Crown Me, Prince Read online

  But she’s thrown down ultimatums, and hell, I don’t want to be the one backing down. The one giving in and giving everything up.

  “There’s cash in the kitchen drawers,” I tell her. “Get yourself what you need.”

  Her eyes are on the floor, and she looks defeated. Like she really thought I’d just pull her into my arms and whisk her off to the castle, to the place that represents everything I can’t stand.

  “Okay,” she says. “I’ll go get the things I need. You’re right, I only have summer clothes.”

  “If you show up here in some ball gown, I’m making you march right back to the shops.”

  I pull open the front door and head outside.

  Chapter 13

  He leaves the cabin, and I’m grateful.

  I lower myself to the edge of the bed, tears brimming in my eyes.

  I’ve never fought like that with a man before. I’ve never fought like that with anyone before.

  I’m the middle sister, which means I’m the peacemaker. I’m not the responsible one, and I’m certainly not the innocent one, but for some reason my eyes have always been wide open.

  Right now, I just want to shut them.

  Tears fall, and I cover my face with my hands. Trying to catch my breath, I think about what I’m supposed to do.

  I root around in my purse for my cell phone. Crossing my fingers, I turn it on, and see that it’s still charged. Thank God there’s an international phone plan on it. Violet insisted I have a working phone before I left Elexia. Hunter had it sent to me before I had to leave. I haven’t met Violet’s husband, but I’ve already decided he’s a keeper.

  Having programmed the number of the hotel where they’re staying for their honeymoon, I dial the number. They’re in the Mediterranean, because Hunter knows how to properly treat his princess. Garrick could take a few lessons from him.

  “Violet?”

  “It’s Hunter. One moment, Iris, let me get your sister.”

  “Iris? What are you doing calling? Is everything okay?”

  “No, it’s not okay. It’s a disaster. It’s beyond a disaster. It’s ruined. I didn’t call Dahlia, of course. Because if she hears how horrible my marriage is, there’s no way in hell she’s going to show up at Prince Lucas’s house next week. But I’m telling you, this is a cluster. An SOS, 911, emergency. This will not work.”

  “Iris,” Violet says calmly. “Start at the beginning.”

  “There is no beginning. I need you. I need you to come here. You and Hunter can come rescue me. Please be my knight in shining armor.”

  “Knight in shining armor? What are you talking about, Iris?”

  “I’m talking about the fact that yesterday I got married to a beast.”

  “Iris, calm down.” I hear Violet talking to Hunter, obviously explaining this entire thing to him. “Iris, I put you on speaker. Start at the beginning, for reals this time.”

  “Great, so Hunter can know how horrible my life is also. Do you know that I’m currently residing in a one-room cabin without electricity?”

  “What?” Hunter laughs. And I wish I could reach through this phone and rip him a new one.

  “It’s not funny, Hunter,” I moan, falling onto my mattress. My head hits the pillows, which smell like Garrick—so manly and so good.

  I punch them. I punch the pillows. I don’t want a husband who smells good if it means he’s a total jerk. I want Garrick to be nice to me. I want the Garrick who held me all night and made my body feel so good. Not the Garrick who wants to fight, who wants to dig his heels in.

  “Iris?” Violet asks. “Are you still there?”

  “Do you know what I’m dealing with?” I ask. “You know how we joked that Garrick was a recluse? He really is. This whole country is super wealthy; the castle is what I dreamed it would be. Ball gowns and slippers and bonbons and harps. And wedding cake. They made us a wedding cake.”

  “It sounds like a dream.” Violet says. “Now, Iris, what exactly is the problem?”

  “Because that’s the castle, Violet—the castle Garrick refuses to sleep in. We live outside of town. In this tiny one-room cabin without hot water.”

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry it’s not what you expected.”

  “Not what I expected? This isn’t what anyone would expect. This is a nightmare. No wonder eight other princesses refused to marry him. There aren’t any electrical sockets.”

  “Hell, I know how you can deal with this guy,” Hunter says.

  A surge of hope ignites within me. “Really? What do you think I should do?” At this point I’m game for anything. I know nothing about psychoanalyzing men.

  “Play hardball.”

  Deflated, I explain, “Oh, I tried that. I got naked for him, and then I told him we wouldn’t be sleeping together unless we moved out of the cabin. I thought for sure I could tempt him with that. But nope, he just stormed out with a gun. A gun. He said he was hunting for our dinner. What year is this? Because seriously, at the castle there were roasted pigs and steins of beer and plenty to go around. Instead of all of that, my husband is going to hunt for what, wild turkey?”

  “Iris, calm down.” I hear Violet and Hunter giggling in the background and it makes me furious.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “It’s a little funny.” I can practically hear Violet smiling through the phone.

  “Refusing sex once is one thing,” Hunters says. “But Garrick is a man with a pulse, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you slept with him on your wedding night?”

  “Yes. More than once. That’s how nice I am, so willing and adoring, a perfect freaking wife. What do I get in return? Coffee.”

  “Right,” Hunter says, not giving into my tantrum—or probably even understanding it. “But, Iris, think about it. You slept with him all night. Give it a day. Hell, give it a few days. There’s no way this man can hold out. You play hard ball and he’ll come to you begging.”

  “Really? That’s the game I should play? You think?”

  “In the meantime your job is to charm his pants off,” Hunter says. “Make him see that he can’t live without you.”

  “No. I’m not going to be the one charming anybody,” I tell them, my voice fiery with rage. “He’s the one who should be charming me. I’m his wife.”

  “Whoa, Princess,” Hunter says. “We get that point. So you’re not going to do any charming. I think the easiest route here, then, is denying him what he wants. There’s no way this poor sucker is going to hold out longer than a day or two.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Good,” Violet says. “Because we’re not leaving our honeymoon to come rescue you. This is your life—and Iris? It’s the life you’ve been waiting for.”

  “I have not been waiting to move to this backwards village.”

  “See if grows on you,” Violet says. “In a week, if it’s still just as horrible, we can come up with a different plan. Until then—”

  “Until then,” Hunter interjects, “make him suffer.”

  Violet laughs, and I can’t help smiling myself. I can’t believe Hunter is married to my uptight sister. He’s this joking, easygoing man. The perfect complement to her.

  I can’t help but wonder if I’m the right complement for Garrick. We’re so different. I can’t imagine we could really work.

  “I’ll try,” I tell them. “For you and dad and Dahlia. For Elexia.”

  “And by try, I’m telling you, Iris,” Hunter adds, “walk around in a negligée. Forget to wear a bra. Play with your hair. Wear a garter belt. Spray whipped cream on a banana and eat it slowly.”

  Violet and I crack up, but I think he’s right.

  I thank them and end the call.

  Then I immediately begin to make a list of things I need to get in town.

  I smile, and underneath winter coat and winter boots and wool socks and long underwear, I write whipped cream.

  I am going to win.

  Chap
ter 14

  Look, I’m not looking for a woman who’s going to do exactly as I say. But throwing a tantrum without even trying to understand where I’m coming from is not going to fly.

  Iris thinks she wants to play hardball with me? She has no idea what she’s up against. No way in hell am I going to change my way of life for a woman I just met.

  Iris looked so fucking hot stepping straight out of the shower, it had my cock rock hard.

  And for a second, I considered giving in to her request. For a second, I thought losing my convictions would be worth another taste of her perfect pussy.

  But then I remembered that this girl woke up, in a new place, without any clue of what she was getting herself into.

  So, of course she’s going to throw down ultimatums the first chance she gets. That doesn’t mean I have to give in. No way in hell is Iris going to hold out for longer than a day. She won’t be able to suppress herself that long. Not after having experienced an entire night with my cock.

  With my rifle slung over my shoulder, I hike deeper into the woods. I thought checking my traps while out in the open air would help calm me down.

  It was a good call. Being out in the woods always clears my head, and I don’t need to catch some big game in order to get my ego stroked.

  It’s about being outside, about the clean air and the high altitude and the quiet—the exact opposite of the castle. You’d think being a Historic Village would mean people pay a little more reverence to where we come from. But that’s not the case. There are so many damn tourists clogging those cobblestone streets that any understanding of what Alpinweiss was five hundred years ago is nonexistent.

  No one seems to care about our forests and rich natural resources. They just want a beer served by barkeeps in lederhosen. They want sausage on a fucking stick.

  I check my traps. I was out here yesterday morning, and everything is still empty. I walk a few miles and almost forget the fight in my cabin this morning, almost forget the way Iris and I ended things.

  But then I look up, see a flock of birds squawking in the tree branches, and I’m reminded of our heated exchange.

  Hopefully Iris has gone into town by now and gotten herself some things to wear. Maybe spending some money and seeing the village will take the edge off. She doesn’t want to stay in my rustic cabin? Fine. Then let her go spend some time in town.

  I just hope she can make her way around without my mother catching wind and sinking her claws into her.

  I know my parents are going to try to lay down the law and have a whole bunch of expectations of us now that we’re married. They’ll try to fill her calendar with dinners at the castle, and meetings—but I’m going to hold out and avoid that shit as long as possible. There has to be some way to have boundaries between my private and public life.

  Maybe that’s pie-in-the-sky thinking, that I can be royalty without my entire life being devoted to the monarchy. I don’t imagine I’ll be able to do this forever, if there isn’t a better balance.

  I walk back down the mountain and head back to the cabin.

  It’s empty.

  Quiet.

  Looking around, I notice Iris’s suitcase is no longer on the bed with clothes in disarray. I hang my rifle back on the rack, not having needed it … and possibly having exaggerated my use for it in the first place.

  Looking around the kitchen, I see that Iris left her coffee on the counter, her scone in the bag. I feel like shit, walking away like I did. I have most of my dinners at the bar in town, and breakfast and lunch? I eat granola bars, fruit. Beef jerky and trail mix.

  I’m a man, not a chef.

  But I think about Iris, and wonder if she’s going to be able to deal with the lack of food in the house. Not that I was willing to admit it to her earlier, but now I can see how it might be an issue. She deserves better than a cabin without a working fucking fridge.

  Living as a bachelor, grabbing a growler of beer for the night, and a bag of chips—well, I didn’t need much more. But Iris isn’t a bachelor. Iris is a princess. My princess. And way more than I ever expected, with my parents arranging my marriage.

  So yeah, she complained about a refrigerator, but I recognize that she wasn’t making some crazy ass demands.

  Clenching my jaw, I wonder how the fuck I’m supposed to bridge this gap with her. One thing I know: I’ve done a terrible job of it so far.

  I decide to head into town and grab some food—and, more importantly, a few beers. And I hope to find Iris there.

  Walking down the well-worn path toward the village square, I run into Thomas again, heading back to town with his wagon full of produce.

  “Want a ride?” he asks.

  The thing I love about Thomas, and lots of the guys like him in town, is that there’s no pretense with them. He sees me as an equal, because I’ve made my life as his neighbor, one of the people of Alpinweiss, not a high-rise politician.

  “Sure. Your wagon working out okay today?”

  “You want to talk about my wagon? I heard you got yourself married, Garrick. Where’s the wife?”

  “She’s in town.”

  “Oh yeah. Everyone in town is talking about you guys. We had no idea our prince was ready to walk down the aisle.”

  “Why don’t you keep your eyes on the road, Thomas?” I say, trying to change the subject, and not really wanting to talk about Iris and me, what we are and what we clearly aren’t.

  “Suit yourself, Prince. You sure aren’t like any prince I’ve ever heard of.”

  “You run into that many princes?”

  Of course Thomas hasn’t. He’s a man in his sixties, who’s been trekking his fresh produce back and forth from his farm to the village market every day of his life. He’s the sort of man Alpinweiss is made of. Not like me, and especially not like my father. While we have to work, we don’t have to put food on the table. We don’t have to sacrifice.

  I feel sick, thinking about how everything I have has been handed to me. How I wish I could do more, be more. Be a better man.

  “Oh, you’re right, I haven’t run into any other princes. Your parents okay with their prince living in the mountains with the new princess?”

  “Okay with it?” I shake my head, running my hand over my jaw. “Hell, no. They have all sorts of ideas about Iris and me. Iris probably has all sorts of ideas about us, too. But you know me.”

  “Yes, I do know you. You do everything however you damn well please, ever since you built the cabin and moved out of your parents’ castle.” Thomas clucks his tongue. “I must say, you’re the only man in the world who would give up the palace for creaky floorboards and a woodstove.”

  “I love those floorboards.” I grin, knowing Thomas has been up to my place enough times over the years, helping me out with cleaning something we’ve hunted, or clearing my traps. I’ve made a point to help him out also, to lend a hand in his fields or his son’s fields. Thomas’s farm is mostly run by his son these days.

  “You may love those floorboards but I’m surprised that a woman could live up there with you. This princess must be pretty special.”

  “Iris isn’t your average princess.” I don’t know why I say it, like I want to defend Iris’s personality. Like I don’t want Thomas to question my wife, question my marriage.

  “Well, then you have the right woman for you. I don’t think any average princess would be able to hack it with a man as stubborn and self-reliant as you.”

  “You can just stop right here,” I tell him, pointing to the pub down the block.

  “You going drinking without your wife after you’ve been married just one day? I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work, Prince.”

  “I don’t care how it’s supposed to work, Thomas. I do things however I like, whenever I like. And right now, I need a drink.”

  “Suit yourself. And Garrick,” he adds. “If you need any help with the floorboards, let me know.”

  As I’m sitting down with a drink, the bartend
er, Kurt, asks if I’d like a whiskey to chase it.

  “What do you think?” I ask my old friend.

  “I think you do. Everyone in town is talking about you today.”

  “Oh, yeah? And what are they saying?”

  Working in a pub, Kurt knows all the gossip in a village like this, where beer and pretzels are the bread-and-butter of this town.

  “They’re saying you got married yesterday, didn’t invite a lick to the wedding. Not even us, the people who are here for you day and night, pouring your beer, making your bread, washing your underwear. I think some people are pretty upset with you, especially since you’re touted as the people’s prince and all.”

  “Fuck, the last thing anyone wants to do is come to a Royal wedding. I agreed to an arranged marriage—and hell, my parents delivered. But I’m not going to stand up in some fancy-ass suit like a clown just so people can look at me. I don’t do that shit.”

  “And your wife, this new princess of yours, she’s okay with that?” Kurt asks, drying a pint glass. “Guess I always assumed princesses like to be the belle of the ball.”

  I shake my head, wondering what the deal is about princesses needing ball gowns to be happy.

  “Well, Iris isn’t your average princess. Anyway, she’s out shopping.”

  “Out shopping? I never heard a thing like this. I swear to God, Garrick, you are an anomaly.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Kurt says, laughing. He sets my whiskey down next to my stein of beer. “Most men would be with their wives after their wedding. They would still be in bed the day after their wedding. And you? No honeymoon, no weekend away. You’re the fucking Prince. You could take this girl anywhere in the world. And instead you’re sitting around the Historic Village of Alpinweiss, drinking beer with me?”

  I pick up my stein, guzzling. I set it down. My jaw tenses as I wonder if guys like Thomas and Kurt know what they’re talking about. Maybe I am the fool. No fucking refrigerator, fucking creaky floorboards, and here I am fucking drinking beer.