Page 74 of Royal Charmer
I smile. “You are not my story, even if you are a gardener disguised as a scoundrel. You’re so much more. You ring all my bells—princely gestures, a wonderful friend, and a beast in the bedroom.”
He gives me his crooked smile, his eyes warm and tender. A surge of affection has me throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him.
A cheer goes up from the women.
Lucas doesn’t disappoint them or me, kissing me back passionately. When he finally lets me up for air, he touches his forehead to mine, his eyes intent. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I manage over the lump in my throat. “So very much.”
His eyes shine, and he presses his lips together like he’s trying to hold back tears.
The room roars with approval—cheers, whistles, and applause so loud I almost want to take a bow. Except it wasn’t a performance, it’s my real life, and I know I want Lucas in it.
Lucas takes command, prince that he is. “Take your seats, ladies. It’s time you hear this scene from a man with noble blood.” He holds out his hand to me with a smile and guides me back to the podium. “You’ll do the heroine’s voice of course.”
I can’t help my smile. He respects and enjoys my work as a romance author—unlike most men—and he respects and enjoys me. I couldn’t imagine a better man for me, and that’s saying a lot considering my heroes are swoonworthy. Lucas is my-love-worthy, which is, for once, better than my imagination.
I join him at the podium, and we begin, our voices bantering, flirty and playful with an undercurrent of real sexual tension. He smolders down at me, and I flush hot in response.
We finish, and he takes my hand in a warm clasp as the audience cheers.
I finally found my hero, the prince of Villroy, the keeper of my heart.
Epilogue
Four weeks later…
Lucas
Alice is here to stay, and I couldn’t be happier. Funny how just a small change of perspective—knowing she sees me more like the gardener at heart than the scoundrel reputation I’ve cultivated—has eased my impatience. Of course, her public declaration of love went a long way too. The internet exploded with our HEA (as Alice calls it), and her readers spread the word that I’m the scoundrel in her upcoming story. They love that it’s based on a true love story. Her publisher immediately rushed out preorder listings for her book and promised an early release date. This set a fire under Alice, and she rewrote her draft in a frenzy of late nights, giving the scoundrel the heart of the gardener so he could ultimately have his happy ending. Like me. No, I didn’t sneak read it. I only know this because she told me her plans right before she started her revisions. I’m respecting her privacy and her process. I haven’t proposed either. I’m waiting (patiently) for her signal to know that she’s ready.
I survey my palace suite, trying to see it from Alice’s perspective. She turned in her book to her editor this morning, and this afternoon I moved her in. It’s mostly antique mahogany furniture in the bedroom and a more contemporary feel in the living room with leather club chairs and glass tables. Not terribly feminine. I’ve never lived with a woman before, never wanted to. All she has with her is her laptop and a suitcase.
“You can add your personal touch,” I tell her. “Whatever you want. Maybe with something from home.” We’ll head back to Oregon soon so I can meet her parents and she can pack her things and clear out her apartment.
She gives me her sweet smile, and my heart thumps harder. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to those sweet smiles like sunbeams aimed straight at my heart. “I do have something from home with me. A gift for you.”
“Really?”
She nods and digs into her suitcase, emerging with a small emerald ring. “It’s too big for my finger since I lost weight, and I planned to have it resized, but I decided instead I’d really like you to have it.” She hands it to me.
I close my fingers around the gift, unsure what it means or what to do with it. It’s a woman’s ring and too small for my own fingers. “Thank you.”
She strokes my beard with an amused expression. “It’s my birthstone ring. I bought it when I published my first book as a gift to myself, and now I would like you to have it as a promise ring, a symbol of my commitment that we’ll be engaged in the future. I hope you like it better than the traditional hair ring.” She grins. “Remember they did that in Regency times? The man wore a ring woven of his beloved’s hair.”
“I remember,” I murmur, staring at the precious gift and then at her, barely able to speak over the lump of emotion lodged in my throat. “I will wear it on a gold chain every day as a constant reminder of your love.”
She kisses me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “I’m yours, Lucas. And you’re mine.”
Sweeter words were never said.
“You’re mine,” I say hoarsely, wrapping my arms around her and nuzzling into her neck.
“Sweet Lucas.”
I straighten and kiss her gently. “Sweet Alice.”
Her blue eyes light up, her lips curving in a secret sexy smile. “Ravish me.”
