Royal Mistake #4 Page 2

  “That if I don’t marry her, she’ll tell the world that you and I are…romantically involved. This would destroy everything—Prince Reginald and King Maximilian would think I was making a mockery of them and Justine, and they’d tell everyone what I’ve done. And the entire pageant would fall apart, and the people of Montovia would think me unfit to rule—”

  She spins away from me, going over to the bed. “How terrible for you. Forgive me for not realizing being caught with a commoner would destroy your entire life.”

  The acid in her voice stings.

  “It’s not just terrible for me,” I say. “The press would have a field day with this, Victoria. You can’t imagine how difficult it will be for you—”

  “Oh, I think I can imagine it.” She sits down on the side of the bed. “I’m basically one of the paparazzi, remember?”

  “Victoria,” I step forward and kneel in front of her. “It is different on this end. People call the media a machine, but in truth, it is more like a monster—you do what you can to control it, but if it becomes large enough it can break free of its chains and devour you whole. Lady Clarissa is jealous—and she is determined. I have no doubt she will make your life a living hell if given the chance.”

  Victoria shakes her head. “Why are you telling me this? I’m out of the picture, aren’t I? I can’t exactly be her rival if I’m here on the other side of the world.” She frowns. “Unless, of course, you come running after me to the other side of the world. You do realize you made all of this worse by coming here, don’t you?”

  “She doesn’t know I’m here. No one does. I told everyone I had some business in London.”

  “You still could have just let me go and made this whole thing a lot simpler.” Her eyes burn into mine. “Why are you here, Andrew? I want the whole truth.”

  I take her hand in mine, and thankfully, she doesn’t try to pull away. I look down at her fingers—long, graceful fingers, like a pianist might have—and try to compose my thoughts. Honestly, when I got on that plane, I only knew half the reasons I needed to find her.

  “I suppose it comes down to three things,” I say. “The first being what I’ve already told you—that I can’t sleep without you, and I had a feeling you might not have been able to sleep without me, either.”

  “That’s not enough of a reason.”

  “No, it isn’t.” My eyes are still on her fingers. “The second is that I’m not my brother.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I finally look up at her, and I find her frowning down at me.

  “Leopold and I have a bit of a rocky history,” I say slowly. “Our father disapproved of his dalliance with Elle, and I admit I tried to persuade him on more than one occasion to walk away from her.”

  “I’ve heard a lot of this already from Elle,” Victoria says. “And I don’t understand what it has to do with us.”

  “I realized in these last few days that the threats Lady Clarissa made against you were many of the same ones I made against Elle. Funny, how the tables have turned.” I brush my thumb across the back of her palm. “I’m also sure you now know some of the details of Leopold’s arrangement with Lady Karina not too long ago.”

  “Some.”

  “Then you know Karina put him in an unenviable position, but that he chose to do what he thought was right. The only problem was that he failed to be open with Elle—or anyone else—about what he was doing or why. Elle was left in the dark, left to think the worst of him.” I squeeze her hand. “I don’t want you to think the worst of me, Victoria. I want you to know exactly what Lady Clarissa said to me and exactly why I didn’t come after you then. I want you to know the truth.”

  “And what truth is that, exactly? What would you have done if she hadn’t threatened you?” She pulls her hand out of mine. “It’s not like we could have continued this forever. We both knew it had to end.”

  “But it didn’t have to end like that. Or so soon.”

  “Why drag it out? I refuse to stay around to be your plaything until something better comes along.”

  “You’re not a plaything, Victoria. You never were.” I rise from my knees and sit down beside her on the bed, nearly hip to hip. My face is close to hers. “I’m not ready for this to be over yet.”

  “Maybe I am.”

  “Are you? Truly?”

  She doesn’t answer.

  “Half the time, I don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore,” I tell her softly. “I think I’m doing the right thing and it feels like a mistake. Or I do the opposite, I go against my better judgment, and it feels right. I can’t trust my instincts anymore. I can’t trust anything.” I feel them again—the cracks spreading along the edges of my sanity. I’m exhausted, but somehow being near her gives me hope. “That’s why I wanted to explain what Lady Clarissa said to me. Why I wanted you to know exactly the position I find myself in. If I refuse to marry Lady Clarissa, she’s in a position to make both of us suffer. If I refuse to marry Princess Justine, Montovia loses one of our most beloved national treasures and I go down in history as the man responsible. Which is the right choice?” My fingers come to rest against her cheek. “And how am I supposed to make any choice at all when the only thing that actually feels right is being here with you?”

  She turns away from my touch. “This is wrong.”

  “Is it? Do you truly believe that?”

  She squeezes her eyes shut. “We’re only going to end up being hurt. Both of us.”

  “That can’t be any worse than the pain I’ve felt these last few days without you.”

  Her eyes open again, and I might be mistaken, but I swear I see the glimmer of tears in her lower lashes.

  “Don’t say things like that,” she whispers. “This is already hard enough.”

  “I’m only speaking the truth. I always want to be honest with you, Victoria—why do you think I flew across the world to tell you why I didn’t come after you that day?”

  She shakes her head. “Please, Andrew—”

  “No. I won’t lie to you. I am miserable without you, Victoria. I can’t sleep. Can’t think. I feel as if the world is closing in on me on all sides, and the only thing that keeps me from crumbling under the weight is you.” I cup her face. “I need you, Victoria. And yes—I want you, too. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life, and God help me if I have to spend another night without you by my side.”

  I don’t give her a chance to respond. Instead, I kiss her, pulling her close to me. It’s only been a little more than a week, and yet I feel as if it’s been forever since she’s been in my arms.

  She only hesitates for a moment. Then her arms come around me, gripping me as tightly as I’m gripping her. Her mouth meets mine with equal passion.

  Desire takes over, coursing through my blood. I push her back on the bed, and together we wrestle with her shirt.

  After the garment has been tossed aside, my hands slide across her bra as I bury my face in her hair.

  God, she smells even better than I remember.

  I kiss my way across her throat as my fingers slip beneath her bra. Her hands grip my hair, and she lets out a gasp as I find one of her nipples.

  “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” I murmur against her skin. Her smell, her taste, her softness—all of it. I feel like a starving man at a feast.

  “What was the third reason?” she asks me breathlessly.

  “Hm?”

  “You said there were three reasons you came to find me, but you’ve only said two.” She gives another little gasp as I give her nipple another squeeze. “What was…the…ahhh…third?”

  I let my hand slide away from the soft, velvety skin around her nipple. “I would have thought the third reason would be implicit.”

  “I’d rather hear you say it.”

  Funny, that she should want to talk at a moment like this—I’d much rather continue what we started than dwell on the things that await us back in Montovia.<
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  I prop myself up on my elbows over her, looking down at her face. There’s something bright, almost hopeful in her eyes beneath the haze of desire.

  I brush a loose strand of hair from her face.

  “The third reason,” I tell her, “will have to wait.”

  And then I dip my head and kiss her again.

  Victoria

  I give myself to him, promising silently that this will be the final time. It should be torture, knowing our—whatever our relationship is—will be over in only a few minutes. That I’ll never feel his arms around me again. Never feel him inside me.

  Never sleep again.

  But it isn’t agony at all, and I somehow allow myself to find the same ecstasy in him that he seems to find in me.

  His hand fists into my hair at the back of my neck as I near the edge of my bliss. His voice is a low growl when he speaks the familiar words. “Look at me, Victoria.”

  And I shatter when my eyes meet his.

  He buries his face in my neck as he comes deep inside me a moment later. I close my eyes and wrap my arms around him, holding him as his shuddering slowly stills.

  We lay like that for a long time—almost as though we’re both afraid to let go of the other. He has to be thinking the same things I am—how this is wrong. How we’ll never be able to be together like this in real life.

  How he’ll never be mine.

  He finally shifts to lie beside me, pulling me into his arms so my back is pressed against his chest. He wraps his arms around me and nestles his face into my hair.

  He’s asleep a moment later.

  As sleep begins to find me for the first time in over a week, I’m tormented by the thought of how perfect this would be if only he weren’t a prince. Or if only I could have been born a royal.

  Andrew is gone when I wake up late that afternoon.

  I shouldn’t be surprised. I was the one who offered him a quick fuck in exchange for sleep, after all. But knowing that doesn’t stop the burning pain in my chest or stop the tears that fill my eyes when I feel the cold space where he had been lying next to me.

  It’s cold. He’s been gone a long time.

  I should have known better. I should have known that letting him in my bed again would cause nothing but heartache afterward. And I definitely should have known that everything he said was bullshit.

  I let myself cry into my pillow before I pull myself together. I’m never going to shed another tear over Prince Andrew. I knew what I was getting into when I allowed myself to care about him. And I have no one but myself to blame for being hurt about it now.

  I take a quick shower, brush my teeth, and pull on some clean clothes.

  My head probably touches the ceiling, I jump so high when I hear the door rattling as I’m combing out my hair.

  Andrew frowns when he walks in. He’s holding a brown grocery bag in his arms.

  He looks me up and down a few times. “You might have waited for me to return. I would have joined you in the shower.”

  My heart is thrashing in my chest and I can’t seem to breathe, let alone speak.

  He looks down into the bag before his gaze returns to mine. “Forgive me for taking so long. I had no idea this town had but one restaurant, whose specialty is something called a hot dog. The man there assured me it was not actually dog meat, but when I saw what it was, it looked as though dog meat might have been an improvement over whatever was actually in it.”

  My lips curl into an involuntary smile, but I still can’t seem to say anything.

  “And you also neglected to tell me that the nearest town was more than fifty kilometers away and is not much bigger than this one, though they did have a proper grocery and they seemed to have a larger selection of hotels. Much nicer than this one, I might add.”

  I nod.

  He sets the bag on the small desk near the door before turning back to me. “So it begs the question, Victoria, why are you staying here when you could be staying there? Most of those hotels also appeared to overlook the ocean.”

  “I…” I don’t have an answer to his question. I’m not even sure I heard a word he said—I’m still so shocked that he’s here at all that I’m not one hundred percent certain he’s real. That I’m not imagining him.

  “I realize that this…establishment is but a few blocks from where you’ve decided to work—”

  “It’s my uncle’s store. He wanted to take a hunting trip and I said I’d cover the night shift while he was gone. He was supposed to get back today.” My eyes widen—Prince Andrew doesn’t care about my family. Or my personal life. Or me, for that matter. He cares about himself. His needs. What he wants. Not me.

  He lifts a brow. “I see. Does that mean you are available to resume your duties in Montovia?”

  I tilt my head. “I have no duties in Montovia, remember? I gave you my article and you had it published without a byline, exactly what I told you to do.” I fold my arms across my chest. “It all happened exactly as we agreed.”

  He drops onto the chair near the door. “I did not agree to any of this. What I agreed to was you coming to Montovia to assist me in choosing a wife.”

  “Well, things have changed. I’m no longer willing to come to Montovia. And I never agreed to help you choose a wife, Andrew. I agreed to write about you choosing a wife. There’s a big difference.”

  “I fail to see any difference.”

  I shake my head. “I can write your story from anywhere. If I’m actually helping you choose, I have to be there. That’s the difference.”

  “And what is the problem with that? Why can’t you be there? I value your opinion and I need your counsel. As I’ve already told you, everything has fallen apart. I find myself in a quandary—”

  “Of your own making, Andrew. This whole conundrum is your own doing.”

  He frowns and folds his hands together on his lap. “That is precisely the reason I need your help. Under normal circumstances, I can see many possibilities to resolve my problems. I’m able to weigh them individually, to plan the best course of action. But in this dilemma, I’m unable to find a resolution. I’m unable to see any way out of my predicament.”

  I sit on the edge of the bed facing him. “Your mother is pretty good at this kind of stuff. I—”

  He interrupts with a shake of his head. “She, also, cannot help me with this. She’s too close to the problem to be objective. You, on the other hand, are far enough removed from Montovian politics to give me an unbiased opinion—”

  “I’m not.” My words are almost a growl. “I’m not unbiased—why can’t you see that? You want me to help you choose a wife? Fine. Choose none of them.”

  He closes his eyes and lets out a long breath before he opens them again. He levels his gaze at me. “Victoria, that is not an option. Not now. I’ve already explained to you—”

  “Explain again why you’re here. Tell me what that third reason is.”

  He frowns and stares at me. “Victoria—”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to hear you say it. Not now—not knowing you’re still planning to go back to that charade.” I let out a long breath, splaying my hands on my lap. “You say you don’t want whatever this is between us to end, but we both know it has to. It’s better to end it now. And, you know, it probably would have been better if you just hadn’t come here at all.” I stand, walk over to the door, open it, and motion for him to leave.

  He stands and turns to face me. “Victoria, the third reason—”

  “I told you—I don’t want to hear it.” I motion again with my arm out the door. “You should go. You have a pageant to get back to.”

  He shakes his head. “The third reason is that I, too, have come to care about you. Very much.”

  I shake my head and slam the door closed. “Andrew, you cannot say—”

  “I can say it if it is true. And it is true.”

  My jaw clenches and I speak through my gritted teeth. “And what would y
ou have me do? Come back to Montovia with you—?”

  “Yes.”

  I growl under my breath. “And stay in the gardener’s cottage—?”

  “Yes.”

  My chest burns at his words and tears fill my eyes again before I quickly blink them back. “I am not going to do that to myself. I’ve already told you that. You can’t honestly believe that your future wife will be okay with me being your…your…concubine.”

  He shrugs. “It isn’t as antiquated as you might think. There are rumors in my family that my great-grandfather—”

  “No.” My eyes are burning with hot tears, but I somehow manage to hold them back. I shake my head again. “No. And I can’t believe you’re even asking me to do that.”

  “I have little other choice, Victoria.”

  “You do have a choice, though. You can call this whole charade off. And I don’t care if Lady Clarissa has a field day trying to ruin my life. Look around…” I motion around the room with my hand. “There’s not much here to ruin.”

  He sinks back onto the chair and runs a hand through his hair. “Even if…” He sighs. “Even if that were true—that we were both willing to deal with the consequences of her actions, it wouldn’t change the situation with King Maximilian and Reginald and Justine. And…” He looks up at me and I can see something in his eyes. If I didn’t know better, I would think it was pity. “And I can’t do that to you. I can’t have your life ruined because of my actions.”

  I walk back over and sit on the edge of the bed to face him. “I already told you, there’s nothing to ruin.”

  “You’re here, though. No one comes to a place like this if they aren’t trying to hide something, Victoria—”

  The look on my face must interrupt him. “I grew up here, Your Highness. I realize it isn’t the palace grounds in Montovia, but I had a pretty good life here. I think the fort I built in the woods when I was ten is still out there.” I hitch a thumb over my shoulder. “And my aunt and uncle did the best they could. They gave me a better life than I would have had otherwise.”

  “Otherwise…?” He searches my eyes. “How did your aunt and uncle come to raise you?”