Prince Ever After

“I cannot let you walk home at this time of night,” he said when he came around to once again stand in front of her. “My car is just up the hill. I’ll carry your bag while we walk and then I’ll take you home.”

When Val opened her mouth to speak, he simply shook his head.

“Do you really want to add to your father’s embarrassing circumstances by refusing the prince?”

She did not. So Val clamped her lips shut and let him slide the bag from her shoulder. She folded her arms and walked beside him, hating every mortifying step she had to take because of her father.

Chapter 2

Second only to the royal palace, the Serenade Museum on Grand Serenity Island was a work of art all by itself. No matter how many times Val walked through the corridors of the ensemble of buildings set apart from the island’s Main Street by a stone bridge and its own surrounding water, she marveled at its intricate beauty.

“The Sunset is the largest of the four buildings that make up the Serenade Museum.” Val spoke to a group of twenty-five tourists. “Each building, as well as the main idea for the museum were designed by Princess Vivienne DeSaunters. These domed ceilings and the circular layout were incorporated after Vivienne had taken a trip to Berlin and became in awe of their museum island.”

One of the guests raised her hand and stated, “She was from Sugar Land, Texas. My family lives just down the road from the house where her grandparents and parents once lived.”

Val smiled and quietly acknowledged the woman’s heavy accent as she spoke proudly.

“Yes, the late Princess Vivienne was from America. She was very proud of her heritage and wanted to bring that same pride to the people of Grand Serenity by showcasing pieces of art that told the story of our island’s beginnings,” Val informed them.

“As we continue to this area,” she continued while leading the group through an arched opening. “We’ll see the Numismatic Collection which consists of coins that were pulled from the depths of the Caribbean Sea. In the late 1600s, after this island was acquired by the Netherlands, they were plagued by pirates and thus had to defend the island before life here could really begin to flourish. These coins,” she said as she motioned toward the glass-encased counters, “were actually part of several pirates’ booty. They pay homage to the Golden Age of Piracy which lasted from 1690 to 1730.”

“Will the new princess continue to approve funding for the museum?”

Val turned quickly at the odd question and looked up to see it had come from the same woman with the accent.

“Rumors back in the States say she has a plan to completely overhaul and update this island,” the woman continued while keeping eye contact with Val.

It was like a challenge, Val thought. Or was it? She didn’t know because she’d never been faced with a tourist who knew more than she did about any topic in this museum. To be completely fair, Malayka Sampson was not a topic at the museum. At least, not until she was actually married to Prince Rafferty. With that in mind, Val decided to proceed with caution. The last thing she wanted to be accused of doing was adding to gossip about a soon-to-be member of the royal family.

“We are all anticipating the royal wedding,” Val told them.

She smiled and was just about to walk to another display, which held more coins, when another tourist spoke up.

“There have been two royal weddings within months of each other. I would say love is definitely in the air here on Grand Serenity,” the much younger woman with a brilliant smile said as she elbowed the handsome guy next to her.

Val nodded. “I think you could say that. Prince Kristian and Princess Landry are very happy and the new princess is making astounding contributions to the island already. As for Princess Samantha and her husband, Gary, they continue to dedicate their time and talents to the island, as well. The DeSaunters family has always been loyal and dedicated to Grand Serenity.”

“Do you think the Reckless Royal will ever marry?” the now-familiar woman with the accent asked.

A man chuckled. “Hell, no! Not if he knows what’s good for him. He’s gonna get way more play from the ladies as a single prince than if he ties himself down with one woman.”

“Huh! I doubt that,” the younger woman argued. “Ever heard of gold diggers and home wreckers?”

Murmurs came from the crowd. More opinions, Val supposed, that didn’t involve the museum or her job. Her head was beginning to hurt. After three earlier tours, this was the last one of the day and she really wanted it to be over with so she could go home, take a hot bath and settle in for the night. She did not want to stand there and fend off rumors or make assumptions about the royal family, or anyone else, for that matter.

“Ever heard of falling in love? Cherishing your wife? Respecting the covenant of marriage?” Yet another woman asked. “I swear, all young people think about these days are one-night stands and monetary compensation for time served in a relationship.”

“The woman that puts up with Roland DeSaunters’s gambling and philandering should damn well be compensated big-time! Did you see how much money he lost in a poker game just last month? And then the two women he was seen coming out of that hotel in Dubai with?” This woman shook her head in disgust. “He’s gonna be a slippery snake to tame.”

“Awww, come on. I wouldn’t say all that.”

Val’s head shot up at the sound of his voice. She had to come up on tiptoes to see over the heads of the people in her group. Seconds after he spoke, the crowd parted like the royal horns were blowing to signal a procession. And there he stood, amidst people who had paid seventy-five dollars per person to tour the island’s famed museums. Prince Roland DeSaunters was dressed in a black suit and a white collarless shirt. A colorful reflection bounced off the silver watch at his wrist, thanks to the sun’s vibrant rays drifting through the large arched windows.

When nobody spoke again, he walked down the aisle the people had created, coming to a stop beside Val. She had swallowed a number of times in an attempt to find her voice. As the tour guide, she should say something. That was a given. But what exactly was she supposed to say? It wasn’t every day that the prince appeared and inserted himself into a tour.

“The present is always a juicier topic of discussion than the past,” the prince said to the crowd. “Wouldn’t you agree, Ms. Harrington?”

“That’s it!” the first woman with all the questions about Malayka shouted. “I knew I recognized your face from somewhere. You’re Valora Harrington. You were engaged to Prince Kristian before he dumped you for an American.”

And now her mortification was complete.

Not only had seeing Roland again brought back the infuriating memories of last night and her father’s foolish bet, now this woman was touching on yet another embarrassing subject for her. Would it ever end?

“The prince and I were never engaged,” Val stated evenly. “As the time for arranged marriages has long since come and gone here, the union that was envisioned by my father was highly overrated.”

“In other words,” Roland added with his standard drop-the-panties smile, “my brother was never committed to any relationship with this woman and therefore could not have been so foolish as to dump her for someone else.”

Val felt the heat rising immediately. It crept up her neck and filled her face until she almost gasped with the thought that she was actually blushing.

“Now,” Roland continued with a snap of his fingers. “Let’s move on to more exciting stories. Like the time I found one of these doubloons in an old trunk at the palace. It was quite a find, and my siblings were sick with jealousy because I found it instead of them.”

He talked so easily as he walked casually through the marble-floored rooms. The tourists, thankfully, jumped right into his tale of treasure discoveries in the royal palace and the possibility of more being left about the island. Val wondered if he knew he had a natural gift for storytelling. That was what he was doing, she thought about twenty minutes later when they were finishing the tour and Roland was coming to a grand finish complete with a tattered map that was said to have belonged to the infamous pirate Blackbeard.

There had been no need for her to say a word since Roland had covered not only The Sunset building, but The Starlight building, as well. For the latter, he had woven a bit of romantic intrigue into his story, while highlighting some pieces from the antiquities collection and the island’s early history collections.

Now they were once again coming to stand beneath the domed ceiling in the front entryway. It was about half an hour before closing, so there were other customers milling about this area, as well. When she overheard a member of the group asking if the tour was over, Val remembered she was actually supposed to be working and cleared her throat.

“Let’s give Prince Roland a hand for the wonderful tour he’s hosted for us this afternoon,” she said and began clapping so that the group members would follow suit.

Roland looked at her and then back to the crowd, but Val did not continue to stare at him. Instead, she moved through her closing soliloquy.

“The gift shop is open for one hour after the museum actually closes, so please feel free to head in that direction. As it’s nearing dinnertime, may I suggest taking the island trolley over to the northern side of the island where restaurants and other nightlife spots are open and waiting to serve and entertain you. If you’re staying on the island for a few days, there’s a candlelight dinner boat ride at the port tomorrow evening. And, for younger guests, there will be face painting and a magic show on Main Street beginning tomorrow at noon. We thank you and appreciate your visit to Grand Serenity Island.”

This was when the crowd usually departed. But there’d been nothing normal about this tour so far, so Val should have known better than to expect that.

The woman with the Southern drawl came up first, asking for an autograph and picture from Roland. He smiled and obliged. And then repeated that task for the next seven women who did the same. Val watched as he easily slipped his arm around each woman’s shoulders, leaning in so as to make each picture look personal, intimate, even. The women were glowing, their smiles big and bright—even the ones that were with their husbands—which amused Val, but probably annoyed their men. Roland also talked to each one of them, asking where they were from, how long they were staying on the island and what they liked most about Grand Serenity. The most intriguing part of that was that Val was certain he actually listened to each woman’s reply.

The great womanizer was being attentive and patient, and looking damn good in the process.

And she was being silly.

With a shake of her head she moved a little closer and announced that the picture Roland had just smiled for was the last one. Of course she received irritated stares, but she didn’t mind. Adults never liked being told what to do and when to do it. She knew that because she’d hated when her father had done the same. But this was different. This was work. It was her job to have this foyer clear within ten minutes of closing time. If they moved down toward the gift shop, that was fine, as it was a separate building and the exhibit halls could be locked off while the store stayed open.

“Thank you, everyone, for visiting Grand Serenity,” Roland said, backing up her statement that the museum was closing.

“We hope you enjoy your time here,” Val added.

She said this to every group after every tour, but this time she knew they’d enjoyed the tour. If nothing else on this island pleased them, this would have been enough.

When the last person was through the archway, Val walked to the circular desk closest to the door. It was white marble, and black letters on the wall behind it read Tour Information. That’s where she worked. It was where the tours were booked and started. In a safe behind that desk were her purse and jacket. She bent down to work the combination lock and retrieve them.

“Let’s get some dinner,” he said the moment she stood.

“What—excuse me?” she asked, and then cleared her throat. “I mean—”

“Dinner. You know, the last meal of the day. You sit down and eat and think of all the right and wrong things you may have said or done over the last twelve hours.”

He was leaning on the desk now, the darkness of his suit in contrast to the crisp white decor. He wasn’t giving her the full Reckless Royal smile, just a slight lift of his lips in the right corner. But that was enough. She reacted even as she wished she hadn’t. Her cheeks warmed, just as they had earlier, and she licked her lips nervously.

“I’m sure you have better things to do, Your Highness,” Val answered. Willing her fingers not to shake as she pushed her arms into her jacket, she cleared her throat and continued. “Or was there a reason you came to the museum today? I probably should have asked this before, but should I get the manager? I’m sure he’s still here. I can just—”

She came around the desk and attempted to walk across the foyer once more to head toward the staff offices on the other side, but he touched her elbow again to stop her. Maybe it was just this particular spot...she’d never have guessed her elbow would be an erogenous zone...but each time he touched her there—

“I came to ask you to dinner so that we can clear the air,” Roland told her, cutting off her thoughts.

Val shook her head. “There’s no need,” she insisted and moved her arm slowly out of his grasp.

He looked down, watching as she slipped her purse onto her shoulder. “I’m fine. You’re fine. We should just go our separate ways.”

Roland seemed to contemplate her words—for much longer than Val thought was necessary—before finally giving a little nod.

“I’ll agree that we’re both fine. But I’m hungry and after being on your feet all day, I’m sure you are, too. So let’s just get something to eat and get that part of the evening out of the way.”

It occurred to her to refuse again. Yes, she thought, that was the best thing to do. Her father could be a mean drunk whose debts were far larger than his bank account, and for that Val had endured her share of pitying looks and uninvited advice from the citizens of Grand Serenity. The deal her father had supposedly made for her to marry Prince Kristian was another source of contention where Val and the good people of Grand Serenity were concerned. They’d whispered about her and the prince all her life, and when the prince finally announced that there was nothing between them and that he would be marrying another woman, the whispers turned into vicious gossip. The poor little town girl trying to get into the palace.

Val didn’t know which situation she despised more. What she did know was that she was sick and tired of it, and she definitely did not want to do anything to spark any more stares or whispers or gossip about herself. So she should tell Prince Roland no. She could have dinner on her own, as she had planned.

“Come on, don’t be afraid,” Roland told her. “I’m hungry, but I won’t bite. I promise.”

The expertly cut goatee went a long way to giving him a mature and masculine vibe. But it was that devilish grin, the twinkle in his rich brown eyes and the divine way in which that damn suit fit his toned and muscular frame, that were the deal breakers.

“I’m not afraid of you,” was her reply. “And I’m in the mood for pasta.”

Chapter 3

It rarely rained on Grand Serenity, less than twenty-five inches were received a year.

This evening, it was raining.

Roland could see the splatter of drops on the window as they sat in the corner booth at Jacobi Pearson’s restaurant by the sea. It was an old-world place with its peeling yellow paint and the frayed faux-straw umbrellas over the tables on the outside. The inside walls were painted a muted brown, the room had cement floors and there were booth seats with splitting upholstery. It was the last place on this island that a prince should be seen having dinner, yet Roland found himself there at least once a week when he was home.

“It’s the best spicy shrimp pasta I’ve ever had.” He spoke after being lost in his thoughts for a few moments.

She hadn’t seemed to mind him not talking, as she appeared engrossed in her meal and her own thoughts, as well. Originally he’d intended to watch her, something Roland had yet to figure out why he was doing in the first place. Valora Harrington was no doubt an attractive woman, but she was far from the blatantly sexy, worldly women Roland was used to passing the time with. Case in point, the last woman Roland had shared a meal with was Delayna Loray Montoya, a Brazilian heiress who hated her father but loved his money. She was gorgeous and rich and almost as reckless with her life and her finances as Roland was reputed to be. They’d spent a whirlwind weekend together in Rio where Roland could scarcely remember leaving the hotel room. Then, on Monday morning, he’d been on a jet headed to Milan where he played poker for the next two days and took an important meeting on the third. That had been three months ago. Roland hadn’t seen or spoken to Delayna since then, and they were both completely fine with that fact.

Valora Harrington was homegrown. She represented everything that Grand Serenity was—at least, how Roland saw the island through his mother’s eyes. Hope. Perseverance. Dignity. Those three words were printed just beneath the Grand Serenity emblem on everything a tourist could possibly purchase from the island. To Roland, they’d been ingrained in his mind. Today, he thought, was the first time he’d seen them in a person.

“It is definitely amazing,” she replied as she finished another bite and took a sip from her wineglass. “Thank you, Your Highness, for suggesting this. I haven’t had time to visit some of our local treasures in a while.”

“You’re a tour guide. Surely you recommend this place to our tourists,” he commented while tearing off a piece of the crusty, still-warm bread that was served with their meal.

She had been a lot neater with her bread, breaking off a little piece and buttering it with the small knife. If he were at the palace in the formal dining room, or attending some dinner party or royal meeting, Roland would have taken more care about the crumbs, how he was sitting and who was watching. At Pearson’s he was relaxed, almost as if this were the place he actually belonged, instead of some stuffy and overly formal event.

“That’s all I do, is refer places on the island for visitors to see and enjoy. I’m at the museum for at least ten hours a day, six days a week. The one day I have off I usually don’t spend getting around the island.”

“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘all work and no play’?” he asked, intrigued by what she’d just shared with him.

She tilted her head as she stared at him for a moment before replying. “You’ve never wondered where your next meal would come from. Never had to choose between paying the rent or the power bill.”

Her lips clamped shut quickly, then she shook her head.

“I apologize. I meant no disrespect, Your Highness,” she continued. “I was simply attempting to answer your inquiry.”

She’d spoken the words, but she was anything but sorry, Roland thought. She was honest and there was a mole just beneath her left eye. At the edge where her eyes tilted just slightly. It was small, but dark, and he’d stared at it a bit longer than he probably should have.

“No offense taken,” he replied. “You are correct. I have never wondered about those things. I understand it must have been tough with only you and your father.”

She shrugged. “It is my life,” was the somber reply.

“You don’t sound too happy about that fact,” Roland said, as he finished chewing the piece of bread he’d slipped into his mouth. It wasn’t because he was still hungry, but more because he’d needed something to do with his hands. Anything to quell the urge to reach out and touch her.

She had slim fingers and wore no rings. Her nails were short but had a sheen to them, as if coated with clear polish. She wore no jewelry, he thought, except for tiny pearl earrings. Her slim neck was bare, the collar of her white polo shirt resting against skin that appeared to be warm, soft, touchable.

“I’ve learned that life isn’t all about happiness,” she replied. “Yet I believe that everyone has their own path to walk. Along that path will be things that make that person feel happy or sad, complete and fulfilled. Different scenarios strike different people in an array of ways. We handle them the best we can and continue on.”

She was good at continuing on, Roland thought. He’d noticed that at the museum when the woman had brought up Valora’s previous engagement to his brother. Regretting that his appearance had sparked the memory for the woman and possibly embarrassed Valora, he’d taken over and Valora had simply continued on. She’d walked with the group as if she were the tourist instead of the guide for the remainder of the tour. When she’d really wanted to get away from him and the memory as fast as she could, she’d hesitantly agreed to join him for dinner. Yes, Valora was certainly used to continuing on.

“Well,” he said, picking up his napkin to wipe his hands. “Everyone deserves some happiness. I believe that’s a requirement.”

“It’s easier said than done for some.” She finished her glass of wine. “Which reminds me that I should really be going. The food and the company was a really nice gesture. Thank you again, Your Highness.”

He was going to get tired real quick of the stilted way in which she addressed him. The immediate answer to that would have been to take her home, drop her off and be on his way. There was really no need for him to see or speak to Valora Harrington again.

Seeing her today had been sort of impromptu. He’d had a meeting at one of the hotels in town. From the window of the hotel he was able to see the museum. It had been a few weeks since he’d attended the opening of the new Renaissance exhibit there, and even longer since he’d walked through the hall dedicated to the royal family. It was there that one of the first portraits of his parents and their young children hung. Kris had been five and already distinguished looking in his white pants and navy blue jacket with its bright gold buttons, standing by their father’s right side.

Roland wore the same outfit, but he was only three and so his jacket appeared a little big and his pants hung over his shoes as he held on to his father’s leg. His mother was seated, holding a barely one-year-old Samantha, dressed in a white dress and bonnet, on her lap. That picture never failed to make Roland feel a combination of happy and sad. Homesick, he thought. Even though it was in the museum his mother had founded, on the island he’d called home all his life. He always looked at that portrait and longed for that moment in time.

So, stumbling across Valora and her group had absolutely been unplanned, but the moment he saw her he’d felt the urge to clear the air. To make sure there were no hard feelings or even bruised ones from the previous night.

“I settled things with your father,” he told her, as if the thought had just popped into his head. “I also expressed my utter disappointment in the fact that he would use you as a source of repayment.”

She dropped her napkin on the table and sat back against the cushioned seat.

“I feel like I’ve been apologizing for him all my life,” she told him with a sigh. “He doesn’t really mean any harm. He’s just searching for a life that’s not meant to be.”

“His search should not embarrass you,” Roland stated evenly. “He should, however, stop drinking and gambling. He’s not good at either.”

She gave a quick chuckle and ran one hand through the short strands of hair just above her right ear. “I’ve been telling him that for much longer than I care to admit.”