Penelope and Prince Charming (Nvengaria #1)(121)

“Fancy,” Simone said, when she opened the announcement at the breakfast table, “I am a grandmother. Michael, that means you are a grandpapa. A step-grandpapa, anyway.”

Michael Tavistock smiled at his wife. “Excellent news. We must send a gift.”

“What do you send an infant prince?” Simone mused. “Goodness, he must be surrounded by gold plate from every king in the world.”

“I intend to knit him a cap,” Meagan declared from the other side of the table. She licked jam from her spoon, eyes happy. “After all, I am his auntie, and the poor little thing will need to keep his head warm.”

“I imagine he’ll have dozens of caps,” Simone pointed out. “All of velvet and silk, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“But not one knitted in good English wool by his step-auntie.”

Michael set down his coffee cup, enjoying the sight of morning sunlight on his wife’s golden head and his daughter’s shining red one. “An excellent idea, Meagan. Penelope would enjoy receiving such a thing from you.”

“Penelope will, yes,” Simone said. She sipped her coffee, looking momentarily mournful. “The dear girl is so practical.”



* * *



One month later, in the castle of the Imperial Princes in Nvengaria, Penelope, sitting on a small red-upholstered throne next to the prince’s larger one, received a package from England. She thanked the liveried messenger and opened it with eager fingers.

When she saw the tiny fitted cap in blue and red striped wool, she drew a breath of delight. “Oh, Damien, come and see.”

Imperial Prince Damien of Nvengaria lay on his back on the polished floor in front of the double throne, his small son on his chest. One large, sun-bronzed hand cradled the boy, who slept in the relaxed sleep of infants, his small fists on his father’s waistcoat. “I cannot rise at present, love,” Damien said softly. “I’ll wake him.”

Penelope set the wrappings aside and seated herself gracefully on the floor, her Nvengarian silk gown spilling around her. “Auntie Meagan knitted a cap. Is that not a fine thing for a princeling’s head?”

Damien looked at it. “Indeed, he shall wear it when the next diplomats come to ogle him.”

“Meagan knew exactly what to send, bless her.”

Damien studied Penelope a moment, stroking his son’s tiny back. “You miss them.”

“Oh, yes,” Penelope said, her heart warming. “Every day. But I can see them through Nedrak’s scrying crystal, and Sasha said he is working on a spell that will let me write on a paper, and the words will appear on a paper in front of Meagan almost immediately. Would that not be splendid?”

Damien raised his brows. “Be careful. Sasha’s spells do blunder, you know.”

“Yes, that is why I have encouraged him to do much research first.”

Damien laughed, shaking the baby, but the little prince did not wake.

Penelope laid her hand on Damien’s where it rested on her son, and brushed her fingers over the boy’s fine black hair. “I do miss them. But I would not trade this for the world. You and he are my family now.”

Damien gave her a look that was full of promise. “I am pleased, my princess.”

“This is our happily ever after, isn’t it?” Penelope asked contentedly. “A family, and love.”

Damien’s eyes darkened. “It is indeed.”

“It is what the prophecy wanted, I think,” Penelope continued. “To reunite the line of our ancestors, but to do it in love. Your father mired everything in hatred, and Alexander carried that on, even if he did not mean to. But the prophecy wanted love.”

Damien reached up and pulled Penelope down to him. Baby Damien yawned, opened his dark blue eyes, focused them on his mother a moment, then went back to sleep.

“I am bloody pleased it did,” Damien said, his voice low.

“And it is not really the end of the story, is it?” Penelope asked, flushed with happiness. “But the beginning.”

Damien brushed back her hair and kissed her lips, stirring the now-familiar fires that nearly a year with her husband had not quenched.

“I hope our story goes on forever, my love,” Damien said.

“So do I,” Penelope answered softly.

Damien smiled against her lips. “We will have to tell it to our boy one day. The real story, not Sasha’s wild embellishments.”

Penelope laughed. “The real story. About how you swept into my life, turned everything upside-down, and charmed me into loving you.”

Damien’s look went wicked. “Perhaps later today we can recount some of the details.”

Penelope had learned how to be as wicked and teasing as he. She nibbled his ear. “I would be most pleased, my prince.”

Damien turned his head and caught her lips in a long, deep kiss. “I love you, Pen,” he said, his blue eyes filled with heat.

“I love you too, Damien. Forever.”

Damien stroked the baby’s back with his thumb, and Penelope smiled broadly. “Now I have two Prince Charmings in my life,” she declared. “Can any girl in the entire world be as lucky as I am?

End





Author’s Note