Page 73 of Royal Charmer
“She should turn her back on him!” Lucas barks, standing again to face me. “And then she should leave him. That is what a scoundrel deserves.”
I grind my teeth, sensing his metaphor between the two of us. I don’t want to fight with him, even metaphorically, in such a public forum. “No. He did the wrong thing, took advantage, and now he is making amends.”
He steps closer, and my heart thumps harder. “Sohismistake can be fixed with a ribbon. But the other scoundrel…he gets nothing.”
A low murmur goes through our audience. Dammit. My readers don’t know a thing about the other scoundrel, and I don’t want Lucas to give away any spoilers.
“Stop talking about scoundrels,” I say firmly. “One of those stories isn’t out yet.” I smile at the audience. “No spoilers, right, ladies?”
“Are you and the prince together?” a woman shouts.
“No,” I say at the same time as Lucas says, “Yes.”
“Lucas!”
He strides forward, standing on the other side of the podium, his voice loud enough to carry. “I’m the scoundrel. You called me that before, so you must have known I would do the wrong thing, and I’m sorry.” His voice cracks. “I will never, ever give you cause to doubt my honor again.”
All eyes turn to me.
I blink and swallow over the lump in my throat. He’s standing here in front of a crowd of women, groveling in his princely way, heart in his eyes, and I believe him. “Okay, Lucas. I accept your apology.”
All eyes turn back to him, an excited whisper running through the room. Phones go up. This is going to hit social media. Crap.
“Thank you.” He strides around the podium to my side. “Are you going to change the ending?” he demands in a tone so hostile I forget about everything but his awful misplaced fury. I’m the one who was wronged!
“Not because of you! It’s my freaking story!”
He glares at me. “So you’ll just leave me crushed beneath your heel, is that it?”
I suck in air.Crushed beneath your heel.He’s mixing up our fight with the story. Diana says that in the story:You crushed me beneath your heel and left. Why shouldn’t I do the same?And then it hits me. Lucas thinks he’s William to me. I poured all of my anger and angst over Mason into this story. Mason is William, a version of him anyway. It is fiction.
I step away from the microphone so our conversation isn’t broadcast to the world. “I wanted the beautiful garden scene in the epilogue. I just wasn’t ready to write it. The gardener is kind and sensitive. He understands women’s feelings. He listens and offers his friendship, which is how all the best relationships begin.”
Lucas stares at me, his jaw slack.
My eyes sting, my throat tight. “And I hope that even if things were imperfect and complicated and messy, they would still be happy together.”
He grabs me by the shoulders, his voice low and urgent. “Are you saying that I’m the gardener? The man she loves and lives with happily for the rest of her life?”
I nod, a tear escaping. “We did meet in the courtyard of the palace gardens.”
He crushes me to him in a tight hug. Cheers go up around us. I hug him back, burying my face against his chest.
Someone says into the microphone, “Quiet, ladies, let’s give them a moment.”
The room goes silent. I belatedly feel self-conscious and try to pull away, but Lucas’s grip is still tight. He missed me. I missed him too.
He whispers in my ear, “I’m so sorry I read your story without your permission. I just wanted an indication of your feelings, and I was being horribly impatient.” He pulls back and frames my face with his hands. “Please forgive me, Alice. I’ve never felt this way before, never truly loved anyone before.”
“Oh, Lucas, I forgive you. You don’t have to keep grovel—err, apologizing.”
“Princes don’t grovel.” He wraps his arms around my waist, drawing me close. “I want to marry you, and I know you’re not ready. I’ll wait. I swear I can be more patient as long as you’re by my side.”
A feminine voice says, “I’d at least consider marrying Prince Lucas.”
I look around and realize many of the ladies in the audience have crept closer to get a better view of our no doubt interesting tableau.
Lucas nods emphatically. “It’s what your readers want. You always say you want them to be happy with your stories.”
