Page 30 of Guarding the Princess
Even grown men need their mothers to set them straight now and then. And I’m not too proud to take that advice, no matter how hard it is to swallow.
* * *
The next day finds me outside Charlotte’s room before the crack of dawn. I didn’t sleep much after talking to Mom due to spending a fair amount of time stewing on her comment. If I followed my heart, I’d be with Charlotte. No title, no royal family, and no foreign location could stop me. And it’s that thought that buoys me up and has me ready to get the day going.
I knock on her door and listen for her answer.
“Come in.”
I step inside quickly and shut the door. “Charlotte?”
The blinds are closed and I can barely see anything.
“Ryker?”
A lamp clicks on and I see her sitting in bed, her hair falling all around her shoulders. I approach tentatively, stopping when I see her red-rimmed eyes. Guilt slams into me hard. That’s my fault. And it’s my responsibility to make it right.
“Charlotte, can we talk?”
She clears her throat and tucks the comforter around her tighter. “Sure.”
I scoot the chair by her bed closer so I can look into her eyes. They’re guarded and I’ll do everything necessary to change that.
“First, I’m so sorry for what I said yesterday. I tend to look at the obstacles and assume it’ll be too hard, when really, it’s just my own insecurities talking. I’ve always been focused on my job because I felt I had something to prove. Growing up, it was all about my brother and I tried so hard to step out of that shadow. And this job of mine takes up so much time and concentration, let alone yours. But the thing is, I love you, Charlotte.” She gasps and I keep going, needing her to understand. “No job is worth losing someone you love, and even though we have quite a few obstacles in our way, I want to try. You’re worth it. We’re worth it. Will you give me another chance?”
Those eyes blink, her face frozen, not giving me any feedback whatsoever to my declaration. I’ve been in a knife fight before, where I had to get twenty stitches and go on medical leave, yet waiting for her to decide scares me more.
She sits up taller suddenly, the comforter dropping to her lap and showing off her oversized T-shirt. I do a double take. She’s wearing one of my T-shirts. The one sporting the LA Dangers logo that sets my brother off every time he sees me wear it. Which is every time I visit. Hope fills my chest and slows my racing heart.
“You love me?” she asks incredulously.
I nod. “I do.” And I mean it, with every beat of this dusty, mistrusting heart of mine.
A beautiful smile spreads across her face right before she launches out of the bed to plop down on my lap, her arms around my neck.
“I love you too, Ryker.”
She grabs my face and kisses me, stealing every argument I know we’ll have to discuss if this relationship is to work in the real world. Who am I to deny the future queen a kiss?
Charlotte pulls back to nuzzle my nose and the feeling that sweeps through my body is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I’ve always been protective. It’s what makes me good at my job. But this? I would die in a heartbeat, no discussion or fear, just ultimate sacrifice to make sure Charlotte keeps smiling just like this until she’s a very old woman.
“It won’t be easy,” I whisper and immediately want to kick myself for always looking at the dark side.
“Nothing worth having is,Stor Kille,” she whispers back. She pecks me on the mouth and then climbs off my lap. “Now get out of here so I can get ready. Let’s go tell Mother and Father our news.”
I chuckle even as my stomach flip-flops. “This should be fun.”
* * *
The day goes along nothing like either of us planned. The Queen is busy all day and so is the staff, getting ready for the “small” dinner affair planned for Charlotte’s homecoming. By the time I have to go upstairs and put on the tuxedo Charlotte arranged for me to wear, we still haven’t cornered her parents to tell them the news.
I’m used to wearing suits for events where my clients need to be seen, but never have I had to wear a tux. I feel a bit like I’m in a costume, but for Charlotte, I’ll gladly tug on my collar all night.
I knock on her door, which opens immediately by a staff member.
“She’s ready for you, sir,” she murmurs and walks away down the hall.
I look back to the door and find a vision standing in front of me. Charlotte, dressed in a teal gown that cinches her waist and highlights her delicate shoulders, smiles up at me, her eyes wide.
