Charmed By The Mountain Prince(11)

She must see the surprised look on my face. But it isn’t for the reason she thinks. I’m the one who turned down those princesses, not the other way around.

I don’t respond, not needing to prove anything.

Shrugging, she says, “It’s on Wikipedia.”

“That’s neither here nor there. You want a prize for coming here and marrying me? I’ll give you a prize.”

“Good. That actually sounds fucking fantastic,” Iris barks. “I love prizes. Princes, on the other hand, I’m not so sure about.” She purses her lips, shaking her head as if she’s backed me into a corner.

As if she’s won.

And damn it, I think she has.

Because what I want, more than getting my way, is getting her in my bed.

“You want your prize?” I step toward her, close enough that I could kiss her. The energy surging between us is palpable. The fiery exchange instantly dies down and turns to something electric. I may not have fallen in love with this woman, but the lust surging between us is ready to ignite.

Iris nods, her eyes on me, a smile crossing her lips. It’s as if she realizes I’m giving her the best offer she’s had all day.

“What will I get in return for giving you this prize?” I ask.

“Depends on how good the prize is, husband.” Iris raises her eyes.

Damn, she’s trouble.

“Come on, woman. Let’s go to this shitty party.” I grab her hand and lead her back toward the chapel.

I’ll let her have her way. She wants to go to the castle, fine. I’ll take her, because more important than getting my way, is making sure I have my way … with her.





7





The moment we walk back into the chapel and see that Garrick’s parents haven’t yet left, my heart fills with happiness.

Garrick may be a gorgeous asshole, but he is also a prince who has disappointed the king and queen.

His parents are thrilled with me. His mother, Julia, wipes her eyes and then wraps her arms around me. “Oh, Iris, you are a gem. Whatever did you do to convince him?”

I hug her, blinking back the truth. I know what Garrick wants in exchange for taking me to the party.

And the truth is, it makes me feel better about what I want to happen. Of course I want this strong, confident, handsome-as-hell husband of mine to take my virginity, but I don’t want to admit that to him. Not after he was so condescending outside.

But this way, we both get what we want, without me having to admit how badly I want him as well.

This way I can have my wedding reception, and a wedding night.

“Garrick told me he wanted to make his wife happy,” I tell his parents, “so here we are.”

“Wonderful,” King VonTrap beams. “We have a carriage waiting for you, Princess.”

I turn to Garrick, hoping he’ll take the lead.

His jaw tenses; his eyes refuse to acknowledge anyone. However, he does offer me his elbow. I take it, because I have nothing else to hang onto right now, honestly. I’m counting on him to lead the way, in so many ways. With this party and with the wedding night.

I have no experience with either—but damn, I want to learn.



In the castle, there are about a hundred well-dressed dignitaries in the large hall, milling about with drinks and smiles. A string quartet in the corner fills the space with soft music.

There are banquet tables filled with food, and a five-tiered wedding cake front and center. A dance floor and candle-filled chandeliers anchor the room. It looks like we’ve gone back in time, with staff in crisp uniforms—suspenders and knee socks—that are reminiscent of Hansel and Gretel.

The tropical sea breezes filling my bedroom, the dinners of mahi mahi tacos and the fresh fruit kabobs of home are a world away. Here there is dark beer in steins, and skewered sausages.

I don’t resist the differences. This is still a straight-up party, thrown for me and my husband.

Walking into the room, although the two of us are severely underdressed, I raise my hand and wave warmly, smiling at the people who stop their conversations and turn toward us.

A footman calls out a formal pronouncement: “Welcome husband and wife, Prince Garrick and Princess Iris.”

The room fills with applause, and we’re ushered around the ballroom to say hello to the invited guests of the King and Queen. No one seems very interested in Garrick, but they kiss my hand, introduce themselves—the Marquis of so and so, the Earl of whats-it-called and the Duke of blah-ti-blah. I’m too amped up to remember anything except that the room is spinning with my dreams come true.

Garrick, however, is less than thrilled—which is no surprise. Me? I must admit, my heart surges with each cheek-kiss I am granted.