Page 13 of His Perfect Princess

I mean, it was definitely not what I’d expected when I’d awoken that morning. But no matter how hard it was for me to wrap my head around that fact, I was perfectly at ease with the idea of being engaged to Rickard.

Rickard was just a man. A man who kissed me gently and slowly, even after revealing such an amazing new world.

A man who took command of my soul that day in his chambers, and thus my body too. Even though he barely touched me, I had come alive touching myself in ways I never could’ve imagined.

And in the moments between my pleasure—feeling the tremors still shaking my body—and his pleasure which marked me as his own…I knew I’d never love another man the way I loved him. He’d opened my eyes to my true self, and I would do anything for him.

So marrying Rickard—and by default, marrying the Crown Prince of Faencairn—sounded wonderful to me.

That day he’d taken me into his huge marble bathroom—oh Heavens, I can’t wait to move in and use that huge bathtub!—and lifted up my skirts. Using a warm, damp cloth, he’d wiped me clean, and wouldn’t allow me to help at all. No, my prince stood there, cleaning me so gently, so sweetly, I almost melted into his arms.

He could be so hard and demanding, but that moment—and his kiss—told me he would treat me like a treasure.

And after, we finally dined. It seemed so mundane to sit in his chambers at that little table in front of that gorgeous view and eat luncheon, but the food was amazing, particularly the pastries.

When I bit into one and couldn’t contain my hum of pleasure, he lifted my hand—with the remainder of the pastry still in it—and nibbled it out of my fingers. That had sent a bolt of desire down to my lady parts—I mean, my cunny—which made me want to crawl under the table and unbutton his trousers again.

But we didn’t do anything else like that. Instead he talked to me, as an equal. He asked about my life before Faencairn, and how I managed my father’s household and ambassadorial events. He described the duties of the Crown Princess, and we decided my upbringing as a diplomat’s daughter made me a perfect choice. He complimented my work since arriving in Faencairn, and even knew about some of his charity projects I’d supported.

In return, he spoke about his family and their life in the castle. Not the kind of information I knew from the newspapers—or even Papa’s official channels—but insider information. The kind of things only a big brother would know.

He told me about his father—the King’s—ultimatum, and how Queen Alyse was already planning the weddings of her sons. My Rickard, of course, as the most perfect prince, would be marrying first, but the others…

Wulf, the second son. He was stockier than his brothers, and known as The Beast of Faencairn in the papers, as well as—apparently—in the seedier parts of town, where he would brawl with anyone who could meet him. I gasped when Rickard told me that fact, but a warm glow filled me, knowing he already trusted me with his family’s secrets.

His brother Wulf was also the head of the Guard at the castle, which seemed to suit him well. Rickard thought he might be the only one to defy their father and not choose a wife. “If he does, it’ll be someone entirely unsuitable to be a princess, I’m sure. Wulf strives to be imperfect, likely because he hates perfection in others. Myself included.”

Findlay, the youngest prince, was even darker than Wulf, and colder. He rarely spoke to the papers, but when he did, his speech was cultured, clipped. He was the academic in the family, and had long ago been put in charge of the archives in the castle.

I knew researchers came from all over to study in Findlay’s domain, but Rickard didn’t have much hope for him. “Unless one of those researchers happens to be a beautiful woman who will tie him down and sit on his face, I don’t think he’ll notice Father’s command.”

It was fascinating, to hear him talk about the people I only knew from afar or from the papers. But to Rickard, they were family…and soon they’d be mine too.

I think that was the hardest to fathom; that I would soon be related to royalty. Never mind being royalty—I was more nervous about being presented to them!

But that afternoon, after a leisurely lunch and a few more incredibly hot kisses, Rickard took me to his mother’s study and introduced me to the Queen of Faencairn.

I was pleased to discover I hadn’t forgotten all the teachings my governess and etiquette teachers had drilled into me, and she soon put me at ease.

The following day, I returned to the palace to meet Rickard’s brothers, and found them just as charming and warm as they’d seemed at royal events. My prince was, of course, the most handsome, and I couldn’t keep my eyes from straying to him throughout the afternoon. Wulf—his next-youngest brother—noticed and teased me mercilessly.

I couldn’t be happier.

I was going to marry a prince. It was just what every little girl dreamed of.

But more than marrying a prince, I was marrying Rickard. And Rickard had the most wonderful, welcoming family. Of course, there were some questions about British culture, but no one seemed to mind the eldest prince and heir was marrying someone from outside Faencairn.

I visited the castle every day for a month, for fittings and discussions about wedding decorations and my tutoring sessions on the Faencairn nobility. It was a whirlwind, but it was like a dream come true.

But my favorite parts of the day were right at the end, when Rickard would make the time to visit with me and find out what I’d done that day. He genuinely cared about me and how well I was fitting in. It made my heart melt, to know he wanted the best for me…and that he was so sweet about it.

Of course, he wasn’t always sweet, and that made my heart melt even more. My heart, and…other places. My cunny, as he liked me to say.

We didn’t do anything that would threaten my virginity, because it was important to him that the future Crown Princess be pure for our wedding night, and I respected his wishes…no matter how hot he made me, and how much I wanted to feel that incredible cock inside me.

He sent off for another copy of A Harlot’s Guide and had solemnly presented it to me, telling me to study the pages, positions, and advice inside. Apparently he looked forward to practicing them all with me after our marriage.

I took him at his word, and spent each night breathlessly reading under my covers, learning about my own body and what I liked.

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