Princess Vittoria Olympia of the Romana Family of Olympus
Waking up with Campbell's arm heavy across my waist felt far too natural for a woman who had spent three years pretending he didn't exist.
The Atlantic rain was still beating against the high stone tower windows, but inside his four-poster bed, it was warm, dark, and smelled entirely of cedar and him. When I shifted, trying to untangle my legs from his, his grip tightened automatically, pulling me back against his chest with a low, sleepy grunt.
"Five minutes, Princess," he muttered into my shoulder, his lips brushing my neck.
"We have a flight to Edinburgh in two hours, Your Highness," I murmured, though I didn't try very hard to pull away. "Mrs. Maclean will be up with tea soon, and I'm pretty sure your sister's security detail is already waiting downstairs."
Campbell opened one dark eye, looking down at me in the dim morning light. "Let them wait. I run the court, not Ingrid."
