Royal Tryst: A Royal Bad Boy Romance by Ruby Steele, Virginia Sexton (1)

 

 

 

 

Royal Tryst

A Royal Bad Boy Romance

 

 

 

 

by Ruby Steele and Virginia Sexton

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kindle Edition

Copyright 2017 Ruby Steele & Virginia Sexton. All rights reserved.

 

 

 

 

All characters depicted are over the age of 18.

This book may not be reproduced in any form by any means, without the authors’ permission, except for reviewers, who may quote short excerpts.

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations and action come from the authors’ imaginations and presented as fiction. Any resemblance to real individuals, alive or deceased, as well as events or places, is completely coincidental.

This book is intended for mature audiences only.

 

 

 

 

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Table of Contents

Chapter One

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Man, I’ve missed this place. Missed you, too. I’m looking forward to catching up with you,” Spencer says, looking around the royal gardens. “It’s been too long.”

I pick up a black pebble from among the white stones of the garden path and toss it into the air, catch it, and toss it again. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t go skipping off to the other side of the world for months, chasing wild women,” I tease him.

“Like you’re one to talk.”

“What was her name again? Carly?”

My best friend shakes his head with a wry grin. “Candy.”

I let out a chuckle and whip the pebble with an underhanded toss at a bronze statue to my left. It zips through the air and makes a sharp ping sound as it hits the metal. “Seriously, man. What were you thinking?”

Spencer shrugs. “I was thinking… I don’t know. I wanted to try something different. Just go with the flow and see where it takes me. Be a beach bum for a while.”

“Sounds perfect. Why’d you come back?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “It wasn’t for me. Eventually, I got bored of her.”

I catch the hint of something in his voice. Not boredom. Has Spencer hitched his horse to the adult wagon and decided to grow up? Some of us don’t have much of a choice...

We round a bend on the path, and to the right, through the trees, I see a line of cars pulled up to the main entrance of my palace. But that’s not what catches my eye.

“Hey,” I say, throwing my left hand up, landing it squarely in the middle of Spencer’s chest, causing him to expel a huff of air and come to an abrupt halt. “Who is that ?”

He whips his head around. “Where? Who?”

I nod toward the front of the palace where an entourage is emerging from black town cars and limos, people spilling out onto the grass and stone walkway. “There, her .”

My gaze is fixated on a curvy young woman with a waterfall of thick, black hair spilling across her shoulders and down her back.

I watch as she smooths her dress regally and gestures at a stack of luggage sitting beside a vintage Rolls Royce. The suitcases and trunks are immediately picked up and carried into the palace by several men wearing my family’s livery — burgundy and gold three-piece suits.

Spencer steps forward and squints in the direction of the activity. “Oh, that’s Sera.”

I give him a push. “Yeah, right. No, really, who is that? I’ve never seen her before. And believe me , I’d remember.”

Spencer gives me sideways look. “Parker, I think you still have a hangover from last night.” He points emphatically at the woman. “That is Seraphina.”

“Nooo … your sister? Little Sera? Annoying as shit Sera?”

My mouth falls open in disbelief. No way. There is no way that gorgeous woman — with graceful posture and sexy curves for days — is Spencer’s little sister. It can’t be Sera… not the tomboy covered in muck from playing in the garden ponds… the goofy kid who followed us everywhere and hid in credenzas to spy on her brother and myself… the frizzy-haired teenage tattletale who told on us when we snuck down to the boathouse to smoke cigarettes.

That was Sera. Not this raven-haired vixen giving out orders with poised confidence like she owns the place.

“Not so little anymore, is she? Still annoying as all hell, though,” Spencer says with a chuckle.

“Uh, no… she’s… definitely grown up. I mean, she’s… got…” I motion with my hands, cupping them in front of my own chest, to indicate large breasts and Spencer immediately whacks me across the back of my neck.

“Dammit, Parker. I don’t want to hear about that. And you — don’t get any ideas.”

I drop my hands to my sides, but I can’t stop staring at her, despite feeling Spencer’s disapproving gaze on me.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, my eyes tracking Seraphina’s every move. “I’m practically celibate.”

My best friend nearly chokes on his laugh. “Right, Parker. Try selling that story somewhere else.”

“Sold it to The Inquirer last week, right after I did body shots off those twins from Doremont,” I say with a cocky grin.

It’s a lie, but Spencer doesn’t know that. It’s a lie that has credence, because that’s the guy I used to be, back when Spencer and I were inseparable. Now? I haven’t left the palace grounds in months except for official engagements. My nights of non-stop partying and seducing a new woman at every opportunity — those things seem like a lifetime ago.

The entourage makes its way up the wide marble steps to the grand entrance of the palace. Sera pauses and leans to the woman on her left, whispering something in her ear before continuing up the steps. I wonder what she’s saying… what her hair smells like… what her breathy sighs of pleasure would feel like against my skin.

Spencer rests a hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “I’ve been right there beside you, my friend. Between the two of us, we’ve divided and conquered this continent.” He nods toward his sister. “But she is off-limits.”

Oh, fuck me . Why did he have to say that? He might as well double-dog dared me. Spencer knows better than anyone that I’m relentless as hell and I always get what I want — especially if I’m not supposed to have it.

“I didn’t think she’d be arriving until tomorrow,” Spencer says.

“What’s she doing here?”

“Attending the harvest festival. Are you sure you’re not hungover?”

“No, I mean, she hasn’t come to one in years.”

“She’s been away at boarding school and then at university.”

“Ah, yes. But she hasn’t visited during summer or holidays. It’s been, what?” I try to remember the last time Sera visited the palace and do a quick calculation in my head. “Wow, seven years since I’ve seen Sera. She was a lanky kid with braces and wild hair the last time I saw her.”

“She’s graduated now, with her Master’s degree. She finished prep school and her college program early. She’s whip-smart, that one. But anyway, my parents insisted she come this year.”

“It’ll be nice to catch up with her,” I say.

Spencer shoots me a warning look, but I shrug innocently and give him a Cheshire Cat grin. “Whaaat?”

“She’s gotten serious about settling down, so my mother’s decided the palace festival is the perfect opportunity for her to entertain potential suitors.”

“Oh.” I think on this for a moment as I watch Sera begin walking up the wide, stone pathway, her elegant dress hugging her curvy body in all the right ways.

I tear my eyes away from the mesmerizing sight for a second and squint into the sun to glance at Spencer. “So… she’s settling down? As in getting married? Why so soon?”

“She’s twenty-two. It’s not unheard of to get married at her age, Parker. My parents, and yours, too — they were all married younger than that.”

“True, but it was a different time then.”

“Maybe not so different.” He sighs heavily, and a look flashes across his face, accompanied by that same tone as before that I can’t quite put my finger on.

“Anyway, Sera does what she wants,” he continues. “My mother didn’t want her to attend university, thought it was a waste of time for a noble woman, but look how that turned out.”

Sera crosses the threshold of the doorway a moment later and disappears out of sight into the palace. I resist the urge to take off at a sprint, to run the length of the path in mere seconds and bolt up the marble steps just to keep her in view. I need a closer look, that’s for damn sure — and I’m going to get it, I don’t care how off-limits she is.

“I just find it odd that she’d jump straight from college to marriage. Doesn’t she want to do anything first? Travel? Have some fun? Maybe do something with her degree?”

Spencer kicks at the pebbles with his left foot then straightens up and lets out a big sigh. “I’m staying out of it. She’s an adult now, and this is what she wants, I guess. I’m just here to enjoy the festival, you know?”

I eye Spencer doubtfully, but let his comment go. Neither of us have ever been the festival-going type — especially not the overly formal Grand Harvest Festival, hosted annually by the royal family, going back more generations than I care to count.

As the King and Queen of Ostwyn, my parents are the current hosts, and they look forward to it every year— as they would, being the kind of people who revel in tradition and enjoy the pomp and circumstance of formal events. But the festival has never really been my cup of tea, nor Spencer’s. We usually skip as much of it as we can, except for the Black Diamond poker tournament.

But this year, rather than ducking out to a party in Doremont or heading off to one of the private clubs in Glogsten, I’ll act the part of my royal upbringing and be a gracious co-host when needed.

People have been arriving all week, flooding into the capital city for the festival. By the time the opening ceremonies commence in a few days’ time, the palace will cease to be a quiet place of refuge from the world and instead fill to the brim with guests and a jam-packed schedule of official events to preside over.

I’m facing thirty days of this relentless merriment — Grand Harvest is a month-long festival; precisely twenty-nine days too long for my taste.

But this time, a sweet little surprise has landed on my doorstep.

Perhaps I have been cooped up in solitude too long. Maybe it’s time to get back to doing what I do best, and flex my muscles, all of them. I could use a tasty diversion from this antiquated madness and Seraphina looked absolutely delicious waltzing into my palace.

I bet she’ll look even better in my bed.

Chapter Two

 

 

 

 

 

 

I close the door to my suite and sag against it. The hard, cool surface feels nice on my back. I’ve been standing for eons, greeting visitor after visitor as they stopped by to say their hellos. “Please tell me that’s the last person for a while.”

My head assistant and best friend, Emily Morenzo, checks her phone. “I think so. That’s nearly everyone who’s arrived at the palace so far, according to the guest list, which the staff updated about an hour ago. But there will be more this evening.”

Striding into the adjoining bedroom, I look back at Emily. “Oh, I know. Believe me , I know.”

She gives me an empathic frown and tosses her phone on the chaise lounge. “It’s not too late to feign a dire illness. I’m happy to stand guard outside and warn everyone that you’ve got the plague or something.”

It’s a distinct possibility. Coming back home is like stepping a century or two back in time. If I were to claim sickness, it would be attributed to my frail female condition and the rigors of travel. Convincing Mom would be a different story. I reach the nearest window and begin tugging on the sash.

“Lovely thought, but I fear my mother would simply arrive with a biohazard suit and insist I join the activities, anyway.”

Emily snorts. “I can actually see that happening. What the Baroness wants, she gets. No stopping her.”

“Exactly. There’s no turning back at this point, unfortunately. Apparently, it’s been set in stone since before my birth.”

“So, what now? Would you like something to eat? Or shall I start unpacking your things?”

“Neither,” I say, tugging on the sash again. “Just come help me open this. I desperately need some fresh air. This room smells like mothballs and a century of dust.”

Emily joins me, and together we manage to get the stubborn sash to budge little by little, stubborn creak by stubborn creak, until the window is fully open, and a refreshing breeze is welcomed into the room. One by one, we open the remaining windows in the wide, spacious bedroom, all six of them.

“There,” she says when we’ve finished. “Better already. Well, the air is better, at least. Not so much anything else, unfortunately.”

As Emily commandeers the large desk in the corner of the sitting room and begins unpacking her laptop and a stack of files, I wander around the suite, a large, brightly decorated two-bedroom space in the north wing of the palace — my home for the next four weeks — looking at the paintings on the wall and nosing around in the drawers and cabinets.

Emily’s gaze roams around the room and she watches me with curiosity. She’s only a two years younger than I and I’ve grown to love her like a sister. We became fast friends many years ago after she took the position as my personal assistant just as I was beginning my university program. She’s never been to Pridemore Palace before. I’ve not visited here in all that time. Well, except for once, but Emily wasn’t with me then, and I didn’t stay long.

I feel heat rise across my cheeks as the memory of my brief visit flashes through my mind. I shake my head quickly, dismissing the vivid images. I’m sticking to my official story — this is my first return to Pridemore since I went off to boarding school. Otherwise, I’d have to explain why I came and went so quickly that day.

“I haven’t been here in seven years,” I say aloud. “It seemed so much bigger when I was a kid. Like I could get lost if I took a wrong turn.”

“I bet you were a real firecracker as a kid,” Emily says.

“How’d you know?” I ask with a smile. “I was a handful, that’s for sure. I used to hide in cabinets just like this one,” I say, nudging a long credenza with my foot.

My best friend tilts her head. “What for?”

“Oh, I was snooping on the adults. I loved sneaking about, spying on everyone. I made a game out it, pretended I was a detective.”

Emily smiles. “Sera, the case-cracking sleuth. I love it.”

I smile back, much more ruefully than Emily. “More like Annoying As Shit Sera. That’s what they called me. I would follow the boys down to the lake; they were the most fun to spy on. They were always up to no good.”

She raises her eyebrows at me. “The boys?”

I shake my head. “Just my brother and his friends.”

“Would this include the illustrious Prince Parker that I’ve heard so much about?”

I grab a throw pillow from the chaise and toss it at her. “Hey, I haven’t mentioned him that much.”

“Oooh, it’s not what you said. It’s how you said it. All dreamy-eyed and wistful.” Emily makes an over-the-top passionate face and raises her voice. “Oh, Prince Parker, you’re sooooo handsome.”

“You’re imagining stuff. I did no such thing.”

She throws herself across the desk with dramatic flair. “Parker, take me away… or just… take me. Please, now! ”

“You are such a brat!” I say, but I’m already laughing so hard I have to lean against the credenza to catch my breath. “You make me sound like a silly teenager in a cheesy movie!”

Emily stands up, grinning ear to ear. “Well, you were a silly teenager then. Maybe you should revisit that before you get locked away in stuffy ball gowns and endless Ladies’ committee luncheons for the rest of eternity.”

I tilt my head, still trying to catch my breath. “What do you mean?”

“He’ll be here, right? Parker. This is his home. Maybe, I don’t know… you have a fun little tryst. A secret tryst, of course.”

I give her a get-serious look. “That is not happening.”

“Seraphina, you need to let loose a little. Please, for me — have some fun before you’re married to Sir Stiffass.”

“As enticing as a distraction sounds, he doesn’t think of me that way. I was just the obnoxious little sister, the very uncool, awkward girl who tried to tag along to everything and told on them when they wouldn’t let me join in. Truthfully, I really was a pest.”

“Seraphina, Super Pest Detective. Your childhood story is really coming together in my head now,” Emily teases.

“In my defense, there wasn’t much to do around here as a teenager, except narc on other people or find creative ways to get into trouble. I chose the former, he chose the latter.”

“Well, maybe it’s time for you to choose the latter. You could use some… trouble . A nice, long, hard night of really big trouble. I mean, you know what they’ve said in the tabloids…”

My cheeks grow hot at her words. “Emily!”

She shrugs unapologetically. “I know you didn’t cut loose in college, Ms. Studious. So, you’re running out of time.”

I shake my head and walk to the closest window, hoping the cooling breeze will help return my cheeks to a normal shade. I look at her over my shoulder.

“You’ve read the papers, right? And watched all those celebrity gossip shows? Parker has women dripping off him like sugary icing on a hot cake. I’m surprised he can even manage to walk down the street without needing a police barricade with the sheer number of women throwing themselves at him. I’m sure — even if I were interested in such a thing, which I most certainly am not — that his social card is more than overflowing with plenty of ‘activities’ to keep him occupied.”

Emily sighs as I return to staring out the window. “You have a point. He is quite the playboy. But… never say never. It could happen…”

Her words ring in my mind. Soon, I’ll be saying forever and ever to some man my parents have picked out for me. Some guy eager to ensure his position of status and wealth. Some guy with the power to save my family from a sad fate simply with the words “I do.” He gets my family’s prestige and my hand in marriage, and my family gets to keep our titles and our ancestral home, Beauregard. It’s a story that goes back eons. These next three weeks, they aren’t about being wooed and falling madly in love with a handsome suitor.

I’m not here to be swept off my feet and kissed passionately, much less carry on like a starry-eyed teenager with a head full of lusty thoughts and impossible dreams. I’m here to make an important decision for the future of my family, to pick a husband and assume my duties as Lady Strathmore of Beauregard. My entire existence has come down to this, to uphold tradition and fulfill my responsibility to the estate.

My eye catches movement in the garden below. I look down and let out an audible gasp. Speak of the devil. Prince Parker, walking amongst the fall mums and late-season fruit trees with my brother.

Parker looks up at the sound of my gasp, searching along the exterior walls of the castle for the source of the noise. His face is so familiar and yet so different than I remember — even from here I can tell that the pictures I’ve seen in the press are true — time really has enhanced his smoldering good looks. His jawline is firmer, his cheekbones more chiseled than I remember.

His haircut is different than the most recent photos of him in the press. Gone is the length; now it’s much shorter, and is currently being tousled by the evening breeze just enough to give it that enchantingly messy just-woke-up look.

As I stare down at him, his eyes fixate on me. I quickly step back from the window, clutching my hands against my chest, vaguely aware that my heart has been skipping beats for the last few seconds.

After all these years, the mere sight of him can still take my breath away.

Emily’s right.

Whether I like it or not, I’m in trouble.

Big, big trouble…

Chapter Three

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bright splashes of silk and satin swirl in every direction as gentlemen lead their partners across the grand space. A small orchestral band on one end of the ballroom is playing through a greatest hits list of classical dance music. People dressed in formalwear are milling about the edges of the room, sipping from dainty teacups and tall champagne flutes as they chat agreeably.

For the dozenth time, I remind myself not to adjust my package in full view of everyone. The tightly tailored pants — burgundy to match the fitted, gold jacket strewn with regal symbols in the form of ribbons and cords — are much more restrictive than the simple jeans I’ve grown fond of. I do allow myself to pull at the high, tight collar of my jacket, pulling it away from my neck to get some breathing room, and my heated skin thanks me.

Standing around stiffly all day in colorful, tailored suits straight out of the nineteenth century, smiling graciously at people while making idle conversation about banal topics — these are things I’ve never enjoyed. But my father is ready to retire and I’m next to take the Crown, if I’m able to convince the Royal Council I’ve knocked off my notorious ways and am worthy of assuming the title of King.

The crowd gathered here tonight is a much different scene than the dance floors of the trendy nightclubs and private dives I frequent. Well, used to frequent.

Pounding music, pulsating lights, women wearing next to nothing, grinding against one another. Powerful men skulking about, eyeing each other warily, looking to establish dominance. Blowjobs and designer drugs passed around like party favors.

Every weekend was a string of sex, hundred-dollar shots, and unsavory behavior. I used to love it.

Now it’s just the memories of a former life, one that came with relentless media coverage and scandalous headlines. I didn’t use to care. Let them take their pictures and write their stories. It just brought in more women and more salacious connections. It was a life before my self-imposed seclusion. There are days I yearn for it — the excitement, the energy, the constant pursuit of pleasure. But tonight, here tonight in this ballroom, I don’t miss it.

None of it holds a candle to Seraphina.

I watch her being swept across the dance floor — a study in elegance and beauty. She’s changed into a light blue ball gown with flowing layers. When she sashays across the dance floor, it’s like she’s channeling the waves of the ocean, the crystals on her gown sparkling in the lights like the kiss of sunshine on the sea.

An elbow nudges me in the left side, pulling my attention away from Seraphina.

“Parker, the scotch in the study is calling my name,” Spencer says, his voice agitated. “Come on, man, let’s go.” He nods his head toward the intricately carved wooden double-doors under the arched entrance to the ballroom.

We’ve been here for over an hour, which is entirely my doing. I said we’d just stop by long enough to make a quick appearance then feign an excuse to leave as soon as possible.

But I didn’t expect to be so mesmerized by her. Seraphina’s sweet smile and grace are enchanting, and I can’t bring myself to exit the room and retreat to the study where she’ll be far away from my sight.

Over the past hour, I’ve willingly entertained more conversations with visiting dignitaries than I normally tolerate in a year’s time and found numerous other excuses to stay, but Spencer is quickly reaching his limit. If he’s noticed my fixation with his little sister, he’s not letting on. But if I keep standing here gawking at her, it’s going to be painfully obvious — to him and everyone else in attendance.

Yet, I’m still dragging feet about leaving.

“I think I should dance at least once before I go. It seems the proper thing to do. It would please my mother, at the very least.”

Spencer lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, whatever. You do that. Meanwhile, no one expects anything from me, so I’m leaving. I’ll be in the study sampling your extensive collection of rare liquors, if you come to your senses and decide to depart from this circus show.”

“I’ll be there soon,” I promise, but the words feel empty even as I say them.

He makes his way through the onlookers clustered in groups around the edge of the room and through the arched doorway.

It’s a relief to see him go. I’d looked forward to his arrival, eager to catch up and reconnect with a good friend. But now that he’s here… things are different. I’ve realized I don’t have new, scintillating tales of conquest and wild stories to share. I don’t know what we’d talk about if I were to join him in the study.

I’m not the same man Spencer remembers — the guy who was up for anything, ready to keep the party going for a week straight, from trendy night club to some tech hipster’s penthouse to a mogul’s billion-dollar yacht, never slowing down, a different woman at every turn.

I return my attention to the activity in the room, and my eyes are immediately drawn to Seraphina. My pulse races at the view — not just because she’s a sight to behold, but because she’s dancing with Finley Prescott.

Fucking Finley .

The arrogant, conniving bastard who’s been trying to out-do me since birth. The man who would behead his own mother if he thought it’d help him gain a smidgen of power. The man I wouldn’t piss on if he were on fire.

It shouldn’t surprise me that he’s here — of course my parents invited him. He’s managed to deceive most everyone into thinking he’s God’s gift to the court, a noble man of fine breeding and impeccable character. His family has risen precipitously over the last couple generations, thanks mostly to the small fortune they have accrued. I’m one of the few who knows who he really is and his current proximity to Seraphina is enough to set me on high alert.

My jaw tightens as I watch him lean in and whisper something to Seraphina. Her eyes go wide, and she pulls back from him a bit, but he leans in again. God, I hate everything about that man. What others pass off as his smile, I know is a sneer; what they call charisma, I recognize as aggression. His hand slides down Seraphina’s waist, getting dangerously close to the curve of her ass. Her eyes dart to the side, and she stiffens.

He’s either oblivious that his advances aren’t welcome, or he doesn’t give a shit. Knowing Finley, it’s the latter.

Another dancing couple move in front of them, blocking my view. I make my way to their end of the room, keeping my eyes trained on the flashes of Sera’s sparkling blue gown that I can spot through the crowd. The song winds down, and there’s a brief lull in the music. I get a full view again as several people leave the dance floor.

Finley has his arm wrapped securely around her waist, but her forearms are pushing against his shoulders, her hands curled into fists. They’re close enough, Finley’s bigger body can disguise her resistance, but she twists her face away from him as he leans in to kiss her and grimaces as his lips miss their mark and meet her cheek, instead.

That does it. I don’t want Finley’s slimy hands or lips anywhere near her, and clearly, she doesn’t, either.

I make a beeline for them, and a second later, I’m standing behind Finley. I resist the urge to sucker-punch him in the back of the head. That’s exactly what I would have done last year, no hesitation, just knocked him clean out. But I’m trying to rein in my temper and be a proper gentleman, especially here in the palace, with a room full of guests attending at my parent’s invitation. I take a calming breath and tap him firmly on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, I’m cutting in.”

Seraphina looks up at the sound of my voice, and her eyes light up, her mouth parting in surprise.

Finley turns toward me. “Parker,” he notes sourly.

I glare at him. “Hello Finley.”

He glares back. “Ms. Strathmore is occupied at the moment.”

“It’s Lady Strathmore, you jackass. And I think she’s ready for a new dancing partner.”

Seraphina nods in agreement, but fucking Finley’s beady eyes are fixed on me.

He steps forward, one hand still clutching Seraphina’s arm. “I don’t give a shit what you think, Parker,” he sneers.

“It’s not your call,” I say, looking at her over Finley’s shoulder. Her eyes are darting from me to Finley. “This is the Lady’s decision.”

He tightens his grip around her arm, and she winces.

I want to rip his arm right off for that. I tear my eyes away from Sera and look back at Finley. His lip is curled into a snarl, and he’s glowering at me threateningly, but he has no idea. He thinks I’ll back down and play the gracious host.

He’s mistaken. I step closer to him. “Let go of her, now , or I will end you .” Every muscle in my body is poised to snap into action, years of experience with full-tackle bar brawls and street fighting at the ready.

His gaze falters, and he stiffens in disbelief, but he doesn’t release Sera. I push closer, practically nose to nose, and he swallows hard.

“Think I give a shit about making a scene?” I growl in a low whisper. “I won’t hesitate to fucking flatten you, right here. Try me, I beg you.”

I’m holding back as much as I can, out of respect for my parents. I don’t want to cause the King and Queen embarrassment, but I’m not backing down. If we were anywhere else, I’d have already smashed Finley’s face in.

His nostrils flare furiously, but he finally steps away from me and lets go of Seraphina, flinging her arm away in disgust. He straightens his jacket and gives me a tight smile, his eyes dancing fiendishly.

“Enjoy your dance, Parker. But don’t get too attached — she’ll be permanently by my side soon enough.”

My hands curl into fists, ready to knock that self-assured smirk off his face. Finley’s wisely steered clear of me for the most part, running in different circle than I did, which means hasn’t been introduced to this side of me yet, except for what he may have seen in media reports.

Sera steps around him and comes to my side. Without pausing a beat, Finley uses the opportunity to duck through the crowd of dancers. He disappears out of sight as she uncurls my fist and slips her hand into mine, her skin soft and warm.

A surge of electric heat races up my wrist and into my forearm from her touch. I turn to Sera, all thoughts of following Finley forgotten the moment I look at her.

For a moment, I forget that we’re standing in the middle of the ballroom with dozens of people. I search her face, finding a comforting familiarity, but also a trace of mystery… a foreignness that makes my pulse race.

Looking at her now, all grown-up and womanly — it’s like I’ve drawn close to a luminous star that I’ve known of my whole life. No matter how many times I stared up at the sky as a child, no matter how well I’ve memorized every speck of its light in the heavens, it’s clear there is still much to be discovered. Her beauty had pulled me in, but now that we’re face to face, desire is holding me here, digging into me.

Sera’s uncharted territory. I need to explore all of her, to know her in all the ways a man can.

She’s staring up at me hesitantly. Her eyes, bright and warm, are the color of soft green grass on a late summer day. And those lips... so full and kissed with a touch of red lipstick. They’re just begging to be given something naughty to do.

Chapter Four

 

 

 

 

 

 

Without even thinking, I’ve slipped my hand into Parker’s. He’s staring into the dancing crowd around us, watching Finley’s back like a hawk as he heads away from us.

I debate how to casually pull my hand away and play it off, but a moment later, his hand tightens around mine and then he’s looking at me, his eyes searching mine. His expression is full of concern and a hint of something else. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’m intrigued.

“Are you okay?” he asks, gently rubbing my arm where Finley had his death grip on me.

I swallow and nod. I can’t form words right now, not with Parker looking at me like that. Not with him touching me so tenderly. His hand is leaving a trail of tingles across my skin as he caresses the red marks Finley’s grip made on my arm.

“If he left a bruise on you, I swear to God,” Parker inhales sharply and glances into the crowd again, anger flashing in his eyes.

“No, I’m okay, really,” I say finally.

He turns back to me; I could get lost in his eyes — deep pools of sparkling blue staring at me so sweetly.

The intense anger seeps from his features, and his words come out with faux formality. “Well, in that case, perhaps you would do me the kindness of a dance?”

“Of course,” I say. I was tired of dancing long before Finley insisted on a turn, and I’ve managed to sprain my ankle in my clumsy return to high heels tonight, but I’ll do anything to stay in Parker’s company.

He smiles and gently places his hand on my waist. I straighten my back and try to steady my legs, but all I can think about is how close we’re standing and the look in his eyes when Finley had ahold of me — I’ve not seen that expression on a man very often, and certainly not because of me.

Fortunately, he’s an excellent dancer, leading me expertly across the dance floor, and my feet manage to untangle themselves before I trip us both. Muscle memory from years of formal dance training kick in as we move through the long, sweeping lines of a waltz — a dance which seems to be forgotten by the rest of the world. Soon we’re moving in perfect sync, floating through the ballroom as if we’re dancing on air.

One hand is holding mine, the other is on the small of my back, guiding me gently but firmly. His gaze never leaves mine. That mysterious look in his eyes is growing stronger, and I like it, whatever it is. It makes my cheeks flush, and my instinct is to look away, but I don’t; I can’t. It’s intense, but comfortable in a way I can’t explain.

He speaks casually, as though guiding a woman through a dance is second nature. “It’s nice to see you again, Seraphina. You’re looking very lovely.”

“You, too,” I say. What? “I mean, it’s nice to see you, too.”

He smiles at me, a twinkle of mischief in his expression. “So, I don’t look lovely as well?”

“Yes, of course.” I’m blushing furiously now, and my mouth is forming words without input from my brain. “I mean, you look handsome, as always.” Just stop talking!

Parker raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth puckered with amusement. “As always? Well, that’s good to know.” He steps into me, and my years of training snap into place as we cascade into a backwards spin.

Coming out of the maneuver, my head keeps spinning, but from an entirely different sense of vertigo. I dip my chin, averting my eyes, and shake my head. “Hopefully, this song will end soon so I can go die from embarrassment in private.” Why am I saying these things aloud?

Parker laughs, and even though it’s the sort of pleasant, tickled laughter that makes me smile, too, I still want to drop through an escape hatch in the floor and disappear. I’m sure my face is bright red now, because it feels like it’s glowing with the heat of molten lava.

“I’ve heard you’ve recently graduated.”

Thank God, a change in subject. This I can talk about. “Yes, I did.”

“With all the accolades, I bet.”

I nod. “I did well at university.” I manage to clamp my mouth shut before mentioning that all I’ve done for the last five years is study morning, noon, and night. Parker doesn’t need to know I’ve had next to zero social life and very few boyfriends.

“Tell me, what are you now the reigning expert of?”

We sway in a much more leisurely fashion now, allowing my brain to focus on more than what my feet should be doing. “Oh, I’m far from an expert. It’s the sort of thing that requires years of additional real-world experience and field research. My classes and labs only touched the tip of the iceberg.”

“Really? What’s your degree?”

“Environmental engineering.”

“Wow, well done. Where does all this field research take place?”

“Africa is where I would go — there are so many emerging events there, so much still to uncover and study. I’d love to help with the water crisis, working with a team to find sustainable solutions. Wouldn’t it be lovely to ensure everyone has access to clean, drinkable water? And living in Africa sounds fantastic, doesn’t it?”

“I’ve never been, actually. Have you?”

“Yes, last summer. I signed on to an externship program and spent eight weeks in Uganda. It was just… amazing. Such a beautiful place, so different from here.”

Parker lifts his arm and turns his wrist while holding my hand. I follow the movement, conducting a circle in front of him before he pulls me back in and asks, “So, when do you jet off to the wilds of Africa again?”

“I’m not, actually.”

“Why’s that? Have you lost interest in it?”

“Oh, no — I love environmental engineering! But…” I sigh. “There are more important things that need my attention. My family, for starters.”

“I see. You’ll be staying around here, then?”

“It looks like it.” Especially if you keep your hand right there on my waist.

“Well, that’s the second bit of good news you’ve shared since we began this dance.”

His words lift my spirits and pull me back from the edge of grieving for Africa, for what isn’t meant to be. I glance up at his face, and he’s looking at me so sweetly, his expression tender. I want to ask how he’s been, but I’m afraid to know. I don’t want to hear about the kind of parties I’ll never be hip enough to be invited to, or the wild women who throw himself at them. Not right now. Not while his arms are wrapped around me. I just want this moment with him to be mine.

We move in harmony with the music, and little by little, Parker pulls me closer until we’re pressed together. I wonder if he’s noticed the fullness of my breasts pushed against his chest. I’ve certainly noticed the strength of his arms as he holds me. I’m wondering what he’s packing under the layers of that regal uniform — strong abs and muscular legs and…

I push the thoughts out of my head. It’s foolish to think he’d find me remotely attractive on that level. I’m not a skinny model, ten feet tall with an exotic accent. Simple Sera, that’s me. For half my life I was a gangly tomboy splashing into muddy ponds to catch turtles and salamanders, and now that I’ve become a woman, my body has morphed into full-figured curves, even in the places I wish weren’t so curvy.

The music softens as the band nears the end of the piece. We come to a stop, and Parker lets go of me. He gives me a bow, and I curtsy out of habit, but it’s all over too fast.

Parker notices the tiny frown in my expression. “Are you all right?”

Scurrying to cover the train of my thoughts, I tell a partial truth. “My left ankle is killing me.” Immediately, I regret saying it, because he’s not going to ask for another dance now.

Another song begins, and I step back, ready to excuse myself, but Parker reaches for my hand. “Come with me,” he says.

Eager as a bee heading to a freshly bloomed flower, I let him lead me off the dance floor. I don’t ask where we’re going or what we’re doing, because I don’t care — I’d follow him across a bed of hot coals if it means I can stay in his company a while longer.

We reach the edge of the ballroom, and Parker releases my hand. I curl my fingers against my palm, already missing the heat of his skin against mine.

He opens one of the heavy glass double doors leading out to the balcony. He pokes his head out and looks around then steps back inside and leans close to the hulking royal guard standing nearby.

“We don’t wish to be disturbed,” Parker tells him quietly.

The man bobs his head immediately and makes a slight bow. “Of course, Your Highness.”

He touches his earpiece and discreetly updates the rest of the security team as Parker ushers me through the door. It goes shut behind us with a quiet whoosh. I look over my shoulder to see the security guard positioning himself directly in front of the glass doors, his back to us and the dance floor completely obstructed by his mass.

The cool night air greets me as I walk through the evening shadows to the edge of the stone balcony, resting my hands on the intricately woven iron railings guarding the high drop-off. The balcony overlooks the East Lawn below, framed by formal gardens. It’s beautiful in its orderly elegance, but I always preferred the untamed look of the wildflower garden next to the back woods.

“Any thoughts on how you plan to pass the time while you’re here?”

Parker’s voice is right behind me, his breath curling against my neck in a little heat wave. It sends a shiver up my back, and goosebumps break out across my arms. I spin around to face him, my heart beating rapidly. As he moves he sidles his hips and moves even closer, I realize I can’t recall what he just asked me.

His gaze lowers to my lips and then moves down to my chest. My heart flutters with his intentional gaze. He looks back up at me, an eyebrow raised. “You’re all grown up now, aren’t you?”

I nod. Words have fled me, and I’m barely breathing.

He reaches up and gently sweeps a tendril of hair out of my face. His eyes lower to my lips again as he runs his hand down the back of my head, stroking my hair.

“I hear you’re entertaining suitors.”

I nod again. What is happening? Is he going to kiss me? I dare not move, for surely, I’ll do something clumsy and ruin this moment.

“Are you ready to be married, Sera?”

The question catches me off-guard, and my mind races to come up with an answer — for him, for myself. “I think so,” I whisper.

Parker tilts his head and looks at me curiously. “So, you’ve had your fun, then?”

His fingers are playing in my hair, each little tug sending pleasure to my scalp and down my back.

“What — what do you mean?” I stare at him, my eyes wide. I think I know what he’s asking, but I can’t be sure.

A smile plays across his lips. “Time is running out, you know.”

Emily’s words from yesterday echo in my head. You didn’t cut loose in college… you’re running out of time… have some fun before you’re married… you could use a long, hard night of trouble…

“Are you offering something?” The question rolls out of my mouth before I can stop it. Where did that come from? I’m ready to die from embarrassment for being so presumptuous. It’s probably painfully obvious to him how little practice I’ve had with flirting.

His eyes fixate on mine. That expression, it’s making my knees weak. Like a starving wolf sizing up its dinner. “Maybe,” he says, running his hand under my hair, his fingers stroking the bare skin of my neck.

A thought occurs to me. Did Emily put him up to this? Another more likely possibility follows, a mortifying one. Spencer. This could be one of his crude pranks.

My breath hangs in my chest, and I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. What do I do? How do I play this off? I’m irritated at the idea of Spencer fucking with me, and even though it’s the most logical explanation for Parker’s unexpected and undivided attention tonight, I can’t bring myself to push him away. I’m desperate for him to kiss me, even if it is a joke.

Every fiber of my being is longing for a taste of his lips on mine. I know he can see it on my face, and it scares me, this power he has over me right now, but I can’t help it.

He steps back abruptly and looks over at a small seating area to my right, deep in the cover of shadows.

“What is it?” I say, startled.

“I almost forgot why I brought you out here.”

He walks to a pair of chairs and turns them to face each other. He sits down in one and pats the other. “Come, sit down.”

My feet carry me over to him on automatic pilot, and I sit down obediently, but my mind is whirling. What the hell is going on? What is Spencer up to now?

As soon as I’m seated, he leans down and wraps a firm hand around my left ankle.

“What are you doing?”

Parker pauses and looks up at me. “May I?”

“Uh… sure.” I have no clue what’s happening, but as long as he’s touching me, I’m not going to complain.

He lifts my foot off the ground, and the layers of sheer fabric of my dress slide up my legs, bunching up around my thighs, exposing my knees. I tip back and grab the arms of the chair to keep my butt from slipping off the cushion.

“What on earth?”

But Parker doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he places my foot in his lap and begins undoing the straps of my high heels. I watch as his fingers work deftly on the tiny buckles. How many times has he done this? He gently slips my shoe off and sets it on the ground.

“You said your left ankle was hurting, right?”

“Oh, yes.” I did say that. And it is, but…

He rubs his hands together and then places them on my ankle, the warmth flooding into my skin as he begins lightly kneading his palms against my tender muscles.

The sensation is heavenly. A small moan escapes me, and I lay my head back against the chair. “Oh my God, that feels so good.”

“So, tell me, Sera — why haven’t I seen you in seven years?”

It’s hard to form words with the little waves of pleasure running up my leg from his firm, warm hands. “I’ve been in school nearly non-stop until this summer.”

“Didn’t you have any breaks?”

“Sure, a few.”

“Why didn’t you come visit?”

Because my home and this palace and everything about nobility is an archaic throwback, and I wanted to escape it while I could. “I did, once.” The words just slip right out. I can’t think straight when he’s touching me, my heel pressing into his inner thigh. Immediately, heat creeps into my face and I clamp my mouth shut.

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Why don’t I remember this?”

I tilt my head sideways, trying to look casual. “I didn’t stay long.”

Parker looks at me curiously as he works the palm of his hand against the underside of my lower calf. “Why’s that?”

“Just things... you know.” I shrug calmly, but my cheeks are on fire, and from the look on Parker’s face, I’m not pulling it off.

That look reminds me of when the East Lawn flooded, and he caught the ten-year-old me damning the creek in the adjacent woods. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” My voice is too loud, the words rushing out in denial too quickly.

Parker stops massaging my leg. He’s really staring at me now, his head cocked to one side. “Seraphina Strathmore. You have a secret.”

“No, I don’t.” Oh my God.

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Is it that dark and twisted?”

“No. It’s just… God, it’s just embarrassing.”

“I bet it’s not that bad. Try me.”

“You’re the last person I want to tell.” Why can’t I just stop talking?

“Oh? Really?” He leans forward. “Now you have to tell me.”

I shake my head and will my mouth to zip itself shut forever.

He gives me a teasing smile that makes my stomach do flips. “You know I’m not going to let this go.”

I suck in a gulp of air. “Fine.”

“Good. I’m listening.” He looks at me expectantly.

“I came back for a visit about two years ago. I was supposed to meet Spencer here to go to some charity event at the Brightson Galleria.”

“What happened?”

“Pierre said he was in the music room. So, I went there, looking for him.”

“Go on.” He shifts to the edge of his seat, my knee bending as he moves forward, still holding my ankle.

I put my fingers over my lips and shake my head. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can.” A small smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “You went to the music room and…”

“Spencer wasn’t there.”

“If that’s the whole story, you’re a terrible tease.”

I lower my eyes. “You were there.”

“Was I?” Parker’s mysterious smile deepens.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“And you didn’t come in and say hello because…?”

There’s a devilish look dancing in his eyes, and I hesitate for a moment before finally saying the words.

“You weren’t alone.”

That devilish look reaches to his lips. “No, I wasn’t. I remember this day now. The day you didn’t show up for the Brightson event. And I was entertaining a guest.”

“Is that what you call it?”

He leans close to me. “Well, actually, I was licking her pussy,” he whispers. “And you were watching me.”

My eyes go wide. “How — how did you know?”

“I didn’t, until just now. The look on your face is priceless.”

My chest fills with something between mortifying embarrassment and rage — maybe both. I brace myself on the arms of the chair and pull my foot out of his lap. “Fuck you, Parker.”

Before I can stand up, he drops to the stone on his knees and runs his hands under my dress, up my legs. It catches me off-guard, and I freeze.

“Don’t be angry, Sera. That wasn’t how I meant it.”

My whole body is shaking, partly from fury and partly from the effect his words and hands are having on me. “Then what?”

His right hand slides over my knee, moving slowly up my thigh. “I just wanted to know if you’re interested.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re lying.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I like it when you’re feisty. That fire in your eyes right now — it’s beautiful.”

I blush and turn my head away as he inches his hand further up my thigh. My legs are trembling, and it’s not from anger.

Part of me is convinced this is a trick, some cruel game my brother’s put him up to — Hey, you know a great way we could fuck with Sera? Flirt with her, pretend like you’re seducing her. It’ll be hilarious.

But the way Parker’s been looking at me tonight, it makes my heart pound. It can’t be fake, can it?

I don’t want him to stop, but I’m scared. Scared he’s going to suddenly pull away and laugh at me, at my naivety and how easily I gave in, so stupid and gullible. Scared that he’s just playing with me and I’m just a silly girl under his spell.

“Sera,” he whispers. He slides his other hand up my thigh. I know he can feel my legs shaking under his touch.

I glance at him, my hand curled against my mouth. I haven’t felt this shy in ages, if ever. He’s still staring at me, studying my face.

“Would you like me to do to you what I was doing to her?”

I shake my head. “No.” Liar. I’ve thought of that scene countless times over the past two years, the vivid images playing in my head as I masturbated, equal measure of both unrequited lust and the burning heat of envy driving me on, desperately wishing my fingers were Parker’s tongue.

He smiles and slides his hands to the top of my thighs. “Why not?”

“I don’t want to be one of your… hookups. I’m not that kind of woman.”

“What kind is that? The kind who likes pleasure?”

His fingers stroke the fabric of my panties, inching closer and closer to the sensitive mound between my thighs.

“Who likes when a man makes her wet?”

He presses his thumb down on my clit through the sheer fabric, and I gasp involuntarily.

“Who likes when a man makes her cry out in ecstasy?”

He begins rubbing his thumb in a circle over the top of my underwear, swirling across my clit, sending waves of pleasure through me. With his other hand, he hooks a finger under the elastic band between my legs.

“Do you think any of the men in there want to pleasure you like I do right now?”

I’m not thinking about Finley or any of the suitors. Just Parker’s hands under my dress, his husky voice whispering into the still night air. I can’t believe I’m letting him do this, but I want him to, so badly. I want his hands between my legs, his tongue, his...

“They don’t,” he continues. “They want your power, your wealth, your status. I don’t need any of those things — I have my own.”

He slides the strip of fabric to the side, and his fingers make contact with my sensitive skin. My heart is racing, and my clit is throbbing under his thumb.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“I just want to make you come.”

Parker keeps rubbing his thumb in a firm, tight circle against my clit while he slowly strokes a finger along the folds of my pussy. “Oh my God, you’re so fucking wet.”

A little moan escapes me, and then another. I’m holding onto the chair as though it will keep me grounded here on earth. His touch is sending me flying, and I know I shouldn’t, but I need more. I’m so close to coming already, he doesn’t even know. I’ve been electrified since he squeezed my hand in the ballroom, my entire body sizzling with static charge.

He moves his hands around my hips and pulls me forward, my ass sliding to the edge of the seat. “Sera...”

It’s a husky, desperate growl of a whisper that spreads through me like a drug, my nipples hardening into stiff point, my pussy clenching at the sound of his voice begging for a taste of me.

I steal a glance at him, and the look on his face, so possessed with hunger, makes my insides quiver. The longing in my eyes is all the permission he needs. He pushes my dress up to my waist and tears my panties away, ripping them off me as if they were made of delicate paper.

I’m bared to him and exposed to the night air, but it’s a naughty, delicious feeling. I dart a quick peek at the balcony doors, but all I can see is the backside of the security man’s suit jacket.

No one is looking outside, which is a good thing, because Parker leans forward and dips his chin, and his mouth is on me, hot and wet. I clutch the arms of the chair as he kisses my most sensitive area, his tongue darting between my folds.

He gently spreads the lips of my pussy and dives on my clit like it’s Christmas and he’s been waiting all day to open his presents.

It’s better than my hands and fingers have ever been. It’s better than I’ve fantasized. The heat from his mouth, his nimble tongue flicking against my swollen nub, it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and I can’t believe it’s finally happening here, now, on the balcony outside the ballroom.

I hear breathy gasps between long, blissful moans, and realize it’s me. There’s a white-hot tension building between my legs, and I’m ready to explode. The heat rises from my pussy and into my chest. I want to run his hair through my fingers, to grab onto his shoulders, but I keep my death grip on the chair.

But my hips, my hips respond to Parker. It’s just the smallest of movements — a little sway like on the dancefloor — but he groans as I move with him. Parker does something with his tongue — oh my God , does he do something with his tongue — pressing into my clit with a circle, and my thighs tremble and clench.

The lights on the balcony begin to flicker and I wonder if I’m going to blackout from holding my breath in as my body vibrates. I lift myself from the seat, pressing into him with need. Parker squeezes his fingers into my rear, getting good handfuls of my ass. I clamp my lips shut to muffle my cries, whimpering silent moans of long-awaited-for satisfaction, my skin hot with the flush of a powerful orgasm.

Chapter Five

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m applauding at the right times and nodding graciously when needed, but I haven’t been paying attention to the opening ceremonies, which have been dragging on for nearly two hours.

Instead, all of my senses are focused intently on Seraphina, who’s been seated with her parents and a few attendants in the private box to the left of the stage, a spot usually reserved for high-titled guests of honor. My parents, always the gracious hosts as the King and Queen of Ostwyn, are happy to do whatever they can for their long-time friends. My mother is a sucker for tradition and loves that Seraphina is embracing a proper courtship.

From the royal galleria on the opposite side of the stage, I have a direct view of all the activity happening over there — and there has been a lot of it.

I lean toward Spencer. “Did someone take out a front page ad or something? Where are all these men coming from? Jesus Christ, it’s turning into a fucking circus show over there.”

Spencer flashes a look across the theatre to where his sister is sitting then returns to staring at the stage. “I don’t know. My parent’s advisors made a list of potential suitors.”

He’s been steadily ignoring the activity at his family’s seats, despite my constant gawking and the string of cursing under my breath. He declined to sit with them and instead plopped himself next to me. Neither of us care that his title doesn’t qualify him to be seated in the royal galleria, but his detachment is irritating, and I’m beginning to wish he’d sat somewhere else.

“She’s not a goddamn zoo exhibit.”

Spencer shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“It’s a fucking spectacle, is what it is. And she’s supposed to pick a husband this way? From this crowd of douchebags?”

“Whatever, Parker,” he sighs, tired of the topic. “She’ll marry some House of Montguard heir, or whoever we’re currently trying to improve relations with, and supposedly prosperity and peace will reign.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me.”

During every lull between performers, men have appeared in front of the box, speaking first to Sera’s parents with a formal half-bow, and then to Sera, who has extended her arm at least a dozen times so far to accept a kiss upon her hand. Just when I think that has to be the last of her admirers, more appear.

Every time another one approaches — with the same fake grin plastered on his face and barely-veiled lust in his eyes — I’ve had to grit my teeth and resist the urge to jump out of my seat and tackle their sorry asses. I know every one of these asshats, and they don’t deserve her, none of them.

Then again, I don’t, either. She’s far too much of a lady for me, but I can’t stop thinking about the look of ecstasy she had on her face as she came with my lips buried between her legs.

Nothing has ever tasted as sexy and satisfying as her sweet pussy did last night. I swear I can still feel the heat of her on my tongue. I’ve been a wreck ever since — it’s all I can picture, all I can think about — and yet, there she is, so close but so far away, surrounded by men clamoring for her attention.

It’s making me fucking crazy. I don’t know how I’m going to handle watching this shit for the next three weeks.

“Thank God this nonsense is almost over,” I mutter as the next to last performers take the stage. I’m restless from sitting for so long and pissed off by the commotion at the Strathmore’s seating area.

Spencer leans over to me. “Hey, afterwards, everyone will go to the East Lawn, right?”

I nod. “Right — there’s a dinner reception tonight. I have to make an appearance, of course.”

“I think I’m going to head out, actually,” Spencer says.

“What? Where to?”

“Johnston said there’s a big party going down tonight at some converted warehouse in Morenca,” he says in a low voice.

“Johnston?” The name rings a bell. “Galloway Johnston? Wasn’t he the guy who got kicked out of Cathridge for running a drug-smuggling ring?”

Spencer snorts with amusement. “Yeah, that’s him.”

I choose my words carefully, but I know the answer before I even ask. “You’ve been hanging out with this guy much?”

“Oh, yeah. He has the best connections and all the right supplies, if you know what I’m saying.”

I do know, thanks to Pierre’s digging. I shift in my seat to mask the disappointment coursing through me. Spencer’s going down a dangerous road, if that’s who he’s hanging out with these days. Galloway Johnston is bad news — and his choice of business partner is even worse. I want to tell Spencer about the files in my safe and the investigation, but I don’t know what he’d do with the information. A year ago, I would have trusted him with my life. Now? Something’s off. He’s too detached, too flaky. I don’t know where his head’s at these days, but I can’t take the chance. I decide to keep my mouth shut.

Spencer nudges me with his elbow. “Bail on the reception, man. A bunch of us are slipping out as soon as this is over. Come with us, it’s going to be off the hook!”

“That’s not really my crowd. You should be careful hanging out with those guys, they’re pretty fucking shady.” It’s a subtle warning, but it’s the best I can do without risking him ruining my carefully laid plans.

He waves me off. “Eh, they’re alright.”

I try a different tactic. “What about Seraphina?”

“What about her?”

“Don’t you think she needs someone looking out for her?” I nod at the loge box. “These bastards look like they’re ready to knock her over the head and drag her back to their fucking cave.”

Spencer sets his jaw, a look passing over his features I can’t quite place. Annoyance? Anger? Shame? He takes a deep breath and, a mask settling in, and shrugs dismissively. “She signed up for this.”

I clench my jaw and look away from him. I don’t care what Sera agreed to in advance, I doubt she expected this . Last night — that bashfulness? It’s the kind of sweet innocence you can’t fake. And her reaction to Finley’s attempted kiss on the dance floor? I would bet every last cent in the royal vault that she didn’t sign up to be manhandled by the likes of fucking Finley Prescott.

Spencer notices the flash of frustration in my eyes and makes a puzzled face. “What do you care, anyway?”

“I just think she could use an older brother right now — you know, maybe someone to look out for her best interests.”

“Look, I’m not my sister’s keeper, man. She’s made her own choices. It’s none of my business, and it’s definitely not yours .”

I shift in my seat and try to keep my temper. When it’s happening in my home, it most definitely is my business. And it’s Seraphina we’re talking about, for fuckssake.

“She’s fine,” Spencer says, returning his attention to the trio of singers on the stage. “Let’s just finish watching the show.”

I shake my head and lean back in my seat. I’m not the only one who’s changed. Sure, when we were younger Spencer gave Seraphina a hard time, but he always kept an eye out for her. Where is that protectiveness now?

The array of talent and prestige on stage tonight for the opening ceremonies is impressive. Poets waxing on about the transient mysteries of autumn, acclaimed pianists and cellists plucking hauntingly beautiful sounds out of their instruments, accomplished heads of state giving long-winded speeches, historians tirelessly recounting the origins of our hallowed traditions, and on and on.

I’m not listening to any of it. I can’t stop glancing at Sera, wondering what’s in store for her.

Something’s off.

I know it, despite Spencer’s reassurances. There’s more to this whole courtship circus than he’s letting on.

Chapter Six

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Would you like more tea?” The waiter leans over my right shoulder expectantly, but I cover the dainty cup with my hand and shake my head.

“No, thank you.” If I have any more tea, I’m going to be waddling like a fat duck to the ladies’ room.

Two hundred guests — the royal family, foreign dignitaries, high-ranking members of the court, and assorted celebrities — are seated at large round tables under an expansive white tent on the East Lawn. There’s a late season cold, crisp in the air, and thousands upon thousands of tiny lights are woven throughout the tent. The effect is like luminous fairy dust.

Dinner is almost over, and dessert will be served soon, but I’m too stuffed to take another bite. The legendary late night Black Diamond event — the charity poker game which has brought in wealthy card sharks and high-rolling celebrities from all over the world — is about to begin, which will last well into the night. A man’s event, mostly, ending in cigar smoke and unbuttoned tuxedo collars.

As luck would have it, I’ve been seated at the same table as Parker. The seating arrangements are supposed to be random — as each guest arrives, they draw a playing card and find the numbered table matching their card. But something tells me Parker skipped over luck of the draw and went straight for an empty spot at my table. Royal prerogative. Not like anyone’s going to reprimand him.

He’s sitting across from me, a wide expanse of white linen between us, enough to prevent a polite volume of conversation, especially with the buzz of chatter and clinking of silverware and dishes filling the tent. He’s talking to the Duke of Fellsworth, but his eyes are on me, as they have been all through dinner.

Every time I look up, he’s staring, and I blush like a schoolgirl making eye contact with a cute boy for the first time. Over and over. Or perhaps I’m staring at him, I don’t know anymore. I can’t keep track of who is looking at who at this point. It’s a shock no one has noticed, or if they have, at least they haven’t said anything, except for Emily, who has elbowed me at least a dozen times over the past hour and is currently muffling a giggle behind her teacup.

I lower my eyes, embarrassed at the rosy shade of my cheeks, and hiss at her. “Emily, for heaven’s sake, shush . You are not helping.”

She’s already making me regret telling her about the private moments with Parker on the balcony last night, but I still love her anyway, and besides, who else was I going to tell? It was too big to keep to myself — a momentous occasion worthy of shouting from the rooftops, if I could.

He literally took my breath away and rocked my world, ooooh did he ever . My God, I had no idea I could even come that hard. I’d wanted more, I wanted all of him, every hot, firm inch of him inside me — his tongue, his fingers, his cock. But a moment after my legs stopped shaking from my earth-shattering orgasm and my vision swam back into focus, Parker pulled my dress down.

“Sorry, Sera,” he’d whispered. He rose from his knees and pressed his lips to my cheek in a tender kiss, his skin hot against mine.

Bewildered, I’d sat forward, reaching for Parker, but he was already walking away. I thought the flashing of lights behind my closed eyelids had been orgasm-induced, but upon opening my eyes, I noticed the dim lights of the sconces along the exterior wall of the balcony were indeed blinking on and off. A second later, the glass door swung open and the royal guard stuck his head outside.

“Your Highness?” the guard had called hesitantly, his eyes lowered to the ground. “So sorry to disturb you, sir, but your father, sorry, His Highness the King, is having another of his migraines. He needs you to step in as host.”

“Yes, coming,” Parker said, already halfway to the door.

The lights had stopped blinking by then, and I realized it had been a signal to the Prince that our private moment was about to be interrupted. Just before he slipped through the door into the ballroom, he’d turned and looked at me, a lingering gaze that I couldn’t quite read. And then he was gone.

Emily’s continued giggling pulls me back to the present. The noise level at the table has increased now that dinner is finished and large quantities of wine and spirits have been consumed.

I can still feel Parker’s eyes on me, undressing me in front of everyone, this intense sparkle in his gaze. And is that a hint of jealousy I’m catching once in a while? I think it might be. Every time one of the men at the table talks to me, Parker is on instant alert.

I’m supposed to be chatting politely with the guests seated at the table, including two of the suitors my parents have picked out for me, but there is a growing wetness between my legs that is entirely distracting, because I can’t look at Parker without thinking about his mouth on me, and how he knows exactly what to do with his tongue. It sends a pulse of pleasure through my pussy every time he lifts his champagne glass and parts his mouth to take a sip.

It doesn’t help that he keeps licking his lips — whether intentionally or not, it’s driving me crazy.

I want to climb across the table, draped with crisp white linen and crystal stemware, directly into Parker’s lap and wrap my legs around him, proper dinner party be damned. The fantasy is playing itself out in my head so vividly that all my attempts at conversation have been awkward and short lived.

The gentleman on my right — Horace something, I believe — turns to me. “Lady Seraphina, I heard you just graduated magna cum laude from Umberland.”

“Yes, I did.”

“What was your field of study, if I may ask?” Horace is easily twenty years my senior, with an actual, bonafide pencil mustache, thin brown hair, and a deeply pockmarked red nose.

Despite staring at Parker for most of the evening, I couldn’t help but notice that Horace had sucked down five glasses of wine already and is currently working on the sixth.

“Environmental engineering, actually.”

He wrinkles his nose, his tone becoming a mix of patrimony and incredulity. “Engineering? Isn’t that a man’s job?”

What the hell? Where did my parents’ advisors find this joker? “Well, traditionally, most positions have been held by men, but that’s slowly changing.” At least outside of the royal court, in the modern world.

“It doesn’t matter, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?”

He waves his hands. “Oh, you know — you’ve got your little piece of paper to show that you’ve accomplished something, a nice certificate to hang on the wall. Very urban of you.”

I blink slowly, unsure if I’ve heard him correctly. “It’s quite a bit more than just a piece of paper. I worked very hard to earn that degree. I studied nearly day and night for years, wrote research papers, helped with field projects, took every related workshop and seminar I could. It did not come easy, I assure you.”

“Well, yes, my Lady, I wouldn’t presume that it would be easy for a woman to achieve such a thing, especially one so young and pretty as yourself, but it’s hardly like you’ll be employing any of that knowledge in your future.”

“Excuse me?”

He rolls his hand in the air, his gaze wandering the tent, sounding the more bored with the topic the more we talk. “Well, you’re not actually going to go gallivanting off to work, now are you?”

I give him a cold stare. “I had been planning to, yes. I’d like to work with a nonprofit in third world countries.” Especially since those places are far, far away from you.

He snorts, and something resembling laughter catches in his throat. “I can picture it now. A woman of nobility in muck boots, slinging elephant shit in Africa somewhere? Pardon my language, my Lady, but really. You’re just having a good one over on me now.” He lets out a chuckle and shakes his head.

“Actually, I’d love to go work in Africa,” I say through clenched teeth. “And elephant shit doesn’t scare me. I have done field work before.”

He clicks his tongue and sucks back the rest of his wine, no longer interested in the topic, dismissing it as only men who have a stately title in this little corner of the world can.

I glance around, hoping someone — anyone — has heard this nonsense and can confirm I’m not crazy. But everyone is busy chatting with someone else, even Parker, who is motioning to the waiter to stop serving refills of wine to the Duke of Fellsworth.

I turn back to Horace the Horrible. “I certainly wouldn’t expect to get served tea and sit comfortably in a plush air-conditioned room all day. I’d pull my weight and contribute valuable data to research programs, help make a difference in the world.”

He sets his glass down with a thud. “That’s all well and good, my Lady, but perhaps you need to rethink these preposterous visions, because what your husband will expect of you is quite different.”

I glare at him and grit my teeth, but refrain from saying what I’m thinking. I’m gripping my fork tightly, imagining what it would be like to jab it into his misogynistic, patronizing leg.

Not knowing when to keep his trap shut, he continues. “I know it’s very easy to be swept away by silly notions at your age,” he goes on, puffing his chest out assuredly, “but I’m quite certain none of your suitors have plans involving Africa, elephant dung, or a wife with career ambitions. I certainly don’t. God forbid my heir is born in some dusty desert in a piss-poor shanty town. I expect my wife to tend her duties at home, where she belongs, as does any gentleman with high standards.”

He looks at me finally, and that look says it all. It says what all my suitors won’t verbalize. That a gentleman of high standards really means a man with an impressive bank account and the right connections. They know I’m for sale. They won’t say it, but they know.

“You shouldn’t mention these things if you want to land a decent husband, dear — just leave the business to the men.”

I swallow hard and take a deep breath, trying not to choke on my indignation or on the vague sense of shame that comes with the position I find myself in. It’s humiliating. I’d almost deceived myself into thinking I could find a good match with a decent man. As I’ve been trained to, I keep my lips sealed, but under the table, my hands are shaking I’m so furious.

Across from us, the Duke’s phone rings loudly, and he stands up unsteadily beside Parker, bumping the table several times. As the china clatters and people snatch up full wine glasses to keep them from spilling, I seize the opportunity to whisper to Emily.

“Let’s excuse ourselves to the ladies’ room. If I have to hear another word out of this guy’s mouth, I’m going to stab him with my fork, and I won’t even be sorry.”

Chapter Seven

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Your Highness?”

I turn to my left, where Pierre, my security chief, has leaned over to whisper to me. “Yes?”

“There are two young ladies who’ve requested to speak with you privately.”

Curiosity filling me, I get my hopes up that it’s Sera and her assistant, beckoning me to wherever they’ve left to. “Concerning?”

He glances up at the many faces turned curiously toward us and clears his throat. “I assume it’s of a personal nature, sir. They wouldn’t tell me.” Code for ‘you’d prefer I didn’t say the true reason aloud’ .

“Where?”

“I asked them to wait at the portico near the chef’s entrance.”

“Very well, thank you, Pierre.”

“Would you like me to accompany you, sir?”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

I place my napkin on the table and excuse myself, winding my way through the gaily decorated tables to the exit of the large event tent. It’s a brief walk across the East Lawn to the rear of the palace, where I spot two women hovering together behind the columns of the portico covering the kitchen delivery entrance. Disappointment hitches in my chest. Neither of them is Sera.

“Ladies? You needed to speak with me?”

They smile and blush, bowing their heads in unison. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“What can I help you with this evening?”

They look at each other and then turn to me, stepping closer.

“We, um, we have a special request,” the redhead says, smiling demurely at me.

“Yes?” Don’t do what I think you’re about to.

“I’m Leela, and this is Stacy,” the redhead continues, “and we have a bit of a situation.”

I keep an oblivious façade up, hoping they’ll stop. I’m no idiot. I know that look they’re giving me. “How may I be of assistance?”

“We each had a birthday this month; we both turned twenty-one.”

I can feel the fakeness in my smile, but they don’t seem to notice. “Congratulations, a belated happy birthday to you both.”

“We’re hoping you can help us celebrate,” Stacy says.

“Oh?” Fuck me, they’re going to do it.

“The thing is, we’ve never been with a man before.” Stacy tosses her blonde hair and looks at me from under long eyelashes.

I raise both eyebrows. Not because of the propositions, that I’m used to. It’s because I highly doubt either of these girls have never been with a man before. “I see.”

They step forward together, now inches away from me, and Leela slips her arm around Stacy’s waist.

“We’d like you to be our first, Your Highness,” she says, tracing a finger down Stacy’s chest. “With both of us, together.”

“Doing whatever pleases us — all night long,” Stacy adds.

That primal part of me sets my heart beating faster, and yet, my response is without hesitation. It’s firm. “I’ll have to pass on that, unfortunately.”

“But... but,” the blond stammers. “We’re up for anything. We’ll do whatever you want.”

I take a step back and clasp my hands together. “That’s not the issue, I assure you. I’m certain there are many gentlemen — several in that tent, in fact — who’d jump at a chance to, um, celebrate with you. But it won’t be me.”

“But you’re the only one we want,” Leela says, pushing her lips into a pout. “We heard you were into this sort of thing.”

Last year me, yes — I likely would have taken them up on their offer. But I’m not that man anymore. I keep a civil expression on my face, the polite but otherwise emotionless look all the royals of Ostwyn do so well. “So sorry, ladies. Thank you for the offer, but I really must get back to the dinner party now.”

I turn heel and walk away quickly, crossing the lawn without looking back. I’m almost to the tent when Pierre steps out of the shadows.

“Is everything okay, Your Grace?”

“Yes, it’s fine. I’m going to return to my seat now.”

He looks in the direction of the portico. “Shall I bring the ladies to your suite later, sir?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. They’ll have to find other company.”

A brief look of confusion flashes across his ordinarily neutral expression. “Has my selection displeased you, my Lord?”

“They were perfectly lovely. But I’m not interested.”

“Oh, I see. I thought, perhaps, since you haven’t left the estate in a long while, you might want to take advantage of the, um, offerings the festival has brought.”

“I appreciate your concern for my social life, Pierre, but as I’ve said before, things are different now. In fact, I’d appreciate your running interference to keep such... advances at bay.”

Pierre’s eyebrows twitch, but he nods calmly. “Of course, sir.”

I turn to leave, but my chief of security clears his throat. I glance back. “Yes?”

“Pardon the question, Your Grace, but, uh…”

“What?”

He leans in and lowers his voice even further, barely a faint whisper above the din of the crowd inside the ten. “Does that include Lady Seraphina as well?”

“Lady Seraphina is the only guest I’ll be entertaining — and her visits are to be treated with extreme discretion, is that clear?”

“Absolutely,” Pierre nods solemnly. “It’s understood, Your Highness.”

I leave Pierre standing at the edge of the tent, his watchful eyes following me as usual as I make my way back to the table. I notice with dismay that Seraphina’s seat is still empty.

I pray that she did not witness the conversation with the two women under the portico. Not a single woman here tonight could hold my attention the way she has these past few days, and I don’t want her thinking otherwise. I’m no fool — I know my reputation proceeds me. Surely, Seraphina has heard every tawdry detail of my past, of my infamous stunts, partying, and playboy ways.

But this is… different. I don’t know what it is, or how long it will last, or why she has this hold over me that I can’t shake, but no woman, ever, has captivated me quite like this before.

Chapter Eight

 

 

 

 

 

 

I finish drying my hands and flop down on a neatly tailored loveseat in the corner of the ladies’ room. “Would it be terribly unbecoming of me to just have a full-fledged fit? I could do with a good tantrum right about now — just get it out of my system.”

Emily checks that the door is locked then gives me a playful scold. “I’m afraid so. Tantrums have been off the table since you turned five. But, I do have this .”

She sets her enormous purse on the vanity counter and pulls a bottle of red wine from it. “I snuck it in my bag when dear old McAllister insisted on giving me a tour of the wine cellar while you were off gallivanting at the opening ceremonies. If I had to listen to him drone on about eighteenth-century vintages for far longer than politeness allows, I wasn’t going to leave empty-handed.”

“Ah, perfect! The adult preventative to tantrums. I knew I loved you for a reason.”

I kick off my heels and squish my toes into the plush carpet of the opulent powder room as Emily produces two crystal glasses out of thin air and hands one of them to me. I don’t know how she does it. She’s like Mary Poppins and Merlin rolled into one, only better.

She fills my glass, and I wave at the empty cushion beside me. “Come, sit. You’ve been on your feet longer than I have.”

Emily eases onto the loveseat with a sigh, tucking a leg underneath her. “It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?”

“Mmmhmm ,” I murmur, taking a long sip of wine.

I don’t even care what kind it is – it’s rich and strong and feels exquisite sliding down the back of my throat. I wanted to gulp down a glass or three at dinner to steady my nerves, but that wouldn’t have been very ladylike, so I sipped politely and wished for the umpteenth time that I had been born a man — a scotch swilling, pants wearing, seductive stud of a man. They seem to have all the fun.

I bury my nose in my wine glass and take a deep, cleansing breath, feeling like fresh air is hitting my lungs for the first time all evening, despite having spent all of dinner sitting outdoors. Another long swallow of the sweet, spicy liquid, then I turn to Emily. “This whole affair is just getting started, so brace yourself.”

“I’m not worried about me,” she says, her face etched with concern. “I can lurk at the corner of the rooms and keep my nose in my phone, and no one will think unkind of me.”

I wrap an arm around her shoulder and give her a squeeze. “I’m glad, Emily. I don’t want to subject you to this any more than I want to be here.”

“Just think, it’ll all be over soon, and you’ll be married off to some Grand Douchebag, spending your days planning stuffy social events and wondering how many mistresses your husband’s acquired.”

“Thank goodness I have you to cheer me up, always ready to remind me of the good times ahead,” I say dryly.

We share a chuckle, but it’s a sad sort of laugh, the kind that stings a bit because we both know her words are truer than not.

I squeeze Emily’s hand. “At least I’ll have you with me, for a while anyway, until you’re swept off your feet by some sexy man and whisked away.”

“I shall never leave you, my Lady,” she says dramatically, clutching my hand to her chest. “Perhaps I shall marry your butler, just to stay by your side.”

“Piss off, you,” I laugh, rolling my eyes. “You should have been in theatre. Your talents are being wasted.”

“How are you holding up?” she asks, her voice turning serious once again. “Has anyone caught your eye? I’m hoping at least one of them turns out to be tolerable.”

“The suitors?” I almost choke on my wine. “Heavens, no. They’re all awful.”

Emily grimaces. “Really?”

“Let’s see. So far, there’s too old, too boring, too socially awkward, too arrogant, and let’s not forget Mr. Harridan with the creepy fingers — oh, and the latest one, I’m pretty sure he’s planning to lock me in a tower until I learn my place because, after all, I’m just a silly little woman with nothing to offer, so I better gratefully submit to my husband’s every wish.”

“Then you should definitely take my advice and pursue Parker for some more, um… private activities, while you can.”

“I think you might be right.”

“Of course I’m right. I don’t know how you aren’t just going wild right now, given what you’re facing. You’re sacrificing so much.”

“I don’t mind.” I reply automatically, but a moment later, I shake my head at the lie. I’ve tried to be chin-up about the situation, but Emily knows it’s not all rainbows. She’s seen me at the low moments. “Well, I’m managing, let’s just say that. It’s for my family, you know? I’d do anything for my parents.”

“I know. And they are so lucky to have a daughter like you. But right now? Go have your fun, Sera. God knows you deserve it.”

I shake my head. “It’s sad, really, isn’t it? My last hurrah.”

“At least you’re getting a hurrah, thanks to Parker, right? And damn , Sera. I know you said he was good looking, and I’ve seen him in the papers and on TV, but wow . I mean, he really has that sexy, smoldering thing going on in person. Like… daaaaamn .”

I laugh. “Believe me, I know. He’s always had that effect on me, from the time I turned twelve and realized boys are cute. He’s like some kind of black magic voodoo in a tux. And then, last night, he took it to a whole other level. He should come with a warning sign.”

Emily laughs, and I stretch out my legs, alternately pointing my toes and tightening my calves then relaxing them. I can’t remember the last time I wore heels for so long.

At the university, I could wear shorts, t-shirts, and my beloved worn-in strappy sandals. I could pull my hair back in a quick knot and not fuss with makeup. Not here. Not anywhere anymore. From now on, it would be dress suits and formal gowns, styled hairdos and high heels.

“I should have spent every spare second between classes looking for my non-existent, long-lost twin. Someone to be me for the next fifty years.” I tip my head back and finish the rest of my wine in a few swallows.

Emily pats me sweetly on the knee and reaches for the bottle to refill our glasses.

Chapter Nine

 

 

 

 

 

 

After waiting for ages for Sera to return to the table, I finally get up and go for a stroll across the lawn. I spot her assistant — Emily, I think — chatting with some other aides outside the dining tent, and pull her aside. She’s a bit flustered from having been unexpectedly hustled around the back corner of the tent by the Prince of Ostwyn, but I need to speak to her as far away from would-be eavesdroppers as possible.

“Where is Seraphina?” I ask.

“I’m not sure? She said she was going for a walk in the garden.”

“She’s still outside somewhere, then?”

She nods. “I believe so, Your Grace.”

“Which way did she go?”

She peeks out of the shadows to orient herself and points to my left, away from the tent and the East Lawn. “Uh, that way, maybe?”

“You aren’t sure?”

Emily fidgets nervously. “I — I wasn’t really paying attention. The Duke of Fellsworth tripped and landed face-first in the grass just after Sera and I left the lady’s room.”

I’m sure it was quite the scene, but all I care about is finding Sera. “She went to the High Gardens, then?”

“I think so, Your Highness. I hope you find her.” She gives me a shy smile and slips back around the corner.

Within moments, I’ve made my way across the East Lawn and disappeared behind the tall hedgerow running along the perimeter of the formal gardens. The glow from the palace and the thousands of little lights adorning the banquet tent peeks through the thick shrubbery occasionally, but it’s mostly dark. The moon is full, though, and my eyes adjust quickly to the dim lighting as I move deeper into the gardens, away from the noise and throngs of people partaking in after-dinner merriment as they await the beginning of the poker game.

I walk fast and cover the ground quickly, but there’s not a soul in sight. No one is at the fountain, the sculpture park, or any of the alcoves along the path that are adorned with benches. Just when I’ve decided that Emily is wrong about Sera’s whereabouts, I hear a muffled thump and look to the right in time to see a flash of movement through the hazy glass of the small conservatory nestled into the far back edge of the gardens.

Of course. In years past, I would sometimes stumble upon a much younger version of Sera in there, examining hairy caterpillars or sketching a blooming flower during her visits to the palace. Hurrying over, I open the door quickly and peek in. There she is, walking slowly through the humid space, her fingers outstretched, brushing against the plants on either side.

She startles as the door slaps shut behind me and whips around to face me. “Oh!”

Four long strides, and she’s within a few feet of me. “Hello, Sera.”

“Parker! What — what are you doing out here?”

“Looking for you.”

Distant strains of a jazz piece float through the air, and a peal of laughter carries from the East Lawn. The greenhouse is easily visible from any window along the rear of the palace during the day, but at night it’s very rare for anyone to venture out this far into the gardens, and without the garden flood lights turned on, it’s rather private.

“Why?” She asks, her hands at her chest, fingering her necklace nervously.

I step forward, drawing within inches of her. I can smell the floral and vanilla scents of her perfume mingling with the earthy aroma of the greenhouse. It’s a heady mixture.

“We have some unfinished business, wouldn’t you say?”

She blushes and looks down. I reach out a hand and lift her chin. I want to see those beautiful green eyes of hers. I want to see what she’s thinking.

“What brings you out to the gardens by yourself?”

“I was looking for a plant that use to grow in the gardens here. I thought perhaps there might still be some flowering plants in the conservatory.”

“Have you spotted it?”

She glances around and shakes her head. “No. I suppose it’s too late in the season.”

“What was it?”

“I can’t remember the name. Honey… something. I used to pick the blossoms. I’d sneak off with a pocket full of them and drink the nectar. I think it only bloomed in the summer though.”

“Ah. That must have been the Japanese honeysuckle growing along the arbor. The one lone wild plant in all of the formal gardens.”

“Yes, that’s it!” She smiles at me coyly. “Wow, I didn’t take you for a flower man, Prince Parker.”

“Ha! You’d be surprised at the subjects my mother insisted I learn during my tutoring. You’re right, it’s too late to find the blossoms this year. But I love their sweetness, too.”

“Wouldn’t it be lovely if you could buy a whole jar of that nectar, like a jar of honey?”

“I’ve been thinking of something else quite delicious, to be honest.” I give her a wink.

She swats at me. “Parker!” she admonishes. Then she bites her bottom lip and looks at me bashfully, those pretty green eyes flashing at me through her long lashes.

“What? I’m just being honest.”

She shakes her head with a soft laugh. “Don’t you have like a thousand guests waiting for you to dazzle them with your legendary poker skills?”

“They’ll have to wait just a bit longer. I’ve already spent all day doing my duties for the Crown.”

“Like what?”

“Things. Just boring, tiresome things. Like approving floral arrangements.” I slip my arms around her waist and pull her to me.

“That sounds… terribly dull,” she whispers, her eyes fixed on mine.

“It is.”

I slide my hands down her back, over the firm curve of her ass. I want to touch every inch of her. I wonder if she knows Japanese honeysuckle is an invasive species. Once it takes hold into the soil, it won’t let go. It sinks in its roots, sends out its sweet blossoms, and it’s there to stay. I’m addicted to her already — the way she smells, the warm, silken smoothness of her skin, the soft, womanly curves of her body, the sound of her voice.

“Are these important matters?” she asks.

“Aren’t they always?” I curl my fingers against the tight fabric hugging her ass and begin pulling it up.

“I better not distract you, then.”

“No, that would be terrible.” The hem of her dress slides up past the bottom of her panties, and my hands move down, slipping under the lacy fabric of her waistband, rubbing the soft warmth of her ass cheeks.

“Yes, it would be incredibly impolite of me.”

“Very much.” I reach further, curving my hand under her ass, my fingers desperate to feel the heat of her pussy.

“Unless…” she trails off.

“Unless what?”

“We use this time wisely some other way.”

“Oh? What would you do instead of wandering around by yourself, lost in your thoughts?” Using one hand, I grab her ass and lift her a few inches, supporting her carefully as she balances on her tiptoes.

“Learn things.”

“What sorts of things?” I push the fingers of my other hand between her thighs and curl them upward. My middle finger grazes against her wetness.

“The kind of things you could teach me.”

“Like what?” I whisper in her ear. She’s so wet, it’s driving me crazy.

“Pleasurable things.”

“Like how my hard cock feels inside your hot pussy?” I’m ready to unzip my pants and bend her over, right here between the ferns and the geraniums.

I can feel her heart pounding, and her breath catches in her chest at my words, but she shakes her head. “I can’t… I mean, I want to… but we can’t do that.”

“Oh?” At first, I think she’s teasing me, but there’s something about the tone of her voice, a tinge of fear underlying her breathy desire. I pull my head back and look into her eyes, still gripping her tightly against my chest. “Tell me something.”

“Yes?”

“Are you a virgin?”

She swallows hard, and her cheeks suck in for a moment. If it weren’t for the dim light, I know I’d see color seeping across them. She finally nods. “Yes.”

Goddamn if my heart doesn’t pick up its pace. “I see.”

“Is that okay?” she asks in a small voice.

I laugh softly. I let go of her luscious ass and kiss her gently on the forehead. “It’s very okay. Surprising, but okay.”

“I’m just not… ready for that , yet,” she says, looking very conflicted.

She’s so sweet, it’s like she’s made from spun sugar. That innocence, that look in her eyes… she has no idea how much it kills me. I’d never take that sweetness away from her.

“Sera,” I say, stroking her hair gently, “I can wait until you’re ready.”

“But… all those women you’ve been with. I bet you didn’t wait for them.”

I shake my head with a smile. “No, there was no waiting.”

She lowers her eyes, and a little sigh of defeat blows against my shoulder. She’s hiding her face from me, but I want her to hear me, to see the genuineness in my expression. I lift her chin.

“But they weren’t you . And I’m not that guy anymore. You’re worth waiting for, understand?” I take a deep breath, knowing I have to say it. “Even if it’s not me. You’re worth it. Don’t let any of those guys out there convince you otherwise. Okay?”

She looks up at me timidly, searching my face. Finally, she licks her lips and nods. “Okay.”

“That’s settled, then,” I say, straightening up, trying not to feel like a big brother and a lover all at once. “Right?”

“Yes.” She flashes me a smile.

I spank her on the ass playfully, and she jumps with a giggle. “Good, now back to the topic. What do you have in mind?”

“Um…” She blushes and gives me a shy smile. “Everything else.”

I pretend to think it over. “I think I can handle that,” I tease with a wink.

Her smile widens. “Glad to hear it.”

“But there’s something I need to do first.”

“What?”

“Kiss you.”

“Oh… ” Her eyes widen, and she inhales sharply.

I run my hand across her cheek and stroke my fingers through her hair, tickling the back of her ear. She tilts her chin up, and I lower my head, tenderly touching my lips to hers.

Her mouth is soft and warm, and as soon as our lips make contact, there’s a tingle across my skin. I kiss her slowly at first, savoring every touch of my lips to hers, teasing her leisurely, sensual kisses at the corners of her mouth, then a flick of my tongue against her lips.

She shudders against me and parts her mouth. Our kiss deepens, and I’m filled with longing to be inside her, anyway I can. I push my tongue against hers, exploring her mouth.

There’s a sharp ache in my chest and my pulse is racing, my heart doing somersaults every time she lets out a little breathy sigh of pleasure. I wrap my arms around her tighter, but it’s still not enough.

Sera lifts a leg against me and wraps her foot around my calf. I slide a hand around her hip and lift her thigh higher, grinding myself against her, never breaking contact with her luscious lips. Balancing on one foot, she leans her weight against me, knowing I will hold her. My cock swells, and I’ve never felt more like a man than with Sera entrusting her body to my embrace.

“Teach me,” she murmurs as I kiss her.

“Teach you what?” I whisper back.

She pulls away and looks up at me, her eyes dancing. Her hands slide between us, down my chest, down to my pants. She hooks a finger in my belt. “Teach me how to please you.”

I must be dreaming. This woman, oh my God. A few days ago, I just wanted a meaningless fling with an irresistible woman, something to entertain me, just a little taste of something nice to tide me over… and now… her roots are taking hold me, like the wild, sweet honeysuckle in the garden. They’re sinking in deep, and I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to remove them.

Chapter Ten

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Do I look okay?”

Emily sizes me up and raises both eyebrows. “You look amazing. But, um… you can’t walk around in the palace like that.”

“Can you imagine?” I laugh. “No, I have something to put over it.”

Tonight is my first official… something with Parker. I’m not sure what to call it. Rendezvous? Tryst? It’s definitely not a date, at least not the kind you can have in public. After our all-too-brief adventures on the balcony, and then again in the greenhouse last night, I’m practically beside myself at the idea of having a whole evening alone with Parker.

Last night our tryst in the garden ended too soon. As much as I wanted to stay wrapped in his arms in the privacy of the greenhouse, I understood why he had to go — several hundred guests were waiting back at the banquet tent for him to kick off the charity poker game. But before he’d left, he’d kissed me so long and passionately that I was nearly delirious.

“Tomorrow night, come to my suite,” he’d said, pausing at the door to the greenhouse, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “I’ll teach you what you anything you want.”

Then he’d left to go attend to his guests and get the Black Diamond poker game underway, leaving me standing in the shadows of the greenhouse, blushing and breathless.

And I’ve been that way ever since. It’s all I’ve been able to think about — I must have lain awake half the night fantasizing about him after that, and the activities today couldn’t pass fast enough. It’s been an excruciating long 24 hours since his invitation, but it’s finally time to go join Parker in his suite.

I’m nearly ready, I think .

“Do I finally have it on properly?” I ask Emily.

“I believe so. Turn around and let me see the back,” she says.

I spin around, and she adjusts one of the clips running from my negligée down to my stockings.

I’m not sure how she was able to procure this ensemble in a day’s time, especially since she hasn’t left the palace grounds to my knowledge, but I’m not going to ask for the details. If this is her outfit, or it was left behind by a former guest, I don’t want to know. I’m going to imagine she had it overnighted from a store in Paris and leave it at that.

“There,” she says, stepping back. “Now, go look at yourself.”

I grimace, worried I’m going to step in front of the mirror and see what looks like marshmallows stuffed in a bag of netting, but I force myself to walk over to the full-length mirror in the dressing alcove.

“Oh!” Wow, is that me?

The sleek bodice of the corset fits me like a glove, accentuating all the parts of me that I like and working magic on the areas I’m usually not so thrilled with. I have cleavage for days, thanks to the built-in bustier, and with the thigh-high stockings, my legs seem to go for miles.

I turn and look over my shoulder. Nice! Even my hips and ass, which are no small things, look… well, alluring. The wide, high arch of the lace panties lays across my hips just right, and the satin bow sewn to the back of the panties, positioned just before the plump mounds of my ass begin, is both cute and flattering.

“You’re sure you know which room is his?” Emily waves her detailed sketch in the air. She’s drawn the entire palace layout and marked out the best route for me to take. “It would be very awkward if you go into the wrong room.”

“Yes, I’ve burned it into memory, I assure you. The last thing I want is to accidentally crawl into bed with old McAllister. Or, God forbid, the Duke of Fellsworth and his wife — although something tells me they’d be open to a visit.” I shudder at the thought, and Emily laughs.

“Now, that’s a visual I didn’t need in my head.”

As I put on my high heels, I feel like a high-priced call girl getting ready for a special client or a naughty mistress preparing for the arrival of her lover, and it’s giving me an unexpected boost of confidence.

“Just think, if I’d taken that position with the non-profit, I would be in Africa right now, wearing muck boots and overalls, pulling testing lines out of a well, instead of dressed in silk and lace to go spend the night with the Prince.”

“You could always wear the muck boots and overalls now…” Emily says with a wide grin.

“You’re funny. ‘Why, hello, Your Highness, I’ve come straight from cleaning the barn, wouldn’t you like to invite me in?’”

She shrugs with a laugh. “Hey, it could be kind of sexy if you weren’t wearing anything underneath the overalls. Maybe he has a cowgirl fantasy.”

“You are not helping.”

Emily can’t stop smiling, partly from excitement for me, and partly because I’ve kept her in giggles for the past hour. First, I got stuck trying to put the corset on, then I put the lacy underwear on backwards, and finally I had to ask her how to attach the garter belt. As usual, she’s been a godsend, and with her help, I’ve managed to not strangle myself while wrestling with the many pieces of delicate clothing.

“I must be mad, sneaking around the palace like a hormone-crazed teenager. I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“I can’t believe you’ve never worn lingerie before,” Emily says with a dubious expression, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, piss off, you. As if I’ve had anyone to wear it for.”

“Well, I’m sure Prince Parker is going to appreciate the effort.”

I take a deep breath to steady my nerves and give myself one last look-over in the mirror. I’ve never felt so sexy and yet so vulnerable in my entire life. I’m trying to picture Parker’s reaction, and the thought has set off a torrent of butterflies in my stomach.

“I hope so.”

Chapter Eleven

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m trying to steady my nerves, but as the minutes tick by, I start pacing the room. My anticipation of Sera’s arrival is almost more than I can take. I’ve never been this wound tight over seducing a woman. Or is she seducing me with those sexy whispers, those illicit requests to teach her? Either way, I don’t care. I’ll teach her all right — I’ll show her exactly how many times she can come in one night. The mental image of her naked and writhing with pleasure has me rock hard.

Before I get too swept away in my fantasies, there’s a soft knock at the double doors to my suite. Seraphina’s standing there, biting her bottom lip, two of my security staff flanking her on either side of the doorway, their bodies shielding her from view of anyone who might glance down the hallway.

She swallows hard and looks up at me, a nervous smile on her face and excitement dancing in her eyes.

“Well, well, looks what’s on my doorstep,” I say, leaning against the door frame, looking her up and down.

She slowly unbuttons the jacket she has on, her eyes never leaving mine. Then she flashes the coat open, revealing sexy lingerie framing her full breasts and hips. I’m a kid on Christmas morning, and she’s the prettiest package under the tree — that one bright, shiny gift you save until last, because you know it’s going to be the best.

I shake my head, glad my security staff are facing away, because I’d have to kill them for getting a glimpse of what Sera’s hiding under that jacket. “Damn. That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen standing outside my door.”

“Could you use some company, kind sir?” she says with mock coyness, pulling the coat closed.

“Get your sweet ass in here,” I say, pulling her inside.

I don’t wait for hellos; as soon as the door is shut I’ve got her pressed against the wall, kissing her deeply. I want to devour her. I’ve masturbated more times than I can count since the greenhouse, thinking about this moment, having her here.

Never taking my lips from hers, I open her jacket, sliding it off her shoulders. As soon as it hits the ground, her hands are on my chest, fingers digging in. I growl at her and take her ass in hand, pulling her into my groin.

Sera breathes out a moan and then, “Teach me.”

Lost in the kiss, it doesn’t register. “What?”

“Teach me,” she repeats, her palms running down my abdomen and the clasp of my belt. “How to pleasure you. Teach me.”

I don’t believe I’ve ever hardened this stiff so quickly. My cock strains at the fabric of my trousers, needing to be released. I suddenly can’t remember any of the plans I had made, any of the things I had designed to do to her body. Her body, God, look at it. Black lace standing in stark contrast with her creamy skin. More skin than I’m sure she’s shown any man.

She takes my hand, a quiet confidence shining through. Sera’s eyes flit over to where a fire burns in the hearth. “The lights?”

Knowing what she wants, I hit the row of switches at the door, dimming the room except for the warm glow of the fire. Her eyes move down my body to the hard bulge at the front of my trousers, and she bites at her bottom lip. I just about come right then, from that look on her face.

Sera takes me by the hand and leads me over to the luxurious rug in front of the fire. She turns to me, an intoxicating mixture of coyness and lust running over her features. My heart thumps as she lowers to her knees in front of me, her hands resting at my belt, removing the leather from the clasp. I remind myself to breath then help her with the latch, our fingers working together above my throbbing cock.

The button and zipper of my trousers come more easily, but Sera — sexy, sweet Sera — smiles up at me gratefully for the help. Her fingers tremble, but hell, my hands are shaking a bit, too. She fingers my hard shaft through the fabric of my briefs, and I reach under the band to pull myself out. Sera works my pants down my thighs, her eyes trained upward, glued to what is being revealed. I don’t know if it’s the selective breeding of the royal line or sheer chance, but I’ve been blessed with a King-sized cock.

Her mouth falls open a bit as she takes in my full length and girth, her eyes alight with joy and curiosity.

With bare feet already, I step out of my pants then pull at the shoulders of my shirt, lifting it cross-armed over my head, and discard it to my side. Naked, I look down at the kneeling Sera, her palms on my thighs, her tongue running across her lips.

There’s a charging bull inside my chest roaring to be let free. I’m not used to practicing restraint. It takes everything inside of me, but instead of throwing her to the floor and ravishing her, I take my cock by the base and angle it slightly down.

She tilts her head modestly. “What would you like me to do?”

“I want your lips on me.” I want much more than that — I want to do everything imaginable with this gorgeous creature, but for now I’m happy to start with watching her swallow my cock.

“Tell me how.”

I laugh in surprise. “Surely you’ve given head before.”

She drops her eyes. “No.”

My groin tightens and my cock throbs at that simple little word. Not because I care about what she’s done or that I need her to be unversed in the ways of pleasure — but because I get to be here right now, bestowed with the honor of sharing in one of her first-time experiences — the first of many, I hope. “Well, color me surprised, Seraphina Strathmore.”

She peeks up at me, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Can you teach me?”

I draw a breath and my chest swells looking at her beautiful face, her voice so of authenticity — no games, no pretense. “Goddamn, Sera. I am one lucky bastard,” I tell her.

Sera looks up at me, her eyes glittering underneath those long lashes of hers. “I want to give you the best cock sucking you’ve ever had.”

My eyes go wide at her choice of words, and my erection throbs in my hand. Holy shit . I didn’t think this could get any hotter, but Sera just keeps surprising me.

“Well, in that case, I’m fucking delighted to help. I grip my cock firmly. “You’re going to want to wrap your hand around me, like I am, here.”

I remove my grip on my shaft, and a shiver of pleasure runs through me as Sera’s hand replaces mine.

“Like this?”

“Exactly like that,” I say as she runs her hand up my shaft.

Whether it’s the way she looks up at me, genuinely looking for approval, or the touch of her skin to mine in such an intimate place, my knees began to tremble. “I need to sit down. Come, over there.” I nod my head to the right, at a chair near the fire.

She follows, crawling across the rug on her hands and knees, and I pause for a moment, watching her beautiful, round ass jiggling as she draws closer. It’s all I can do to not step behind her and smack those sexy cheeks. But I make myself sit down, and Sera crawls between my legs, sliding her hands up my thighs, wrapping her fingers around my stiff cock.

“Does this make it easier?” she asks. “The chair?”

“It can. But, truthfully, you’re just making me a bit weak in the knees. I don’t want to fall on my ass, though I’m sure it would make this, um, teaching session rather memorable.”

“That wouldn’t need to happen to make this stay in my memories forever.” She doesn’t even realize how hard her words strike me. “Is it always like that?” she asks. “Your legs giving out, I mean.”

“No,” I answer frankly.

Sera smiles happily and tightens her grips on my cock, coaxing a groan from me.

“Now, tell me what you want me to do.”

“Start with the head. Just like you’re enjoying a candy sucker.”

She gives me a look and I laugh. “Okay, a really big sucker.”

Sera wets her lips and leans up, stretching over top of me, her ample breasts rubbing against my thighs as she shifts forward. I brush her hair from her forehead and behind an ear, holding it back so I can watch as her lips close around my cockhead. The warmth and wetness is immediate and intense. I want to buck, but I flex my core and hold my hips in place.

My chest swells, though. I take in a massive breath and let it out in a low groan as Sera sucks down on the tip of my cock. Her eyes dart up to me, a questioning expectancy there.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” I say, answering her unspoken question. “That’s good. Keep going.”

I run my fingers through her hair then slide my other palm between my thigh and her body. My hand dips into the cup of her bra, and I roll her nipple between my fingers.

Sera sucks on my head, running her lips over it tightly, like a lollipop. I want every inch of my cock in her mouth, but I doubt she can handle it.

“Can you take more?” I ask. “Go deeper?”

She lets my tip come free of her mouth and nods. “I can. I’m doing it right so far?”

I actually laugh. Just a soft, chuckling laugh. “Oh, Sera, you are doing just fine. You’re a natural.”

Fortified, she lowers her mouth again and takes me in. This time, I can’t resist completely. My hips rise just a little, needing to be inside of her. Her eyes snap to mine again as I do it, and I see a lustful gleam there.

“Just like before,” I tell her, “but with longer strokes, go down as far as you can and then back up. Press your tongue against — oh, fuck .” I draw in a ragged breath, every muscle in my body tensing.

She repeats the movement and my cock pulses. “Yeah, just like that.” My voice comes out a little higher than I wanted, but I’m not used to coaching a woman through a blowjob — or for her efforts to have this effect on me.

I’m also revving up more quickly than I wanted. It usually takes me longer to get off when I’m getting a blowjob than any other activity, but not tonight. Tonight is going to be fast. Watching her suck me is the sexiest thing I’ve seen in ages. I try to slow things down by closing my eyes, my hands massaging her breasts. She mewls satisfaction for me, and the sound does nothing to improve the restraint I’m trying to impose on myself. Instead, a huff of air comes to my lips as my balls tighten.

I open my eyes. She’s watching me with rapt attention. My thighs shake slightly. “Sera, I’m going to come. If you don’t want to swallow, you might want to—”

I grunt loud as she tightens her suction on my cock, her fist beginning to move with the same slow pumping action of her lips. It’s too much. I hold onto the arms of the chair with both hands. I bare my teeth and come with a shout and a curse.

“Fuck!” I breath in and let go again. She keeps going until my legs stop jerking. “Holy shit.”

Sera sits back on her heels, a smile on her lips as she wipes them with the back of her hand. “Good?”

I don’t chuckle softly this time, I have a good laugh. “Good? Hell! Woman, if that’s what you can do with your mouth...”

She beams up at me, proud of a job well done. That voluptuous body of hers is only the more tantalizing in the dancing flicker of firelight. Sumptuous Sera.

Time to exercise the royal prerogative. I was born to command, what better time than now to make use of my executive power? “That’s some damn sexy lingerie, Sera, but I want it off. Now.”

Not missing a beat, my virginal vixen snaps the bra clasp behind her back, a hint of uncertainty shading her features as she fumbles with her lingerie. “I’ve never done this before, Parker.”

Fuck me if that innocence doesn’t give a one, two punch to my heart. “Let me help.”

It’s my turn to hit my knees, and I come close to her, reaching for the straps of her bra. I drape the elastic bands over my fingers and pull it toward me, sliding my fingers down to the lacy cups holding her tits. I pull the fabric down. Sera lets it come, exposing her full breasts. I dip my head and take her nipple into my mouth. Sera whimpers out a breathy gasp followed by this little high-pitched moan, and my entire existence becomes about doing whatever it takes to make those sweet sounds keep coming.

I apply backward pressure, and Sera angles her shins out from under her then sits on her pretty behind. More pressure, and she’s on her back on the bearskin, the flames flickering across her skin. I roll her nipple between my lips then suck, using a hand to cup her breast into my mouth. Fuck me if she doesn’t taste better than wild honeysuckle.

Propping myself beside her on one forearm, I send the other hand down her stomach and into the waistband of her black, lace panties. “Your turn,” I tell her. “Show me how to pleasure you.”

Even in the dim light, I can see the flush creep up her neck and onto her cheeks. “I’m sure you’ve done this plenty of times.”

I capture her lips, kissing her deep and sweet. “Not with you. You are something altogether different. Now, put your hand on top of mine.”

Sera purses her lips together as her fingers trace down my arm, her palm settling over the back of my hand. She looks to me for direction. Teach me , those eyes say. Tell me what to do.

“Match your fingers up with mine, one on top of the other.” A thrill runs up my spine as I watch her fingers disappear below her own panties, her fingers settling in an exact if smaller match over mine. “Now use me to touch yourself.”

Her eyes search mine and then dart this way and that, her shyness taking hold. I break the intense study I’m conducting of her beautiful face and nudge my nose into her neck. Sera tips her head back, and I kiss the soft flesh under her jaw. She sighs silently, and her body relaxes.

Her fingers begin to work on top of mine, dipping my middle finger into her folds while pressing down with the heel of my palm. She guides me lower, stroking as we go. I match my lips to the rhythm she’s setting, and soon, her entire body is matching it. Her shoulder blades rise and fall, her hips and ass slowly pump, her spine arches, and her legs open.

I kiss her neck, her beautiful tits, her shoulder, tracing a line of wetness with my tongue everywhere I can reach.

Sera’s grip tightens, and so does mine. Her fingers curl in against mine, pushing my middle finger into her pussy — not much, just a bit, but it’s enough to drive me wild. She bears down, her tight pussy contracting around my finger, and I flex my knuckle, stroking her inner walls.

I’m trying to ignore that I’m rock hard again and my cock is throbbing, twitching to be slid into of that wet hotness instead of my finger. I need to distract myself from the urge to pin her to the floor and piston my thick cock inside of her.

So I bite. Gently. But the contact of my teeth to her neck makes Sera gasp then cry out. I nibble at the skin of her neck and shoulders as she guides my hand, her breathing becoming rapid, little gasps mixed with long, low moans. God, I love the sounds of her arousal.

Her hips thrust up, and her hand clenches down on mine. I slip the tip of another finger in and begin to push deeper, but she rocks her hand back, putting the brakes on. So instead of penetrating any deeper, I just stroke my fingers inside her faster and faster, rubbing against her clit with the heel of my hand, as Sera guides me in bringing her to orgasm. Her wetness spills over, running down my fingers, wetting the silken strands of fiber beneath us.

Her breaths come hard and fast, then her soft curves harden, and her thighs flex. I vibrate my fingers inside of her, and feel her walls crush down on them as she comes.

All at once, she relaxes, her body going elastic, and she rolls her head against the soft rug. “Oh my God…”

Her breath evens out into longer, deep lungfuls with a near sigh at the end of each.

“Good?” I repeat her question from earlier.

She glows with post orgasmic bliss, her hair an absolute mess from the static charge of the rug. “Whew… Parker, if that’s what you can do with your fingers...”

Our eyes meet. For a moment, it’s there. The permission. The need to be ravished, right here, in front of the fire. To be fucked hard and fast, for me to roll on top of her, spread her gorgeous legs, and take her with the same intensity I see shining in her eyes. I run my palm up her stomach and to her breasts. She arches into my touch. She wants it just as much as me.

But I promised I wouldn’t. I told her I would wait. She’s not going to regret one second she spends with me, and I know it’s too soon. No matter how much lust is in her eyes right now, she’s not ready.

So, however much I will kick myself for it in the morning, I roll away and stand up. I feel the void I leave in my wake and her hurt eyes following me as I pace toward my four-poster and seize the bedspread and a couple pillows.

I turn and loft one of the pillows toward her, watching with amusement as it fluffs down straight on her face. A giggle comes from beneath the pillow, and a part of me feels like we’re kids again as I settle back down beside her, covering us both with the blanket.

She fluffs her pillow and I stare at her, still amazed that this gorgeous creature beside me is the same girl from my childhood. “If someone had told me ten years ago that one day I would be lying naked beside my best friend’s kid sister, Ms. Annoying As Shit Sera, and I would have bet my crown against it.”

She runs a finger across the hot skin of my chest and grins. “Let’s just say, it’s a good thing we aren’t kids anymore, Parker. Because you make me want to be very naughty, in the most adult ways possible.”

I shake my head with a grin. “I had a lot of fun growing up. But this? There’s no comparison. I much prefer these activities. I guess the days of you hiding in trees and spying on your brother and I, are long over, aren’t they?”

Her smile is easy and beautiful. “Most certainly, I would say. But tell me, Prince Parker, what has happened between you and my brother? You two don’t seem to be glued together these days like you used to be.”

“Ah, I’m not sure,” I say as casually as I can. I don’t want to bring up my frustrations at Spencer’s apathetic attitude, or the terrible fucking choice of company he’s keeping lately. She might already be painfully aware of his lack of concern about her wellbeing, and I don’t want to throw salt in the wound. “Perhaps we’ve grown apart a bit lately.”

She turns to me, propping her fist against her temple as she lay. “I suppose you’re coming into a lot of responsibility, aren’t you? Besides approving the floral arrangements, that is.”

I know the track of thought she’s pursuing. Spencer might be doing his damnedest to avoid becoming involved in the politics of the Strathmore family, but I can’t escape my responsibilities any longer.

“Yes, I am. As are you, it seems. I’m not entirely convinced you’re coming home to get married because you have a deep, abiding desire to marry a baron, earl, or duke.”

Her eyes fall from her eager perusal of my exposed chest, and I wish I hadn’t brought it up. She rolls to her back, one arm behind her head. “A prince has his responsibilities, a lady has hers.”

I run the comment over in my head. Surely, she can’t mean what I think. Courtly affairs in Ostwyn can be archaic at times, and I know matches have been made with politics or status in mind, but...

A series of three hard knocks sound against the thick, mahogany doors to my private suite. The deep voice is muffled through the hard wood. “Your Highness. The last of the guests have emptied the halls, and the palace is quiet. We can escort Lady—” there’s a pause as Pierre thinks better of saying Sera’s name even now “—your guest back to her suite whenever she’s ready.”

Still uncomfortable from my question, Sera stirs and begins to rise. I catch her arm. “No. Not yet. We don’t have to talk about it. You can tell me about Africa and the water crisis, and oh! I’ve heard rumors that there’s a story about you involving muck boots and elephant shit — I need to hear that one.” I give her a wide, inviting smile. “Just stay a little bit.”

“A while longer?”

“Yes, a while longer. Come on, lie back down with me.”

I pat the bed and Sera lies back on the pillow. I rest my arm over her, my hand between her bare breasts.

I lift my head and call out toward the door. “We’re fine for now, Pierre. Thank you.”

“Very well, Your Grace,” comes the muffled reply.

She interlaces her fingers with mine, a mischievous smile gracing her beautiful lips. “You really want to know about Africa?”

I pull the blankets over top of us and bring her in closer. “Yes. Tell me everything.”

“Well, it’s big, and hot... and so was the elephant shit, by the way…”

Chapter Twelve

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve been seated in the small conference room in the business center annex of the palace for twenty minutes now, waiting for this dreadful meeting to get started, but everyone is still chattering on like a flock of starlings. I know Parker is waiting for me to sneak up to his suite the moment I’m free, and all I can think about is his handsome face and strong, muscular body, laying across his huge bed, naked and warm, just begging to be touched and kissed and…

I wipe the back of my hand against my mouth because I’m literally drooling at the thought.

The senior advisor, Sir Eldridge, clears his throat. “Let’s get to the matter at hand, shall we?”

The chatter of the small council advising my family quiets down, and all eyes turn to Sir Eldridge. I fidget in my seat, already eager to leave since I hadn’t wanted to come in the first place. But I’d rather be here than have them all talk about me behind closed doors. Sure, they’d say they’re talking about the future of the House of Beauregard, but right now, I’m responsible for the future.

My mother places a hand on my lap, pressing gently against my leg, her signal for me to be still. I wasn’t even aware my foot had been tapping madly. On the other side of me sits my father, Lord Strathmore, Baron of Beauregard. The remaining six seats are taken up by four of my parent’s most-trusted advisors, including Sir Eldridge, and two gentlemen from the Historical Council.

Sir Eldridge stands, always one for dramatic tradition, and puts a hand across his chest, grasping onto the lapel of his suit as if he is about to launch into a long speech. Please God, no.

“As we all know, the Historical Council discreetly brought a matter to our attention earlier this year. Since that time, the information they exhibited has been thoroughly researched and examined. From all accounts, it appears to be valid, which presents quite a quandary. According to the paperwork discovered by the Historical Council, the entire estate of the House of Beauregard is held in trust, stemming from an agreement drawn up over three centuries ago.”

I’m back to fidgeting. I’ve heard this before. In fact, we’ve all heard this before. The unnecessary repetition of these meetings are going to be the death of me, I know it.

Studiously keeping his eyes averted from my general direction, he continues, “It requires that all female children born to the reigning nobles of the House of Beauregard must marry before reaching the age of twenty-three. Otherwise, all holdings of the House of Beauregard, including the principal home of the Baron and Baroness, and all other assets that have been passed down through inheritance, such as properties, goods, and monies, shall transfer in ownership to the eldest son of legal age of the most recent generation in Master Goutley’s direct lineage.”

Finally, Sir Eldridge concludes his long-winded summary and sits down. He gestures at the men from the Historical Council. “Please proceed with your report now, Mr. Howell.”

All eyes shift to the end of the table, where an elderly white-haired man blinks slowly before pointing at the much younger man to his left. “If it please the council, I will let Mr. Crofts provide the update.”

“Of course.” Sir Eldridge nods, dismissing the weary older noble from his duties and waves a hand for the younger man to stand.

Mr. Crofts pushes his chair back and stands nervously, the papers in his hand shaking slightly. “I’m afraid I don’t have much to share. We’ve been working diligently to trace the lineage of the original signer, Master Goutley, but we have yet been unable to complete the task. To date, the only official records we have of his name are on various legal documents like the one in question today. We can’t find him in any marriage or christening records.”

My father leans forward. “So, you have still not identified the gentleman who would serve as the current representative of Master Goutley’s agreement?”

“That is correct.” Mr. Crofts licks his lips and swallows. “We aren’t even sure there is a legitimate heir, but unofficial records of the time seem to point to his having eventually married and produced male heirs, yes.”

“Do you have an estimate on how soon this task will be completed?”

The gentleman looks down at his elderly colleague, but he remains silent, staring straight ahead. Mr. Crofts looks back up at my father, who is waiting expectantly.

“Um, no, my Lord, I don’t have an anticipated timeline on that. We — we’re trying to create a family tree. We have scholars combing the church records for marriages and births, and the name Goutley does, indeed appear, but as there have been at least eleven generations that we’re aware of since the agreement was ratified by the eighteenth-century court, it’s… it’s quite an undertaking.”

My father sighs and leans back in his chair, frowning. On my left, my mother raises a finger and speaks up.

“Have you been successful in learning more about the history of this agreement?”

“Yes,” the gentleman says, a look of relief washing across his face at the change of topic. “We found two letters and an old journal — undated — of Master Goutley’s in the Doremont University Library that bring some clarification to the issue. Apparently, in the early 1700s, the Strathmore family fell on hard times and required a sizeable loan to maintain Beauregard and the other properties. Master Goutley offered his hand in marriage to Catherine, the middle daughter of the Baron and Baroness, in exchange for a large donation. One of the letters indicates that it was a very generous sum, but the daughter refused. He then offered his hand to the eldest daughter, who also refused.”

The young man pauses and pulls at his collar, sweat running across his brow. “The youngest child was still a mere infant, so there were no further options. Fortunately, the Baron was still able to negotiate an agreement to borrow the funds from Master Goutley, which according to the ledger, were eventually repaid in full within ten years.”

“Then what is this ridiculous clause about?” my mother asks. “Why insist that the women of Beauregard be married in order for the family to continue as rightful owners of the estate?”

Mr. Crofts clears his throat and motions to the elderly Mr. Howell. “Perhaps my colleague is better prepared to explain.”

I steal a glance at my mother, who looks quite impatient, perhaps as much as I do. Why on earth this needs to drag on so long with silly formalities, I have no idea.

I’ve already decided I’m going to get married for the sake of the agreement and my family’s estate. I silently pray for the meeting to speed up. Just tell us the news and let us get on with our day, for goodness sake — I have a very sexy, very naked Prince waiting to do all sorts of naughty, delicious things to me. But it’s not like I can blurt that out and excuse myself, so I just sigh quietly and go back to fidgeting, which at least gives my mother something to fuss about instead of feeling sad for me.

Mr. Howell doesn’t rise. He shifts in his seat to look at mother and gives her a deadpan expression. “It wasn’t unusual for marriage clauses to be in the last will and testament of influential families of the time. Fathers didn’t want their daughters turning into spinsters, they wanted them properly married to someone of good standing, to continue the status and influence of the family.”

My mother purses her lips disapprovingly. “But this wasn’t a will.”

“Right. I was just explaining that these clauses weren’t terribly unusual for the times. However, you are correct, this was not the watchful eye of a father wanting to ensure his children were well married. No, what we have here is a simple case of temperament.”

“What do you mean?”

“Simply put, Master Goutley put the clause into the agreement because he could. After being turned down by the middle daughter, Goutley was sure the elder would accept, since for the times, she was becoming rather old to find a match amongst her peers. She was twenty-four, you see. He had rather ripe language for her in his diary, if you’ll excuse my bluntness, Baroness. It’s no wonder no one wanted to marry him, even for money, because he was a mean old bastard, and that’s putting it nicely. According to every mention of him that we’ve come across, he was a very unpleasant man who enjoyed the misery of others, especially if he was the cause.”

“Oh my.” My mother looks visibly shaken.

“Which is exactly why he forced the hand of your ancestors. After being jilted by the Strathmore women, he could have refused to loan the money at all. Instead, he decided to punish all future generations.”

“I see.” My mother purses her lips unhappily but says nothing more.

My father turns to his senior advisor. “Sir Eldridge, have you spoken to anyone on the high court yet?”

“Quite. And it is rather unfortunate news. The Honorable Dr. Malder examined the document and said that it would most likely hold up in court.”

My father scowls. “I was hoping for much better news.”

“Well, there is one good turn — after exhaustive research, we’ve been able to determine that all the preceding generations of Beauregard have, in fact, complied with the agreement, intentionally or by happenstance, so the agreement has not been in default at any point.”

My father’s entire body sags with relief at this news. “Well, thank goodness for small miracles.”

“This is a very lucky occurrence, indeed,” Sir Eldridge continues, “as I gather many, if not most, were unaware of this document’s existence. Some did not have daughters, but of those who did, they were all married rather young, including your own mother, my Lord.”

“Yes, I am aware. She was married to my father at nineteen, but for love, not because of this ancient covenant. There has not been an arranged marriage in the Strathmore family for ages. As I’ve said before, it’s very unfair to Seraphina, this situation. I’d much prefer she find her own choice of companion, whenever it suits her, rather than have to acquiesce to these ridiculous demands.”

Sir Eldridge nods. “Yes, I understand. My greatest sympathies to Lady Seraphina for being at the epicenter of this predicament.” He shifts his gaze to me. “It is, indeed, very unfair to you, my Lady.”

I nod once to acknowledge his words, but otherwise I keep a neutral expression on my face. Unfair doesn’t begin to describe this turn of events, but I’ll do whatever is needed of me to ensure my family isn’t rendered penniless and homeless because of some eighteenth-century jerk’s hurt feelings.

Another adviser, sitting to the right of Sir Eldridge, leans forward. “If I may interject?”

My mother nods. “Of course, what is it Mr. Kingston?”

“Not to be insensitive or indelicate, but it is paramount that this process concludes quickly, and an engagement announced as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Mr. Kingston. We’re quite aware that time is of the essence.”

“I’m wondering how the young Lady Strathmore is finding her suitors? They have been selected to hedge our bets, so to speak. As requested, we’ve given particular attention to include any possible heirs of Master Goutley, based on the church records we’ve been able to access so far. But that is only half the battle, you understand. You will want enough time to plan a proper wedding and yet, the calendar hasn’t stopped marching forward. Her birthday is just—”

My mother interrupts, her face drawn tight, her words clipped. “Thank you for vetting the suitors, but it is important to both her father and me that Seraphina has a chance to meet and spend time with these men before reaching a decision.”

“Certainly, Baroness. It’s just that…” Mr. Kingston trails off as my mother stares him down, her eyes flashing with anger. He takes a breath and tries again, his tone cautious and respectful. “The council and I are wondering if there has been any progress on that matter?”

Clearing my throat to remind the advisors that I’m still in the room — Helllllooo, I’m right here, why not just ask me directly, you fools? — I speak up. “I’ve met with all of them, I think. I’m working on narrowing the list.”

“And I believe she’s going on an outing with Finley Prescott later this week, right dear?” my mother adds, turning to me.

I give my mother a weak smile and nod. My parents and several of the advisors are smitten with Finley, because he comes from a highly-regarded family with important political connections and enough money to ensure I’ll be afforded the life of a fairytale princess. Their thinking is, if I can’t marry for love, then marry for money.

I am not nearly as enthusiastic about Finley, but to be fair, I haven’t connected with any of the suitors yet. Not due to lack of effort. I’ve given each of them far more time that they respectably deserve — early morning strolls in the gardens, light luncheons on the veranda, sunset cruises on the lake. Yet, I can’t find even a flicker of interest in any of them. I can’t get around the fact that none of them hold a candle to Prince Parker. But, if it makes my mother happy, then sure, why not — I’ll let Finley take me out to dinner.

“Mr. Prescott is a fine, young gentleman,” Sir Eldridge says, puckering his lips with delighted satisfaction.

I manage not to roll my eyes, but just barely.

“Now, wait, let’s get back to this agreement. I’m not certain we should be rushing into this,” my father says, holding up a hand. “Surely, she can’t be forced to marry because of a daft piece of paper?”

Sir Eldridge responds. “No, of course not, my Lord. In the seventeen-hundreds, women married whomever their father ordered them to, but that is far from how the world operates today. She does have the option of not marrying at all, or marrying next year, or when she’s twenty-eight, or forty, or ninety-three, should the good graces see to let her live to a ripe old age — although all those options do come with a set of rather unfortunate consequences for the Strathmore’s at large. You would lose the entire estate of the House of Beauregard.”

“It just seems like there is something we could do,” my mother says, reaching for my hand under the table. Her voice is cracking, and I know that if I show the briefest hesitation at getting married, she’ll spend the afternoon crying in her room. So, I keep a pleasant smile plastered on my face, as if none of this bothers me in the slightest and we’re just discussing the menu for an afternoon luncheon.

“As you know, our country has a long history of preposterous conditions being placed upon trusts and into covenants. Very few are ever invalidated,” Sir Eldridge replies.

Kneading his brow with long fingers, his gaze fixed on the table, my father asks, “How did this contract even come to light after nearly four hundred years?”

“We’re not sure by whom,” Sir Eldridge responds. “Perhaps a student studying old records. A member of the Historical Society, maybe, or a scholar researching for a written history.”

“And an anonymous envelope just happened to appear on the Council’s desk?” My father glares into the distance. “Someone out there knows more about this. With the timing, I don’t believe it’s coincidence, gentlemen.”

My father is silent for a long time, his head bowed, eyes fixed on the table again. Finally, he looks up and glances slowly at each man in the room. Some of them avert their gaze from my father, others stare back blankly. None of them have the answers he — that we all — want to hear. Finally, he speaks. “Are you absolutely sure we can’t challenge this?”

“We could, my Lordship,” Sir Eldridge says, speaking in a sympathetic tone. “If you choose to proceed, we’ll gather the best legal counsel the world has to offer. But, it must be noted that it cannot be brought before the court until there is an opposing defendant, which means we must first identify Master Goutley’s living representative. And that might take months or longer, by which time Lady Seraphina will have reached her twenty-third birthday and—”

“And if the court doesn’t find in our favor,” my father interrupts, his voice booming with frustration, “we’ll have lost everything.”

Chapter Thirteen

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You don’t want to?” Sera asks, her bottom lip quivering.

She’s snuggled up beside me, her head on my shoulder, with my arm wrapped around her back, holding her close. Her fingers are tracing slow, teasing circles across my chest and mine are playing with her hair. We actually made it to my fore-poster tonight instead of the bearskin rug, and we’re lying on my bed after a very passionate round of orgasms — two for her and one for me, just the way I like it.

“Hell yes, I want to.” It’s an honest answer. Even the very question coming from her sweet lips has caused a stir of excitement inside me. But I’m not going to act on my desire.

“Then what is it?” she asks, tilting her head up to look me in the eyes.

We’ve just caught our breath, and I’m enjoying holding her, which I rarely get to do. Usually, one of us must leave by this point, but not today. The festival activity schedule has this afternoon designated as a stroll-about, and Seraphina doesn’t have any scheduled suitors to play yard tennis or croquet. The weather is cooperating perfectly for a fall day outdoors — sunny and warm, with a nice cooling breeze. Everyone is scattered across the grounds, making it much easier for us to slip away without anyone noticing that we’re both missing.

Our afternoon sessions are usually brief — too brief for my liking — as we never know how much time we’ll have together without creating suspicion. Today is one of many such stolen moments we’ve managed to find over the past week. But no matter how many times we sneak away to a secluded area or slip into one another’s room at night, it’s never enough for me.

I don’t want stolen moments. I want to hold her hand, in public. In front of everyone, fuck all of them. The idea is preposterous on so many levels, yet I can’t get it out of my head.

For starters, being linked to me would absolutely tarnish Sera’s fine reputation. Spencer would never forgive me. And her parents would likely have a coronary, right there on the spot. And lastly — but certainly not the least concerning to me, personally — since when the fuck did Crown Prince of Ostwyn start fantasizing about holding a girl’s hand? What the hell is happening to me?

Since she arrived at my palace, I’ve spent every possible moment I could with Seraphina, even arranging us to be sat near one another at events and making excuses to leave the festivities early whenever I could. But every moment with her just makes me want more.

I even found myself getting sucked into researching whether honeysuckle nectar comes in jars like honey, thinking it would be a lovely gift to surprise her with. But it doesn’t.

And that right there, that’s exactly what has me frazzled. I’ve never given a shit about presents before. Sure, I’ve dated women during birthdays and holidays — and Pierre or one of my assistants were sent to fetch whatever expensive trinket was in vogue at the time. But personal gifts? Not me.

Not until Sera.

I would give her every single item on her wish list if I had the power to make it happen. If I could pick up the wilds of Africa, and carry it on my back to lay it at her doorstep, I would.

While the palace guests are out admiring the various gardens, visiting the orchards and the stables, or taking the long, winding path through the woods to view the colorful autumn leaves, I have Seraphina all to myself. I’m content to hold her, to enjoy her warm softness pressed against me, to smell the sweet scent of her hair as it tickles against my face. I could enjoy this for days, just lying together, her leg draped over mine, her palm on my chest, listening to her tell stories about her time in Africa and tales about the pranks she pulled on her brother and me when she was a kid. Half of that stuff I hadn’t even realized was her. I never gave clever, sneaky Sera the credit she was due back then.

But today, she’s not talking about wild landscapes and childhood mischief. Instead, she’s just asked me to do something that even I’m surprised by.

“What you’re asking is… well, it’s unusual for an inexperienced woman to want that. I mean, before other things, at least.”

She rolls toward me and wraps her hands around the back of my neck then slides herself against me, her mouth on mine, kissing me deeply. She slips her leg over my thigh and grinds against me. “I need you inside me, Parker,” she whispers.

“And God knows I want to that, too. But you really have to be relaxed for me to go back there, Sera. I don’t want to hurt you.”

But she’s already away from me, with her back turned, her ass tempting me. I love the sound of her breathy voice, pleading and hungry for me. I kiss her back and shoulders, pouring every ounce of desire I can into the caress of my lips on her skin.

“Don’t you want it, too?” she asks, looking at me over her shoulder, twisting her back in a way that creates the most sensual curve across her torso.

I shift onto my side, spooning her, and bring my left hand to her face, stroking her softly with my fingers, cradling her cheek in my palm. “Are you kidding me? I want to be inside of you so much it fucking hurts. It keeps me awake at night, the need to be with you, it’s tormenting me.” More honest words have never left my lips.

“Then, do it,” she pleads.

I hesitate before answering. My cock is twitching, hard and ready just from having her next to me. It’s nestled against that beautiful, plump ass of hers, and it’s so fucking tempting, but I’m calling on every ounce of reserve I have to be a gentleman with her.

Her eyes search mine when I don’t reply. “You’ve done it before, right?” she asks.

I know she’s aware of the long list of women the media has connected me to, but I don’t want to talk about other women with her. They were then, part of my former life, and they were just flings. One-night stands, if that. It meant nothing to them and nothing to me. There is just no comparison — Sera is the best thing I’ve ever held in my arms, but I don’t know how to convince her of that.

“It doesn’t matter what I’ve done before. Every moment with you is new and exciting.”

Sera flashes me a wry smile, the corner of her lips creased with humor. “Very smooth. Does that work on all the ladies?”

I give her my most solemn look. “I swear to you, I have never said that before, to anyone.”

She swats at me playfully. “You’re just full of these lines, aren’t you?”

“I’m totally serious. You’re… you know…” I struggle to find the right words, but I don’t have experience with this sort of thing, and my vocabulary is lacking. “…special to me. One-of-a-kind.”

“Stop!” she says, laughing. “You’re just making it worse!” She plants a little kiss on the end of my nose. “But I forgive you. Now, get back on topic, mister. Are we going to do this or not?”

I stifle a sigh of resignation. In her mind, I’m a troublemaker, always looking for a good fight and hot fuck, doesn’t matter with who. I’ll never convince her of anything different.

It’s a pointless hill to climb, anyway, because our time together is only temporary. She’s still entertaining suitors and dead-set on getting married to someone with an unsullied reputation and good social graces, which obviously isn’t me .

This thing we’re doing here? It’s going to end, sooner rather than later. We both knew that going in, and it’s always ever just been about having a bit of fun — for her.

That’s all I wanted when I started this, too.

But that doesn’t make it any easier to think about now, especially with my hard-on and her rubbing her soft, round ass against me like that. But something’s changed. I don’t want to do random hookups; I just want her beside me, naked and smiling and looking at me in that sweet way she does.

I shift away from her ass and roll her toward me, her back resting against the bed. I lean on one elbow beside her, her face below mine. I run my fingers up her thigh, across her hip to her bare stomach, tickling her with a light touch.

“As much as I want to savor every inch of you that I can right now, you don’t need to offer that to keep me interested.”

“But—”

I put a finger to her lips, cutting her off. “When you’re ready, I’d be honored to be your first, in every way you can imagine, but let’s put a pin in that idea for now. I promise, you’ll thank me later — it’ll be so much better if we save that particular activity for once you’re experienced.”

A cloud comes over her beautiful features, and she lets out a big breath. “We can’t. I mean, you can’t be my first like that. I promised.”

“Promised who?”

She shrugs, but I can tell it isn’t carefree. A tightness washes across her face and she sighs quietly before answering. “Myself, my family, God, the court — what does it matter? It’s the same outcome.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve known since I was girl what’s expected of young women of noble upbringing. Things are just different here, aren’t they? It’s like time never moved forward for women of nobility in Ostwyn. The antiquated views on chastity before marriage still stand — but only for the ladies, of course, it’s never really applied to the men, has it?”

I swallow hard, choking back the tide of emotions swelling inside me — sorrow for the news that I can’t be with her in that way, embarrassment at the inequalities between our genders that have been allowed to carry on in my country, and frustration at the unjust obligations laid at her feet simply because she was born female.

“Anyway, it’s all very political and far from sexy. I figure whoever I marry will want to be my first, that it will matter to him, you know?”

I furl my eyebrows, an inexplicable anger rising. I open my mouth, but think better of saying anything and shut it.

Sera notes my expression and shakes her head. She gives me this world-wise, sad smile that makes her look much older all the sudden. “You don’t believe me? You think Horrible Horace wouldn’t care if his bride were a virgin?”

I stuff down my revulsion at the thought of Sera with any other man. “Horace is nearly fifty, and he acts like he’s living in the fifteenth century. Of course he would think it matters, but he doesn’t count.”

“Right,” she says. “Then how about Finley? He’s about your age. Think he wouldn’t mind?”

Fucking Finley. Bile rises in my throat at the very thought of Finley claiming Sera’s virginity — at the very thought of him even laying eyes on Seraphina’s glorious naked body and tempting curves. I resist springing to my feet and throwing every goddamn object I own at the walls, picturing his head as they shatter. Grinding my teeth, I manage to choke out a few words. “I don’t know.”

She places her palm against my cheek, a gentle touch that goes a long way in calming my anger. “A lot of guys would care, Parker. Here, at least. Not much has changed in Ostwyn, not with the nobles and the court.”

I close my eyes and purse my lips, trying to get the unwelcome thoughts of Sera and Finley out of my brain. My stomach is clenched in hard knots and I’m growing physically ill at the images tormenting my imagination. “Can we change the subject?”

“Of course,” she says, running her hand down my abdomen and to my cock, which is decidedly softer after having thought about Finley.

“I believe we were talking about where to put this,” she says, brushing her fingers across my member, stirring me back to life.

Her touch jostles me out of my darkness, a smile breaking over my lips. “Lord, woman, you have a one-track mind.”

“You bring it out of me.”

“That’s good to hear,” I say, giving her a wink.

I hope that’s not all I bring out of her. These brief moments with Sera, they have become so much more than just a titillating distraction from the pomp and circumstance of the festival. They’ve become the highlight of my day.

“So, are we doing this?” she asks, her eyes searching my face.

I shake my head. I want every new experience she has with me to be pleasurable, to be what she deserves. As much as I crave her, she has a long list of things to experience first. “You should save that, too. It’s really putting the cart before the horse.”

“Fine,” she says, giving me a playful pout. She shifts onto her side and props an elbow under her head, changing topics once more, probably because she sees that look coming over me again. “So, when your family isn’t hosting a huge festival, what do you do with your time, Parker? What’s the life of a prince like?”

“It’s pretty boring, actually.”

“Ha! That’s not what all the tabloids say.”

I nod. “True. Until this spring, I suppose my life looked pretty exciting. The gossip rags certainly found it interesting, at least. Although, to be fair, I did give them quite a lot of headline material.” What I stop short of telling her, is that underneath all the scandalous headlines, it was an empty existence. I’ve not felt about it that way about it until lately, though. Not until she showed up.

She cocks her head. “What happened this spring?”

“Oh, I finally took it too far, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

“The royal council lost their patience with my shenanigans. One party too many, one headline too much.”

She raises her eyebrows and gives me a pointed look. “I’m surprised it took them that long, Mr. Scandal. Was it the high-priced escorts or the Russian mafia on the yacht?”

“Ha! I guess I deserve that.”

“Well, if the duck’s wet…” she says, poking me in the arm. “So, what happened, though? What did they do?”

“They called a private hearing and basically said if I didn’t get my act together, they’d support the outlandish Reformation Act that’s been quietly circulated by certain members of the court.”

Sera frowns and raises up on her arm, looking concerned. “I haven’t heard about this. What would this Reformation Act do?”

“Well, it would strip my family of power, for starters. It would allow the citizens to not only bring charges of impropriety, but also to call leaders by vote rather than royal decree. That was a sobering moment.”

What I don’t mention is that I’m pretty sure fucking Finley is behind the Act. He’s been envious of my power and status since we were kids and angling to snatch at it. He’d love nothing more than to see my family dethroned and the Crown stripped from my future. A small handful of other misguided nobles and members of the court have latched onto the idea that any power taken from royal family must be dispersed elsewhere, so why not to them? The Reformation Act reeks of Finley’s handiwork.

“Wow, I bet.” She flops back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I’m so glad I don’t have the expectations of a whole nation hanging over me. I can’t imagine how intense that weight must be. I only have the expectations of my family, and that’s quite enough.”

“It’s not all fun and games, that’s for sure.”

She rolls back over onto her elbow. “You know, Spencer never mentioned anything about this. Did you tell him to keep it under wraps?”

“Actually, I’ve not mentioned it to anyone outside that hearing.”

She looks at me with surprise. “Really? I’m the first one you’ve told?”

“Yes.”

“Why keep quiet about it?”

“I’m not sure,” I say with a shrug.

Sera grows quiet beside me and lays her head down on a pillow, staring at me, her eyes searching my face. She’s looking at me in a way that makes me feel like she’s not sure what to think, like maybe I’m hiding something dark and awful. I decide to tell her the truth.

I roll over on my side to face her, laying my head on my elbow. “After the hearing, I did a lot of thinking. Soul-searching, I guess. Decided that either I become the King my country deserves, or I should support the Reformation Act, too. I guess I decided it was better to show that I’m trying, rather than just tell everyone. So, I’ve just been head down, trying to be a better man.”

She nods solemnly. “I understand. It’s hard to come to the realization that other people’s lives are depending on you to do the right thing, and it’s even harder to actually do it.”

I stare into her eyes, deep emerald pools of sincerity. There’s a sadness there that I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s not the first time I’ve noticed, but like before, she quickly moves past whatever it is and gives me a smile.

“How’s that turning out for you?” she asks, looking cheerful once again. “Being out of the spotlight?”

I take a long draw of breath and think about it. “It’s going pretty good, I guess. It has its upsides, like spending time with my parents. When my father steps down from the throne, they’ll be moving to the small estate at Highthorn, on the coast. My mother is already planning their social calendar, and my father wants to take up sailing. So, it’s been nice to be here with them before they go. But none of it is as exciting as my former media scandals, I assure you.”

“That’s probably a good thing,” Seraphina quips with a smile. “But I bet you miss it — maybe not the scandals,” she says quickly, “but the exciting stuff that lead up to them.” She shakes her head, looking embarrassed, and waves her hands in the air. “Forget I said that. Tell me what your days are like now.”

I chuckle at her adorable awkwardness, but decide not to tease her about it. “Let’s see… I start every morning with a briefing from the advisory council, and it’s all downhill from there — piles of paperwork and dull meetings until dinner. Visits from dignitaries, travel to meet with other heads of state, a lot of political handshaking and socializing.”

“Sorry, you’re not selling it mister. You’ll never convince me the life of a Crown Prince is too bad. I mean, for starters, you live in a massive palace.” She shakes her head and gives me a look of mock pity. “You poor thing.”

I laugh. “Yeah, okay, you’re right. At the end of the day, I can’t really complain.”

“And your evenings? Who warms your bed at night, Your Highness?”

Her tone is light and teasing, but her eyes are searching my face uneasily, and I notice the way her stomach and jaw have tensed as the question hangs in the air. She needn’t worry. Save for the occasional short-term visitor arranged at Pierre’s doing because he’s convinced I’m going to swing the pendulum too far the other way and become a celibate recluse, my evenings have been spent alone more often than not.

“You do, my Lady.”

Sera pokes me in the ribs. “You can’t give me a straight answer to save your life, can you?”

“Now, why would I lie about a thing like that?”

If only she understood. Being alone is unavoidable. I’ll be assuming the full duties of the crown soon, and there is no room for missteps — and me, of all people, will not be afforded the sort of privacy needed to date someone seriously. Not by the media who is waiting with baited breath for the tiniest shred of gossip to emerge from Pridemore Palace. TV show ratings and tabloid sales are undoubtedly decreasing now that I’m not writing the headlines for them. News of a romantic entanglement? The barest whisper that I might be dating someone? They’d circle like starving piranhas. I can’t afford even the appearance of a scandal if I’m to convince the country I’m worthy of becoming their next King.

“Because they’re lined up, just waiting for their turn, but you’re too kind to tell me,” she replies.

“Who is waiting?”

“Every woman on earth, that’s who.”

“There’s only one woman in my bed, Lady Seraphina Lisbeth Strathmore,” I scold in a firm, loud tone. “And she’s been misbehaving, badly.”

“Oh?” Sera’s cheeks grow pink, and she’s biting her bottom lip in that shy, excited way she does. “What will happen to her?”

I grab the covers and throw them off her. She startles at the sudden movement and crosses her arms against her naked body as the covers fall to the floor.

“It seems like some punishment might be in order,” I say.

I pull her onto her stomach and run my hands down her torso and across her hips. I squeeze her ass and rub her cheeks firmly, watching with satisfaction as they turn a lovely pink color. She looks over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling. “What kind of punishment, my Lord?”

“The slow, torturous kind,” I growl. “The kind that makes you beg for mercy and call out my name. Now, no more questions, or I’ll just make it worse.”

“But what if — Ooooh!” she squeals, jumping as my hand makes contact with her right ass cheek, echoing a loud smack across the room.

“What did I just say ?” I admonish in a deep voice. The rosy hand print forming on her ass makes my cock pulse.

She buries her face in the pillow. “Yes, my Lord,” she says, her voice muffled.

I part her legs, gently but firmly, and curve a hand underneath her. She pushes her ass into the air, tilting her pussy toward me. My fingers quickly find their home between her thighs, and my cock stiffens as I massage her clit.

“I’ve been terrible,” she breathes. “So bad, Your Highness. I deserve all the punishment.”

Sera grabs at the bed, clutching the fitted sheet in her hands. She closes her eyes and makes little mewling noises, wiggling her ass as I stroke her.

I love watching the expressions of ecstasy on her face. I lower my lips to the small of her back and kiss her sensually, tracing her spine with my tongue. I brush her hair to the side and gently suck and kiss her shoulder, moving up to her neck, her earlobe. She turns her face up to me, her eyes glazed over with pleasure. I touch my lips to hers, brushing them teasingly, and she tilts her head up more, reaching for me.

“Parker…” she murmurs lustily. My name has never sounded so good.

I kiss her sensually, flicking my tongue against hers in time with my fingers on her clit, then I go deep for a long, lingering kiss.

I’m so hungry for her, my pulse is racing erratically, and my cock is already throbbing. I can’t do what I truly long for, but I’ll never rush her into it, no matter how badly I want to part those soft thighs wider and sink my cock into her hot, tight pussy.

Instead, I’ll channel all my energy into her pleasure. I’ll make her come again and again, as often as I can, to show her how much I enjoy our time together, how much I need her here with me.

If she can’t hear what I’m saying with my words, maybe some part of her will feel it in my touch.

I lift her ass and grab a pillow, using it to keep her hips elevated. I guide her to shift forward until her pretty pink pussy is exposed to me as well and then nudge her legs wide open for a better view. With both hands, I spread her, my thumbs tracing up and down her folds.

Lowering my chest to the mattress, I bring my lips to her pussy and lick. Sera moans and presses her deliciously plump bottom toward me. I lick once then twice, my tongue running up to her clit then down between her folds. I press hard against her and kiss.

Sera moans out my name. “Parker. Parker, I want to touch you.”

I run my hands up her smooth hips and flip Sera to her back. Her hair is disheveled, but she’s smiling with red-infused lips. She beckons to me with a single finger. As I rise, Sera reaches down and wraps her fist around my cock, sending pulses of pleasure through me as she strokes.

Her skin is flushed as I bend down and kiss my way up her stomach and between her breasts. As I near her shoulders and neck, my cock rests over top of her pussy, and Sera rocks her hips. It’s seductive, and it’s irresistible. I work my hard shaft, encased in her palm, and it’s almost as though I’m inside her.

Sera holds my cock tight, her own knuckles pressing against her as we thrust, her thumb rubbing along her clit. Our hips move as one, and soon, our breathing matches in intensity. I claim her lips, gasping between kisses. “Yes, yes, baby.”

Words I don’t dare speak are on the edge of my lips as I kiss her deeply. It’s not my right to say them, it wouldn’t be fair to her, but God, it’s all I can do to not utter them right now, with her beautiful body beneath me, her emerald eyes heavy with desire. I’m hungry for more, hungry to savor every moment with her.

The tension of holding back those three little words drives my hips faster. My climax is coming quickly, it never takes long with her touch, and the way her body twists and flexes beneath mine, I know she is right there with me. The tightening of my balls breaks my rhythm, and I stiffen with a groan.

Sera cries out, “Ohhhh! ” Sweat is beading between her breasts as she tips her head back into the pillows, her face flushed. She clamps tighter on my shaft as her body shakes.

I shout my orgasm, the two of us coming as one for the first time in all these days. My muscles relax as I watch Sera, gorgeous as her lips transform from an O to a satisfied smile. Does she feel it? Did she hear the words in my heart?

Chapter Fourteen

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I’ll have the roasted duck, and Lady Strathmore will have the gorgonzola salad with ahi tuna.”

The waiter nods and reaches for our menus, but I hold up a finger. “Actually, I’ll have the braised lamb, with the garlic-whipped potatoes. And another martini. Make it a double.”

Finley gawks at me as the waiter leaves the table. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a meat and potatoes type of woman.”

“What type of woman do you take me for?” Because so far tonight, you haven’t asked me a single question about myself.

“Well, you’re very pretty, of course.”

Gee, that’s insightful. “Thanks.”

I fiddle with the silverware, adjusting the spoons and forks until they’re lined up perfectly. I didn’t want to come on this date, but sadly, of all the suitors, Finley appears to be the most appropriate match out of the lot, even if he has come across as very full of himself so far this evening.

“And you have lovely parents.”

“I do, yes.”

Finley reaches for the basket of freshly baked herb bread. “Would you care for some?”

I shake my head. “No, thanks.” I slug down the rest of my first martini and look around for the waiter, hoping to see him en route with a refill. So far, although he’s bored me to tears, I’m grateful that Finley’s not a pompous jerk with outdated views like Horace the Horrible and very thankful he doesn’t have creepy alien-abduction fingers like Mr. Harridan.

He sets the basket down and looks at me for a long moment. “Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot, at the dance?” he asks, his voice softer, quieter.

I look up from fiddling with the silverware, surprised by both the change of tone and topic. “Perhaps we did.”

“I need to apologize for that.”

I fold my hands together and give him my most attentive gaze. “I’m listening.”

“You are such a beautiful woman—”

Oh, come on! You were so close! “Yes, you’ve mentioned that already.”

“—and well, it’s not easy being in my position.”

“What position is that?”

“In competition with all these other men, each of us scrambling to get a moment alone with you. It makes us do stupid things, really — like trying to kiss you during a first dance together. We’re all so desperate to charm you, or at least, I am.”

“I see.”

“There I was, holding you in my arms, staring into your lovely eyes, and I just wanted nothing more than to kiss you. It took me forever to work up the courage, and then suddenly the song was ending, and I panicked. I shouldn’t have tried, though, it was too forward of me — I’m sorry about that.”

“I appreciate your apology. And yes, I was taken aback. It wasn’t what I was expecting from a first dance with a stranger.”

“I understand, it was very impolite of me.”

“But then again,” I continue, taking a deep breath, “your explanation just now wasn’t what I was expecting, either. So, perhaps I’ve judged you too harshly from one encounter. I have to admit, from my initial impression of you, I would not have thought your ego would allow you to confess to having any weaknesses, not even something as simple as being nervous.”

“Given what happened, I don’t blame you at all for that thinking. But if I may be equally bold and honest in my response — I usually am not the nervous type. You have that effect on me, my Lady. It’s quite unsettling and… well, more than a bit intriguing, too.”

“Oh.” Now I’m blushing. I’ve never been great at taking a genuine compliment, but especially not from people I least expect one from.

“Call me a hopeless romantic,” he says, leaning toward me. “The music was lovely, you looked stunning that night, just as you do now, and I got swept away in it all. With you in my arms, I forgot all my manners. Please forgive me.”

I look at him for a long moment. He’s no Parker. He’s not nearly as charming, or as handsome, or as interesting. But he’s trying, at least. Which is more than I can say for myself. I’ve barely been going through the motions of being courted, much less really giving any of the men a shot at impressing me. I owe it to my family to give my suitors a chance, and Finley seems like he might have some promise yet.

“You know what we should do?” I say, smoothing out my napkin against my lap, settling in to enjoy our dinner.

“What’s that?”

“Let’s start over, shall we?” I suggest with an amicable smile. “Just wipe the slate clean.”

He beams at me. “That would be wonderful. I’d really like a chance to get to know you, Lady Strathmore.”

“Please, call me Sera. And I’m happy to tell you anything you’d like to know. All you have to do is ask.” Hint, hint.

Finley smiles at me and nods. “I do tend to rattle on about myself when I’m nervous, I’m sorry for that.”

“Apology accepted.”

“That’s very gracious of you. Now, if you’ll do me the honor, please tell me about yourself. Why did you choose to attend Umberland University?”

Taking a deep breath, I put a smile on my face. I’d rather be tangled in the sheets with Parker than at this table with Finley, but the night has finally taken a pleasant turn, and I might as well make the most of it.

I need to stop daydreaming about Parker and focus on the task at hand. He’s been the most amazing distraction from this dreadful situation, but fear I’m sliding too far into fantasy land. Every moment with him is a blissful escape from reality. He’s irresistible — gorgeous and talented in ways that make my knees weak and oh, God , the way he looks at me, it takes my breath away. But none of it is getting me any closer to ensuring my family’s future.

All too soon, I’ll be making a decision about who I’m going to marry. And unless I want to draw names from a hat, I need to take this seriously, for everyone’s sake. No matter how much I run from my fate, it’s going to catch up with me.