Stealing Beauty Page 9

  The door swung wide, and my eyes darted around before I slipped out of the room I never was supposed to be in. I glanced down and blushed, quickly tying the last two loops of the ribbon at the bust of my dress. I shivered, pulling my hair back and up, hoping it looked fine and not... well, like I’d just had wild, dirty, mind-blowing sex on a throne that wasn’t mine.

  I quickly made my way down the hall back towards the ballroom to find Rourke. My whole body glowed as I slipped around a corner, when suddenly, a shadow stepped in front of me, and my heart about jumped into my throat.

  “Well, well, there she is.”

  I froze, my voice still caught in my throat somewhere at the shock of having run into him.

  “Him” being Monty Scott. Prince Scott, of Kadmire — my horrible first arranged marriage that Rourke had thankfully rendered null and void with his own offer.

  “Your Highness,” I said thinly, barely smiling and doing even less of a curtsey. I’d only met Prince Scott a few times, and I’d liked him less and less with every encounter. The first time we’d met, he’d been drunk, loud, and obnoxious. The second time, after the marriage had been set up, was the same. The third time, he was — yep, you guessed it — drunk, loud, and obnoxious. Only that third time, he’d thrown in cornering me outside the ladies room during dinner and pointedly asking me to blow him “as a taste of what he was buying.”

  …I wish I was making this up.

  Prince Scott grinned lecherously at me, sipping a large glass of something.

  “So, you’re running around with Rourke fucking Cannon now, huh?”

  “He’s my fiancé,” I hissed. “Yes.”

  Monty made a snorting sound and rolled his eyes.

  “Colette, he’s not even royal.”

  I pursed my lips. “That doesn’t matter to me, actually. We’re—”

  “Save it,” he hissed. “I know why, you know.”

  I started to scowl when Monty laughed and shook his head.

  “He’s paying your whore mother’s debts. That’s how he got his hands on you.”

  “You need to shut your mouth,” I spat.

  But Monty wasn’t even close to being done. He snickered, slugging back more of his drink as his bleary eyes slid over me.

  “The Princess of Rags, and Mr. Not Royal who lucked into some cash is going to pay your debts for a little piece.”

  “Shut up,” I hissed, my eyes narrowing at him. “Just shut up and go away, Monty.”

  I went to push past him, but he stopped me with a clammy hand on my arm.

  “So how much?”

  “What?”

  He grinned. “I’m just curious how much that uptight little pussy of yours costs.”

  My jaw dropped. “You disgusting piece of—”

  “I’ll match it, you know.”

  I sneered at him, yanking my arm free. “I have to go.”

  I made it two steps before I heard him right behind me.

  “He hasn’t yet, has he?”

  My lips pursed as I stopped, the anger blooming in my face as I whirled on the little shit.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Fucked you yet.”

  The heat rose in my face. “You’re disgusting.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah that’s a no. C’mon, Colette, how much. I’ll pay right here and now.”

  I started to turn to get away from him and go find Rourke, when he suddenly closed the distance between us faster than I’d ever have guessed. I gasped loudly, the fear lancing through me as he grabbed my arms and shoved me against the hallway wall.

  “How about,” he sneered. “How about you pull that little dress up and show me what I’d be buying, huh?”

  Fear paralyzed me, my blood turning to ice in my veins as he moved against me, his horrible breath wafting over me.

  “How about you let me get a taste of—”

  Monty suddenly shrieked, twisting away from me like he’d been hit by a passing bus. His hand yanked back from my arm at this sickening angle, with a sound that made my skin crawl.

  “Take your fucking hands off of her!”

  Rourke’s bellowing, roaring voice boomed through the hallway as he physically pulled Monty away from me, lifted him up, and threw him across the floor. The prince screamed in agony, clutching his hand and bellowing something. Suddenly, men in black suits with earpieces came dashing around the corner, taking one glance at the prince before they charged at Rourke, pulling guns from their jackets. I screamed in horror, but the sound caught in my throat as I watched in awe as Rourke charged right back at them.

  He caught the first man with his shoulder, lifting him up and then dumping him over his shoulder. His fist caught the next man in the neck, yanking the gun out of his hands and unchambering the round in one smooth motion. The third guard got his legs knocked out, his gun similarly yanked out of his hand and disarmed.

  The fourth and fifth hit Rourke head-on like two linebackers. My heart jumped into my throat in a silent scream, but he barely budged. Rourke roared right back at them, ducking a hit and then landing fists against both of them. He lashed out like some sort of wild animal, kicking both of their guns away before slamming one into the wall with a sickening crunch and then dropping the other one’s face onto his knee, knocking the man out cold.

  I didn’t realize I was actually screaming until he strode right for me, wrapped his big arms around me and held me tight.

  “I’ve got you, Princess,” he murmured in my ear, holding me so tight and kissing the top of my head. “I’ve got you, and I’m never letting you go.”

  “Get him!”

  Monty’s shrill voice had some of his guards lurching to their feet and making a move towards us, when suddenly, the entire hallway was filled with men in the garb of the royal palace guard of Avlion. There was a moment of chaos as they charged around the corner, swarming Monty’s fallen guards and cuffing them before suddenly, four marched right over to us.

  “Wait, no, he was—” I shrieked as they yanked Rourke away from me and started to cuff him.

  “Stop it!” I screamed, lunging at them and trying to land my fists on them. “Let him go!”

  “Miss!” one the guards turned and started to try and grab my wrists, and Rourke exploded. He roared, shoving away the guards holding him back throwing himself into the man trying to grab me.

  “Keep your fucking hands off—”

  He grunted as the butt of a rifle caught him in the side of the head, knocking him to his knees. Rourke snarled, lurching to his feet before suddenly four rifles were pointed right at him.

  “That’s enough!”

  The booming voice filled the hallway, silencing everything in a millisecond. I gasped, turning with the rest of them to see none other than King Lucian standing there, flanked by his royal guard.

  “Sergeant,” he growled, his face hard and his look piercing as he narrowed his eyes at one of the men pointing a gun at my fiancé. “What in the hell is going on here?”

  “Your Highness!” Monty squeaked, scrambling to his feet. “This man accosted me! My guards were trying to protect me, but he—”

  “Your guards who’ve managed to bring concealed weapons into my palace,” King Lucian said evenly, his voice icy as he glared at Monty.

  The prince cleared his throat, scowling. “This man,” he hissed jabbing a finger at Rourke. “This man thinks he can just take my princess!”

  King Lucian’s brow raised slightly, the faintest sign of a smile on his lips.

  “Your princess?” Queen Jessica stepped out from behind her husband, scowling at Monty. “Is she your property?”

  “Your Highness, if I could—”

  She dismissed him with a wave of her hand and turned to me, her look softening. “Are you his property, my dear?”

  “Absolutely not,” I hissed, glaring at Monty before I shoved one of the guards with guns away and reached down to help Rourke to his feet.

  “And this man?” King Lucian rested his gaze on Rourke.<
br />
  “This is my fiancé,” I said quietly, my hand squeezing his so tightly.

  Monty snorted loudly. “Your Highness, this man isn’t even royalty! He’s just some commoner who thinks a checkbook makes him—”

  “Do us all a favor, Prince Scott,” King Lucian growled thinly, turning his eyes back to the sniveling prince, “and cease talking.”

  He turned back to us, but this time, when his eyes landed on Rourke, there was something else there — something piercing and curious.

  “What’s your name, son?”

  Rourke stood tall, squaring his shoulders. “Rourke Cannon, Your Highness. I do apologize for the disturbance in your halls.”

  The king nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Rourke.

  “And what was your mother’s name?” he said quietly.

  I frowned curiously. What?

  “Lena,” Rourke growled quietly. “Her name was Lena Cannon.”

  Slowly, King Lucian shook his head. “Morningstar.”

  Rourke frowned. “Pardon, Your Highness?”

  “Your mother’s name was Lena Morningstar.”

  “No, I’m sorry Your Highness, but her maiden name was—”

  “Your mother loved violets, and she had blue eyes.”

  Rourke tensed, his hand tightening around mine.

  “She was a fantastic swimmer, and she loved the Beatles.”

  “Lots of people love the Beatles,” Rourke growled quietly, his voice hoarse.

  “Ones that have a birthmark in the shape of a star on their left inner arm?”

  The hallway went silent. Queen Jessica looked at her husband curiously, before she turned back to Rourke. This time, her eyes went wide, and her hand moved to her mouth.

  “Son,” Lucian said quietly. “I know your mother’s name was Morningstar, and I know she loved violets, and was and amazing swimmer, because she was my sister.”

  11

  Rourke

  My whole world shattered. Just like that, with just a few words, everything I knew exploded around me.

  “What are you saying?”

  I could hear myself saying the words, but I was barely aware of speaking them. And I almost lost it. Slowly, I could feel the walls closing in on me, my chest tightening and my breath getting harder to take. But then, Colette’s hand tightened in mine, holding me so tight. I turned, and when my eyes met hers, I fell right in.

  And I felt whole.

  I turned back to the king, meeting his eyes as he stared right at me.

  “I believe I’m saying you’re my nephew, Mr. Cannon,” King Lucian said quietly. “You’re of Morningstar blood. Royal blood.”

  I shook my head. “My parents weren’t royals, Your Highness.”

  “Your father wasn’t, but your mother was. Either way, it doesn’t matter. You can choose to say you’re royal or not, I don’t think it changes anything.” He slowly nodded. “You’ve made a name and a fortune for yourself without resting on any laurels of others, or titles, or having a kingdom attached to your name. I think that's admirable.”

  He turned his gaze to Colette and smiled.

  “You’ve got a hell of a man here.” He grinned as he turned back to me. “Rourke, your mother—”

  “With all due respect, Your Highness,” I closed my eyes, shaking my head. “How can you possibly think my mother—”

  “Because you look exactly like her, son,” he said quietly. I watched as his wife, Jessica, slipped her hand into his, squeezing it tightly.

  “It’s true,” she added, nodding at me. “Your mother and I were good friends growing up, and you’re the spitting image of her.”

  “My sister left because of an arranged marriage,” Lucian sighed. He turned and glared at Monty. “There was someone else she loved — someone she wanted to be with more than she wanted to be ‘royal’ and forced to marry someone she didn’t love. So she left.”

  His face looked pained as he glanced at the floor before he drew a deep breath and looked up at me.

  “Our father was not a nice man, and not very forgiving. When she left our palace and the cruel man that had been ‘chosen’ for her, she was disowned. This is why I do not have forced or arranged marriages in my kingdom, and not with my daughters.”

  “You’re throwing a ball this very night for your daughters to to find husbands, sire,” I muttered.

  “And they will find who they choose,” he growled.

  I nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “She was mine!” Monty suddenly butted in, his voice shrill and his face scowling as he jabbed a finger at me.

  “She was not yours to have,” Lucian growled before turning to one of his royal guards.

  “Get him and his men out of my palace. Do yourself a favor and avoid my borders from now on, Prince Scott,” he hissed.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Lucian’s face grew dark, and he drew himself up to his full, and still quite imposing height and build.

  “You brought guns into a party I was throwing at my palace to celebrate love. You’re lucky I don’t have you thrown into prison, you little cretin,” he growled menacingly, making Monty shrink back.

  “Show the prince the door,” he muttered to his guards. “And then show him the borders of our country.”

  Monty was still screeching about something as the royal guard cuffed him and his men and dragged them down the hallway.

  Lucian sighed and then turned back to us, a small smile crossing his face.

  “We have a lot to talk about,” he said quietly, nodding at me. “God, I want to know everything about Lena.”

  I smiled quietly, nodding. “Absolutely, sire.”

  “But first, I think you two should go enjoy the ball.”

  “I think the ball is over,” I said with a small chuckle, glancing up at the late hour on the clock upon the wall.

  Lucian smiled, taking his wife’s hand. “Well, we’ll give you two some space either way. We’ll speak tomorrow I hope. I have so much I want to ask you about my sister.”

  “You have my word, sire,” I said fiercely, crossing the hall and taking his hand. We shook firmly, eye to eye as I tried to process all of this.

  I was royalty? Part of me reeled inside, realizing what that meant, and realizing that it also meant this man was my uncle — my own flesh and blood. But then, I also knew it didn’t change anything. It didn’t change who my parents had been, and what they’d meant to me. It didn’t change what they’d taught me, about the world, and life, and being a man. It didn’t change what I’d done for myself, without ever knowing I had royal blood in my lineage.

  And it didn’t change a single fucking thing about what I felt for this woman standing next to me. It didn’t change me loving her with every single part of me at all.

  ****

  When the hallway emptied, and after I’d gotten another firm handshake from Lucian and warm hug from Jessica, I took Colette’s hand and led her away. We walked the hallways, laughing about what’d just happened, and kissing each other, and just loving being in each other’s company until we found ourselves by a door to a balcony. I led her through, out to the stone terrace draped in roses that looked over the countryside below with the moon shining down.

  “Dance with me,” I murmured into her ear, spinning her slowly in my arms.

  “Rourke, all of this, I mean, Lucian being your uncle—”

  “None of it matters,” I said quietly, taking her hands in mine and leaning down to kiss her. “What sort of lineage I have, or what percentage of ‘royal’ blood I’ve got in these veins doesn’t change a damn thing, Princess.”

  “Good,” she said quietly, biting her lip.

  “All I want is you as my bride, and by my side, for the rest of time.”

  I pulled her close, kissing her fiercely and feeling her melt into me.

  “You know,” she said, grinning as she looked up at me. “Technically, you never asked.”

  I frowned. “I know, and I hate how it was so ‘arr
anged’ like that. I wish I could change that.”

  And just like that, I shook my head, realizing I could.

  In one move, I turned, plucked a rose from the vines creeping over the balcony of the terrace, and then turned back as I dropped to my knee in front of Colette.

  Her jaw dropped.

  “Marry me, Princess,” I said quietly, my pulse roaring in my ears. Fuck, what was I, nervous?

  And for one frozen second, I was. For the first time in my life, I truly felt doubt, and for one whole second, she left me hanging like that. But then, slowly, the grin crept over her face, the spark flashed in her eyes, and the whole damn world shone a little brighter as the only word I ever needed to hear tumbled from her lips.

  “Yes!” she gasped. “A thousand times, yes!”

  She shrieked as I stood and scooped her into my arms, spinning her around and burying my face in her neck as we twirled under the moonlight. My lips moved to hers, and I kissed her with every single thing I had, until time sort of disappeared.

  “This better not…” she blushed as she pulled away from me.

  “What?”

  “I just mean, I like what we have, and just because I’m your wife, I don’t want it to mean I can’t be—”

  “You still want to be my naughty girl, don’t you?” I growled into her ear, making her gasp.

  “Yes,” she whispered back, trembling against me.

  “Good,” I groaned, my hands sliding over her. “Because even when you’re my wife, you’ll always be my naughty, bad little girl.”

  She gasped, kissing me hungrily. And then we just kept kissing. We melted into each other, hands sliding over bodies, tongues melding together, and our breaths becoming one.

  “I don’t want to wait anymore,” she moaned into my lips. “I don’t care about waiting, I just want you. I want you, and I want you to have all of me, now.”

  I groaned, my cock throbbing rock hard against her as my hands slid to her ass. I ground against her, making her whimper as she felt every thick inch of my cock pulsing against her.

  Suddenly, I knew what we’d do. She was right. The hell with waiting for this big elaborate wedding for me to finally claim all of her. We could do whatever we wanted. Hell, I supposed I was a prince now, after all, right? And weren’t princes doing whatever the fuck they wanted all the time?