A Royal Wedding: The Royals Series

by Brown, Tara

  It was Aiden, of course he would. There was likely a treasure hunt leading to a nursery in the mansion. Which meant his mother knew too. That was an awful thought. My entire body ached with stress and tension, and he was joking about this like it was nothing.

  “Two.” I folded my arms and stared, trying not to sound terrified. “Two and a half actually.”

  “Right. Feels like two years. Oh good, we’re here.” He jumped out of the car before they could get the door, dragging me with him.

  But we weren’t at his house.

  I stopped, staring at the weirdly vast building we had pulled up to. We were still in the city but behind a massive gate and some crazy tall hedges. The building and garden resembled something from England or Scotland, not really Andorran style, except for all the snow. That was Andorran.

  “Where is here?” I turned in a circle, trying to get my bearings.

  “The new residence of the king!” He grinned wide, weirdly excited.

  “Residence of the king?” I was so lost. Why did he need another house? His parents’ house was so large it was silly, considering no one but Jack and the queen lived there—queen mother. Evil queen.

  “I thought we could have a place that’s a bit less my family and more ours.”

  “Ours?” The word fell from my lips as I glanced nervously at the maids and guards and the insanely stunning castle.

  Oh God, he knew. He knew and he had a castle built. And he wasn't angry.

  How did he build the castle so fast?

  “Your mother isn’t here?” I wavered, fighting the faintness overwhelming me.

  “Of course not.” He held his arms out. “What do you think?”

  Trying not to kill his surprise because I was shocked as hell and about to pee from the anxiety of this secret I was certain he knew, I smiled and turned in a circle, taking it all in. “It’s gorgeous.” What else was there to say? “When did you build it?”

  “I didn't. Not really. I decided to refurbish the old king’s house and turn it into something nicer, while maintaining some of its heritage. Granted, we’ve added on a lot and changed a number of design details. Come and see everything.” He took my hand and pulled me through the foyer to the library.

  My heart was racing, my hands sweating, and my head spinning.

  But he didn't notice.

  He blathered on about the refurbishment and design. He was so excited about the castle, it didn’t take long to realize he didn't know about the baby.

  He definitely didn't know.

  The castle was the surprise he had for me, and he was so giddy with it, he didn't realize I had one for him. He was disoriented in the joy of his news, so focused he didn't wonder at my being here or the stricken expression that had to be on my face. Or my showing up with no bags. Just a coat. And a baby.

  I was going to be sick. I swallowed the sour taste in my cheeks as my stomach grew tighter and I lost his voice and words as he went on and on. The rooms spun and blended, a ballroom, dining hall, vast kitchens, study, pantry so big my house in Spokane could have fit in it, butlers’ quarters, servants’ areas, laundry, formal sitting room, parlor, and several bathrooms.

  I wiped my brow as he finished the tour without taking me down a wing where there appeared to be offices, no doubt placed perfectly so he could work while at home.

  He was like a kid in a candy store as he hurried along, up the stairs. “And the trim on the banister is made from wood from Washington. I thought that was kind of a nice touch. A bit of home for you.”

  “You imported wood from Washington?” I glanced at the impressive wood railing.

  “I did.”

  “How long have you been doing this?” How had he done all of it without telling me? The answer flitted about in my mind and was sort of obvious. We hadn’t seen each other for longer than a week here or there for three years. And then we’d broken up.

  “Your Highness, forgive me please, but there is an urgent call.” One of the members of his staff with an impatient smile, the anticipation of a quick response sort of look, and her hands clasped together, interrupted us the way they always did.

  “Of course, thank you, Ms. Bacilli.” Aiden turned back to me. “Don’t move. I won’t be but a moment.” He hurried down the stairs, leaving me standing in the middle of the stairwell.

  People scurried about below, hurrying into rooms and carrying boxes as if they were just moving in. Had I interrupted the move in and the grand opening of the castle?

  My news ate at me; maybe the tiny insect of a human forming and growing was trying to eat its way out. Like Twilight.

  God, I was Bella Swan.

  No, I was my mother.

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  I’d become my mother.

  Accidentally pregnant off my boyfriend at twenty-two.

  Fuck.

  And to make matters worse, the boyfriend had built me a castle as a surprise.

  How the hell was I going to ruin his surprise and his excitement with this hellish news? Was a baby hellish news?

  And even worse was the fact his father, on his deathbed, had forbidden us marrying. And then there was the phone his mother had left. I’d not looked, assuming the whole thing was her bullshit meddling again. I had forbidden myself from looking. But what if? What if Aiden and Alex had hooked up when we broke up? My mouth soured.

  And now I had a baby to add to this stupid mess.

  Why hadn’t I just told him what his mother had done?

  Or even better, why hadn’t I looked at the stupid phone?

  The moment turned into ten and I ended up sitting on the stairs, scrolling Instagram under Jess’ account to creep Alex’s. She was smiling wide and appeared happy, not at all like the banished little princess she’d become. She was vacationing in Dubai and shopping with her dad and his new girlfriend.

  Clearly, they’d made up . . .

  Like an idiot, I put a hashtag with my name behind it and searched. It was a sick thing I succumbed to sometimes, in low moments.

  Images of me filled the large screen of the iPhone. They were all candids taken by sneaky people watching and stalking me. And all the questions were the same.

  Was I the king’s fiancée?

  Was I his courtesan?

  Were we engaged?

  Where was the ring?

  The new ring was so different, it had to have come from a different man.

  Who was this new man?

  Lucas Reid of course.

  And where was Princess Alex?

  Every image was filled with questions. And mean-ass hashtags such as #FinTheFake or #FatArseFin, one of my favorites. I wasn't even fat. Assholes!

  But I would be.

  Soon.

  Dear God, what had I done?

  And even worse, what would they say about my baby? What hashtags did a baby get? That changed something in me, brought out a fierceness I had never felt before.

  “Sorry about that.” Aiden came rushing back to the stairs, making me jump.

  “It’s fine,” I snapped, stuck in my thoughts. As I stood and noticed how sore my feet were. That was new.

  “Anyway, let’s finish the tour.” He took my trembling hand and kissed the back of it, lingering with his warm breath and making me feel like a traitor for not telling him.

  I’d just promised to never keep a secret from him again, and here I was doing it.

  But how did I tell him?

  Not just about the baby but also his dad and the deathbed and the evil queen.

  “The guest wing is that way, quite similar to my parents’ home. And the family wing is this way.” He beamed. “I think you’ll love this.” He led me through a set of ornately carved heavy wooden doors.

  When I saw what I assumed was the master bedroom, I understood why. It was outrageously amazing. Marble and crystals and chandeliers. The colors were glorious: pale silver walls with subtle accents of silvery pinks and Tiffany blue. It was modern and exqui
site.

  The master closet was a whole room. It was like walking through a dream house, but one of the silly ones where you’re watching the show and the whole time you’re thinking who needs a castle?

  “This is yours.” He said it so calmly, as though he wasn’t showing me a five-hundred-square-foot closet.

  “It’s the size of my dad’s master bedroom back home.” Was this really happening? Was he giving me a closet so big I’d lose things? “It’s nice.” I tried not to sound ungrateful, but I had reached the crescendo of my dishonesty. I needed to release the news that choked me.

  He led me to another one, the same size as the one we were just in. “This is mine.” His things were already moved in. He had enough to fill the closet, something I wouldn't have.

  “Have you been living here?”

  “I have. Two weeks ago, I moved over to start getting it ready for your arrival in the spring. But you came early, so the clothes aren’t here and it’s missing a few small details.” He turned and stared hopefully into my eyes. “Do you like it?”

  “It’s freaking crazy,” I accidentally blurted then tried to recover when his joy faded. I was ruining his surprise, but the effort not to cry overwhelmed me. “I mean, it’s a castle, so there’s that. And eerily, this room is decorated exactly as I would have done if I had an unlimited budget and five designers. But it’s huge. I could lose you in this room alone and not find you for a month.”

  “You hate it.” He started to laugh, losing steam and sounding defeated. “I guessed all wrong?”

  “No, I love it.” I blushed and tried to find the words. “But like, who needs a castle?” Why was I talking?

  “A king?” His voice was filled with wounded man-pride as I drowned all his hopes. “I spent days with the designers and architects going over your Pinterest boards for houses and designs to ensure this room was exactly how you would want it.”

  “Oh my God.” I was losing it and saying all the wrong things, but I couldn't stop myself. “Those are dream fantasy boards. No one thinks those are going to come true. No one thinks they’ll get a castle. Or a bedroom like this. It’s a condo. There’s like five rooms in this one suite. That is a full living room.” I pointed to the side where there was indeed a full living room through some stunning white French doors.

  “All your dreams will come true. Isn’t that the promise for princesses and queens?” He stepped closer, pulling my hand down. “And I was thinking, maybe we could be alone a little more here. Our own house. Away from my mother.”

  “That would s-sound amazing if”—I stammered and it burst from me before I could stop myself—“if I hadn’t come here to talk to you. This isn’t a surprise visit.” My voice cracked and tears threatened my burning eyes.

  “What do you mean?” He stepped closer, concern filling his gaze. “Are you all right?”

  “No.” My voice was small. “We need to talk.” I took a step back. “Real-life talk.” God, was I genuinely doing this now? Ruining his surprise? Ruining his life? Ruining mine? Outing his mother.

  “Is this another one of those ‘you’re not sure we can be together because this is too much and we’re too young’ things?” He mocked me lightly, no longer taking those talks seriously.

  “No,” I whispered, almost crying. The pressure of the secret was burning my eyes but also creating so much force I thought I might burst.

  “What’s wrong?” The lightness of his tone changed.

  “I’ve done something—” I couldn't finish the sentence.

  “Fin?” He narrowed his gaze, suspicious.

  “Did you know the maids in the castle track things?” I asked, not sure why I’d decided to go this way. “Personal things.” My voice cracked again.

  “Of course. They track everything. They’re focused on our health—” He paused. His eyes instantly lowered to my stomach. He paled and his jaw dropped open. “Oh.”

  “Right.” I blinked, sending tears streaming from my eyes as I lifted my hand to my flat stomach again and all the emotion I’d been holding back flooded from me. I stood there, like an idiot and cried. But he didn't comfort me. He couldn't. He was panicking, visibly.

  “Oh God, Fin.” He stepped back too, furrowing his brow and arguing with himself mentally. He was completely closed off from me. I could see the wheels of his brain turning. His eyes flashed through different stages of everything. Grief, fear, disbelief, and then a lump in his throat. He swallowed hard, nodding to himself. “Are you cer-cer-certain?”

  It took me a moment to get control of myself and answer, “Yeah.” I sniffled, wiping my face. “I took three tests. Linna stole them for me.” I laughed and sobbed with hitched breath.

  “Fuck,” he whispered. For the first time in three long years he looked exactly like the boy I’d met. He was scared. He was upset. He was disappointed. “Fuck.” He stepped back again, creating more distance. If he had been able to run away I thought he might. I understood the sentiment completely. If I could have run from my own body, I would have.

  “I know what this means to your country and how much your family hates me. And now that I’m”—I couldn't say it aloud—“I don't want to add a baby to everything that has happened.”

  “Fin, don't say that,” he spoke and paused again. “Do you trust me?”

  “Of course.” I did. I truly did. I hadn’t looked at the phone his mother had brought me, not even when she told me his dad had asked Aiden not to marry me, on his deathbed.

  “Then believe me when I say this: You are the most important person in my life. And absolutely nothing comes before you. And nothing ever will.” He stepped a little closer. “I hate that you came here and suffered through the tour, all the while you were wanting me to shut up so you could tell me this.” He seemed about to laugh but one of those crazy hysterical laughs mad people did.

  “I hate that I ruined the surprise.” I hated the whole night. “You were so excited about the castle.”

  “I was excited you came. And honestly, your surprise is better than mine.” He took a deep breath, stood tall again, and lost all the fear from his face. “Are you all right?”

  “What the fuck kind of question is that?” I snapped. “Of course not!”

  “Right. Okay,” he said again but this time he stepped toward me, taking my hand in his. “I won’t lie, this entire conversation was a shock. I felt that shock all the way—” He chuckled nervously. “And this is not how I imagined this would happen. Or when. But it has.” He dropped to his knees gracefully, of course, and sat back on his heels. He pulled me to him and rested his face against my stomach. “And to think I was going to make you sleep in the dungeons for not liking my castle.” The joke brought tears to my eyes. Relief flooded me.

  “You’re not angry?” I asked.

  “Angry? Of course not. Why would I be angry?”

  “Because of this.” I glanced down at my belly.

  “How is this your fault alone?”

  “I went off the pill, like a moron. I forgot all about it.”

  “Fin, it’s done. We did this together. We love one another. The how and why and who don’t matter. There’s life inside you. Life we made.” He pulled me down into his lap, holding me to him. “Please don’t be scared. We are not the first king and queen to have a baby and a wedding so close together.”

  “Wedding?” That snapped me out of my panic and put me into something else.

  “Of course. We have to be married straightaway.”

  “I am not getting married pregnant.” I pulled back a bit.

  “You are. Unfortunately.” His lips twisted into a grin. “There is nothing we can do about that. A royal baby must be born into wedlock in order for it to be a legitimate heir. And my child will be legitimate.”

  “Aiden, I don't want a shotgun wedding,” I protested, knowing I would lose. Protocol was everything to someone like him. But I hated that his father had asked him not to marry me on his deathbed. I hated knowing that. Which was no doubt th
e reason the queen mother had felt it necessary for me to know.

  “We can discuss the details later.” He stood and lifted me to my feet with him, turning me and steering me back to the bedroom. “I want to show you the bed. You must be exhausted.”

  “Are you insane?” I laughed, but he ignored it and lifted me into his arms again and carried me to the bed, resting us both back on the comfiest mattress I’d ever slept on. “We need to discuss this mess.”

  “This isn’t a mess, Fin. It’s a child.” He stroked my cheek and placed a soft kiss on my lips. “And I always knew we would have children. So it’s not unexpected, just early, but no less exciting. Though let’s talk about it all tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to celebrate you being here, with me, in our home, in our bed.”

  “Fine,” I agreed, exhausted and stressed but also desperately happy to be with him. It was not the worst way to have a conversation, by not having it at all.

  20

  It’s science that if a man calls you his queen and wants to be called your king, you will need to patch a lot of drywall in your house.

  Your momma

  “You awake, Fin?” His voice brought me from the dream.

  “What?” I blinked and tried to focus on what he was saying.

  “I need you to tell me the absolute truth,” he said as I stirred. “Do you hate it?”

  “Hate what?” I asked groggily, blinking and wondering if he had been having the conversation with my sleeping body.

  “The castle.”

  “What castle?” I was lost.

  “The one you’re currently sleeping in. Do you hate it? Is it too much?” He sounded worried.

  “No.” I sat up, rubbing my bleary eyes. “I mean, that library alone will win Jess over. We might never be rid of her and Johan now.”

  “It’s too much, isn’t it?” He wrinkled his strong nose. He was obsessed.

  “You woke me up to have this conversation?” I asked, staring at him. “Fine, yeah, it’s way too much,” I admitted. “How do you not know giving someone a house is way too much?”

  “People in my family give houses all the time.”