Page 75 of Scandal Queen

Shit. My make-up.

“Ollie.”

“No, wait, let me finish. I said no to the King’s proposition because I want this to come from me. It’s not about limiting scandal, it’s not about doing the right thing. It’s about my heart, something that until I met you, I never gave much consideration to.”

My hand on his lapel tightened, and I pulled him closer, bringing his lips down to mine. I gasped as our mouths connected. He stole every single part of myself and wove me into someone else, a person I could be with him, a person who was meant to love him.

“Leia,” he whispered my name as he pulled us apart. “I’m not going to lie to you. When I knew someone had come forward, I wanted to tear down the palace walls. I don’t want to lose her any more than you do.”

“We aren’t. She’s mine, ours.” For the first time in six years I truly believed this. The wolf I always imagined chasing my tail, calling me out for my secrets and lies, evaporated.

His head dropped to mine and he shuddered against me. “I was glad he was dead, Leia. What sort of person does that make me?”

“I think that makes you a dad, Ollie.”

The scored frown on his face eased and those beautiful lips lifted at the corners. “You know this isn’t quite how I expected this conversation to go. I was thinking more over the holidays, some mulled wine, maybe a mince pie.”

“What conversation?” Again, with the booming in my heart. My palms slicked against his tuxedo.

“The one where I tell you I want you to be my wife.”

“Ollie, come on.” I lifted my hand and showed Granny Alice’s emerald ring. “You’ve already made a promise, and that’s enough for me.”

He arched an eyebrow, his devilish smile making my heart race even faster. “If you think a promise using a piece of old toot is going to hold up, I can assure you, I’m not the man for that.”

“Wait for Christmas, I’ll get in extra mince pies.”

“Are you saying no?”

“No.” I mean I didn’t think I was saying no… But then, well shit, I didn’t really know what was going on. “What are you saying?”

“Here, come.” He grabbed my fingers pulling me towards the palace doors. Liveried staff stood on duty holding trays of champagne. How long had they been waiting there for us to come in? We were officially late and then some.

Oliver pulled me in the opposite direction to the state rooms where the King and Queen were entertaining the Russian president and his family.

“Oliver, we need to go in there. I don’t want your dad bunching those giant brows at me again.”

He snorted but continued to tow me along by our linked fingers. Every light in the palace glowed to full effect for our distinguished visitors; St Mark’s at its absolute finest.

He stopped by a door which was wooden and curved, old and worn. My tongue tingled with dryness.

“Now. Only a member of the Royal Family gets to come in through this door.”

St Edwin’s Chapel.

“It’s sacrament, the one unbroken rule. In here the royal family have worshiped and prayed, whispering their private beliefs into the sacred walls.”

“Oliver.”

He pushed on the door. “I’ve wanted to bring you here since the moment we met. Since the first time you glared at me, furious and determined. You took my breath away, made me see a glimpse of an existence I didn’t know existed.

“Then when I sat in front of the painting of Lady Jane Grey and told you I’d walk to the block for you, all I could think of was walking you in here. Holding your hand in mine as your equal for life, husband and wife, with no earthly tie between us except for our vows and promise.”

There’d be words I wanted to say, but I wouldn’t know them for hours yet, days, maybe even years.

When the future King of England promises you his heart, his love, an unending promise of faithfulness; but all you can see is the face of the man you love, the man you adore, the man who is just simply one word: Ollie. Not prince, not king, just one simple word; a promise that etches itself into your heart where it can never be removed, there really is only one thing to say.

“Yes.”