Page 116 of Ardently Yours

“I apologize.”

“Did you have any luck talking to the embassy this morning about Phyllis’s niece?”

Arden’s eyes harden. “He’s a member of the royal family with immunity from prosecution.”

“Someone can’t decide he owns a US citizen like she’s a dog andtakeher.”

“Our government is unwilling to become involved at this time for socioeconomic reasons,” Arden says.

“That’s disgusting,” I spit.

He nods. “Which is why I’m going to take care of it.”

“How?” I ask warily.

“I have ten former special forces employees eager to bring her home. I’ll get inside with the suggestion of a business offer he can’t resist. Then we’ll take her back. By stealth or brute force, whichever is most effective.”

I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and pull his face down to mine. “You be careful and come home to me in one piece.”

“Always, sweet Charlotte.” He kisses me, then looks steadily back into my eyes. “Always.”

Epilogue

Charlotte

I Choose You

Seventeen Years Later

June

“If my parents catch us sneaking out of their house like teenagers, I’m going to be mortified,” I whisper.

Arden, dressed in a pair of blue and green plaid pajama pants and a navy T-shirt, opens the door to his SUV and gives me a groping boost into the passenger seat. “Sneaking implies they could stop us if they caught us. We’re politely keeping the information that we’re going somewhere I can make my wife scream”—he snaps my seatbelt into place—“to ourselves.”

“What if the guards hear?”

“They’re on the perimeter making sure people stay out. We’ll be on the inside. They won’t be close to where we’re going.”

“We could probably go back in the house, hold hands, and watch TV until we fall asleep,” I tease. It’s what we’ve done for most of this week, and we’re both getting desperate.

Arden’s side eye is unimpressed. “I’ve had enough TV. Your mother has to be doing this to us on purpose.”

“I don’t think so. She just likes that the iron bed goes with her farmhouse aesthetic.”

“That bed squeaks so loudly that it’s like an alarm system announcing to the entire house that we’re making love. I’m tired of moving in millimeters and in slow motion. We’ve been reduced tosloth fucking. It’s inhumane.”

Snickering, I pat his knee in a “there there” gesture. I learned the so-called social graces with a tutor. Arden has etiquette bred in his bones. But . . . I may have corrupted him a little.

He puts the SUV in gear but doesn’t pull out of the driveway. Instead, he takes off through the mowed field to the rough-cut access road that leads deeper through my parents’ property and down to the pond. It’s a good idea. There’s no public traffic here at all.

When he parks on the hill and unsnaps my seatbelt, I lean over and reach for his waistband. He stills my hand with a gentle grip on my wrist. “We can do better than a front seat with a gear shifter between us.”

Arden gets out of the SUV, and I crane my head to follow his path. He opens my door. “We’re moving to the backseat.”

“You’ve thought this through.”

“Always.”

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