Crowned By The Mountain Prince: An Arranged Marriage Romance Read online

  Crowned By the Mountain Prince

  An Arranged Marriage Romance

  Frankie Love

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  ACE: LAS VEGAS BAD BOY

  WILD & TRUE

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  Edited by Larks and Katydids

  Cover by Mayhem Cover Creations

  Copyright © 2016 by Frankie Love

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For my ladies in Book Boyfriend Central…

  You make this job pretty damn amazing.

  May we all end up with our own happily ever after!

  xoxo, frankie

  1

  The moment Father calls us into the throne room I know something big is happening. It isn’t very often that he summons us at all; he’s usually too stressed out, and the way he relieves his stress is by lying on the beach.

  Definitely not by trying to get the country of Elexia back in order.

  My oldest sister, Violet, has always done her fair share of helping out in the farther reaches of the kingdom. Iris, the middle child, maintains a disposition capable of convincing anyone to do what she wants.

  Me, I help out in my own way—albeit a softer, quieter way. While Violet complains about how busy she is, and Iris laments not getting to go on some Moroccan camel ride in Timbuktu, I’m usually busy doing the simpler things that our poor weathered castle requires.

  Someone has to do the dirty work.

  Now I’m not saying I’m a maid … but if anyone is ever looking for me, the first place they go is the washroom because I take care of the laundry. Or else they look in the kitchen, because someone has to chop the vegetables. You know that rum punch Elexia is so famous for? Well, someone has to juice all those berries.

  And I’m being completely honest when I say this: I don’t mind these chores. I love our castle. It isn’t a fairytale castle, necessarily, but in my mind, it’s a page right out of a storybook.

  It has this Jungle Book aesthetic—think open doors, sun bleeding through every window, the sea breeze wafting through the sitting rooms, massive palm trees and thick vines growing everywhere. Canopies cover the large outdoor decks, and the polished floors are bright and gleaming.

  I adore this home sweet home, which is why I spend so much time caring for it.

  Maybe you’re pegging me as Cinderella from the movies? Where the blond-haired, blue-eyed, misplaced Princess scrubs the floor with the wooden bucket and a soppy sponge? Well, I’m not saying there are birds and mice helping me when I’m on my hands and knees, polishing the floor or the banister, but I am saying that that’s where I’m most comfortable.

  That’s where I take the most pride.

  Well—that, and helping my older sisters sew their clothing. Iris always says she likes to sew, but the truth is, she likes to show me pictures of dresses she wants and then stand poised as I drape the cloth around her body, pining the fabric in place.

  So when Father calls us into the throne room, I have an apron on, a kerchief on my hair, and rosy, flushed cheeks from rushing here.

  Violet looks prim and proper, as she always does. Iris looks the part of the distracted princess, looking at her phone instead of meeting anyone’s gaze.

  “Daughters, I have a plan that will save our country,” Father says brightly.

  I swallow the questions rising in my throat. I do my best to pause before I speak—which is good, considering the words immediately rising to the surface are negative.

  I’m not saying I’m a pessimist … because everything I do is the opposite of pessimism. But I will say, the idea that my father—my bumbling father, who’s forgotten to attend any civic hall meeting over the last two years—has a plan that can save Elexia?

  It sounds a little far-fetched.

  “And what is it, Father?” Violet asks. I see her mentally taking notes before the verdict has even been stated.

  “I have arranged marriages for all three of my daughters.” My father grins broadly, as if he has somehow cured an epidemic, or figured out what to do with our kingdom’s homeless population.

  But no. He’s found us suitors. That’s it.

  “How’s that going to save us?” Iris asks.

  Father wags his finger at us, smiling surely. “The kings of the respective countries where each of your princes are from have agreed to pay dowries for your hands. Violet will marry first, then Iris, and lastly you, my darling Dahlia.”

  He pats my head as if I’m a child, when clearly I’m not. I’m twenty-one years old and while I’m the youngest daughter, in a lot of ways I’m more mature than my older sisters.

  Not that I’d ever say that to them; they’d of course balk at the sentiment. Some people think the youngest is always going to be the most frivolous. But that isn’t me at all. I’m the sort of girl who, instead of moaning about the fact that the housecleaners have been laid off, picks up a mop and sets to work.

  “Who are we to marry?” Violet asks.

  I see her knuckles go white, her beautiful face blank.

  Beside me, Iris squeals—which is no surprise. She’s been ready for an adventure since she was a little girl. For her, this chance to go somewhere new is her heart’s desire.

  But me? My heart’s desire is different than Iris’s, and definitely different than Violet’s. Violet cares deeply for Elexia, not just her family. She cares for our people. For her, I can already see how leaving home will be a challenge in a different way.

  I listen as Father lists the irreparable bad boy Hunter of Cressia as Violet’s husband to be, and the reclusive Garrick of Alpinweiss to be Iris’s betrothed.

  “And me?” I ask. “Who am I to wed?”

  Violet is already fainting beside me; apparently the idea of marrying the most indecent prince in the world has gotten to her. I hold her hand, and feel for a pulse to confirm that she’s okay.

  Still, my eyes are on my father, my king. I want to know who my husband is going to be.

  The truth is, I’ve only ever wanted one thing: true love.

  And with one announcement it seems as if that is not to be my destiny after all.

  I blink back tears, realizing that true love is never going to be something I have. If I’ve been bought for a price, then this marriage is just an arrangement.

  It’s not a marriage of love.

  “You, my darling Dahlia, are to marry Prince Lucas of Rochester.”

  I gasp; this Prince is too good to be true.

  I can’t believe my fortune.

  Everyone knows that Prince Lucas is the most likabl
e Prince in the world. Not a bad boy like Hunter, and not a jerk like Garrick.

  And he is to be my husband.

  Now I’m the one who feels faint.

  2

  I pace Father’s bedchamber.

  He summoned me here with news.

  I know what’s coming. Everyone knows what’s coming: the royal wedding that every person in Rochester has been planning since my birth.

  I’m to wed in one month’s time. I just haven’t met the girl yet.

  My father shifts in his bed. I know he’s in pain, and it kills me to see him this way. He’s been on his deathbed for three years. He’s one of my closest friends, and he’s carefully prepared me to take over the throne when he passes.

  I’m a lucky Prince indeed.

  I trust him with arranging my marriage. It’s been the tradition in my country since the beginning of time.

  Still, I’ll admit to being hesitant. What if he picks wrong?

  “Your wife has been chosen,” he says.

  I clench my jaw, so conflicted. I wanted to marry someone I cared for, but I must settle for someone my father believes will be a good alliance.

  A stranger.

  My father knows my feelings on the matter.

  “There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s the princess for you,” Father says.

  “Why do you say that?” I ask, raising a brow. “Have you met her, then?”

  Father folds his hands, considering me. “No, but it appears she will be a good match. She is virtuous and kind. That seems like enough. And the alliance with her country will serve us well. They need to increase their exports, and our harbors can offer them the aid they need in exchange for lowered taxes on the goods we want. I truly believe she will like you for you. She appears … down to earth.”

  I’m not as certain. Having been touted as the “most eligible prince” for the past several years, I’ve been around women who aren’t in it for the right reasons.

  “I’ve dated plenty of royal women over the years, and they’re never interested in me as a person. They want the title, and the crown of Rochester.”

  “And what are you looking for, Son? Love?”

  “Love?” I shake my head. No matter how much of a romantic I am, at my core I’m a realist. “I’m not looking for true love. Would I like that? Of course. Who wouldn’t? But that’s not what I’m after. I’m looking for someone compatible. Gold-diggers have burned me too many times before. I want someone who genuinely likes me, someone I can take on the sailboat in the summer, someone I can read books with in the mountain chalet. I want a bride who appreciates me as something more than a prince.”

  My father nods his head in understanding. “You mean a bride who likes you for reasons beyond your title? Because, Son, you won’t be a prince for long.”

  I swallow, hating it when Father speaks this way, even though we both know it’s the truth. He won’t last much longer. And when he passes, I’ll be king. Whomever I wed will shortly become Queen of Rochester.

  This is no secret. Everyone the world over knows that the king of Rochester is ill.

  More than ill: dying.

  “Father, you don’t know that for certain. Perhaps the new medication will work. Something may turn around soon. You never know what fortune may befall you, or will befall Rochester.”

  He shakes his head, a small smile playing on his face. “And you say you’re not a romantic? You say you’re a realist? Look at you, wishing for things that are not to be. I daresay I won’t make it past the New Year.”

  “It’s already November, Father.” I stop pacing his room, instead resting my elbows over the footboard of his bed. How many times, over the years, have I come here asking my father for advice? Weighing his counsel and genuinely wanting his opinion?

  And so soon, he will be gone.

  I know the medication is not going to be a miracle cure. So he’s wrong about that; I am a realist. But I can’t give up hope, not now. Not yet.

  “My greatest wish is to see you married,” he says. “That was your mother’s greatest wish too, God rest her soul. But, Lucas … she isn’t here, and I won’t be here forever, either. I just worry that you’ll get so caught up in wanting the one that you’ll miss out on a lifetime of happiness with someone you’re compatible with.”

  I look out the window to collect my thoughts. The mountains are draped with a blanket of fresh snow. The kingdom of Rochester is tucked away in a mountainous region, one that’s expansive and beautiful—yet under the pure white snow, the terrain is cruel and harsh. The winters are long, and the snow deep.

  Knowing that my father will pass soon is equally harsh, equally cruel. He’s a good man and deserves a long life.

  I swallow the lump in my throat. My father is the greatest man I’ve ever known. I’d do anything to make him proud.

  “I will marry her, of course.” I nod swiftly, my eyes on the ground, not wanting my emotions to betray me.

  I’m a mountain prince, not a child. Tears have no place here. Instead, my duty will carry me forward.

  “Her name is Dahlia and she comes from Elexia.”

  I snort, hesitating at his sentence. I shake my head. “I very well know you are ill … but Father, are you also mad?”

  He smiles, raising his hands as if he knew my reaction was coming. “She is beautiful.”

  “And from a bankrupt island where they drink rum and collect coconuts.”

  “Son, do you trust me?”

  I roll my eyes. “This is insane. You think this is the best match?”

  “Lucas, I know you better than anyone else.”

  “And what do you know?”

  “I know that you take things too seriously, and that you forget to smile. That you get so focused on your duty, you forget to take care of yourself by relaxing, by kicking back, and—”

  “By being lazy? That’s how you want me to behave, is it?”

  “Not at all. I want you to be happy. And I want you to marry a woman who can handle being a queen.”

  “Has she ever even been to a mountain?”

  “I don’t think so. But, Son, you can show her the country you love.”

  Father folds his hands in his lap, blankets tucked around him, his head resting on the pillows. He looks tired, and I know this conversation is wearing him out.

  “I’ll let you be, Father.”

  At my core, I’m a mountain Prince. Rochester is the home I love, the air I breathe. I can’t ruin this great country by marrying a woman who only wants to be here for a crown on her head.

  Walking out of the room, I know what I need to do.

  I need to test this princess before we walk down the aisle.

  3

  After the excitement wears off, Violet heads to Cressia to get married. Iris leaves for her wedding in Alpinweiss just a week later. Now I’m left alone in our castle bedroom.

  The crazy thing is, I don’t think I’ve ever slept alone here in my entire life.

  I try not to panic.

  It’s not that I’m scared to be here alone in our massive suite. The panic is from worry of what’s to come.

  I miss my sisters. Violet always tells me what to do, and Iris always promises that everything will be okay. Without either of their voices to calm my anxious nerves, I keep myself up all night; fearful of what tomorrow will hold.

  Tomorrow I’ll fly halfway around the world to the mountainous country of Rochester.

  I wish my sisters were here with me. I wish I could see their faces, and ask them details about how they spent their wedding nights. The truth is, I’m more than a little nervous about marrying a stranger.

  Having sex with a stranger isn’t what worries me. In all honesty, I’ve fantasized of having a mysterious man take me as his. As a princess this is so far from my reality—I could never have a secret liaison—but what I wouldn’t give for an uninhibited night with a man who wanted me.

  Instead, my marriage has been arranged, and any romance I dreamed of is not
going to happen.

  From the pictures I’ve seen, Lucas looks handsome, and I’m grateful for that, but I’m not just interested in a chiseled face. I want passion. Chemistry.

  Magic.

  And every time I think about a man as regal and well-to-do as Lucas, I find myself biting my nails and stuttering. I’m stumbling for words, and we haven’t even met yet.

  I just know I’m going to come off as quiet and dull. I don’t have anything to say to a man so cultured.

  So I practice possible conversations:

  Oh, for fun I really like to reorganize the linen closet.

  When I’m really bored, there’s nothing I love more than stitching tattered hems.

  I love to polish silver if the washing is done.

  Nothing about any of that is appealing. It doesn’t make me seem sexy or sophisticated. It makes me sound boring.

  In the middle of the night, frustrated at my lack of sleep, I tear off my sheets and get out of my bed.

  I step onto the balcony, looking at the ocean waves, saying goodbye to them. And yes, I sound like a hopeless romantic, whispering words of farewell to the sea and the moon and the sandy beach before me, but I will never see them from this vantage point again. At least not as an unmarried virgin.

  If I ever come back to visit, with my husband, I’ll be so different than I am now.

  I blink back tears, knowing there’s no reason to cry over a future that’s equal parts exciting and terrifying. I should count myself a very lucky girl. There’s a man who’s willing to marry me.

  And Prince Lucas isn’t just any man; he’s one of the most eligible bachelors in the world.

  I know my sister Iris was jealous of Violet marrying Hunter, because Hunter has a reputation for flashing a smile to the paparazzi as he whisks women away to his mountain cabin.

  I don’t want a showy man.

  And Garrick, who seems at least less of an asshole than we originally thought, is not gentle or soft. He’s a rough-and-tumble man, who actually seems like the right match for my sister. She needs a man who will keep her in line. But I’m not interested in rough-and-tumble.