Don't miss this fast-paced and swoony romance! The illustrious king and the only woman who's confident enough to tease and captivate him.
Find The Grieving King and the Emissary on Amazon. Borrow with Kindle Unlimited. Read an excerpt below.
King Nolan bumped into someone soft and firm at the same time.
“Pardon me,” he said, glancing down into the emerald eyes of none other than Madeline Prescott, Chad’s mum and one of the only members of parliament who always made him smile.
“I suppose I have no choice but to pardon you, seeing as you are ‘King Papa’,” she teased with a smile on her stunning face. She was a celebrated beauty, and he knew men pursued her constantly, but she’d been single as long as Nolan had known her. Chad was his son Tristan’s best friend, and he’d shared with Nolan that his dad deserted them when he was four and he had only foggy memories of a smiling man who had laughed a lot.
Nolan should’ve teased and walked away, but for some reason—melancholy at marrying off the last of his sons, lonely and imagining Madeline might relate to his plight as a brave single mum, or was it recklessly brave as the last time she approached him at a wedding Madeline was carrying a bomb—he eased in closer and said, “Join me for a dance?”
Her eyes widened. She looked him over, and Nolan found himself straightening. He’d heard from different sources, besides the internet articles, that he was ‘devastatingly handsome’ and ‘fit and perfectly proportioned.’ He always laughed at such terms, usually flung at him by Ellery’s Aunt Elise who was as inappropriate as she was fun.
“Your bravery is lauded throughout Europe, but are you certain you want to dance with me? You and I don’t have an encouraging track record at weddings.”
Nolan chuckled, happy he could do so. At Malik and Sophie’s wedding two months ago, Madeline had been drugged and staggered his direction with a bomb disguised as a present.
“A dance with you is worth the risk,” he thought he said as gallantly and charming as Malik or her son Chad might, “Unless you’re hiding a bomb in that lovely dress?”
“I guess you’ll have to find out.”
“Dance with me so I can.” He was surprised by his insistence and how much he wanted this dance.
“Who am I to refuse the king?” She smiled, and Nolan knew it was only a tease. She was confident and independent, and he doubted she’d ever needed a man in her life. Not that it mattered to him if Madeline Prescott was happily single or gave in to one of the many men pursuing her.
He gave her his most alluring smile, practiced when he was younger with his poise coach, and offered his hand. She pressed her palm against his and something warm and real passed between them. Nolan startled and thought she did as well. He threaded their fingers together, hoping he appeared nonchalant. At the exact same moment, he cupped his hand around her smooth waist, his palm covering from her waistline down to the curve of her hip, and she wrapped her palm and fingers around his shoulder.
They each drew in a telling breath, and he felt an impossible tingly warmth work its way through his body at each point of contact. They stared at each other, and neither of them moved or spoke. He’d never seen Madeline at a loss for words. He could hardly blame her as he had no idea what to say and he’d been trained throughout his life to always have the correct response on his lips.
“Mum. King Nolan.” Chad waltzed up to them with his fiancée Hope in the circle of his strong arms. “It’s customary to move to the music.” His charming smile was easy-going, and thankfully he didn’t realize Nolan was at a loss, stunned by the feelings Madeline created in him.
“Thank you for the reminder,” Nolan murmured, smiling as well. “I was so taken aback by your mum’s beauty, I fear I’ve forgotten my own name.”
