Striking (Red Lips & White Lies Book 7)

And when it is all over, if I’m asked what good I did in my life, I will say I loved you.

—Rhys’s Secret Thoughts

The country waits with bated breath for the king and queen’s official birth announcement, but the hospital has been on lockdown since the queen’s admittance yesterday. Will we have a future king or queen soon? Sources are keeping tight-lipped, but the country is ready to celebrate, with the streets of the hospital lined with hundreds waiting to catch a glance of the newest Windsor on the same steps the world first met King Rhys thirty-four years ago.

The heir will join their cousins, Princess Lennon’s children, Brennan and Ophelia Beneventi, and this reporter looks forward to seeing this family united again soon, with the new generation together showing that the strength of the house of Windsor is the family that bears the name.

One can’t help but think of how proud Princess Gwendolyn and King Frederic would be.

Stay tuned, royal watchers.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” I cradle our baby girl against my chest and watch as Joss buckles Bellamy’s high heel for her. “It’s barely been twenty-four hours since she was born.”

Bellamy’s smile is no-nonsense. My beautiful wife is exhausted and determined, and I’m not in a position to fight with either of those emotions without losing miserably. “You are holding the future queen of Mornea. If we don’t give them these pictures, they’ll hound us until we do, and you know it.” My warrior of a wife takes a quick look in the mirror, frowns, then holds her hands out for our daughter. “Now give me my baby.”

“I can carry her out.” Fuck. Judging by her face, that was not the right answer. “Or you can carry her.”

I carefully transfer Estella into her mother’s arms, then stand back for a moment and stare.

How did I ever get this lucky?

With a press of my lips to her temple, I wrap my arm around Bellamy’s waist. “I’ll follow your lead, my love.”noveldrama

Joss mouths, Good job, as Atticus opens the door for us.

It takes more than a village to run the offices of the king and queen, and Atticus and Joss are our two most trusted allies.

My communications officer waits outside the hospital doors for us, and as we step out, he holds up a hand, quieting the crowd. “It is my honor to introduce Princess Estella Gwendoline Windsor, future queen of Mornea.”

Bellamy takes a step closer to me and smiles for the cameras for a moment. She might still feel new to this world and the traditions it’s steeped in, but she’s maneuvered them like she was born to do it. She understands how important certain things are for our family and our country, and when the time comes, she’s going to help lead our daughter into her future role with a grace and softness I’m not sure any queen regent before Estella will have ever had. Grandfather told me to pick a partner who will help carry the weight of the crown, and my wife is a warrior queen who will protect our family at all costs, and that weight doesn’t feel as heavy with her by my side.

She’ll prove you don’t need to be born with royal blood to be the strongest queen consort this country’s ever had. And like in chess, she’ll always be quietly stronger than me—because she is my strength.

Moments later, I sit next to Bellamy in the back of the car, and she rests her head on my shoulder, then closes her eyes. “You are amazing, little bee.”

She sighs a sweet, soft sigh. “Maybe next time, I just give birth at the palace.”

“Next time?” I whisper, but she’s already asleep.

Bellamy is sleeping peacefully in our bed, and Estella is asleep on my chest when Atticus walks in after dinner that evening, smiling, with a laptop in his hand. “Care for a visitor?” he asks and sits next to me with a smiling Lennon on the screen.

“Let me see my niece,” she demands with tears in her eyes, and Atticus adjusts the laptop until Lennon gasps. “Stop right there. My God, Rhys. She looks exactly like Bellamy but with Mummy’s eyes.”

I breathe in deeply as something beautiful settles in my chest.

Something so right, it nearly hurts.

“When are you going to bring Brennan and Ophelia to meet their new cousin?” I ask quietly, not wanting to wake my sleeping daughter. “Your cottage is ready and waiting for you and Maddox and the kids.”

“Soon,” she promises. “How is Bellamy?”

“Sleeping,” I tell her, and Atticus laughs.

“She’s a rockstar. She gave birth and handled it better than Rhys did. Then she got showered, dressed, and stood on the steps in three-inch heels to show the world their future queen. She’s as badass as they come,” he gushes, and Lennon grins.

“Sounds like you’ve got a crush on your brother’s wife,” Lennon teases. “Maybe it’s time you settled down too, big brother.”

“I don’t have a crush,” he pouts. “Looking at her is like looking at you, poppet. She’s my sister. And bite your fucking tongue. Just because you and Rhys are domesticated doesn’t mean I want to be.”

Lennon glares. “Language, Atticus.”

“She’s asleep and less than a day old, Lennon,” he groans.

“She’s our future queen,” Lennon lectures him with awe and a tremble in her voice that can’t be missed. “Don’t corrupt her just yet. Maybe try waiting at least a week.”

Atticus shifts uncomfortably next to me and props the laptop on the table. “Mum would have loved this.”

“Yeah, she would have,” I agree and rub my hand over Estella’s back. “One of the last things she did was make me promise to protect you both. To keep you safe and happy. I hope I’ve done that.”

“Oh, Rhys,” Lennon gasps on a soft sob as Atticus turns quietly to me. “It’s not your job to protect us.”

“Are you happy, Lennon?”

My sister wipes her eyes and offers the tiniest nod. “Happier than I ever knew I could be.”

I turn to Atticus, and he shakes his head before I can speak. “You didn’t abdicate the throne, brother. Nothing in the world could make me happier. Now it’s your turn. Be happy, Rhys. Mum would have wanted that too.”

I look at my daughter and think about my wife sleeping in our bed and know if she’s watching, Mum knows exactly how happy I am.

Bellamy

Everyone warned me that watching your husband with your baby is an aphrodisiac, but I swore they were wrong. Who has the energy to even think about sex when you’re running on no sleep, your boobs hurt from breastfeeding day and night, and you’re trying to sneak in a little work whenever you can? Even if it’s just the occasional FaceTime from Linus, who appointed himself my virtual intern as soon as he was declared to be in complete remission.

He’s decided that he wants to run the foundation one day, and I’ve told him the minute he gets his degree, there’ll be a job waiting for him. In the meantime, he likes to ask for updates and to give me ideas for ways to help. And since baby brain is a real thing, and I’ll take any help I can get these days, I accept it willingly.

It’s nearly three a.m. when I roll over tonight to an empty bed and a crackling monitor. Some fathers may not like to wake up with their babies, but Rhys is not one of them. For the past six weeks, the minute Estella cries, he’s out of bed and rocking her back to sleep. He doesn’t want to hear that he’s going to turn her into a tiny, spoiled terror. He just wants to soothe our baby. And he looks incredibly sexy doing it.

Especially on nights like tonight, when I look into the nursery and find him on the glider, shirtless. His beautiful muscles, hard and inked, stand in a stark contrast to our girl’s porcelain skin. Her beautiful face is pressed against his heart as she sucks her fist and closes her eyes.

I get it. That’s my favorite place to sleep too. Safe and protected in Rhys’s arms.

“Like what you see, my queen?” His rough, sleep-deprived voice is like a rough caress, waking up desires that have lain dormant for weeks. Damn hormones.

I pad softly into the room, my bare feet sinking into the plush pale-green carpet. The nursery has been decorated in creams and pale greens and pinks. Soft, silk drapes hang from the twelve-foot ceilings. And our princess has a stuffed white wolf, which stands nearly as tall as me, sitting in the corner of the room and protecting her from bad dreams, according to her uncle.

“I love what I see.” Gently, I lift our girl from his chest and place her back in her crib. “But she needs to learn to sleep, Rhys.”

“She can sleep. She just prefers to do it on my chest.” He smirks and takes my face in his hands as he stands. “Just like her mother.”

The air around us heats with the touch of his hands to my skin, and I lean into him, capturing his lips with mine. “It’s after midnight.”

Rhys’s gaze narrows. “It was late when I came to bed. I didn’t want to wake you.”

I twine my arms around his neck and tangle my fingers in his hair. “It’s been six weeks, Rhys.”

An understanding dawns in my husbands heated eyes, and his hands drop to my ass as he lifts me from my feet and carries me back to our bedroom. He lies me gently on the bed, his body covering mine. Hunger and need and so much love roll off him in waves. “It’s been a long six weeks, love.”

“We better start making up for lost time then, Your Highness.”

He sweeps my hair away from my face and stares at me for a long, quiet moment. “You are everything I never thought I could have, Bellamy.”

“And you’re everything I prayed I could have when I was begging the universe to let me live, Rhys.”

“Thank you for loving me,” he whispers against my lips, and I cling to him, never wanting this moment to end.

“Thank you for giving me the fairytale.”