“She’s sick with a fever,” I say.
“Having a dizzy spell,” Sabrina offers.
“She sprained her ankle.”
“They’re playing The Floor is Lava, and the bed is home base,” Sabrina offers before adding in a softer voice, “or Jeffrey’s decided to keep her as his sex slave, and we’ll never see either of them again.”
“He wouldn’t do that.” I gaze down at her in the soft light of the lanterns on the wall.
“I know. And Lizzy wouldn’t stay in anyone’s bed that she didn’t want to be in.” She shrugs. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see how that unfolds.”
“I like unfolding,” I murmur, kissing her forehead. “I like undressing even better.”
She lifts her chin, smiling as she kisses me. “I’ve heard that about you.”
“The rumors are true,” I say, reaching for the tie on her robe.
“Thank goodness.” She sighs as she stretches out on the couch. I lengthen on top of her, ready to show her how much I’ve missed her in the hour or so since my cock had the privilege of her intimate acquaintance, and we make love like we’ve been at it for years.
And like it’s the first time all over again.
Epilogue
SABRINA
Three days later…
The white Majorcan sand is cool beneath our toes as we pad out to the lounge chairs—and the ocean is flat-out freezing—but the sun is warm, and the breeze is refreshing, and I’ve spent the past two days stretched out beside the sexiest man alive.
So even though the entire kingdom of Gallantia hates me, and my mother has been texting nonstop, life could be worse.
As if summoned by my thoughts, my phone pings again.
“What’s the latest?” Andrew asks.
I lift my sunglasses and squint at the screen as I read aloud, “If you don’t call me, I’m going to have myself put in a medical coma, Sabrina. And I may not come out again. Comas can be difficult.”
Andrew snorts.
He’s finding all of this terribly amusing.
But then, he has no frame of reference for mama drama. His mother was remarkably calm when we announced we were calling off the wedding because I wasn’t Elizabeth, and Andrew and I both felt that who you’re going to marry is a decision no relative should make for you. She even seemed to understand why I’d done what I’d done.
I know it will take time to earn her trust again, but Felicity made it clear that her son’s happiness comes first, and if exploring a relationship with “the wrong twin” is what he wants, she’s one hundred percent on board.
That was the Baden Bergen Post’s headline the day we flew to Spain—“Prince Woos Wrong Twin!” It stretched in giant letters across the front page, above a picture from the engagement ceremony in which I look like a hunchback picking her nose. I wasn’t picking, of course—I was scratching one side!—but the local press has decided to hate me for being Sabrina instead of the late-king-approved Elizabeth.
The backlash was another reason Andrew thought we should disappear for a while. And so this island off the coast of Spain has become our refuge.
I would be lying if I said I didn’t secretly wish we could stay here forever, shacked up in our white stucco condo with fresh marmalade and toast delivered every morning with our coffee and no international gossip to deal with.
My phone pings again, and I read my mother’s next text, “I’ve contacted my physician. He’s ordering the medications now. I should be in a coma before nightfall. If you’d like to discuss the path forward, please call immediately. I’m going to be napping the rest of the day to prepare for the procedure.”
Andrew grins. “Because you should always be nice and rested before having yourself put in a medical coma.”
I toss my phone on the towel by my feet with a sigh as I sit up, crossing my legs and staring out across the calm blue sea. “Maybe I should call her.”
“She’s just going to say the same thing she said last time you spoke,” Andrew says. “That running away to the beach with me makes you look like a mean, evil, husband-stealing hussy and that you should come home and hide your shame under an elderberry shrub for the rest of your natural life.”
I slap a hand to my forehead with a groan. “I keep hoping Lizzy will come home and explain everything, and Mama will give me a break already.”
“You’ve already explained everything,” Andrew points out.
“Yes, but she’ll believe me if Lizzy backs me up. Maybe.” I cross my fingers. “Hopefully?”
My sister is still officially “missing,” though no one is too terribly worried about her. She called late the evening of the engagement, insisted she was fine, apologized for tricking me into going to Gallantia in her place, and promised to explain everything properly when she had a chance. Sadly, she didn’t have time at that moment and, in a rare display of rudeness from my sweet sister, hung up on me before I could get more than two words in.