Damien
I STORM TOWARD the open compartment of the royal hangar. After today’s events—marrying a woman I don’t know who’s supposedly carrying my child—I need to get behind the wheel and just drive. But it looks like my brother has other plans. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Nikolai spins toward me with a self-satisfied grin as I watch the Alfa Romeo rise up several stories on a mechanical platform. Our great-grandfather owned a collection of rare automobiles that he kept housed here with the aircraft. The movable platforms allowed him extra storage space, but I get the feeling my dear old brother is doing more than storing my favorite car.
“You’re off the racing circuit,” he says, pocketing my keys. “And don’t even think about trying to get it. You don’t know the pass code for the lift, and I’ll change it daily if I have to.”
We’re face-to-face now, my chest heaving. I may be his little brother, but dammit if I don’t have an inch or two on him these days.
“Why?” I demand through gritted teeth. “And since when is it up to you, anyway?”
He dusts off the shoulder of my leather jacket, a condescending move that is just so...Nikolai. I know this man hates me, and I do not blame him in the least. But that doesn’t mean I can’t call asshole when I see it.
“Shall we count?” Nikolai asks.
“Count what?” I say, taking the bait.
He crosses his arms. “Count the times you behind a wheel has ended in some sort of catastrophe.” His words hits me like a fist to the gut. “You did quite well ‘rescuing’ Victoria from marrying a man she only pretended to love. And now there’s the lovely Juliet. Your wife. Had you not been tempting fate once again on that—that fucking death trap of a course at the Nightgardin Rally—we would not be in this precarious political position.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d say my brother sounded almost concerned.
“None of it has anything to do with a skull fracture or any of the other various broken bones that are still mending?” I ask, deciding to push his buttons. “That can’t possibly mean a thing to you when I robbed you of your mother, your first love and now possibly your kingdom. Can it?”
My throat tightens, and the words burn like acid.
“Yes. I hold you responsible for Victoria. And for the situation we are in right now. But Mother’s death? Damien, that could not be helped. Sometimes women die in childbirth, something that is beyond anyone’s control.” He speaks not with sympathy but with practicality. “Even Father knows that. Whatever issues you have with how you entered this world, they are yours alone. The problems caused by reckless decisions on your part? Well, those are another story.”
My brother wouldn’t speak to me after the accident. Wouldn’t stand being in the same room with me. I was not even permitted to go to Victoria’s funeral. So even though there is no affection in this conversation, it is a conversation nonetheless, the first we’ve truly had in years.
“I want my car, Nikolai. How the hell am I supposed to get around?”
A throat clears behind me, and I turn to see X at the hangar entrance. He’s leaning on the grille of an Audi SQ5, one I never heard approach. Nor did I hear the man exit the vehicle.
“You need to stop doing that,” I tell the man who has been the head of our family’s security since I was a child. Back then I found his tricks amusing, always wanting to figure him out. “It’s an invasion of privacy, the way you always just show up.”
X straightens and brushes off his already-immaculate lapel.
“My apologies, Highness. But it goes with the territory. If you don’t see me coming, neither will the enemy.”
Nikolai chuckles. “Trust me. If you want anyone on your side when trouble is afoot, X is your man. Plus, now you have the answer to your question.”
“My question?” As soon as the words leave my lips, I remember. “No. Uh-uh. Absofuckinglutely not. I don’t need to be driven around like some pretentious prince. I go where I want, when I want.”
Nikolai raises a brow. “And right now, I think you want to go where X is taking you.”
He brushes past me and hops on a BMW S 1000RR. Without another word, he throws on a helmet and rides off. With my keys and the pass code to the damned car lift.
I let out a breath and make my way toward the Audi and the man who’s apparently driving me to my next destination.
“I walked here,” I say gruffly. “The only reason I’m letting you take me anywhere is because my ribs hurt like hell, and I’m not in the mood to walk back.”
The corner of X’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t exactly smile. “Of course, Your Highness.”
I raise a brow. “Don’t suppose you’d give me the keys to this fine-looking machine, me being your prince and all.”
X opens one of the rear doors and gestures for me to get inside. “It doesn’t quite work like that, Prince Damien. Besides, I think the princess would like some company.”
I peek around the door to see Juliet sitting inside.
Jesus. I’m getting pretty fucking tired of surprises.
“She is your wife, Highness. It’s time you get to know her.”
He may be right, but for once today I’d like to do something of my choosing. I’d like to get to know her with a clear head.
I climb in beside her, and there it is—surprise number three. She doesn’t even glance in my direction.
“Nice to see you, too,” I mumble, staring straight ahead.
Yet despite my reluctance to be here, my shoulders relax. I am suprisingly calm in her presence, which makes me wonder if she is telling the truth about our weekend in Nightgardin.
My pinky accidentally brushes hers where it rests on the soft leather of the seat, and her hand flinches before pulling way.
She straightens, and I notice she is dressed in denim that hugs her slim curves and a pair of riding boots molded to her calves.
My cock hardens.
Casual is a good look on her.
“I can assure you, Prince Damien, that this outing was not of my choosing. If you want someone to blame for having to spend time with me, take it up with your brothers or the king.”
“You’re angry at me,” I say.
“You left me all alone in that room up in the tower. I have no country, no home and no true ally. Your family is kind, but they are wary of me. Untrusting. I feel like the only reason they’re going along with this plan is because I am now a tool that can benefit Edenvale.”
I blow out a long breath. “You are not a tool to them.”
She turns to me now, eyes wide. “Oh no? Then why are we here? X says that your brothers and father all seem to think a public appearance with a photo opportunity is necessary as a means to announce our marriage to the public.”
“Shit,” I hiss. “It’ll be a glorious announcement. I can see the headline now. Two Months After Being Beaten Within an Inch of His Life, the Banished Prince Royally Fucks Up Again. A picture of me all scarred and still bruised next to my knocked-up wife. The paper will fly off the newsstands!”
Juliet gasps, and X slams on the brakes. I growl as pain slices up my side. Apparently, we’ve already reached our destination. I see the royal stables outside the windshield and connect Juliet’s dressed-down attire, the boots.
“Is that what you see when you look at me? The source of your royal fuckup?” She’s staring at me now, her brown eyes dark and cold. “I knew that love was an illusion,” she says. “I was prepared to enter into a marriage with Wartson, but when I found out I was with child, I had no choice but flee. To you. A man who seems to care only for himself.”
With that she throws open her door and hops out of the vehicle, storming toward the stables.
“I wouldn’t let her get on one of those horses in that state,” X says, a hint of amusement in his tone. “If she’s careless or spooks one of the animals, she’s likely to get kicked or thrown. Then what would become of the child who could unite two kingdoms?”
I rock my head and groan.
But then I grin as an idea takes hold. I might not be able to ride fast on the open road, but I can sure as shit take off on a Thoroughbred. Right after I make sure my wife doesn’t do anything so foolish.
Juliet
“I assume you have rudimentary equestrian experience?” Damien drawls as we enter the stables.
I have two choices: fight for some semblance of inner peace or find a shovel and knock it over my new husband’s smug head. “No.” My one-word lie rolls off my tongue.
He scoffs. “Step aside, then. I’ll ready the horses.”
I oblige, not because I am helpless, but because it affords me the opportunity to watch this man who is at once so familiar and yet a stranger.
When he bends to pick up the saddle, his jeans hug his tight, muscular haunches and my breath catches.
I’m not proud, but good god, he is a perfect male specimen, hard-bodied with broad shoulders and a trim waist. His faded black denim makes love to his body, and I search out all the secret, intimate places where I’ve kissed, licked and bit him. I might be furious with him for forgetting me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m drenched between my legs.
“That should do. Come on, hop up,” he says, offering me a hand.
I don’t need it, but I find myself taking it with a curt “thank you.”
Once I’m positioned on the animal, the horse stomps once, and the pressure reverberates through my sensitive skin.
You are Juliet of Nightgardin, Protector of the Northern Ranges, Keeper of the Gardinian Legacy, Lady of the Seven Mountains and Defender of the Faith.
But these illustrious titles don’t change the fact that at this moment, I’m simply a woman turned on by the father of my child, a brooding man who has forgotten my very existence.
Bitterness sours my stomach, pain eating into me like acid.
But maybe that’s good. Anything is better than this unwelcome sexual craving.
“Step aside,” I order Damien, seizing the reins.
“Not so fast.” His arrogant brows shoot up. “You need a lesson.”
My frown turns into a scowl. “I said, stand aside.”
His glare could melt the polar ice caps. Why does that make him appear even sexier? I don’t have time to ponder such mysteries. I must escape. Get away. Bolt to fresh air.
“Suit yourself.” I tap my gelding’s haunches and he responds in an instant. Damien, to his credit, assigned me to a placid beast, one who would be perfect for a beginner. My husband isn’t the monster he wants to pretend. Nor does he wish to risk my neck—or the life of his unborn child.
But this animal is clearly well-schooled, and when urged knows how to run. And right now that’s what I need...speed.
I’m galloping halfway down the road when Damien catches up with me. He’s bareback on an Arabian.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he rages. “You told me that you couldn’t ride.”
“You didn’t listen,” I fire back. “You assumed I had limited equestrian experience.”
“You answered no!”
“Because I have advanced experience, Your High-and-Mighty-Ness!” I veer off the road, click my tongue, and my horse flies over a fence with feet to spare.
“Good boy,” I murmur, patting the side of his thick neck, feeling the corded muscles and pure strength. I haven’t been on a horse in months. Good lord, it feels good.
From the crash behind me, it sounds like Damien isn’t an amateur. He rejoins me and our horses race, stride for stride. My hair flies behind me, the ribbon tying my plait unable to withstand the wind we create.
Something rips loose within me and I let out a whoop of delight, reveling in this one heady moment of freedom, of just being a girl in the sunshine and fresh air, going faster and faster until my heart threatens to pound out of my chest.
We reach a river by an ancient stone bridge. “You deserve a drink, my friend,” I croon to my horse, dismounting and leading him to drink.
“Pudding,” Damien says flatly.
“Excuse me?” Is the prince hungry or has he become addled by the ride?
“The horse I gave you. His name is Pudding. Or as the groomers call him, Puddin’. He has never been considered a racehorse. If I hadn’t seen you ride him with my own two eyes, I would never have believed it.”
“I see. Well, it appears there is more to Puddin’ than meets the eye.” I tie him off to a willow tree next to the water where he can slake his thirst and enjoy nibbling the thick sweet grass.
“And you.” He dismounts and draws in close. So close. And when he reaches out and lifts my chin, forcing me to stare directly into his eyes, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
“What are you doing?” It’s a wonder that I can whisper the question with my mouth this dry.
“I don’t know.” His voice is flint on steel. “Fuck.” The desperate rasp sends a shudder along my spine. “Back in the meadow, when you were riding? You cried out, and for a moment, I swear, I remembered.”
“What?” My hand trembles. “What memory did you have?”
“I don’t know. It’s like trying to look underwater. Everything is murky. Time feels distorted. All I know is that I was there with you, and you made a sound.” He frowns. “Do I sound insane? Do you have any idea what I am talking about?”
A faint flush creeps up my cheeks. I pull my hand from his and walk to a small cluster of wildflowers, bending to pick a few. “Who can say? Apparently I have a reputation for being...noisy.”
I think of the sounds I made in his arms. Whimpers. Cries. Gasps of pure pleasure.
I toss the blossoms to the grass. How I wish I could forget. My curse is that I can remember everything in perfect detail.
“My brother Nikolai used to bring me here to go fishing,” Damien said after a long moment. “That is a memory that I cannot erase. He loved this bridge. It was always one of his favorite places. I hated to fish but always agreed to go.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “I idolized my brother. Both of my brothers. I’m sure they considered me a pain in the ass, but they never told me I couldn’t tag along. And they looked out for me.”
“You aren’t close now.”
“No.” Darkness returns to his eyes. “I’m better off alone. People who get close to me have a nasty habit of winding up hurt. Or worse.”
I don’t want to give him comfort. I don’t want to risk touching him and seeing what feelings might rise to the surface for me while I’m nothing but a stranger to him. But my heart overrides my head.
“What are you doing?” he asks as I approach him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
“No one is better alone. Trust me. I’m something of an expert in the subject.”
He is stiff, but eventually his hands find their way to my waist, and he holds me tight, burying his face in the crook of my neck.
He lets out a shuddering breath. I take one in return. And at this moment, that’s enough.