Page 101 of A Royal Mistake
He scanned the crowd, taking in all the curious stares and not-so-subtle whispers. Verdammt. A smarter man would’ve waited one more day, but he’d already proven himself a foolish arsehole in love. And as much as he valued his privacy, he was committed.
No turning back, even if he’d rather face a rabid boar head-on.
His heart slammed against his ribcage and he prayed he wouldn’t have a bloody heart attack.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my heritage.”
Pippa opened her mouth to protest, and he pressed a finger to her lips. He needed to get this out before he lost his nerve. He’d had it all planned out in his head, but not once had he imagined speaking his truth before the Valerian court. Or her brothers, who stood at the front of the crowd, Prince William nodding in encouragement and Prince Alexander glaring at him like he’d taken the biscuit.
Best to focus on the lady.
Pippa was the only one who mattered.
“For years, my identity has been my most closely guarded secret. I wasn’t prepared to risk exposure or falling prey to the watchful eye of the media again. Not after the car accident. That life… it nearly killed me and I couldn’t take the risk. I was a bloody fool. I didn’t realize that what we were building was worth more than any what-if scenario.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Their Majesties watching from the second-floor balcony, and they didn’t look happy.
Scheisse. He needed to get to the good stuff before they threw him out on his arse for crashing their party.
“And then I started falling for you and I was afraid you would paint me with the same brush as the other suitors, as someone who couldn’t see past titles and political advantages, as someone who would put decorum and protocol before happiness—your happiness.”
Understanding dawned in Pippa’s eyes and she gave a slow blink, her lashes fanning her cheeks. When her gaze met his, it was as if the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of them.
“I know you would never do that.” She cupped his cheek, and a shiver raced down his spine.
God, how he’d missed her.
The past week had been torture. He couldn’t imagine going another day without her touch, which had become as essential as breathing. If she gave him another chance, he’d never hurt her again.
“Pippa, I screwed up. I broke your trust and I’m so sorry. I wish I could go back and change it, but I swear if you give me another chance, I’ll never let you down again.” He lifted his hand to cover hers where it still rested on his cheek. Her skin was hot to the touch. Or maybe it was his? He was burning up. With desire, with the need to tell her how he felt, with nerves. He was in literal hell, baring his soul before a horde of strangers.
Sweat trickled down his brow.It’s now or never.
“Despite my faults, you know exactly who I am. You’ve always known. In here,” he said, placing his other hand over her heart. “I’m the man who’s fallen arse over teakettle for your brilliant smile. The man who needs you far more than he needs privacy. The man who believes in you and wants to share your life and stand by your side as you change the world. The man who loves you and wants to marry you.”
There was an audible gasp, but he wasn’t sure if it came from Pippa or the gathered crowd.
His pulse roared at his temple as he stared down at her, praying she’d say yes. Praying she’d give him another chance. Praying she’d do anything but turn him away.
He’d meant it when he said he’d never let her down again and he’d do whatever it took to prove it to her.
Well, anything short of hugging the paps.
A man had to have some lines he wouldn’t cross.
Pippa looked up at him from under her lashes and his heart stuttered. Her dark eyes burned with determination, the golden flecks shining brightly. She was so damn beautiful, with her striking cheekbones and hair spilling over her shoulders in soft waves, but it was the beauty of her spirit he admired most.
The same feisty spirit that had him clutched by the stones, waiting for an answer to what was surely the most important question he’d ever asked.
“Was that a question or a statement?” Pippa’s lips curved into a saucy smile and his heart tripped over itself.
Bloody fucking hell. Could you be a bigger arsehole?
He couldn’t even propose properly. With his stomach climbing into this throat, he dropped to one knee and pulled the tiny box containing his grandmother’s heirloom diamond from his jacket pocket.
“Philippa Stanley, will you marry me?” He opened the box and offered her the ring, along with his still beating heart.
Pippa gasped and her eyes took on a glassy sheen as she stared down at him with more love and respect than he deserved. She was going to say yes. He knew it in his gut, but that didn’t make breathing any easier. Each breath took effort, a slow drag that seemed to stretch on for an eternity.
The garden had fallen silent, as if the gathered crowd was holding their collective breath, waiting for her answer. Pippa reached for the ring, but pulled back at the last second, clasping her hands over her stomach.