Our wedding is going to be straight out of a storybook: charming prince, horse and carriage, castle and all.
Smiling, I zip the garment bag and leave the room, shutting the door behind me. A second later, I check the time on my phone. It’s dark outside, and Julian should have been back by now. He left earlier this afternoon, saying he needed to run to meet a friend for a quick visit, and he said he wouldn’t be long. I’m not going to text him or bother him. I know how things get when you’re chatting, how time can slip away if you’re not paying attention. Plus we’ve been spending so much time together lately that a few hours apart won’t kill us.
Returning to the room I now share with Julian, I wash up for bed, slip into a satin nightgown, and crawl under the covers, phone in hand, to get caught up on messages, tapping on Gillian’s first since there are seven of them, one of which is from just a few minutes ago.
It’s a link to an article, the headline reading: ROYAL WEDDING CALLED OFF? PRINCE JULIAN SPOTTED WITH A VERY PREGNANT PRINCESS DAYANARA IN THE DAYS LEADING UP TO NUPTIALS!
Beneath the link, Gillian has written, “Is this true?”
I roll my eyes, chuckle under my breath, and write back with, “Of course not. The pic is probably photoshopped. All is well. What’s up?”
Little blue dots fill my screen as she responds, and for some crazy reason, I can’t resist the urge to tap on the article and give it a quick read.
But before I so much as get to the first sentence, I’m met with a giant photo of Julian and Dayanara standing outside what appears to be Rothmond Cottage. The caption states the photo was taken today, but that doesn’t mean anything. These tabloids lie all the time. Scrolling down, my eyes scan the words as fast as they can, taking in each sentence almost faster than I can process them. They’re claiming that the two of them had a secret meeting today at the cottage.
And that the princess is with child.
I scroll back up to the photo, heart knocking in my chest and the air around me becoming too thin to breathe. Zooming in on the picture, I realize that Dayanara is indeed sporting a baby bump. How I didn’t notice it when she was here the other day is beyond me, then again, she was dressed in layers with a jacket. I easily could have missed it. Or someone easily could have edited the picture to make it look like she’s pregnant …
Studying the grainy picture once more, my stomach plummets when come to a stark realization.
He’s wearing the same thing that he was wearing when he left earlier today.
The same white shirt and cerulean blue cashmere sweater he’s wearing right now—as he stands in the doorway of our bedroom.
“Julian,” I’m breathless and winded, and I can barely get his name out. My heart hammers so hard in my ears, I can’t think. Turning my phone screen to face him, I ask, “Is this true? Were you with Dayanara at the cottage today?”
His eyes narrow and he walks toward me, calm and collected, and then he takes my phone, examining the photo. He pinches the screen with his fingers, zooming in and zooming out before reading the headline, and then he releases a defeated sigh.
“Yes,” he says.
The room begins to spin.
My lungs scream for air.
“But it isn’t what you think,” he adds. His hand wraps around my wrist and he leads me to a settee in the corner. “Please, Emelie, don’t get yourself worked up over this.”
“You told me you were visiting a friend. You didn’t say it was your ex-girlfriend. And she’s pregnant?! Julian, is it yours?”
My phone chimes, another text from Gillian. All question marks.
“First, let me assure you the child is not mine. Second, I didn’t tell you I was meeting with her because I didn’t want you to worry.” He lifts an apologetic palm. “But you’re right. I should have been more transparent with you. I guess I thought I was doing what was best—handling this privately, handling this myself.”
My elbows rest on my knees, and I bury my face in my hands because I can’t bring myself to look at him.
“I don’t understand. What needed to be handled? The pregnancy?”
“I was told she was providing the tabloids with false and damaging information,” he says.
My gaze flicks up and my jaw falls. “Really, Julian? You and I both know those articles are lies. All you had to do was ignore them.”
“My source told me she was about to target you next,” he says. “I couldn’t sit back and allow that to happen.”
“How noble of you,” I say. Part of me means it, part of me hopes he picks up on the sarcastic undercurrent of my words.
“Again, Emelie, I didn’t want you to worry.” He takes the spot beside me, gathering my hands in his and angling me toward him. “I’m so sorry, my love. I thought I was doing what was best for you.”
“By lying to me?”
“Emelie, I love you more than life itself.” Julian pulls me into his lap. The hem of my nightgown rides up, leaving my thighs bare, and his palms slick against them as he stares deep into my eyes. “I’ve been waiting my entire life to make you mine. I just want this week to be perfect. Damn anyone who tries to take that from us.”
I lean in, tasting his lips, which taste of honey Chapstick and honesty. There’s no trace of another woman’s perfume on his jacket when I breathe him in, no underlying hint of guilt in his eyes when he looks at me.
“I love you,” he says. “More than you could possibly begin to imagine …”
“I love you too,” I whisper, mouth on his mouth.
He tugs my nightgown over my shoulders and I press my bare breasts against his warm skin, inhaling his intoxicating musk while the cool air envelopes us and leaves a spray of goose bumps down my arms.
A moment later, he stands, my ass cupped in his strong hands, and with my thighs wrapped around him, he carries me to his bed.
“For as long as I live, I’m never going to need anyone but you,” he says as he lowers himself onto me a moment later. “I’m never going to want anyone but you. And I’m never going to let anyone hurt you.”
He spreads my thighs before teasing his hard shaft against my entrance.
“No more secrets between us,” I say, cupping his chiseled jaw in my hands and capturing his blue eyes with mine. “If you keep that promise, I’m all yours.”
He kisses me, hard. “As if you aren’t already …”
And he’s not wrong.
Chapter 44
Julian
Three days remain until Emelie and I are to be wed.
The palace has been hustling and bustling all week, filled with tailors and florists and caterers handling last-minute details. Ms. Divine has taken a room in the North Wing, working around the clock to ensure every last item is tended to, and so far there have been no hiccups of any sort.
“Julian?” Emelie’s voice trails from outside my study. She left over two hours ago with Araminta and a driver, heading to the airport to pick up her mother, sisters, and friends, and apparently they’re back.
I smooth my tie and head to the hall, where a small group of gawking women have their eyes glued to every square inch that surrounds them. Sometimes I take for granted what a novelty it is to live in a place like Knightborne, but it’s always interesting to experience it vicariously through new visitors.
“Delphine,” I say, taking Emelie’s mum’s hand and depositing a kiss on the top. “So wonderful to see you. Luci. Isabeau. How was the flight?”
“Amazing,” Isabeau says.
Lucienne gives me a tepid smile. Emelie says she’s not quite on board with everything yet, that since their father passed, she’s taken to being a protective type. With a little time, I’m sure one day we’ll all be a big, happy family again.
“And Gillian, doing well?” I say to the one with the shoulder-length auburn hair. I remember her from the night I first knocked on Emelie’s door. She answered and for a moment, I thought I had the wrong address.
“I am,” she says, wearing a cheesy grin and
looking at me the same way she did that night. “You?”
“Doing well, thank you for asking,” I say.
“Julian, this is Courtney, Hadley, and Dominique,” Emelie introduces me to the other women standing amongst them.
“Lovely to meet you all. So glad you could make it,” I say. “I hope you’ll all make yourself at home, and please don’t hesitate to let any of the staff know if there’s anything you need.”
Emelie slides her arm into mine before lifting on her toes and kissing my cheek. She’s all smiles and she has been for days. In fact, I’ve never seen her this happy in all the years of knowing her, and it makes this week all the more joyous.
“I thought I’d stay with the girls the rest of the week in the Lundberg Wing,” she says, her teeth raking her lower lip as she offers a hesitant smile. The Lundberg Wing is in the farthest section of the palace from the main living quarters. It’ll be almost as if we’re staying in completely different cities. We won’t cross paths, won’t hear or see one another without any effort.
While I don’t particularly enjoy being away from her and I might suffer through some excruciatingly painful Emelie withdrawals … I’m not about to keep her from her friends and family.
They can have her for the next three nights—I get her for the rest of her life.
“Have fun.” I kiss her forehead and watch as they disappear down the hall and make their way to the south part of the palace, and then I return to my study.
While working the week before a wedding might seem a bit extreme, I’ve got urgent matters to tend to, reports requested by the prime minster, and a speech to write for a speaking engagement next week that’s been on the calendar for ages.
I haven’t been seated more than ten minutes when someone knocks at the door.
“Come in,” I call.
Harrison steps inside a second later. “Your Royal Highness, you have a visitor. Your mother is here to see you.”
It’s unusual and strictly against protocol for Mum to stop by unannounced, so this is quite concerning. “Send her in. Thank you.”
My mother appears in the doorway almost instantly, and I wave her in. She closes the door behind her, studying me while she makes her way across the room.
“Please,” I say. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you, Julian, but I’m afraid I won’t be staying long. I just came by to share some news with you.”
“Good news, I hope?”
Her tepid expression morphs into a mild-mannered smile, and she nods. “Yes, Julian. It’s quite good news.”
I’m half-perched on the edge of my desk, arms folded and all ears.
“Your father has finally gone to see a doctor,” she says. “It turns out, there’s a benign tumor on his pituitary gland—and that’s what’s been causing his erratic behavior and wild mood swings.”
I let the information sink in. This certainly … changes things.
“It’s benign, you say?” I ask.
“Yes, Julian. The doctor say they should be able to remove it as soon as next week and once he’s on the mend, they expect him to make a full recovery.”
“That’s … that’s wonderful. I’m glad to hear it,” I say.
I’m glad for my father.
And for my mother.
But unfortunately, this good news means my marriage to Emelie is no longer necessary. Looks as though I won’t be needing to take over the monarchy anytime soon.
“How’s he doing?” I ask.
She sniffs, but her eyes smile. “About as well as you can imagine. He still doesn’t fully grasp the extent of the damage he’s done these past several months, but once he’s back to his old self, I think he’ll understand what he’s put us through.”
She chuckles.
I imagine she’s flooded with relief that he’s going to be all right and at the same time, I imagine she’s battling guilt when she thinks about all the times she wanted to give up on him but couldn’t.
“Do you think he’ll still be fit to lead?” I ask. “After all of this? The doctors are sure there won’t be any residual damage or long-term effects from this tumor?”
“Well, of course we can’t be certain of anything until after surgery,” she says, “but they’re extremely optimistic about all of this.”
“Do you think he’d consider an early retirement?” I ask.
“Julian.” Her jovial expression evaporates. “Why would you suggest that?”
“Perhaps he should focus on recovering is all I’m proposing.”
“You know your father. He would never,” she says. And she’s right. His father and grandfather and every king before them led Chamont until they took their dying breath, and he fully intends to as well.
“I was merely making a suggestion.”
“Might I suggest you not so much as think about proposing that to your father. At least not until after the operation. And even then, I’d be careful or he might say ‘off with your head.’” She chuckles now. “Anyway, I wanted to share the good news with you in person and thank you for all you’ve done the last few months for the monarchy. You are truly going to do great things for this country someday, I just know it.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“I know you’ve got a lot going on this week, so I’ll leave you be,” she says. “Your father’s operation will be one week from today. Do share the news with Emelie for me, will you? I asked one of your staff to find her for me, but they said she was in the Lundberg Wing with her family. I don’t want to bother her.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll see you Saturday.” Mum departs and I close the door behind her.
I’m going to have to tell Emelie.
And soon.
If she changes her mind about marrying me, if she decides this life isn’t for her and she wants out while she has the chance … I don’t know what I’ll do.
I can’t lose her again.
But I also can’t break my promise.
Chapter 45
Emelie
After everyone has seen their rooms, received a tour of the wing, and unpacked their bags, we venture back to the main living quarters of the palace for a formal tour. We’re supposed to meet Araminta by the library, only along the way, I run into a very preoccupied Julian.
“Hi.” I smile the instant I see him, and I place my hands at his hips before leaning in for a quick peck.
“Hi.” He doesn’t smile and his eyes are winced. His hair is a mess, too. I saw him not quite two hours ago and he was nothing like this. He was jovial and pleasant and relaxed. Everything about him now is tense, and the indentation above his jaw flexes as he studies me.
“You doing okay?” I ask. I’m smiling again. I can’t help it. I don’t think I’ve been able to stop grinning once all week. I probably look ridiculous, but I don’t care. I’m happy. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I’m fully embracing it. No apologies, no shame.
I reach up, brushing the sandy blond hair from his forehead.
“What are you ladies up to?” he asks, changing the subject.
“Araminta’s going to give them an official tour. You sure you’re okay?”
“Don’t worry about me,” he says. His mouth raises up at the sides but his eyes stay hard and focused, like he’s got the world on his mind. Julian must sense the fact that I don’t believe a word of it, because he kisses me—in front of everyone. Almost like he needs to prove something, though I’m not sure if he’s trying to prove something to me … or to himself.
I can’t help but wonder if he’s getting cold feet, but now’s not the time nor the place to ask him.
“What do you have going on after this?” he asks.
“A million things … dinner in town for one,” I say. “And then we’re going to get drinks. Nothing too crazy. Just a low-key, pseudo-bachelorette party with my girls. We’ll be on our best behavior, I promise.”
“I’m not worried about that, I was just wondering if you had a minute to—
”
“—oh, we won’t be home until late, so I probably won’t see you again until tomorrow,” I add before I forget. “And come to think of it, tomorrow we’re supposed to get brunch in town at this little seaside place, and then we’re doing manicures and pedicures. Araminta reserved an entire nail salon for us, wasn’t that so sweet of her? And after that, they wanted to do some shopping and sightseeing … I have no idea when we’ll be back, but you can text or call me if you need anything.”
He looks like he wants to say something, and then his gaze lifts past my shoulders, toward my mother and sisters and friends.
“I missed you last night,” I tell him. “And I’m going to miss you tonight.” Leaning in, I whisper, “But Saturday night, I’m all yours …”
“All right, everyone. So sorry about that. We can start the tour now, if you’ll all just follow me,” Araminta says halfway down the hall.
Julian cups my face in his hand before leaving me with one last kiss, and as I walk away and join the rest of the group, I can’t help feeling like something is off with him.
I just wish I knew what it was.
Chapter 46
Julian
We’re well into the evening Thursday when I realize I haven’t seen nor heard from Emelie once today.
I thought she’d be back by now, and I’d hoped to catch her before it got too late. The clock is ticking, and I need to tell her about my father so she can decide if she wants to go through with the marriage before it’s too late.
I’d contemplated texting her earlier today, but I don’t want to seem like that guy. I don’t want to bother her when she’s with her friends and family.
I pace my bedroom for the millionth time when my phone chimes and I find a text from Emelie. Exhaling with relief, another text comes through and another. And another.
They’re all pictures from their day in the city.
The Marriage Pact Page 15
