The Prince's Scandalous Wedding Vow

“That’s dreadful.”

He hesitated. “It can be.”

“So who knows about your father?”

“Just a handful of us. Those who must know.”

“Rather like my pregnancy.”

“But that will be good news, just as our wedding will be good news. I know my mother is hoping our happy news will help soften the public’s grief when they learn of my father’s cancer.”

Josephine swallowed hard, her mouth going dry. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

“I’ve grown up in a fishbowl. You’re being thrown into it. But I have faith in you. You’re a strong swimmer.”

His gaze held hers, and there was something in his eyes, as well as the gruffness in his tone, that made her feel tender. She pressed her hand to her chest, pushing against her heart. “Thank goodness I like the water.”

He rose and left his chair, and once standing next to her, he reached into his coat and withdrew a small velvet box. As he lifted the lid, he knelt at her side. “Josephine, would you do me the honor of marrying me and becoming my wife and future queen?”

She looked from the huge ring in the box—a massive square-cut emerald surrounded by layers of diamonds—up into his face. He was so very handsome and yet so very aloof. In Khronos he’d been relaxed and physical, and she suspected that in bed he’d be just as sensual here, but she worried that there was no room for emotion. She wondered if he’d ever loved a woman. She wondered if he’d ever love her.

His mouth tugged into a reluctant smile. “I’d hope you would say yes.”

She flushed. “Yes, it is a yes. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just give me your hand.”

Mortified, she held her hand out to him and he slid the ornate ring on her fourth finger. It was loose and slid sideways. She shifted it around, struck by the weight of it.

“We’ll get it sized tomorrow,” he said, rising.

Josephine couldn’t look away from the immense emerald. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s an Alberici family heirloom, from the early nineteenth century.”

She balled her hand to keep the ring from slipping sideways again. “Your world is overwhelming.”

“Trust me, I understand.”

“I never wanted to be a princess...not ever, not even as a young girl playing make-believe. I loved fables, not fairy tales. I identified with animals, not villagers.”

“I never wanted to be a prince,” he said, taking his seat at the table again. “As a boy I rebelled against my birth. I didn’t want to be nobility. I didn’t want to be privileged. My father thrashed me for being ungrateful and undeserving of my position, and I learned never to voice my concerns or objections again.”

“It must have been quite a thrashing to have permanently silenced you.”

“The thrashing wasn’t that bad, but being sent away from home was. Although I imagine it would have happened sooner or later.”

“Do you remember it still?”

“The conversation with my father, or the punishment?”

“Both, I suppose.”

Alexander leaned back in his chair. “I remember the conversation because I felt very pleased with myself. Rather righteous, if you will. You see, from a young age I’d been uncomfortable with royal protocol, almost cringing when government officials and the public bowed to me, thinking I’d done nothing to earn their loyalty and deference. I didn’t think it fair that I was simply born with advantages. It wasn’t egalitarian.”

“Oh, dear, I can see that being problematic if your father was as old-fashioned as you say.”

“Mmm. How dare I be a populist?”

“And you, his only child.”

“An embarrassment to the Alberici name.” Alexander smiled wryly. “I’m sure I didn’t help things by pointing out to my father that the monarchy was a huge expense for the people of Aargau, costing over two hundred million euros a year to support the monarchy here, and yes, a portion comes from the Alberici estate, but didn’t an equal portion come from the Aargau government, which was really from the taxes the people pay?”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“And then what happened?”

“Thrashed, sent to my room without food or water for the night, and then the very next day I was packed up and shipped off to a military academy where the staff was told to turn me into a proper man.”

“I would think that was an invitation for abuse.”

“For someone raised outside society, you understand it very well.”

“I read a lot.”

He reached across the table to fill her glass with more sparkling water. “I remained at the academy until I was seventeen, then served three years in the Royal Navy and was finally allowed to attend university at twenty. I escaped Europe for four years in New Haven, Connecticut, where I studied philosophy, economics, and environmental science before returning to Europe to earn a graduate degree from Cambridge in land economy, a field that combined environment, law, and economics.”

“That’s why your English is so good.”

“I confess, I liked living overseas and loved my time in America. You have a freedom we don’t have here. It’s probably why I took a job in Paris after my graduate degree. I wasn’t ready to come back to Aargau and be Prince Alexander. I liked being one of the people.”

“You don’t think you can be one of the people as your country’s king?”

“Not the way I was raised.”

“Then when it’s your turn, do it differently so that our son or daughter can embrace a future in which he or she has the opportunity to be happy.”

“I would encourage a career, then.”

“Your father didn’t have one?”

“From the age of eighteen he has been king.”

“He has done his duty, then.”

“Yes.”

“And when it is your turn, you will do your duty, too.”

* * *

The meeting with his father was short and rather brusque, but Alexander admired Josephine’s calm and gracious manner even under fire. His father spoke barely a dozen words to her, but at least those words included curt approval granting them permission to marry.

Queen Serena didn’t speak until the end, but once her husband had given his blessing for the marriage, she rose and gave both Alexander and Josephine a kiss on the cheek. “Congratulations,” she murmured. “And welcome to the family,” she added to Josephine.

The meeting lasted barely five minutes and they were done, exiting the room with Josephine’s hand tucked into the crook of his arm. Her hand was trembling. He’d had no idea she was nervous until then.

He glanced down at her bent head as the doors to his father’s room closed behind them. Her thick, light brown hair with the streaks of blond had been pulled back in a stylish twist. She was wearing a simple navy dress paired with navy heels. Small pearl drop earrings dangled from her earlobes. “You look very elegant,” he said quietly, trying to distract her from the hollow ring of their footsteps on the marble floor. “Have I seen this dress before?”

She reached up and touched the matching strand of pearls at her neck. “No.” Worry darkened her green eyes. “Your mother sent the dress, shoes, and jewelry to me this morning. She said I was probably wishing I had something chic for my presen

tation and hoped the dress and shoes would help me feel suitably prepared.”

He was surprised, but then again not. His mother excelled at soothing and smoothing tension. And yet she was no pushover. His mother was probably the strongest woman he knew. “I wish I had thought of that. You do need a new wardrobe. And an assistant. I will have a team meet with you after lunch.”

“I don’t need an assistant or a new wardrobe, and I have this dress now in case I need to see your father again.”

He stopped on the bottom marble stair. “I don’t think you realize what is about to happen. Our engagement is being announced this afternoon. We will soon become the focus of the press and a great deal of speculation, particularly when we announce the wedding is just a week from Saturday.”

“Nine days from now?”

“It’s not a lot of time, no, which is why we’ll have a little preparty next week, either Tuesday or Wednesday, to celebrate our good news—”

“Is that really necessary?”

“We must do something or people will find it odd that I’ve kept you locked away—”

He broke off as she arched a brow. He laughed softly. “You will never let me forget I locked you up, will you?”

“Absolutely not. You’re terrifying. I should call you Bluebeard.”

He smiled and kissed her, and then again, his lips lingering against her mouth. She shivered against him, her hands pressed to his chest. “You’re too good at this,” she murmured. “You make me almost want to be locked up with you.”

“I knew it,” he said. “Now, where are my handcuffs?”

“Easy does it, Your Highness. We’re not even married yet.”

“True, and speaking of marriage, I think it’d be wise to make some decisions so my mother won’t worry.”

“Can’t we just make some decisions now and tell her?”

“Do you know what you want?”

“Small wedding, only our immediate family—yours, and my father. I’d like it to be a quick service, if possible, so that it’s not too much for King Bruno. Afterward cake and a toast with our parents and then, later, a private romantic dinner for just you and me.”