The Virgin's Royal Secret

  The Virgin's Royal Secret

  Kim Loraine

  Copyright © 2018 by Kim Loraine

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Also by Kim Loraine

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Sneak Peek

  Chapter 1

  Chapter One

  Mila

  Is it a pre-requisite that all royals be beautiful? There are more handsome men around me than I’ve ever seen. Princess Alina and Lord Haverford’s wedding ball is the event of the season. The two of them might have eloped, but that didn’t stop the queen mother from giving them the party to end all parties. That’s fine with me. As the event planner for all royal goings on, I need them to celebrate in order to keep this job.

  “Don’t you have any fun?” Queen Gemma whispers, nudging my arm with her elbow as she passes me a flute of champagne.

  I drop into a curtsey, bowing my head. “Your Majesty,” I murmur.

  “Stop it, Mila. None of that. You’re practically family.”

  “And I am also one of your subjects. I can’t be seen forgetting my place.”

  She looks me up and down and frowns. “We need to fix you up. You can’t enjoy a ball in a…suit.”

  “What?” I stare down at the tailored black jacket and pencil skirt. “It’s classy and understated.”

  Gemma nods. “Exactly wrong for a ball. You’ve done your job, the party is perfection, now you need to enjoy it.”

  “What if something happens?” Panic clutches my chest at the thought of relinquishing control.

  “You have a staff of ten handling everything, correct?”

  “Yes,” I say, drawing out the word as if that will change where this is going.

  “Then come along. I’ve got gowns I can’t fit into and they need a chance to go to the ball.” She runs her hand over her swollen belly.

  I glance over my shoulder at my second-in-command. Natasha is standing in the corner, surveying the room while checking the schedule we spent weeks creating. “I suppose Natasha can oversee the rest of the evening.”

  “Go on, let her know you’ll be enjoying the party. I’ll be here when you return.”

  Excitement builds in my chest at the idea of wearing one of Gemma’s unbelievable custom gowns. She’s always the most stylish woman at every event.

  I knock back my champagne in a few long gulps, the bubbles burning my throat and tickling my nose. Then I do as my queen bids and hand off the reins to Natasha.

  We’re escorted by Gemma’s royal guard, up the stairs and into the royal dressing room. It’s breathtaking to say the least. A crystal chandelier hangs in the center of the room, and row after row of shoes and gowns line the walls. In the center is a large settee.

  “Do you ever just come in here and stare at all the pretty things?” I ask.

  She strides across the plush carpet and runs her fingers over the rows of Louboutins in her wall of shoes. “Yes.”

  Both of us erupt into giggles until her eyes go wide and she lets out a little gasp, her hand resting on her belly. “Gemma? Are you all right?”

  She holds out a hand and I rush to her. Then she grabs my fingers and pulls my palm to the place she’d just been touching. A soft nudge-nudge presses out against my hand from inside her belly. “Oh, my goodness!” My smile must be a mile wide. I’ve never felt a baby move. “That’s amazing.”

  “The little prince kicked me right in the ribs.”

  “I want that. The whole package. A husband, a baby, the family I never had.” But even as I utter the words, fear takes hold and I wonder if I’m willing to risk my heart. I’ve seen the darker side of love.

  She offers me a sweet smile and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Well, you’re never going to get it if you don’t put yourself out there.”

  She’s right. I make sure I’m busy so I don’t have to worry about finding love…and losing it. “Okay, shall we find me a dress, then?”

  Gemma sizes me up momentarily and then turns to the gowns. “I think…sweetheart neckline, mermaid, and crimson should do you nicely.”

  When she pulls out a custom gown of just that description, my jaw drops. It’s got a beautifully beaded bodice, and the skirt is embellished with shimmering beads and crystals at the hem. “It’s too much,” I whisper.

  “Nonsense. Did Cinderella tell her fairy godmother she couldn’t go because her golden carriage was too ostentatious? No. And she ended up living happily ever after.”

  I laugh. “Fine. Although, I’d settle for happily for tonight.”

  I change into the gown and return to find Gemma holding a pair of matching red Manolos. “Here you are. And these earrings, I think.” She hands me diamond teardrop earrings and watches as I slip my feet into the shoes and put the jewelry on. A happy sigh leaves her, and she claps her hands in excitement. “You’re a vision.”

  I turn around and stare at myself in the floor to ceiling mirror at the back of the room. She’s right. I look like a princess, fit for a ball. And tonight, I’m going to find my prince.

  Alexander

  “I know it’s our cousin’s wedding, but I am so tired of seeing the same types of pretty girls all the time. All they want is marriage and a title.” I stare down at my drink, swirling the amber liquid and studiously avoiding the gazes of the girls I’m talking about. After four years abroad, serving in the Royal Army of our home country of Darstel, I should be glad to be back in the world where I grew up, but it all seems so…unimportant after the things I’ve seen. I don’t want a woman whose sole goal in life is to marry above her title, to be a princess.

  “It could be worse, they could be ugly.” My twin brother, George clinks our glasses together. “Come on, cheer up. We’ve both been gone a long time. Let’s live a little.” He downs his drink. “At least we aren’t being pushed into arranged marriages like our cousins.”

  “But by at the way Alina looks at Kingston, they’re in love. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes.”

  George shrugs. “A happy accident.”

  The musicians stop playing and the crowd stills mid-dance as Queen Gemma enters the ballroom. King Ryder smiles and rises, striding to her side. He presses a soft kiss to her temple and murmurs something that makes her blush before they walk to the dance floor. The audience bows before them and Ryder waves his hand to the orchestra. My cousin is a modest king. I knew he would be. I can only hope that my older brother, William, will be the same now that the crown of Darstel has been passed on to him.

  “They look quite in love as well,” George says under his breath. “Another happy accident?”

  Damn him, but he’s right. He makes a choked noise and I turn my focus from the king and queen to follow his gaze. I know what made him react that way as soon as I see her. Standing in the doorway in a gown fit for a siren, is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. Her dress is red, hugging her generous curves, and her long dark waves make my fingers itch to run through the tresses on my way over her body.

  “Mine,” I growl before he can lay claim to her.

  “Bugger,” he mutters.

  “I’m oldest.”

  He grumbles. “By four minutes.”

  “If you want to press
this, we can both approach her and see who she chooses.”

  “If we do that, I’ll win by a long shot.”

  “Fuck off,” I say, tossing back my drink in one swallow. I right my tie and run my palms over my tuxedo jacket. “This one is mine.”

  I stalk across the floor, focus trained solely on her. I’ll have her tonight.

  “Alexander!” My aunt Petunia steps in front of me, her cloyingly sweet rosewater perfume capturing my senses and making my eyes water.

  “Auntie. How nice to see you.” She pulls me into a hug. Backing away, I cast a glance over her shoulder in search of the beauty I’ve set my sights on. She’s still there, watching, waiting. For what, I wonder. “I’d love to stay and chat, but—”

  “Give this old lady a whirl around the dance floor, would you, darling? I haven’t been the belle of the ball in far too long. Maybe with a handsome lad on my arm, I’ll remember what that feels like.”

  I fight a sigh and offer her a slight bow. “As you wish, my lady.” I hold out a hand and she places her gloved palm in mine. We start with the waltz, chatting about mundane things, her medical appointments, luncheons with the queen mother, and before long, the dance is over.

  “She’s dancing with Lord Wesmore,” Aunt Petunia says.

  My heart lurches. “She, who?”

  “That lovely girl you’ve been watching since I stole you away.”

  My cheeks heat and I put on a mask of indifference. “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t try to outwit me, young man. I saw you going after her like a bee after a flower.”

  “Then why did you interfere?”

  She winks. “A little restraint will do you good, boy. That which is worth having is worth waiting for.”

  My auntie leaves me standing on the edge of the dance floor, with more anticipation swirling in my chest than I thought possible. Gaze sweeping over the dancing couples, I search for my mystery beauty. When I see her on the other side of the room, in the arms of Lord Wesmore, with George waiting in the wings, I grit my teeth. The bloody bastard.

  The woman in Wesmore’s arms laughs and swats playfully at the old man’s shoulder. My brother moves toward them, obviously ready to cut in and take her for a turn on the dance floor. My jaw is clenched so tight my teeth hurt. I don’t care if I sound like a neanderthal. She’s mine. I staked my claim, and my brother is about to find out exactly what that means.

  Chapter Two

  Mila

  “It’s so nice to see you enjoying the party, my dear,” Lord Wesmore says, spinning us in slow circles on the floor. “Though, I have to admit, if Her Majesty hadn’t told me who you were, I doubt I’d have recognized you.”

  I grin. “That’s the point, my Lord.”

  “I...” He begins, but trails off as his focus lands on something behind me. “Um, excuse me for a moment, won’t you?”

  Then I’m swept up in the arms of a tall, handsome man with eyes dark as coal and chiseled features that could put our king’s dashing good looks to shame. “Excuse me,” I say, startled at his attention.

  “Whatever for?” He looks at me with such a wicked glint in his eyes my knees tremble.

  “You just stole me from my dance partner without asking permission.”

  He leans in and murmurs. “Lady Wesmore was staring daggers at you. If you ask me, I just saved your life.” Then he juts his chin in the direction of an older woman who is sitting at a table, half asleep.

  “That’s not Lady Wesmore. In fact, it would be quite the miracle were Lady Wesmore to make an appearance, seeing as she’s been dead these last three years.”

  A chuckle rumbles in his chest and I fight a shiver of longing. He’s gorgeous, arrogant, and dangerous. Apparently, that checks every item off my list of absolute turn-ons. “All right, you’ve found me out. I’m crashing this party. I’m not even nobility. Some might call me a rebel.”

  Alarm shoots through me at the mention of an uninvited guest getting past security. After the events of the last year, I made sure to beef up security. No kidnapped princesses on my watch ever again. “You—”

  He tightens his hold around my waist as another waltz begins. “Dance with me, princess. Enjoy yourself.”

  I don’t correct him and tell him I’m not a princess. If he’s not nobility, and I’m not nobility, what’s the harm in a little pretend? We move across the dance floor, right in front of the head of security and I know if this man wasn’t supposed to be here, there’s no way he’d get past.

  We dance together, our bodies growing closer and closer, until we’re both oblivious to the world around us. All I see is his fathomless dark eyes. I need a moment—a break from the intensity in his gaze.

  “I…I need a drink,” I say, pulling myself from his arms.

  He smirks and follows, catching up to me easily with his long legs making up the distance between us in half as many steps as I need. His warm palm finds the small of my back and he guides me to the bar. “Champagne and a water chaser,” he orders, holding up two fingers to indicate we’re both drinking.

  When the bartender returns with our glasses, my rebel hands me the water first. I take a long drink, letting the cool liquid soothe my parched throat.

  “So, James, why would you choose to crash a royal party?”

  His eyebrows rise and he chuckles. “James?”

  I shrug. “You said you’re a rebel. You look a bit like a taller version of James Dean.”

  “Ah, I see. Well, in that case, Natalie, I like parties. Especially when I get to spend the evening with a gorgeous creature such as yourself.”

  Natalie? Then it hits me. Natalie Wood played James Dean’s lover in Rebel Without a Cause. I nearly swoon on the spot. “You’re devilishly charming. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  He winks. God help me.

  I take my champagne and sip. I need more than water to help me have the courage for what I’m going to say next. I down the rest of the glass, not caring that my eyes are watering from the burn.

  “Whoa, there, Nat.” He puts his hand on my arm and a tingle of need rushes over my entire body.

  “Spend the night with me,” I blurt.

  His eyes widen. “What?”

  “I mean it. One night. No strings attached.” I fight the buzz of anticipation settling in my belly. Am I really doing this? Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I say, “Tonight I can be anyone, and I choose to be yours.”

  The look on his face is pure intrigue. “All mine?”

  I nod, nerves fluttering in my belly. “Absolutely.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?”

  I grin, taking his hand and heading toward the door. “Your place, or mine?”

  “Which one’s closer?”

  A frown has me furrowing my brow. “I live a good half hour away.”

  He fishes a key from the pocket of his trousers and says, “I’ve got a room at a hotel nearby.”

  “Yours it is.”

  His fingers thread with mine again and I fight the nervous trembling threatening to take control of my limbs. “I…I don’t have a car here.”

  Another devilish wink. “It’s all right. I have a driver.”

  A driver? So he was invited. Is he nobility? I’ve made it my business to know every member of court in the three years I’ve been handling events, and he doesn’t look familiar.

  “Who are you?” I ask.

  “I thought my name was James.”

  He pulls me through the Great Hall, portraits of past kings and queens stare after us. Then, we burst through the front doors and there, motor running, is a sleek black town car. The driver opens his door, but James says, “I’ve got it,” and he promptly gets back inside.

  James opens the rear door for me, and I slide in, the soft leather seats cool on my overheated skin. He joins me and rattles off the name of his hotel. The driver nods and mutter, “Very good, sir.”

  James’ fingers play along my forearm, light, tende
r touches that only serve to make me more nervous about what I’m doing. He trails his touch up and over my shoulder, along my exposed collarbone, and up even farther, until he’s holding my chin between two fingers.

  “I don’t think I can go any longer without tasting your lips.” His words are ragged and desperate.

  I turn to him, leaning closer and tilting my face up, offering my mouth. When our lips brush, I swear to God, my world lights up like it never has before. His hands thread in my hair and he pulls me closer, deepening the kiss. I don’t care that we’re feet away from the driver, that there’s no partition separating us. I just want this kiss to go on forever.

  But the car pulls to a stop, the driver gets out, and all too soon, the passenger door is opening.

  James gets out first, offering me a hand. His lips are stained with my red lipstick, and a fierce sense of pride washes over me.

  “Thank you, Baxter,” James says.

  Baxter nods. “Sir.”

  James tugs me with him, ignoring the staff as we enter and make a bee-line for the lift. He swipes his key card over a black box inside the lift and the doors close. Then he’s on me again, lips and tongue, rough hands, delicious friction. He breathes in my ear, “This was the best decision I could’ve made tonight.”

  When the lift stops and we get out, I follow him to the door of his room. He looks back and winks again. As he tugs me inside, I think he is absolutely right.

  * * *

  Alexander

  I can’t wait until the door shuts and I can have my hands all over my little princess. If her lips are any indication, her body will be just as perfect. The click of the door closing has me pushing her up against the wood, her gown getting in the way of what I want most. Her thighs wrapped around my waist, her silky skin on mine, and her moans against my mouth.