Page 12 of Rowdy Prince
Maybe I should just go to Reinqueno and turn up at the palace, claiming to have the prince’s, I mean, the king’s unborn child in my belly? It’d cause a massive scandal, but it also might force the monarchy todosomething.
Ugh. I feel all wrong inside. I’m not good at keeping secrets, and this one is getting bigger every day. What if I can’t get to him in time? What if I have to go through having this baby without him? I’d thought waiting would be beneficial, but as I’m nearing the end of my fifth month, I’m starting to this that I did this all wrong and that Mitch was right (actually, Mitch was livid when he found out and demanded that we tell Luis and force him to marry me for the sake of my honor. Laura and I convinced him that it isn’t 1953, so eventually he calmed down) but I can’t let this go any longer.
Tapping on my computer, I pull up a new email window and begin to compose my message. I get as far as ‘My dearest Luis’ before my internal line rings.
“Tara MacCallum,” I say into the handset.
“There’s a delivery for you, Ms. MacCallum. Would you like me to send it in?”
“Uh, of course. Yes, please,” I say, putting down the phone and looking to the door. I’ve never had a delivery to the office before, so my eager heart is desperate to know if this is the one thing I’ve been truly waiting for.
I’m expecting a bike messenger, but when a man wearing a suit with a special kind of regalia on it fills my doorway, my eyes flood with tears. “Is this from who I think it’s from?”
“Yes, my lady,” he says with a bow as he hands me a fancy-looking envelope then steps back.
My heart beats double-time as I slip my finger beneath the seal, and I hear murmurs from around the office as they wonder out loud what’s going on. Someone thinks it’s a singing telegram, and another thinks I’m under arrest. Both of them couldn’t be more wrong.
“To my future Queen,
You are cordially invited to the thirtieth birthday celebration for his royal highness, King Luis of Reinqueno. Should you be unprepared to travel at such short notice, I’d like to offer my private jet (since international travel is expensive and all—now, don’t be proud) for your traveling comfort.
Please rise from wherever you’re seated and follow the member of my royal guard. His name is Frank and he’ll escort you until you are returned safely to my arms (and my bed).
There’s only you, querida. I found a way.
Yours always,
Luis x”
I’m crying by the time I finish reading his letter, but I’m also smiling because he’s funny and charming, and even more, he’s mine.
“Take me to him,” I say to Frank, who nods and gestures for me to walk ahead of him. The murmurs through the office increase as I make my way to the door, the guess that I’m being arrested gaining strength by the second. I stop before we make it to the door.
“I’m going to marry my king!” I call out, not even caring that I sound like a crazy woman, because it’s the truth. I’m running away to be with my king, and I’m never coming back.
Luis
Icheck my watch for the thousandth time, knowing the plane is getting near. It’s been too long without and I wonder how I survived the years before I claimed her as my own. For years, they newspapers reported that I partied hard and caused trouble when I was out on the town—a rowdy lad, they called me. But I was never interested in the women they linked me with because the only person I craved was out of my reach. I would have remained a celibate king who never produced an heir if I’d been unable to find a way to have Tara become my queen. But now that moment is here, and it won’t be long until the wife of my heart is also married to me legally, sitting beside me as I rule what will beourkingdom.
“Here they come, sire.” Charles points to the sky, and I see the jet coming in the make it’s landing. There’s precious cargo on board, and I get a burst of excited nerves knowing I’m about to see her, touch her, take her. Again, and again, and again.
I may have to declare today ‘Stay in bed and fuck’ day. Actually, let’s make it a week.
The skid of rubber hitting asphalt has my heart leaping in my chest, and before I know it, the jet is coming to a stop and the door is opening. I see Frank first, then I see her. My Tara.
“Querida.”
In a very un-kingly-like move, I break into a run and meet her at the bottom of the stairs, capturing her in my arms before she’s had the chance to step off the stairs, spinning her around.
“Oh Luis, Luis, Luis,” she cries, wrapping her arms around me and hugging me just as tight. “I’ve missed you.”
“No more than I’ve missed you, querida,” I say as I press my lips to hers and kiss her like my life depends on it.
Photos are being taken because when a king is out in public, the public takes notice, so we have ourselves quite the audience. But I don’t care because right now, my life is perfect. I have my kingdom and I have my love.
Releasing Tara, I set her gently on ground then lower to my knee. If the papers are going to print a photo of us, I’d like it to be this.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her hands touching her face because she knows exactly what I’m doing when I reach into my pocket and produce a velvet box.
