Once Upon a Prince Read Free Page B

jutted his elbow out the window, slid down in the seat, and steered the big machine through the dappled light where the brightness of the afternoon was giving way to the textured shadows of evening.
    His tension began to ease at the sight of an old woman riding her bicycle on the dirt path next to the road.
    Still, the news at home hadn’t been good before he left. Dad’s health was failing. Nathaniel half suspected he’d sent him on this junket not to please distant cousin Carlene Butler but because this might be Nathaniel’s last excursion as a free man. At thirty-two, he thought he had years—decades—before becoming king.
    But instead he had months. A year tops.
    He steered the car around a curve with a sense of familiarity. He needed more time. To soak up Dad’s wisdom. To amend his youthful rebellion and indiscretions.
    “You will be king within the year. Prepare yourself.”
Dad was so matter-of-fact. So true to form. King first, man second.
    “Dad, no, you’re going to recover …”
    Nathaniel slowed for a traffic light, inhaling the scent of sweet jasmine. It brought memories of home. Of his youth summers with Dad, Mum, and little brother, Stephen, at Parrsons House.
    When the light flashed green, Nathaniel urged the car forward, taking the roundabout along Frederica to Demere.
    Surely this ride was what he needed. Fresh perspective. Life was changing, wasn’t it? Too suddenly. Too quickly.
    The pressure to choose a bride would increase the moment he returned to Brighton. From Mum first, then Dad. After that, the King’s Office. Perhaps the prime minister would want to “have a word.”
    Say, Nathaniel, what thoughts have you given to choosing a wife? The throne needs an heir
.
    As of late, the media had begun to mimic their British and German cousins, printing salacious stories on the royal princes, trying to sell papers, casting aspersions about the crown prince’s marriage intentions, reminding the populace of his youthful indiscretions, and that he’d not had a serious girlfriend in ten years. Fine that … a decade. Though he had been seen as of late with the beautiful Lady Genevieve Hawthorne.
    Nathaniel took the Torras Causeway toward Brunswick, curving right or left as the road dictated, letting it lead him.
    He turned a sharp, sudden right when his eye caught a street sign. Prince Street.
    Slowing down, the SUV drifted through the shade under the live oaks, the breeze gentling past. Prince Street … The sign freed a bit of his hope, made him feel like everything would be all right. As if he might actually be in the right place at the right time. An unusual sensation for crown princes.
    Lord, am I ready …
    He was about to turn around when a strong feminine voice captured his attention. Nathaniel leaned over the wheel, squinting through the sun and shade. A woman walked ’round a car parked under an enormous, craggy old tree. A motley-looking man traipsed after her.
    She stopped, wagged a metal rod or some such at him, and pointed down the road as if telling him to leave.
    The man stepped forward with a wolfish grin. She swung at him.
Good going, girl
.
    Nathaniel pulled his SUV under the tree, parking next to the small, green Cabrio and stepped out.
    “Might I be of assistance?”
    The woman whirled around, giving him a wide-eyed expression. The threads of light falling through the trees haloed her golden hair. “There you are. What took you so long?” She jammed the rod toward him. “I told this guy you were on your way …
darling
.” She made a face. “Can you believe it? Another flat tire.” Her laugh carried no merriment. “The lug nuts are stuck tighter than a drum.”
    “Well, then, let’s get them unstuck.” Nathaniel took the cross wrench from the woman and examined it. He’d changed a few tires in his day. During his university years, racing over country roads had been a pastime for letting off steam.
    He shifted his gaze to the pierced and tattooed man. He was thin,