Royals of Danovar: The Complete Series Read online

  “Huh,” she said, sitting back, unable to help the smile that stole over her face. “You know what, that would work perfectly. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. Tree houses are kind of my thing.” That smile of his made his whole face so vibrant and open—and suddenly, she could see a future with this man after all. Maybe Strict Simon wasn’t actually so strait-laced. She just had to figure out what made him tick. Treehouses were at the top of the list, apparently. “I’m sorry, I interrupted you earlier, didn’t I?” he went on. “What were you about to say?”

  Her fears seemed small now, in comparison to this joyful man who’d just helped her design a kickass treehouse. It had to be an omen. Maybe she could do this. She could rule, with a guy like him to support her.

  She cleared her throat. “I was just going to say yes.”

  “Pardon?”

  She raised her left hand, still curled into a fist to keep the ring from falling off. “The moment kind of got lost earlier—but yes.” She took a deep breath, her heart fluttering. “I will marry you.”

  3

  Simon was half an hour early for his meeting with Danovar’s head of security, but that was okay, because he’d brought some reading material to keep him busy. A cloud of dust erupted when he set the stack of books—all of which were at least a hundred years old, and most of which hadn’t been cracked in nearly as long—on the table in front of him. Some people dealt with anxiety by turning to alcohol or drugs or junk food, but not Simon. The more nervous he was, the higher his stack of books got. At this point he could probably build a killer fort out of all the ancient tomes he’d borrowed from Escona’s royal library. He was lucky his flight back home had been on a private jet, otherwise he’d have had to pay a fortune in excess luggage fees.

  He pulled down the book on top of the stack—Dynastes Laws of the Seventeenth Century—and flipped through to the section regarding the timeline for succession. The laws in here were the whole reason he and Pen had to get married in such a rush. The Advancing of Dynastes Law of 1645 stated that the Queen had to be married by age thirty, but couldn’t get married for a year after her coronation. With her birthday only a few months away, time was ticking.

  Although he’d already read the entire text of the law twice already, he slipped his reading glasses on and carefully read it again. He wanted to be absolutely certain he understood all the legal and historical implications of what he was about to do before the reading of the royal banns and the engagement portraits later today. After that was done, the whole world would know about his commitment to marry Pen, and he always followed through on his commitments. Before reaching that point of no return he wanted to be as prepared as possible. This was possibly the biggest decision of his life, after all.

  The door creaked open behind him. “Good old Simon, nose buried in the books again,” said a deep voice in a lilting Danovian accent. A head full of long blond hair poked into view: Phillip, moving a stack of books off a chair to sit at his cousin’s side. He looked good, Simon noted—easy smile, blue eyes bright, leaning back to put his feet up on the table like they belonged there. Matrimony apparently agreed with the King of Danovar.

  “Just trying to make sure I understand all the relevant laws,” Simon answered, slipping his reading glasses off and glancing at the clock. He’d gotten so lost in the text that half an hour had already flew by, and it was nearly time for the meeting.

  The door opened again and Drake, Phillip’s head of security, slipped in. “Your Majesty, Duke Stuart,” he greeted them, then held out a thick manila folder to Simon. “The information you requested. I’ll give you the full rundown of everything I could gather, but time was a bit tight—there were some rumors about Nathaniel I would’ve liked to chase down more fully before our meeting. They’re likely not relevant, though.”

  Simon took the folder. “Thank you, Drake, this looks very thorough.”

  Phillip raised his brow. “What’s this now?”

  Drake answered for him, as Simon was already absorbed in his new reading material. “Penelope Alcott’s personal and public history and her royal legitimacy, along with information on every Esconian monarch from the last two decades,” the guard said.

  Phillip turned back to his cousin. “You’re researching your fiancée?” Simon made a vague affirmative noise in response, trying not to lose his place. Phillip shook his head and pulled out his phone, swiping the screen up and opening a rugby app. “Good thing I’m just here for moral support,” he said as today’s big game started playing.

  Simon divided his attention over the next twenty minutes between the game—he and Phillip tried to watch together whenever they could, which was why he’d invited his cousin to the meeting—the folder, and Drake’s dry but insightful presentation. When the head of security was done he saw himself out, and Phillip and Simon lapsed into silence as the game escalated.

  Simon winced when a fist fight broke out between the players. “Oof, Laurence has got to learn to watch his back around that skinny flanker.” He turned a page in the folder and shook his head. “And speaking of people to watch out for, Pen’s uncle Nathaniel sure is a piece of work. Did you see some of these conspiracy theories he crafted into policy while he was King? It got pretty ridiculous. Her other uncle, Forbush, did a much better job when he was on the throne before that. Pity about the law that forced him to abdicate once he decided to marry his husband, though.” He glanced at his pile of books. “Although if I’m not mistaken, Parliament finally abolished that ridiculous bit of outdated legislation last year. Too late for Forbush, but future heirs will have more freedom, at least.” Future heirs. His and Penelope’s children. The thought felt too big, and he flipped deeper into the folder, trying to distract himself.

  Phillip glanced up from the game with a frown. “Why do you even need to do that research? Checking into the line of inheritance seems a bit unnecessary—don’t you think Escona would’ve triple-checked that they were handing their crown to the right person before they told Penelope she was next up?”

  Simon sighed. “I’m sure they did,” he admitted, “but I just want to make absolutely sure I’m as prepared as possible for everything about the coronation and marriage. This is a huge commitment.”

  “But you’re making sure you’re as prepared as possible in every way, right?”

  “What do you mean?” Simon squinted at the piles of books surrounding him, suddenly worried he’d missed something.

  “I mean not everything can be solved by researching it to death. Instead of being worried Escona’s legions of lawyers missed something, maybe you should be wooing your future wife. All the laws in the kingdom won’t do you any good if she kicks you out on the first day.”

  Simon stopped squinting at his books and looked up, startled.

  Phillip sighed and pulled his feet off the table, folding his hands in his lap as he considered his words. “I know you’ve been searching for your place lately,” he said. “And I know Danovar hasn’t really provided you with a true home and security the way you’ve wanted. But might I suggest that the best way to attain all of that is to focus on making Penelope happy, rather than on the crown?”

  Making Penelope happy. He knew some ways he’d like to make her happy, for sure. His gaze went unfocused as he remembered the way she’d looked when he’d walked into that sitting room last week—that mass of untamed dark curls tumbling over her burnished-bronze shoulders, those big, dark eyes, the way her unusual dress showed off those traditional Esconian features. He could still picture the way her crimson lips wrapped around his name. He’d wanted to kiss her right then and there, pick her up and press her against the wall and see those gorgeous lips part in ecstasy as she moaned for him. And soon, hopefully, they would both enjoy a night like that. But right now, doing this research was the best way to support her. He knew she lacked confidence in her ability to rule. He could bolster her by spending his time poring over her country’s laws and traditions and history, not by unnecessarily
romancing her.

  “Pen knows that’s a low priority right now,” Simon said, brushing off Phillip’s concern. “She needs me to be a strong king, and this research is how I get there.”

  The on-screen fight broke up and the rugby players got back to the game. Phillip let the conversation drop as Simon went back to the folder, but even as he read, he couldn’t quite get his mind off the picture of Pen in that dress, and how Pen might look under the dress, and exactly what techniques he might employ to ascertain those details.

  He shook himself out of the thought. Sexy daydreams—and hopefully, their fulfillment—were for later, after they were married and stable.

  Still, though, he had the feeling that Penelope Alcott would be a hard woman to get off his mind.

  4

  Simon sat on a loveseat at Penelope’s side and tried not to glare at the photographer. Their engagement portrait session had dragged on for the last five hours, and if that gratingly cheerful man told them to “look in love” one more time Simon was going to rip the camera out of his hands and shove it down his throat. And that was saying a lot, since Simon normally wasn’t the quick-tempered sort.

  Simon sighed and leaned against the arm of the loveseat. The truth was, it wasn’t the man who was irritating him. It was Simon’s own inability to look in love, because how was he supposed to pull that off with a woman he knew basically nothing about? The two of them had finally gotten a bit more comfortable with each other as the day went on, but they were getting to the more intimate, informal portraits now, and their uncertainty over silly things—whether to clasp hands or intertwine their fingers, for example—was jarring. Sure, he’d researched the heck out of her, but a career in politics had taught him a long time ago that a dossier just couldn’t do a person justice. He wanted to put her at ease, wanted to put them both at ease, but had no idea where to start.

  “What’s with the grimace? A little less Strict Simon, a little more moon-eyed groom,” the photographer scolded, and Simon tried to rearrange his facial features into a doting look while imagining choking the man with his own camera strap.

  From her spot on the other side of the loveseat, Pen forced a smile back at him. The chair was barely big enough for them both but there were still a solid three inches of space between them. He hated to think she felt as awkward as he did.

  Maybe some small talk would help. “This is a lovely receiving room,” he commented. It was the first time he’d been in the family area of Castle Alcott. It was decorated in duskier hues than the Danovian castle, and the architecture leaned more Spanish than English, but it was similar enough to feel at least a little familiar to him.

  “Oh,” Pen said, glancing around like it was the first time she’d really looked at the room. “It is, isn’t it? I guess I’ve only been back here once or twice.”

  He frowned, surprised. “But this is the Queen’s receiving room,” he said, and then winced. Of course—she’d only found out she was going to be Queen a few weeks ago, and she’d only moved into the palace a few days ago. This wing was probably nearly as unfamiliar to her as it was to him. “Sorry,” he said. “I forgot.”

  She smiled tightly, but the damage was done, and they were even more awkward than before.

  The photographer gave up with a loud sigh. “Okay, guys, sit tight. I’m going to go find my crew—I think they were scouting backgrounds in the garden for the last round of pictures. When I get back, you two are going to look like you can’t wait to get each other alone, okay?” He marched out the door without waiting for an answer—and ironically, they now were alone, and had no idea what to do about it.

  Pen gave him another forced smile, looked away, and started twisting at her rings. The engagement ring was due to be resized soon but for now it was still way too big, and with her constantly fidgeting he was worried she was going to drop and lose it again. The ring had been in his family for generations, and his mother would kill him if his bride didn’t take good care of it.

  He started to open his mouth to gently ask her to be careful, but before he could, a guard popped his head in the door. “Castle security has found something suspicious on the grounds,” he said, his tone brisk. “We’re going into lockdown. Please stay where you are.” He stepped back outside and shut the door behind him, a soft click telling Simon the lockdown was literal.

  Pen leapt off the loveseat, eyes wide. She strode across the room and tugged at the door, rattling the locked doorknob to no effect. “Oh my God,” she said, spinning around. “Are we trapped in here? What’s happening?”

  Having served with the King and Prince in Danovar, Simon was used to this kind of thing, but of course she would be taken aback. “Don’t worry,” he reassured her, “these are usually nothing. It’ll just take twenty minutes or so for them to double-check, and then we’ll be released.” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood, but she started pacing. With her short, petite build and the tense energy in her soft steps, she made him think of a little fox trying to escape a trap.

  “Right, of course,” she said, but the way she spun her bracelets around her wrists told him she was on the verge of panic.

  Maybe taking her mind off the problem would help. “We could chat if you want, to pass the time. Getting to know each other might help us when that photographer tells us to look in love again.”

  “Of course.” She reached the far end of the room and pivoted, turning to pace back past him. She was so tiny—standing up, she was only a little taller than he was when seated. He was tempted to just pick her up and tuck her under his arm to soothe her, but he didn’t think she would appreciate that.

  “Your toy store,” he said, remembering how happy she’d looked when she talked to him about that topic after they’d first met. “Tell me about it. What’s your favorite part of your job?”

  Her steps slowed and her jaw unclenched just a little. “The kids,” she said without hesitation. “I love seeing them play with the toys I’ve designed, love seeing that look of joy on their faces and knowing I put it there.” Her expression went wistful for a moment, then she frowned. “Though I guess I won’t have much time for that sort of thing now.” Her steps picked back up and her jaw went tight again.

  Okay. Small talk wasn’t working. Simon reached out as she passed him and caught her hand, forcing her to stop. Her fingers felt so small and delicate in his, and he held them gently, as if they were made of something fragile and precious. “Look,” he said. “I know you’re worried about the whole lockdown thing—why don’t we both just say what exactly we’re afraid of? I’ve found that sometimes naming your fears can help you look at them more logically.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll be a bad queen,” she blurted out, dropping heavily onto the loveseat next to him. “I’m afraid I’m not cut out to rule my people, and I’m afraid I’ll do more bad than good by being in a position of authority when I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  Simon blinked at her, shocked at the turn her answer had taken. He’d just meant for them to discuss her fears about the lockdown. But this, he wasn’t sure he was quite prepared for. Still, she looked so lost and small that he couldn’t help but reach out and touch her shoulder. “Hey,” he said softly. “It’s only natural to feel uncertain in the face of such a big change. And yes, there will have to be some adjustment. But caring as much as you do—that’s a huge first step. That’s the best foundation for ensuring you do great things as queen.”

  “Yeah,” she said, but the frown slashed across her face and the way her gaze was fixed on the floor told him she was still doubtful.

  Could she really think she could be anything but a wonderful queen? He’d seen it the second he met her, and he’d be willing to bet everyone else would see it soon too if they hadn’t already. She might lack confidence, but she was willing to serve her country as much as he’d always been willing to serve his. For Escona’s sake, she’d taken on a royal role she felt unprepared for, along with a marriage to a man she’d never met before.


  She looked up again. “Can I ask you something?” she asked, and when he nodded, she went on, “Why are you here? What made you come all this way to marry someone you’ve never met, a woman who was never supposed to be Queen in the first place?”

  He looked at his hands. She’d been honest with him; it was only fair he do the same with her. “Lately I’ve started feeling a bit adrift,” he admitted. “I’ve trained my whole life to serve royalty. To serve as a royal. I was starting to worry it was all for nothing, that I’d never be able to accomplish the goals I wanted to. I’m over thirty now, and I’ve never truly felt like I had a real home, a place to call my own, somewhere where I felt secure.” He shrugged. “But really, since we’re talking about fears—my biggest worry was that this would be just another royal assignment. That it wouldn’t get me any closer to what I’ve always wanted: a purpose.”

  She put her hand on his arm, and he covered it with his own hand.

  They were both quiet for a moment before he went on. “But Penelope, today, you showed me my purpose. I’m here to help you be the best queen you can be. I swear to you that I’ll support you, that I won’t leave you, that I’ll help you in every way I know how. You don’t have to be afraid.”

  She blinked back tears. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me,” she said softly. “That’s the best wedding present you could give me.”

  A strand of that gorgeous hair was hanging over her face. Without thinking, he reached out and tucked it behind her ear, lingering a moment longer than was strictly necessary. “I’m glad,” he told her.

  She swallowed, her eyes lingering on his hand for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “And just so you know, you don’t have to be afraid either. You’ll have a home here for as long as you want it,” she told him.

  The words sank in and lingered, like a welcome rain in the desert. He hadn’t known how badly he’d needed her to say that. The moment deepened between them, and he caught his gaze slipping to her lips. Right now would be the perfect moment to kiss her. It would be sweet, lovely, just the right end to this beautiful conversation. And her lips were so full and red and plump and perfect. He glanced back at her eyes and saw she was looking at his lips too, which sealed the deal and also made his cock twitch in unexpected anticipation.