Her Secret Prince (16 page)

And now, if he knew this was the last time he’d ever see her? For all the wealth at his fingertips, he felt rich with nothing but loss. “I love you.”

Finally, her fingers twitched in his hand. Then they squeezed, tight as iron.

“Well,
that’s good,” she said. “Because I love you, too. And I’m never going to let you leave me again.”

Jed exhaled as relief punched him square in the stomach. Then he was pulling her into his arms, holding her tight against him. She smelled sweet and toasty warm, and he buried his face in her neck, breathing her in. “Where, Dee? Where do you want to spend our lives?”

Wriggling closer, she murmured,
“You’d really give this up for me?”

He pulled back just far enough to meet her eye. “I’ve regretted losing you for a decade. I couldn’t bear that again. I meant it when I said you’re the closest I’ve ever felt to home. And I realized something while sitting with Oscar. The only reason this place feels right is because you’re here beside me. If you go, there’s nothing for me here.”

“And if I
stay?”

“There’s everything.”

Delight lit her face, before dimming. “But you’re the son of a European prince. I’m a screenwriter from LA.” She nodded down at herself. “Is Leguarday really ready for this jelly?”

He grinned. “Oscar said Leguarday hasn’t had a royal wedding since his parents were married in 1947.”

“But no,” she said, ending on a dismayed vowel. “I can’t. Royal women wear blazers.
And pantsuits! I could never wear a pantsuit.”

“Be a trendsetter.”

“What about your illustrations, your comics?”

“I’ll find time.”

She paused, and her jaw dropped slowly. She pointed a finger at him. “You said wedding.”

He’d said wedding.

Shock masked her face for several long seconds. Then she clasped her hands under her chin and stared at him expectantly. Under her breath, she whispered,
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”

Smiling, Jed slid off the bed to kneel. “My darling, Dee. Will you marry me?”

Her delighted laughter brought a grin to his lips. “Um, gosh,” she answered, and there was no mistaking the mischief that suddenly gleamed in her eyes. “I don’t know. It’s all happening so fast. One day I’m travelling to meet my boyfriend’s dad and the next I find out I’m going to
become a princess. It’s overwhelming. I really don’t know what to do.”

Jed supposed he deserved that, but only just. “Dee.”

“There are so many things to consider,” she went on. “I’m really confused. You know what? I’ll keep my answer to myself until tomorrow, just to keep you in the dark. But I’ll tell everyone else and have them pretend that they don’t know either. Yes. That’s what I’ll do.”

“Dee,” he said warningly, rising to his feet. He crawled onto the bed, grabbed her by the waist and dragged her beneath him. She squealed as he tugged apart the buttons of her blouse, arching her hips to meet his, gasping as his lips found her breast. “Please tell me.”

She didn’t answer as they stripped each other naked, touching and tangling in her quilted fortress. She stayed silent as he lay
over her, kissing her slow and long and deep. He knew that as he moved inside her, pleasure tightening around him like hot wire, her yesses had nothing to do with his proposal. Afterwards, he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and begged, “Dee.”

She laughed, his favorite sound.

“Yes, you beautiful thing. I’ll marry you.”

‡

T
heir wedding caught
the attention of the world. Prince Jebediah was an Australian-born European about to make an American a princess. The fuss was absolute. International press inundated the city alongside citizens and tourists who wouldn’t miss a royal wedding for cake.

And, boy, was
there cake. Dee personally organized the distribution of ten thousand cupcakes throughout the city, a token of the bride’s appreciation for those attending, but mainly because, “Everyone should get cake at a wedding.”

The streets were crowded by the curious, the cathedral drowned in dignitaries.

Back at the castle, preparing for the royal luncheon, Dee rushed to her rooms for a costume change.
With the formal part over, Oscar had said of course she was free to jazz herself up.

“There are no words for how unreal that ceremony was,” Alexia said, kneeling behind her as she unbuttoned the undercoat of Dee’s dress. “I’m still waiting to wake up.”

“If you do,” she answered, “be a dear and let me keep sleeping.”

“Put these on, Dee.” Ellie was handing her a pair of red-framed glasses. At
first, Jed’s mother had struggled to comprehend that her son
wanted
to be prince, tied to one life, one place, for the rest of his life. Acceptance had taken longer, but finally she had arrived on the castle doorstep with a life-long regret and tear-bound apology. Then it had taken Jed time to forgive her for dictating his life as completely as the crown she’d feared. “And hand me the black ones.”

“Here, sweetheart.” Dee’s mom hurried over on clicking heels. The enchantment hadn’t left her eyes since she’d arrived. “You need more lipstick.”

Lipstick was reapplied, glasses were exchanged, and the bulk of the dress’s skirt removed.

As her very own gaggle of women pulled back, all murmuring over the transformed bride, Dee spun to look in the mirror. The ivory dress both cupped her curves
and let them spill, and now that the underskirt halted mid-thigh, her scarlet stockings struck boldly through white lace falling right to her toes. She removed the sheer sleeves of the dress and kicked aside the white heels in favor of Chuck Taylors.

“Veil,” Alexia said, and reached around to unpin the elegant long headdress. Dee’s black hair had been swept back and around, curled and sprayed.
The revealed pinup style was finished off with a red bow.

“Ah,” she sighed with a smile. She was herself again.

In the end, she’d worried needlessly about pantsuits. The pocket-sized nation had rejoiced at the news that Prince Oscar II had found a long lost son and welcomed the comic artist and his beloved hipster screenwriter.

Apparently, they gave the House of Montaigne some long-needed style.

Not that it was all roses. Her happiness had been a disaster for creative reputation. Her latest script had actually ended well, which meant the royal bedroom now had its own coffee machine, courtesy of Parker, despite the abundance of staff on-hand all willing to feed her habit.

Downstairs, the luncheon flowed into a night of dancing in the ballroom. Dee mingled with politicians from across
the world and shared dances with European royalty. She met Jed’s friends from Melbourne, including the reserved Felix and his friend-date Stevie. As Felix shook Jed’s hand, he murmured, “No more drifting, hey?” and Stevie said, “I’m totally wearing Chucks when I get married.”

When morning light bumped shoulders with the horizon, Jed led her from the dance floor, out of breath but still grinning.
“Champagne, my darling?”

“Yes, my prince,” she said, and laughed. The whole thing hadn’t ceased to amuse her. This princess development didn’t even bear thinking about; because, quite frankly, she feared she’d start making friends with household animals and spend her days bursting into song.

Jed handed her a chilled flute, popping with liquid gold.

“To you,” she said, extending her glass. “My
husband.”

He edged his flute against hers, clicking lightly. The endlessness of his smile overjoyed her.

“To you,” he said. “My home.”

The Playboy

Wanted: Sexy sun-kissed surfer for hot summer fling

Innocent Alexia Burton needs to become sexually confident for an upcoming acting role, and that means taking a lover. Someone she’s attracted to. Someone who’ll teach her what she needs to know, but not ask for more than she’s prepared to give. She needs to learn the intensity of true desire and then have him walk away.

Parker Hargreaves is
determined to make amends for treating Alexia badly all those years ago. He’s changed and wants her to think better of him. If that means letting her sharpen her sexual moves on him so be it. He’ll do it. His playboy reputation certainly won’t suffer.

He just doesn’t count on walking away being so hard.

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The Royal Holiday Series

The Cinderella Princess
by Melissa McClone

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Her Secret Prince
by Madeline Ash

His Defiant Princess
by Kathleen O’Brien

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His Forbidden Princess
by Jeannie Moon

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Madeline has always lived in Melbourne. She is emotionally allergic to spontaneity, and yet doesn’t mind the weather that drags her into rain when she’s planned for sunshine. She likes to call this her wild side.

She’s a Virgo, vegetarian, and once had a romantic suspense-style dream in which the hero was a shredded lettuce sandwich and the villain was a cherry tomato. The tomato got away. She
took the dream as a sign that she’d better stick to writing contemporary romance.

Her stories have spunky heroines, strong heroes, and as much dialogue as she can cram in. As for why she writes romance, she’s in a long-term relationship with the genre and writing such stories makes it happy.

Visit her website at
MadelineAsh.net

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