Chapter 18

Gwen

Now that the sex is over, and we’re both basking in the afterglow, I’m reminded how safe I feel in his arms. Edward pulls me against his chest, and I let my head rest against him. His hands smooth over my hair as the maids carry in trays of whatever’s left from brunch.

There are a few crumpets left uncrushed beneath our passion and my ass. No doubt the maids have jumped into action to serve up some more.

“Are you hungry, my queen?”

“Mmm, I’m starving, my king.”

Edward smiles and lifts a crumpet to my lips. I bite into it, and butter bursts and spills from the corner of my lip. But Edward is already there, and he swipes at the butter with a finger and then licks it off, as he continues to feed me.

“When I said it before, I meant it,” he says, pausing and looking out across the room. “Gwen, I love you so much.”

The hand that’s holding my waist grips onto me, and I push away the last mouthful of crumpet so I can turn my head up to look at him. Edward is usually so lighthearted and free, but it’s moments like this I can see the true weight of his royal title and how he wields it. He can be serious sometimes.

“I always knew that I wasn’t happy with Ignora, but I couldn’t really put my finger on why. Then I saw you at the ball and…fuck,” Edward continues before looking down into my eyes and smiling softly. “It terrifies me to think that I almost lived a life where I didn’t know you—really know you.”

“Couldn’t have let myself live in your mind as that knock-kneed girl always trying to tackle you during my brother’s rugby games,” I laugh.

“You can tackle me in other ways now.” Edward winks. It’s a gorgeous fucking wink. “You’re everything a king needs—you’re everything I need. Who would have thought that I would find you again, standing in my ballroom, looking so radiant?”

“You mean drunk? Because, my king, I was pretty drunk.”

“You were,” Edward sighs lustily. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman.”

“I used to dream about you, too.”

“You did?”

“I had a crush on you when I was younger, but you were James’ friend. And then as I grew up, I always hoped that I would get to marry a real-life prince charming—just like you.”

“Only like me?”

“I never imagined that I’d end up here! You’re the king, Edward!”

“And you’re the most beautiful woman in the kingdom—no, the entire world.”

I giggle, and I bury my face into Edward’s chest, but he guides my face up to look at him.

“Don’t hide yourself from me. You’re only even more gorgeous when you laugh, Gwen.”

I lean over him to pick up a cup of hot, sweet tea, and I lift it to my lips. I offer it to Edward, and he drinks it out of my hands.

“I still can’t believe that you’re saying these things to me, Edward—to me! I thought I’d be married to the—”

I cut myself short as I remember.

I look up at Edward again, who’s staring down at me in concern—real, genuine concern. Edward loves me, and he wants me to be happy. He’d treasure me and treat me like a queen—he would make me a queen.

You know what? Fuck Marquis de Roach.

Not literally. God, not literally.

Jesus, I still shudder and cringe at the memory of his dry and crusty hands when he forced me to hold them after the ball. Hasn’t he heard of moisturizer?

What woman in her right mind would ever want those lizard fingers touching her in her most intimate of areas?

“To the marquis?” Edward finishes my sentence and pulls me back from my spiraling train of thought.

“Yeah, I’d be married to him…”

“You’re not going to marry Marquis de Roach,” Edward declares, and he lifts up a cucumber sandwich. I bite into it and silently chew while Edward appears to be thinking.

His tone is different than before—before, we were living a dream. We were like two teenagers playing make-believe about what our future is going to be like. And then we let people ruin it for us.

But I can see it in Edward’s eyes that he’s not going to let anyone take our love or our dream future away from us anymore.

We’re young, but it doesn’t mean we can’t make our own decisions.

Like Edward said to me in the garden, he’s the king, and that means he can do whatever the hell he wants. I’ll be the queen, too, and that means I’ll be able to be equally carefree.

So, yeah. Fuck Marquis de Roach.

“What am I going to do about him?” I ask out loud, taking another sip of tea as Edward holds the cup for me.

“You’re not going to do anything.”

“I’m not?”

“No.” Edward places the cup down and takes the macaroon out of my hand, half-bitten, “You don’t ever have to deal with things alone anymore. I’ll be right beside you, and we can deal with the marquis together.”

“But Edward, you know he’ll go to the press, and he’ll sell stories to them about me, and they’ll eat it up.”

“Then we’ll sell our own stories that paint him as a bitter, jealous old monster who doesn’t deserve you in the first place.”

“What about the gossip he’ll spread through your court? You should have seen the way this Earl’s wife was looking at me…I felt so cheap.”

“I’ll ban him from court.”

“You can do that?”

Edward raises an eyebrow at me. “Do you want the marquis at court with you?”

I shudder. “No, no fucking way.”

“Then, my queen, you have the power to do that. We’ll ban him from ours and from anyone else’s.”

Edward smiles at me and strokes the hair out of my face. My heart flutters each time he looks at me, and I want to kiss him all over to show him how grateful I am.

But I don’t want to spill tea and butter all over my silk sheets. We’ve made enough mess in the dining room.

“I’ll never abandon you, Gwen. You’ll never have to go through life alone. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Edward. I love you so much.”

I lean up and kiss him. The teacup in my lap wobbles as Edward captures my face in his hand and holds me tight against him. I could almost cry—everything is so perfect.

I don’t want to have to leave this bed again…except perhaps to get married.

Slowly, we eat our way through the macaroons and the assorted cakes and pastries that were left from tea. Edward feeds me strawberries, and I feel like a goddess as he licks off cream and jam from my skin.

When the food is gone and all that we have left are the glasses of orange juice and prosecco from brunch, Edward leans over and finds the bell that is kept on my bedside table. He rings it, and, within minutes, his adviser enters. He keeps his head down, but I watch him as he glances towards me out of the corner of his eye disapprovingly.

Why does Edward even keep him around?

“Ah, Cecil, thank you for coming so quickly,” Edward says, putting on his royal voice. It has so much authority that I wonder if I can get him to use it in the bedroom.

“I’m here to serve you, my king.”

“Yes, you are.” Edward looks at me almost knowingly, as though he’s remembered himself who really holds the power between a king and his advisor. “I have a lot for you to do, Cecil. Firstly, I need you to call Ignora.”

“What should I say to her?”

“Tell her that the engagement’s off and that she needs to find another sorry soul to sink her claws into. Whatever her family has promised the royal charities, we’ll provide it ourselves. In fact, we’ll double it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then, I want you to call the wedding planners and have them accommodate everything to Princess Gwen’s taste. She is the new bride-to-be.”

Cecil’s eyebrows raise slightly, but he says nothing more than, “Yes, Your Highness.”

“We’ll be making an official announcement soon, but Princess Gwen is going to be my wife and your queen.” Edward pauses, having also seen the eyebrow raise, I can tell. “And if you don’t agree with that, Cecil, I’m sure it’ll be easy to find someone to replace you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I hear you loud and clear.”

“I thought you might.”

Edward waves his hand to allow for Cecil to leave the bedroom once again. I can’t believe it. It’s really happening!

“Oh, Cecil, one more thing…”

The old advisor turns to look at us, curled up in bed, and forces himself to smile.

“Take care of Marquis de Roach. I don’t want to see his face anymore.”

“Certainly, Your Highness.”

“Make sure you exterminate him,” I pipe up, smiling at my new husband-to-be. “I don’t want Marquis de Roach to crawl out of the woodwork again.”

“Yes, of course.” Cecil turns his back to leave, but Edward looks between us and clears his throat.

“Cecil, are you forgetting something?”

“Yes, Your Highness, my apologies.” Cecil turns back to me and forces a smile, before bowing low. “I will get to work on your wishes right away, my queen.”

With that, he scurries out of the room, and Edward pulls me tight into his arms.

A girl could get used to this.