Holly glanced at the house, then sighed, nodding. "Why are you here, Your Highness?" she asked. Her tone was gentle, but also a bit protective. He appreciated that. He was glad that Clara had such a good friend here in Fervia, and he made a mental note to ensure that Holly and her husband were invited to the castle sometime soon. If he could fix everything. His stomach knotted.

  "I'm here to apologize," he said. "I need to speak with her."

  "She's there. I'll, ah, let you do that in privacy," Holly said. She and her husband quickly retreated, their car driving away as Erik stood on the stoop, his palms starting to sweat. He'd never been this nervous before in his life. Then again, he'd never screwed up quite this badly—and he'd never had to repair something that meant quite so much to him. He rang the bell, then knocked on the door.

  "Who is it?"

  He recognized Clara's voice, tentative and a bit harsh. He felt a flood of relief that he'd found her, even as his nerves at what he had to do redoubled. "It's me. Erik."

  She was quiet for a long second. He waited for her to open the door. To his surprise, she kept it closed. "What do you want?" she asked through the thick wood, her voice muffled.

  "I wanted to talk to you," he said.

  "About what?"

  "This would be easier if you opened the door," he pointed out.

  "Easier for you," he thought he heard her mutter. "I need a minute, Erik. I know you told me to leave Fervia, and..."

  "No!" he quickly interrupted. "No! I don't want you to leave Fervia!"

  Another long pause. "But you said..."

  "I know what I said." He groaned. "And I was entirely wrong, and entirely stupid, and I shouldn't have said a single syllable!"

  "You told me that we were through," she reminded him, and each word was like a cut across his chest. "You said that we were just convenient. You said that you were going to sleep with other women! How could you say those kinds of things, and only a few hours later realize that you didn't mean them? What changed?"

  "I had a long talk with my father." God, he hated having this conversation in public, even if there wasn't anyone else around that he could see. Even his driver and bodyguard had remained in the car. "I only sent you away because I thought it would protect you."

  "Are you fricking kidding me?" she yelped. "Protect me? How?"

  He rubbed at his temples as his pulse pounded. "It was stupid, as I said," he admitted. "I... I'd just been talking to Pelle, and my father, and I already told you that I had to protect you from the reporters, and from jerks like Aldland..."

  "And I told you I could handle it," she said, her voice strong and steady. "Barring that, I even said I'd step back..."

  "That's the thing," he protested. "I don't want you to step back! And I think I knew, even then, that you'd be strong enough to handle it. But I kept thinking about what I was supposed to be doing. I was supposed to be a stronger man, a prince. That meant making the tough decisions, for you and for Fervia. That meant sacrificing my own happiness." He swallowed hard, his throat feeling like sandpaper. "Because losing you would be one of the worst things that could happen to me, Clara. I love you."

  The door opened, and his jaw dropped. Clara stood in front of him in her gala gown, a mermaid dress that looked like liquid copper and bronze, poured over her body lovingly before flaring out at the bottom. Her hair was a cascade of waves, half-up and half-down, and her jade green eyes were wide with surprise. She was stunning.

  "You love me?" she whispered, as if she couldn't believe it.

  He nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Then he cleared his throat. "I love you," he repeated. "Madly. Undeniably. More than I ever realized I could love anyone."

  She made a little broken sound, somewhere between a gasp and a sob. Then she rushed into his arms. He wrapped his own arms around her intently, holding her tightly to his chest.

  "I screwed up," he said against her hair, before pressing kisses to her temple, along her jaw, at the hollows of her clavicle. "I thought I had to hurt you to get you to go. I thought I was doing what was best for you."

  "First," she said, smiling at him and stroking his cheek, "promise me you'll talk to me, rather than make unilateral decisions about what's best for me, all right?"

  "Yes, absolutely."

  "Next," she said, "I was going to go to that gala, or at least to the castle, and confront you. Because I love you, too. And I wasn't going to let you go until I got the truth out of you. I knew that something was wrong. I knew, on some level, that you were lying to me. I just didn't know why."

  He kissed her firmly. "You were going to come to confront me?" he said.

  She smiled, her lips quirking in that sexy, smirky way that he was addicted to. "It's been pointed out that I can be a little, erm, pessimistic. But I don't want to be that way. Not about this. I have hope for the two of us." She took a deep breath. "For the three of us."

  He stroked her stomach. Then he kissed her again, one of gentle adoration. It kept going until she gently tugged away.

  "If you keep that up," she said breathlessly, "we're never going to get to that gala."

  "Screw the gala," he said, starting to move towards her, but she laughed, shaking her head.

  "Oh, no. I've got unfinished business with Aldland, and with the reporters," she said, and there was determination in her face, in her voice.

  He nodded. "I've got your back,” he promised. "Always."

  "I know," she said, and the confidence shining in her face made him feel ten feet tall. "That's why I love you."

  Clara and Erik swept into the ballroom of the castle where the gala was already in full swing. The doorman announced them with a full throated "Prince Erik Devlin and Ms. Clara Campbell!" and then all heads turned to see them enter. She'd never been particularly vain, but the dress was gorgeous, and she felt like a silver screen star wearing it. She'd reapplied the lipstick that Erik had kissed off, even though she'd made it clear that she'd be happy to let him kiss more off later. Right now, she was a woman on a mission.

  She worked the room with Erik. There were diplomats and political officials from all three island kingdoms. She spoke with all of them, asking them about their individual jobs, their families. She had a strong memory, and she knew that she'd be working with a lot of these people in the future—she planned on taking her duties representing Fervia seriously. She wasn't going to shy away. She'd always wanted to be in politics, to make a difference. And that meant, for her, being in front of issues she cared about, speaking her mind, and helping as many people as she could.

  She wasn't backing down from a fight. Especially not now, with Erik at her side.

  Every now and then, he sent her a warm smile, his eyes a molten blue. It made her tingle right down to her toes. Then he'd smile and put a supportive arm around her waist, or stroke her arm, or kiss her shoulder. It might be ridiculously affectionate, but she didn't care in the slightest, returning the affection by resting her head on his shoulder as they spoke with his friends Nic and Ben, or holding his hand as she thanked Holly.

  "I'm so glad you worked things out," Holly said, smiling. "You're charming everyone, I hope you know. I've heard nothing but compliments."

  Erik grinned. "I'm not surprised at all," he said. "It's like you were born for this."

  Clara was so happy, so relieved, that she almost didn't notice the Aldland delegates and Finance Minister walking up to them. She straightened her back, forcing herself to keep a placid expression, even when she really wanted to glare at them.

  "Ah, Ms. Campbell," the minister said, the sneer evident in his voice. "We weren't sure if you'd be here. There were rumors that you weren't up for it. Or... that you might not be returning?" He looked quizzically at Erik.

  Erik's face was a storm cloud, but Clara put a gentle hand on his forearm, and he looked to her, then calmed down. "As you can see, I'm here. And I'm up for anything you or your colleagues want to throw at me," she said, sweet as treacle.

  "Throw at you?" The man's tone was all innocence, even as an evil glint shone in his eyes. "We certainly would never do anything to someone so... peripheral to the royal family. And if you're referring to our little disagreement during the trade conference, I assure you, it wasn't personal."

  "And planting the story about me to the morning show here in Fervia?" Clara asked, her tone mild. "I suppose that wasn't personal, either."

  "We didn't have anything to do with that." The minister looked at his nails with feigned boredom. "Why would we bother?"

  "That was what I asked them... when they told me that their source for the story was a member of the Aldland press corps."

  The minister spluttered. "That... that's..."

  "I imagine they normally protect their sources," Clara said, then nailed the coffin shut. "But they are loyal to Fervia. And when I pointed out that I'm going to be a princess in Fervia, and that what they were doing came dangerously close to libel, they were amazingly helpful in pointing me to the real culprit."

  The minister turned an angry, embarrassed red. He turned to Erik. "So you're going to be marrying this... her," he all but spat out. "And you're going to allow her to take the lead on all political stances for you? Just going to sit there doodling at the trade table while your wife makes all your decisions for you?"

  "No, I’m not," Erik said firmly. "Because I don't plan on sitting at any more trade tables. This will be Clara’s area. I am focusing on my career in music composition.”

  Clara turned to him, shocked. He hadn't mentioned it. But now that he had, she could see the quiet joy in his expression. She hugged his side, hoping he could feel her encouragement and love.

  "Clara is a gifted politician," Erik continued. "She's going to be an asset to Fervia, and its people."

  "We're looking forward to working with Clara in the future," Prince Ben added, throwing his support in, while Prince Nic nodded his agreement.

  The Finance Minister's jaw clenched, and the vein at his temple pulsed. He was obviously furious. "I can't imagine that the Lion of Fervia is going to be thrilled that a London commoner is going to be making major political decisions for his country!"

  "Ahem."

  They turned. The King was there, flanked by Pelle and Aliana. Pelle looked irritated, Aliana dismissive. But King Elias was obviously furious, his frown one that had made men cower.

  "Clara is going to be my daughter-in-law," he said, in a firm tone that carried to every corner of the ballroom. "Her input, as is Aliana's, is invaluable. And any disrespect shown to her is disrespect shown to me, and to Fervia."

  Screw around, his expression said, and see what happens.

  The Finance Minister blanched. With that, he mumbled some sort of apology, and retreated with his delegation, exiting the ballroom entirely.

  Clara felt her heart race. She'd done it. She'd faced her fear, stood up for what she wanted. She loved Erik. She deserved to be here.

  This was what it felt like, to take a risk... and win.

  20

  Clara was almost light-headed with relief and joy. The evening had gone fantastically. She felt appreciated by the Fervian royal family, supported by the other island royals... and most of all, loved by Erik, who had doted on her all night. He'd been both physically and emotionally affectionate, not in any tacky way, but with little touches and warm smiles, and such an obvious delight that she was by his side. Her heart felt ready to burst.

  The music turned slow, and Erik winked at her. "Wait right here," he said, then strode up to the stage where the musicians were set up. The singer relinquished the microphone. "I just wanted to sing a song for the woman I love," he said, to a chorus of "awwww" from the audience. With that, he broke into a slow, sweet, amazing love song, just for her. She felt ready to turn into a puddle on the floor. It was just like the night they'd met, only more intense. Because now, she knew that she loved him, and that they were going to be a family. She had never felt so embraced and accepted, and lucky, in her life.

  When the song was over, the crowd applauded, many murmuring that they hadn’t realized that he was actually excellent with music, and Erik acknowledged it with a small smile before going to her side. "C'mon," he encouraged, as the band started playing another ballad.

  She didn't question, just followed his lead as he nudged her down a hallway, through a pair of French doors, into a courtyard with a fountain. She could smell the flowers—something night-blooming and fragrant—and she could see the stars, like pinpoints of diamonds in the dark sky. It was all so beautiful.

  The music was being piped out into the courtyard. He enveloped her in his arms, and they started to sway together. She sighed, snuggling her cheek against his chest. "I love you," she murmured.

  He pressed a heated kiss against her temple. "I love you, too." They danced like that, in each other's arms. Then he pulled back, studying her intently. "I wanted to give you something."

  She smiled. "I feel like you've given me everything already," she said, stroking his jaw. "What else could you possibly give me?"

  "This." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. When he opened it, he revealed a gorgeous diamond engagement ring, delicate but stunning. Her eyes went wide. It wasn’t the one that the royal jeweler had given them. It was different and perfect.

  "Oh my God, Erik. That is beautiful!"

  He got down on one knee, and she felt her heart catch in her throat. "The first time, I told you we should get married," he said, slowly, his eyes intent on hers. "The second time, I gave you a plastic ring. The third time, we chose a ring that held no meaning to either of us." He kissed her knuckles gently. "This was my mother’s. I spoke with my father, and he agreed: she'd want you to have this." He paused for a beat. "If you'll have me."

  She felt tears start to prickle at the corner of her eyes, and she let out a watery laugh. "Of course I'll marry you, you crazy man."

  He laughed, then slipped the platinum band on her finger. It fit like it had been designed for her. She sighed, watching the stones sparkle in the light of the full moon. "I wish I could have met her," Clara said softly.

  "I like to think she'll be watching over us and the baby," he said as he got to his feet and then wrapped his arms around her again. "The royal council wants the wedding to be soon—by the end of the month. But I told them I would only go through with it that quickly if we are both absolutely sure."

  She bit her lip, thinking about it. They'd been rushed, true. But she felt like she knew Erik. That was what mattered... that they'd be there for each other. So why wait? "It'll be a big royal wedding, all pomp and circumstance, I suppose," she mused.

  He nodded, looking embarrassed. "At least that should silence some of the critics."

  "Don't worry about me. I'm tougher than I look," she promised.

  He smiled, and the heat of his gaze made her skin tingle. "You're one of the strongest, most capable, most amazing women I know," he said. "And I love that about you."

  "Still—I don't mind going through a royal wedding," she said, then patted her stomach. "I'm starting to show, a little. And various, erm, other things," she gestured vaguely to her chest, "are getting bigger. I don't think I'd be able to fit into this dress next week."

  "Personally, I think it looks great on you." He leered humorously, and she gave him a gentle shove, chuckling.

  "They're going to ask why we're getting married so quickly, big ceremony or not," she pointed out.

  "Let them," Erik said. "We'll be in England by the time it becomes a big deal, anyway."

  She blinked. "Wait. What?"

  He reddened. "I mean... let me back up." He took a deep breath. "I want to support you, as a husband. In your dreams, and your passions. I want to help you in whatever ways I can. I know that you're independent, and that you don't want to be spoiled or pampered..."

  "Erik," she said softly, "just spit it out."

  He cracked a grin. "I want to pay for your education," he said. "To Oxford."

  She gasped, her heart pounding against her rib cage as she clutched him. "Oxford? Really?"

  "I’ve probably ruined your scholarship path," he said. "And to be honest, you're going to be the one who will be the most help to Fervia when it comes to statecraft. I'm deliberately stepping back from it. It's never interested me, and I've felt guilty and useless for not pursuing it more. I thought it would comfort my father after my mother died... I wanted to prove that she hadn't spoiled me, that I could still be a valuable member of the family, that she hadn't failed by encouraging me in my music. But then I realized I came at it wrong. I don't need to force myself to be something I'm not just to prove a point, especially when it could cause more damage than good. I can still contribute to Fervia. Just not the same way as Pelle, or my father." His smile was gentle, like summer sunshine. "Or like you."

  She swallowed hard. Part of her was so used to having her dream out of reach that the whole thing felt surreal. Part of her, the one that had always kept her miserable, said it was too good to be true. "I don't want to take advantage..."

  "I'm your husband," he said, cupping her face in his hands. "Or at least I'm going to be. I'm not spoiling you. I'm helping you invest in a future that will help countless people. And you'll help me, too. We'll lean on each other. Isn't that what marriage is supposed to be?"

  A tear tracked down her cheek—one of happiness. "Yes," she said. "That's what it's supposed to be. Thank you, so much, for giving me my dream."

  He kissed her, his mouth slanting over hers, until her skin was flushed and her head was dizzy. Then he held her close, and she could hear his heart pounding under her ear. He was just as affected as she was, and it made her almost giddy.

  "So if I get back in, and while I'm studying my butt off, what are you going to be doing?" She froze. "You... are coming with me, right?"

  "Of course I am! You're not getting rid of me that easily," he said, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "We'll be married. Where you go, I go. Although in this case," he added ruefully, "that's strangely truer than I would've thought."