Her uncle had driven her mother away. He’d hated his own sister so much that he’d allowed it to consume him. Or maybe he’d loved Nya and her mother so much that it was love that had consumed him in the end. It was frightening, what the emotion could do to you once it had you in its grip.

She took the little note and placed it on the bedside table, then stared down at her hands.

“Ledi?” Thabiso looked worried. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” she said. She looked at him, examined that perfect face that made her want to hold him and protect him and, occasionally, kick him in the shin. “I think I might love you. Maybe.”

“What?”

“I know. It’s crazy, huh? I wouldn’t mention it, but if I’m going to leave soon, I guess I should tell you.” She waited for him to laugh, or to jump up and run away—after all, he didn’t need her anymore. He was a hero to the masses at the moment, no bride necessary.

“Hmm. The thing is, I have some business to attend to in New York,” he said, stroking his beard in the way he did when he was mulling something over. “I was thinking that since you were going to leave soon, I could go back with you. Crazy, as you were saying, huh?”

Ledi’s heart started to beat faster, harder.

“What kind of business?”

“Well, there’s always something to be done in New York when you’re a prince.” He pulled her into his lap and she wrapped her legs around him. “What was it you mentioned before? Riding horses and strip poker?”

“Horses? D’artagnan will be jealous.”

“He gave me his blessing,” Thabiso said. “That means I’m holding out on one more. Two.”

Ledi was confused, then she laughed. “The Grams are very protective of their space.” She leaned into him. They were chest to chest and his heart was beating fast, too.

“I won’t invade the Grams’ space, but I really think they’ll like the view from the brownstone Likotsi picked out for me, so I’ll win them over eventually. It’s no brick wall view, but Central Park is lovely in the autumn.”

“It is,” Ledi agreed, resting her forehead against his. His arms encircled her, with his hands cupped at the base of her spine, holding her close to him.

“Maybe, if they like me enough, they’d consider coming to Thesolo at some point in the future?” he asked.

Ledi closed her eyes. “Is there such a thing as being happily freaked out? Because that’s what I’m feeling right now.”

Thabiso laughed. “I’m pretty sure I prefer that to ‘happily ever after.’ Way less pressure.”

“Oh, there’s a ton of pressure, Bones,” she said, mimicking his accent.

He sighed. “I’ll never live that down, will I?”

“Let’s find out,” she said.

He kissed her then, more sweetly than he ever had. Ledi held him tight and wondered if their new home would have a washer and dryer. After all, she was kissing living proof that even her wildest dreams could come true.

An Excerpt from A Duke by Default

Keep reading for a sneak peek

at the next book in the Reluctant Royals series

A Duke by Default

Coming Summer 2018!

Chapter 1

Project: New Portia was off to a fantastic start.

Old Portia was no stranger to hopping in cabs at the break of dawn, bleary-eyed and disheveled, but in the past she’d generally been hungover and making a hasty exit from her fuckboy of the night’s bed.

New Portia was stone-cold sober, as she had been for months, halfway across the world from her usual New York City stomping grounds and entirely pissed.

She pulled her hair back out of her face, slipping the scrunchie she wore around her wrist over the mass of thick, kinky curls to secure them. She glanced out of the window, taking in the gated storefronts nestled in the incongruously beautiful old buildings of Edinburgh’s Royal Mile. In the back of her mind, she noted the different architectural styles and probable time periods the buildings had been built in—her master’s in art history and string of internships actually hadn’t just been a way of putting off responsibility, despite what her family thought, or hadn’t just been that—but she had more pressing problems than discerning between marble and gold leaf and Victorian or Georgian.

She checked her phone again—no new calls, no new messages, and a shitload of social media notifications. The latter was the norm, the first two were a problem.

Next, she checked the website of her destination, the ugly fonts and terribly formatted photos giving her hives as she searched for and verified the phone number. The website was at the top of her “oh honey, no” to-do list for Bodotria Armory that she’d compiled since her application for apprenticeship had been chosen. She was a walking “oh honey, no” to-do list herself, but one step at a time.

She winced at the trite cliché—too many self-help books, or maybe her therapist, Dr. Lewis, was finally rubbing off on her.

Six months in Scotland? This apprenticeship sounds like exciting wonderful opportunity. You should be proud. Can you tell me a bit more about what you hope to get out of it? Moving to Scotland is exciting, but also a huge change. You’ve talked about the urge to run away before . . .