Page 102 of Bargain with the Bachelor
“As a heart attack. I’m afraid one little kiss isn’t going to do it for me tonight. Andthatone had an audience. I’m ready for a few minutes alone with my beautiful wife.”
Laughing nervously, I looked around. “But all our guests… what if someone sees us going upstairs? What will we tell them?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Hunter reassured me. “I’ll come up with a little white lie to cover it. I’m pretty good at that, you know.”
Epilogue
Alexander Wessex
I looked out the tall, domed window at the expansive grounds of the royal palace in Aubernesse.
Elaborately uniformed soldiers changed places in an age-old ritual that was very nearly a dance as delighted tourists watched and snapped photos on their phones.
Beyond the tall, iron gates, morning traffic snaked through the tree-lined streets of the European mountainside city-state, people on their way to work or school or one of the many pursuits open to the principality’s citizens.
To those who were free to live their own lives.
Behind me, my mother set down her china teacup in its saucer. My father turned the page of the crisply ironed newspaper he still insisted on reading every morning, though I’d tried repeatedly to convince him to use the tablet I’d bought for the monarch’s last birthday.
“But you used to love Eastport Bay when you were younger. Why won’t you ever go with us anymore?” Mum asked me.
Sighing, I turned to face my parents. “Because I’m not a child anymore. I have my own life. I don’t have time to traipse off to America every summer.”
“You’re notthatbusy,” my father said, his face still obscured behind the papers. “You make time to fly in that plane of yours. You spend more time in the air than you do on affairs of the state. You need to start learning the ropes so you’re ready when I step down.”
“You’ll step down when pigs fly, and we both know it.”
That got a chuckle from my dad, and I stepped over to lay a hand on my mother’s shoulder, seeking to soothe her feelings as well.
“I know you love Eastport Bay, and we did have some good times there, but what would I do if I went along? Hang out at Kingsley Beach every day? Eat fish and chips at Flo’s Clam Shack? I don’t play polo anymore since I hurt my knee in that rugby game. I’ve outgrown it. There’s nothing there for me anymore.”
I didn’t mention the real reason I’d avoided returning to Eastport Bay, Rhode Island for the past five years—my heart couldn’t take it.
Too many memories.
“The America’s Cup sailing race will be there,” Father pointed out. “The race has only taken place in Eastport Bay twice in the past thirty-seven years. Wouldn’t it be smashing to watch the racers from our lawn? We could make an occasion of it.”
“A party,” Mum exclaimed, clasping her hands in front of her. “Yes. Audrey’s parents have been pressing us to make an announcement. And I’ve told her mother all about Eastport Bay—she’s dying to see it, and fall is the ideal time. This will be perfect—we’ll invite them to stay at the mansion, have a viewing party for the sailing race…”
Her expression became more and more animated as she went on. “And a ball!”
She clapped in glee. “Oh lovely. It’s been ages since we had a ball at our estate there. We’ll present you and Audrey at the ball, announce your betrothal then. Since your sister is right near there at university in Boston, she’ll be able to attend. Perhaps your globe-trotting brother might even deign to make an appearance if he knows it’s a special occasion.”
I heaved a sigh, sensing a resounding defeat coming my way. I should have left the room the second they started discussing their annual trek to Eastport Bay.
But… the announcement had to be made eventually. Maybe this was the right time.
We could get it over with, and really, what did it matter when and where we did it? The whole thing was for the parents anyway.
“What day does the race start?” I asked my father, trying to drum up some enthusiasm for at least that part of the plans.
America’s Cup racingwasthe premier event in yachting, after all, the oldest trophy in international sport.
His Royal Highness, Henry Wessex, Prince of Aubernesse, held out the newspaper, and I took it, skimming the article about the America’s Cup then absentmindedly thumbing through the other pages.
On the sixth page, which typically featured celebrities and society happenings, a headline caught my eye.
Billionaire Tech Mogul Weds in Eastport Bay
