Page 120 of Scandal Queen

Oliver handed me a piece of paper and I recognised his stationery straightaway. “I’ve missed your little love notes. Maybe we could make that a thing?”

John made gagging noises until Margi shushed him.

I opened it up and stared at the paper.

“With your agreement of course.” He nudged my shoulder as he watched me read.

St Mark’s Palace, on behalf of His Majesty, King Oliver, would like to announce his wedding to Miss Leia Lawrence on the 21st of September. A public holiday has been granted and further festivities will be announced nearer the time.

The paper shook in my hand. “September? But you are only being coronated in May. It’s too soon after Bell—”

“Come now, Leia, you won’t want to miss this party.” His smile grew.

“A street party?”

“Balloons, badges—”

“Oh my god, are you going to wear your prince pants!”

“For you. Without a doubt.”

Later once we’d been out to see the people gathered in the street, this time waving flags and welcoming their new King, we walked hand in hand through the palace.

“I guess we will have to pack again?” I cast him a side-eye and he shrugged.

“Eventually. There isn’t any rush. I don’t have any official engagements until the coronation, this is the bedding-in period.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Bedding-in?”

“Wonderful isn’t it? I can’t think what they want me to do.” His smile flashed with devilment as he pulled me in and kissed the top of my head.

“Your Majesty?”

“Oh don’t even think of starting that up.”

“I think it’s got a ring to it.”

He pulled me to a stop, wheeling me around until he caught me in his arms. “The statement goes out tomorrow. Are you happy with it?” He actually looked like I might not be. I giggled and tiptoed to kiss his lips.

“I think we both know I’m signed up for your crazy.”

“You didn’t say anything about the date?”

“The date?”

I went to reach into my pocket of my jeans before remembering that I didn’t have the luxury of pockets.

I didn’t want to follow silly traditions that were in place with no meaning, not now we had a fresh start, but honestly, my arse had always looked humongous in denim. Some rules were created for a reason.

“The 21st of September?” he prompted.

“Coming up blank here.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s a year from the day we met. I can’t believe you don’t remember.”

“A year on September the 21st?” I tried to keep my surprise toned down but failed.

“Yes. I’m offended now. Jeez, I’ll have it tattooed on my skin if it will help.”