The Royal Wedding Collection

by Rachel Hauck

  “You got a wow from Mama for your bathroom-cleaning superpowers,” she offered with an arched brow and a laugh.

  “That’s right.” He pointed at her. “I’d like to see Will do such a bang-up job, winning over the glorious Miss Glo.” He used Mama’s staff nickname as if he’d grown up with her. “Hey, are you working tonight?” He shoved back from the table.

  “No, I actually have the night off. If you liked the garden, I planned to work on finishing the design, start making calls, and get a crew lined up.”

  “It’s Friday, Suz.” Nate spread his arms like powerful, muscled wings. “Work is for the week. As your new client, I say we oil up the old bikes Liam discovered in the garage and go riding. Show me your beautiful island.”

  “A bike ride? Really?” She’d been intending to do that for such a long time.

  “As your ace number-one client—”

  “My only client.”

  “I demand you take me on a biking tour. What do you think? Put our woes and concerns behind us.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, looking at her laptop. “I’d planned on working. If you want this garden done soon …”

  “I want it done when it’s done.” He made a funny jig toward the garage. “A biking we will go, huh? Please?”

  “No, really, I can’t.” She shook her head. Resist. Or fall.

  “Susanna.” Nate bent over, his hands propped on the arms of her chair, hemming her in. “Do me the honor of spending the day with me.”

  The man personified every imagining she’d had of Prince Charming. A most sincere Prince Charming. The no, knocking around her thoughts, found no open doors. Her heart utterly refused to answer. “I know the perfect place to have lunch.”

  “Grand.” Nate jumped up, taking her with him and catching her up in his arms. He whirled her around with a merry laugh.

  TWELVE

  Dusk came to St. Simons Island like a celestial kaleidoscope, the heavens turning from one vibrant color to another.

  But the most beautiful sight to Nathaniel was the flowing gold of Susanna’s hair as she challenged him to a race and sped off before she hollered go.

  She greeted everyone she met on the day’s outing as if they were true friends indeed. She introduced him as her friend, Nate Kenneth. But if he had his way, he’d be more than a friend. Much more.

  When they stopped for ice cream, he lost one of his two scoops in the dirt when he failed to maneuver his bike down the road with any kind of schoolboy skill.

  She laughed over the incident for the next mile, head back, mouth wide, and Nathaniel had half a mind to do the trick all over again just to hear that sound.

  He liked the picture of her right now best of all, sitting on a carpet of green beneath the live oaks of Christ Church.

  “This was a good idea, prince.” She’d started calling him “prince” somewhere along the way, and he rather liked it. It felt personal. Sincere.

  With a sigh, she closed her eyes, stretched out her legs, reclined back, and locked her hands behind her head.

  “I have my moments of brilliance.” Nathaniel rested his arms on his drawn-up knees and averted his gaze. It’d be so easy … to bend down … kiss her. But he could not. He knew better. Any such action would be entirely selfish, awakening a possible love he could never satisfy. In himself or Susanna.

  She opened her eyes. “I forget the beauty and history of the island. Started taking it all for granted. The lighthouse and museum, Fort Frederica, the historic buildings.” She sat up. “Know what’s weird?”

  “That pi is a mathematical term as well as something delicious to eat?”

  She laughed and swatted at him. He caught her hand and the silk of her touch challenged his resolve not to pull her into him for a kiss.

  “Goofy. Pi, p-i and pie, p-i-e, are not the same. They only sound the same. I meant what’s weird about today.”

  “Not a thing.” He released her hand. So far, this day was at the top of his all-time, best-ever list.

  “Every once in a while, it’d hit me—he’s a prince. A real honest-to-goodness prince. Then you’d do something whacky, like circle the roundabout until you were dizzy or lose your ice cream in the dirt. Or run into a tree.” She made a face. “I’m still trying to figure that one out.”

  Staring at you.

  “You had me laughing so hard I’d forget you were anyone or anything other than plain ol’ Nate.”

  He regarded her for a moment. “Don’t take this wrong, Susanna. I’m most sincere when I say this, but I do believe that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  “Fine, whatever, you so lie, Nate Kenneth.” Susanna tipped her face to catch the last drop of sunlight, gentle, easy, relaxed. “Don’t make me google you to prove nicer things have been said about you.”

  “About me? Yes. To me? No. And you can’t find those words on the internet.” Gone was the tentative woman on his porch this afternoon. She surged stronger with each hour in the sun, with each push of her bicycle pedal.

  “Nate, don’t you ever consider who you are and why God called you?” Susanna turned to him, sitting cross-legged, touching knees to knees. “I used to climb out of my bedroom window, sit on the roof and stare at the stars, thinking, ‘I’m Susanna Truitt, born on St. Simons, for some purpose. I’m not an accident.’”

  Her intensity disturbed his conviction that he wasn’t chosen by God but rather by birth order and parentage.

  “But did God call me? Or men? What choice did I have? The first born of a king. My forefathers, along with all the kings of Europe, thought they were God ordained, above it all. We know now, that’s not the case.”

  “What? Of course you’re called by God. I’m called by God. To do what, I don’t know, but I’m just as called as you.” He envied the confidence in her voice. He longed to drink from her well. “You are no accident. Isn’t there some place in Brighton history where … I don’t know … the family line took a turn? A second born became king? Or a nephew? Because the king had no children? Like that Grand Duke, Prince Francis.”

  “Several times. In the last two centuries it happened twice, landing my great-great-grandfather as heir.”

  “Nathaniel I?”

  “What are you driving at, Susanna?”

  “Your great-great-grandpa wasn’t supposed to be king, but he was, and he orchestrated the entail with Hessenberg.”

  “And a hundred years later, here I am, the future King Nathaniel II, playing a pivotal role at the end of the agreement. I see what you’re driving at, but—”

  “It’s no accident, Nate. You are in a position to impact two nations. To give independence to one of them. How incredible.” She breathed out a soft chuckle as she plucked up blades of grass. “People will do the craziest things to have their names recorded in history.”

  “There are plenty of forgettable princes.”

  “But not you. Do you realize how selfless you can be? You have nothing to lose.”

  The conversation challenged him. Shoved him out of his well-worn, comfortable notion that he was the lowest of blokes because his high-ranking birth order denied him any choices.

  “Susanna, we are all called to be selfless, to serve our fellow man, regardless of rank or birth order or where our names end up in history.”

  “True, but it takes a lifetime and, I daresay, a kiss from the Holy Spirit for most of us to gain that understanding. You were born knowing your destiny. Most people never know. So what is easy for you. Well, easier.”

  He rocked a solid laugh. “Might I borrow your eyes and ears for a while? You mistake us for superheroes. Princes doubt their destiny as much as any human. We are just as subject to selfishness and doubt as anyone, if not more. Of wanting to make a mark in the world because of who he is as a man, not a prince. Not because of his family. He’s afraid he’ll never be completely sure of his calling. He’s selfish of his time, his emotions, his talents because, blast it all, the government, the monarchy, the people wa
nt him, tug on him. He’s afraid if he surrenders for one moment he’ll never, ever get to be his true self again. If he’s ever been his true self at all.”

  “Or, he can flip that all around in his head and realize being a prince is his true self. That he’s got a leg up on knowing who he is and what he was born to do.”

  “So you stayed twelve years with a man who didn’t love you because you thought it was your destiny?” His words fell to the ground like hot rocks. Too late to retrieve them now. She’d bothered him, poked at him, so he wanted to poke back. Yet she was being kind. He was perfectly rude. “Susanna, I’m sorry, my comment was over the line.”

  “But you’re right.” She sighed, turning away to stretch out on the lawn again. “I stayed because I wanted what you have. A sense of who I was and where I was going. Right or wrong, being Adam Peters’s fiancée gave me a road map to follow.” She stared at the stars. “Think of all the good you can do, Nate. How you can impact your people, the nations, for the Lord.”

  “I’m not sure God uses people like me. Men in high, visible places. He likes men and women most people can’t see. Or haven’t ever heard of.”

  “He’ll use any humble, willing heart, Nate.” She sat up. “Look at David and Solomon, your ancestor King Stephen. He went for God, didn’t he? Maybe God doesn’t use men like you because you’re too busy trying to be someone else.”

  Mercy and all the saints, how did she do it? Crawled into his head, sorted through his thoughts, tossed away the rubbish, and polished the gems? “If he’s looking for humble hearts, then he’s found one in you, Susanna.”

  “Well, if humble means broken …” She picked at the grass blades, tossing a few to the wind. “I’m preaching to myself here. I’ve got to figure out where my life goes from here. Breaking up with Adam doesn’t change who God is or his plan for me.”

  “Tell you what … Why don’t we both tell God we are one hundred percent available to him?” He didn’t wait for her to respond but slipped his hands under hers and scooted close.

  She gripped her fingers with his, and already he knew he’d hate her letting go. “Susanna, you impacted a nation because you impacted me.”

  “Because you impacted me.” She firmed her grasp around his. “Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence we met that night at the tree.”

  “No, perhaps not.” He released his heart to tumble headlong toward hers.

  She looked up, checking the fading twilight. “Better get going soon. We’ll be riding home in the dark.”

  “Might I pray? Or shall you?” Nathaniel had returned to his faith, to the Lord, last year, but praying aloud still proved a challenge.

  “I’ll do it.” She inhaled. Exhaled. “Lord, here we are, Nate and me. One hundred percent available. We don’t know what’s ahead, but you do. Whatever it is, we’ll love it because you love us. And you are good.”

  When her amen ended the prayer, a sweet breeze brushed between them. The tip of Susanna’s hair fluttered over his arm with the scent of vanilla. Neither one of them moved to release their hands.

  With her prayer and her touch, Nathaniel felt certain he’d just experienced a little bit of heaven on earth.

  THIRTEEN

  He was full. In every way. The Rib Shack food satisfied his sun-and-surf-fed appetite. The laughter and storytelling around the table slaked his hunger for companions. The music, the lights, the lullaby of rain on the tin roof contented him so he thought he might just put down roots right where he sat.

  Then Susanna passed by or brushed against him and fired up his longings and dreams.

  It had been a week since their bicycle ride and prayer on the Christ Church grounds. He’d been with Susanna every day since. At church. At his cottage reviewing her updated garden plans. At the Rib Shack when he pulled an evening shift.

  He was starting to know how it felt to be in love, though he’d never felt quite like this before. He’d experienced fluttering emotions, runaway thoughts, and numbed ambitions for anyone or anything but the girl of his eye, but this sense of peace and purpose, of clarity, of freedom to be himself, of selfless devotion was new to him.

  And he loved it.

  Yet it wasn’t just Susanna that made him feel at home in this foreign place; it was her whole family. Gib, Glo, Avery. The multitudes of relatives and friends.

  He’d been late to Sunday dinner with the family at the Rib Shack because Jonathan stopped him. “You’re falling for her, mate. I can see it. You cannot continue to see her.”

  Yet when Nathaniel refused to stand her up or call to cancel, Jon demanded he tell Susanna the whole truth.

  To what end? Was Jonathan concerned about Nathaniel’s heart or Susanna’s? Nathaniel reassured his aide that Susanna considered them no more than friends. Once he returned home, his heart was the only thing that would have to heal. Susanna was two weeks away from her breakup with Adam. She had no romantic interest in Nathaniel.

  But as she sat beside him at the table, her arm against his, laughing with her friend Gracie and her cousin Kendall about a girl’s-gone-bad shopping trip to New York City, he wondered if she did care for him. Perhaps just a wee bit.

  Listening to her tale, Nathaniel decided he loved how Susanna found the silver thread in every story. How she saw the silver thread in him.

  Peeking at her, scooping his wind-tangled hair from his forehead, he tried to envision how he would confess the whole truth, as Jon put it.

  There are certain expectations of future kings. I’m bound, you see, by law …

  At Nathaniel’s back, thunder rumbled over the Atlantic. He could hear the southern Atlantic waves roaring toward the beach. And four thousand miles away, North Sea waves crashed against Brighton’s shores, and it seemed like a different time and place.

  He’d been disturbed all afternoon with the notion of returning home. As he tuned into the waves and thunder, he sensed a nagging urgency.

  Up on Mickey’s stage, Susanna’s Uncle Hudson gathered his band to tune up, a fun but dissonant blend of a banjo, guitar, and fiddle.

  He stepped up to the mic with a toothpick protruding from the side of his lips. “Let’s make some music.” Tapping his toe, he counted off—a one, two, three, four—and plucked a lively tune.

  He sang about love and life with a nasal whine, his fingers flowing over the banjo strings. The guitar player found a sweet harmony, and a fourth man jumped up to clank a set of spoons against his thigh.

  Susanna’s grandparents two-stepped around the deck.

  Nathaniel exhaled and reached to wrap Susanna in his arms when he pulled up short, realizing what he was doing. This place made him completely forget himself. Something he’d not done in a very long time. If ever.

  He loved being part of the family, from the inside looking out, eating barbecue on Sunday nights, wearing shorts and flip-flops. He was in his first year of university before he’d dined without dressing. Jacket and tie.

  A banjo player had never played at an evening meal. Spoons were used exclusively for sipping soup and digging out pudding. And the employees—the servants—never scooted up to the same table as the family.

  But if he changed the course of his life, moved to St. Simons Island, home would never be the same. He’d be denying Dad and Mum, his grandparents, all he knew about life and himself. He’d be denying his destiny.

  He cut a side glance at Susanna. How could he walk away from her, though? She’d challenged him, made him look at his life differently.

  Two more men arrived with instrument cases and joined Uncle Hudson’s banjo with an upright bass and a mandolin. With the full band going, cousin Silas dragged Susanna onto the dance floor, spinning her around to the music. She tipped her head back with a pitch-perfect yelp, her hair cascading over her shoulders like a sun-kissed waterfall.

  Oh, Susanna.

  When she forgot herself, Susanna was most beautiful. Because she laughed freely, spoke openly. Far too often she treaded with caution, peering at life with timidity. Afraid to l
et go.

  Beneath his Oxford shirt, Nathaniel’s heart thudded with love. Impossible love. If he chose her, he’d have to deny every other thing about himself. A larger and more daunting consequence than most sons who were poised to take over the family enterprise.

  But if he chose his destiny, he denied himself of her. What an unbearable choice. The song ended, and Silas delivered Susanna back to the table, turning her around one last time so she dropped into Nathaniel’s arms.

  This time he didn’t resist her. She fell against his chest, along with the perfume of fresh flowers, and he cradled her there, unwilling to let her go.

  He’d come to Georgia with all his walls in place, but the blond American with wisdom in her soul hurdled over his barriers and caught him completely unaware.

  Blast it all. Jon was right. He had to tell her. Tonight. If not tonight, soon. Very soon.

  “Nate?” Glo put her plate down, wiped her hands on her napkin, and sashayed toward him. “Did you get enough to eat?” She pressed her hands on his shoulders. “How’s my favorite dishwasher? The prince of suds.”

  Susanna glanced back, her eyes twinkling, then slipped away from him, gathering her hair off her neck.

  “Ask her to dance, Nate.” Avery dropped to the bench next to Susanna and squeezed into her so she fell against Nathaniel. “It’s a rainy, romantic night.” She leaned around him. “Play something slow, Uncle Hud.”