Crown Prince Campbell Callum of the Romana-Asgard Alliance
Waking up with Princess Vittoria Olympia lying across my chest, her dark hair tangled wild over my bare shoulders and her knee draped possessively over my thigh, was both the greatest victory of my life and an exquisite form of royal torture.
The pale autumn sunlight was just beginning to cut through the heavy navy velvet drapes of my bedchamber at Holyroodhouse, casting long, golden streaks across the four-poster oak bed. The castle was quiet, save for the faint, distant patter of Scottish rain against the leaded glass windows.
I didn't move an inch. I barely dared to breathe.
My arm was wrapped tight around her waist, my hand resting on the smooth skin of her back where her emerald silk gown was still unzipped. She was warm, soft, and smelled like jasmine, cedar, and the sweet vanilla lip balm she'd been wearing all evening.
