Chapter 26

Sigurd

I slow down at that. Take a photo? Never. It's not a good idea for a prince. Even for a man pretending for a little while to not be a prince.

"Can't do that, baby. Won't risk it."

She is so damn wet and hot and so greedy. Stasi insists on pushing back, taking in more of me. If she doesn't slow down…

I'm torn between wanting her to be safe and this insane feeling of heaven. She feels so good. Eventually, my better self wins out. "I just wish you could see this. I wish you could see how sweet and sexy you look from here."

"More. Give me more."

Slowly, I sink in as far as I can without hurting her. And here is where I stop. With my free hand still on her pussy, I work her into a frenzy by sinking my middle finger into her sweet hole and working her clit with my thumb.

"I can feel all of me inside you, baby. It's so wild."

"I am crazy for you, Sigurd."

"I love you, my girl."

I pull out and watch myself come all over her ass in hot, long spurts as I chant her name. "Stasi. Stasi."

"Sigurd Allen Edwin Otto Erick Haart."

She memorized my name. She fucking memorized my fucking name.

Her release takes hold, and she comes apart in my arms, her body trembling under me. I cover her shoulders and spine with kisses, whispering sweet words and memorizing every shiver, every tremble of her body.

Keeping my location a secret was a good idea.

Keeping Stasi was the best damn decision of my entire life. I honestly do not care if we never return to the real world.

As far as I'm concerned, we can stay hidden indefinitely. My main concern now is making sure Stasi and the baby are safe.

Stasi stares at me with her blue eyes I've become addicted to. She strokes my ego far too well, letting me know I am responsible for putting that dazed look in her eye, the flush in her cheeks, the satisfied sighs in her lungs.

However, something tenses up and changes in her as we approach the dock.

Stasi's brows come together, and she sits up, staring over my shoulder.

"What is it, Stasi? What's wrong?"

She looks at me and says with wide eyes, "Someone's here."

"Who?" I say with a growl, pivoting around in my seat.

The mother of my child says the words as soon as the figure becomes recognizable in my eyes.

Standing on the shore, arms crossed, is a tall, russet-haired man in a kilt.

"How did you find me?" I ask.

"Holy shit, it's that guy," I hear Stasi whisper.

I roll my eyes. Even my future wife knows the public's favorite bodyguard in a kilt.

Despite his aggressive stance, the man speaks quietly and kindly. "I'm very sorry for this intrusion, Your Highness. I've been instructed to bring you to the palace without delay."

My arms crossed defiantly, I stand between Uther and Stasi. Respectfully, he averts his gaze from her bikini-clad form. The blanket she wraps around herself is wet from the water splashed into the boat from our—rocking.

"Go inside and get dry, baby."

She hesitates. Stasi knows why Uther is here. She knows a confrontation is coming and doesn't want to leave my side. I love her for that. Her loyalty is heartwarming.

Once she has disappeared inside the cabin, I ask the queen's chief bodyguard, "What if we don't want to go with you?"

He sighs heavily as if my disappearance has put him through the wringer. "The woman is not necessary. She may stay. However, I have no choice but to deliver you to the palace today."

Uther means no harm, but his choice of words riles me.

"The woman has a name. You heard me speak to her. And Stasi is imminently necessary in every way possible."

"Very well. She may join you. That is not my concern," Uther says, his face stoic, giving nothing away.

"What happens if I simply wish to stay here?"

"Then I'm to use every means necessary."

"You would point a weapon at a woman pregnant with a royal baby?"

Uther blinks at me, taking several seconds to parse the bombshell I've just delivered. "No, I would never do that, Your Highness. If you refuse, I'm instructed to appeal to your reason, sense of duty, and family loyalty."

Now is not the time to pick apart all that. Uther doesn't need to know that my sense of family loyalty is stretched pretty thin at this point.

"And failing that?"

He simply answers, "Then, I fail."

I scoff. "It's not as if they'll fire the war hero," I say.

When he says nothing, I wince internally. "They threatened to fire you, didn't they?"

"Will you agree to come home?"

What I have here is a standoff between my desire to stay as far away from the palace and my guilt at potentially losing a good man his job.

I say nothing for a long time.

The silence is abruptly ended when the door to the cabin flies open, releasing a cloud the color of bubble gum pink.

It's not a cloud, of course. It's a person. My sister, Princess Flora, is a blur as she rushes toward me, bundled in a wrap of pink faux fur over a matching day dress, beret, and ankle boots.

I barely get out "Flora, what are you doing here?" before she attack-hugs me.

It's her way. Sigh.

"You're a daddy? I'm an auntie? How dare you not tell me? Oh, brother, I could murder you, but I won't dare leave my niece without a father."

Nothing can be done when Flora is riled like this, so I accept the hug and let her prattle on.

"We have a lot to catch up on, Flora," is all I say.

When she lets me go, she swats my shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I rub the spot where she hit me as I try to decide which of her questions to answer first. I choose to start at the last one and go backward. "Because I wanted to tell you in person when we were both ready. We don't know the gender of the baby yet. You'll be an auntie and a godmother if you're up for it. And yes, I'm going to be a father."

She jumps up and down. "Godmother? Really?"

"As if there were an option," I say. I haven't discussed that part with Stasi, but I'll apologize to my baby's mother later.

She hugs me again excitedly, and the pink fur tickles my nose.

"You have to let me host the baby shower. You absolutely must."

"Of course, Flora," I say, picking pink fuzz out of my beard.

My sister claps her hands and then texts someone. "I'll put Sable on the job. We need a whole original line of baby clothes, and I need her to design a theme for a baby shower, and to make it line up with the wedding decor and the theme for the coronation." Oddly, she winks at Uther. "And I'm sure Sable could use all the tall men the king can spare to help."

Uther stares at her blankly, and so do I. "Moving right along," I say. "What do you mean, the coronation?"

"Now that you've been found, brother, you're going to be king," she says, looking at me like I've lost a marble or two from the royal marble jar.

My stomach tumbles. "No."

"Sigurd."

I change the subject. "Etienne and Kala haven't killed each other yet?"

Flora's wide eyes roll. "Oh, brother. No, they are utterly stupid for each other. And they've hired a publicist and are releasing press releases faster than the palace can. It's all very dramatic and exciting. Except now, you're it, brother. Torben's out, Etienne's out. You're next. Buckle up and get ready to marry that girl."

I wince, and Flora spots it. Nothing about spending my life with my little family scares me. No, the wince is about the thing that's bigger than the both of us. It's about ruling. I don't want to change who I am. I don't want to live in the palace. I don't want to hobnob with presidents and the like. I just want to hunt, fish, and live inside my circle of trust.

"You do want to marry that girl, don't you?" Flora looks horrified.

"More than anything," I say.

"Then what's the problem?"

I do not tell my sister about not wanting my life to change so dramatically. To say it out loud feels selfish somehow. But I say what I've always believed to be true since she was born when I was nothing but a whippersnapper of eight years old.

"Flora. Look at me. I'm no monarch."

"Don't be silly. Who's going to rule if not you?"

I look at Uther, who appears to wish the ground would open up and swallow him rather than continue to listen to this conversation.

I stare at my sister as if she should know better. "You," I say. "You were born for this."

Her gut reaction is to shake her head. "No. I'm certifiable. Just ask Daddy."

"All of us are, in Father's eyes."

"Yes, but I'm a girl."

"So?"

"It's not me saying that; I'm paraphrasing our father. According to him, I'm obsessed with clothes, flowers, and unimportant things."

"Father doesn't have interests of any depth, trust me. Being loud doesn't make a man more important. Everyone loves you, Flora."

"They do, don't they?" she replies, tilting her head. "Still. That doesn't mean I'm meant to be the queen. I don't really want to be queen, anyway! I don't want things to change! I love my life. And, I'm very busy with … other things."

And I don't know if I want to know those other things.

Yet it seems my sister and I are more alike than I thought.