no one else to watch Stefan.
“He can come hang out with me.”
Dr. Hayes’ offer, so soon after her thought, startled Marcia. “What?” she blurted, leaning around Stefan to look at Dr. Hayes.
The older man shrugged. “I’m headed to the palace, and he’d be surrounded by family. He could come with me, hang out in my office for a little whi
le, and then you could come pick him up.”
The boy’s face lit up. “Yes! Can I, Mara, please? Please?”
She bit her lip, torn. The meeting would be easier without him there, but to let him go off by himself with a virtual stranger…
Stefan seemed to understand. His eyes—so like his father’s—softened. “Please, Mara? I can hang out with Grandpops. I promise to be good, and not be any trouble or nothing.”
Dr. Hayes leaned around the boy and added his puppy-dog-eyes look to the proceedings. “Please? I don’t know how interesting he’ll find arguments about transparency, but I do have a TV in the office. And a bunch of charts.”
“Awesome!” Stefan was bouncing in his seat. “Please, please, please, Mara? Pops and I will be good, we promise.”
From her other side, Marcia heard a soft snort of laughter.
“Please, Mara?” Viggo asked quietly, his pleading tone holding more than a few notes of laughter.
She turned her motherly glare on her husband, but couldn’t hold it for long. She pressed her lips together to keep from grinning. “Do you think it’ll be okay?”
He squeezed her hand. “I know it will be. Pops will keep our boy safe, and we’ll have an easier time with him off learning about fish mating rituals or whatever.”
Dr. Hayes snorted indignantly, but when she turned to give them both her permission, the boy and the older man broke into identical expressions of joy.
Outside, she kissed Stefan on the forehead, and reminded him to mind his manners. The boy was practically vibrating with excitement as he waved away her warnings and climbed into the town car with Dr. Hayes. She waved until they were out of sight, then strolled over to where Viggo was holding open the passenger door to his convertible.
“Ready to go sign some papers, Princess?”
Princess. It was a title which meant everyone would be watching her now, examining her every move. It was a title she’d never wanted, but it meant she had Viggo—and Stefan—so she’d accept the spotlight if that’s what it took.
“Let’s go, husband.”
His return smile was everything in the world to her.
