Contents
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Also by Pamela DuMond
About His Majesty’s Measure
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Excerpt: His American Princess
Excerpt: 21st Century Courtesan
Excerpt: The Client
Books by Pamela DuMond
Acknowledgments
About the Author
His Majesty’s Measure
The Crown Affair Book Two
Pamela DuMond
Pamela DuMond Media
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Also by Pamela DuMond
ROMANCE
21st CENTURY COURTESAN series
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TYCOON: A 21st Century Courtesan Prologue
PLAYER #1
MOVIE STAR #2 - Coming soon
BELOVED #3 - Coming soon
HUSBAND #4 - Coming soon
THE CROWN AFFAIR series
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His Sexy Cinderella - A Crown Affair Prologue
The Prince’s Playbook #1
His Majesty’s Measure #2
The American Princess #3
The Duchess’s Decision #4
PLAYING DIRTY ROM-COM Stand Alones
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The Client
The Matchmaker
ROYALLY WED ROM-COM series
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Part-time Princess #1 —Coming soon as a CHAPTERS Interactive Stories Game App !
Royally Wed #2
Royally Wed: The Poser #3
Royally Wed: The Cock-Up #4
PLAYING SWEETER ROM-COM Stand Alones
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Ms. Match Meets a Millionaire
The Story of You and Me
MORTAL BELOVED TIME TRAVEL series
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The Messenger #1
The Assassin #2
The Seeker #3
The Believer #4: Jack & Clara — STAND ALONE
MYSTERY
ANNIE GRACELAND COZY MYSTERIES
* * *
Cupcakes, Lies, and Dead Guys #1
Cupcakes, Sales, and Cocktails
Cupcakes, Pies, and Hot Guys
Cupcakes, Paws, and Bad Santa Claus
Cupcakes, Diaries, and Rotten Inquiries
Cupcakes, Bats, and Scare-dy Cats
Cupcakes, Bars, and Rock Stars
Cupcakes, Spies, and Despicable Guys - Also available to play as a Chapters Interactive Stories Game !
Cupcakes, Screams, and Drama Queens - Coming soon
NON-FICTION
Staying Young: Simple Techniques to Look and Feel Young
His Majesty’s Measure: The Crown Affair Book Two Copyright © 2018 Pamela DuMond ~ All rights reserved.
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Cover Design by Lori Jackson
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His Majesty’s Measure: The Crown Affair Book Two © 2018 is the re-imagined, explicit, steamier version of Royally Wed that Pamela DuMond published in 2016. Copyright © 2016 Pamela DuMond.
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The story has been changed and additional content added by the same author, Pamela DuMond. All rights for both books are reserved.
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The above book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
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No parts of these books may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any other means, without written permission of the author, except in the use of brief quotations used in articles or reviews. You can contact the author at www.pameladumond.com .
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ISBN13: 9781717135650
ISBN10: 17173565X
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Published by Pamela DuMond Media
About His Majesty’s Measure
THE CROWN AFFAIR: BOOK 2
I, Leopold Edward Rochartè am the Crown Prince of Bellèno and one day I’ll be King. Ruling involves dedication, service, and sacrifice -- but the bastard gods are messing with me.
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I serve my brother Max as best man at his wedding today. He’s marrying Vivian: former cocktail waitress, all-American sweetheart, and tragically for me -- the girl I love.
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But Max won Vivi’s heart fair and square. So, I'll smile through gritted teeth when they say their vows. I'll applaud when he lifts the veil to kiss her lush, full mouth. I’ll make the sacrifice.
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But then Max steps out of the Cathedral moments before their wedding and he doesn’t come back. And I realize – the game of hearts is back on. May the best man win…
——
His Majesty's Measure #2 © 2018 by USA Today bestselling author Pamela DuM
ond is the re-imagined, smuttier version of Royally Wed © 2016. Additional content has been added to the original story.
For
Sarah Vance-Tompkins
* * *
Thanks for all the help finding Frankie!
Chapter 1
VIVIAN
I lay on my back, naked except for the tiara on my head. An ornate silver cheese platter rested next to me. “Hey, aren’t we supposed to be attending a surprise party tonight?” I fanned my face.
“No, Vivian.” Prince Maximillian Leopold Rochartè of Bellèno picked up the tray and placed it on the nightstand. “Thank God we grabbed snacks from the kitchen. I was starving.”
I turned onto my side and looked at the clock on the wall. “I vaguely recall that we’re supposed to be somewhere right now other than your bedroom.”
Max wrapped his muscular arms around me and squeezed me tight against him. “Tonight is blessedly free. We’ve attended back-to-back pre-wedding galas, cocktail parties, and family gatherings. I think you’re simply exhausted from the jet lag and the time change.”
“You mean from our most recent round of toe-curling sex.” I pinched my forearm and reminded myself for the hundredth time that this was not a dream, and I had not been out boozing with my ladies-in-waiting.
“Ow!” Max said. “You need to be nicer to HRH if you want him to make another royal appearance tonight. Pinching the royal jewels isn’t on the program.”
Oops. That wasn’t my forearm. No. Lucky girl that I was, I was engaged to Prince Well-Endowed, His Royal Highness with the big, thick and frequently hard cock who knew what to do with it, and did it frequently.
“Sorry. I totally thought you were kidding when you told me your—I mean—the little prince’s nickname.”
“Little?” He snuggled into me, his erection pressing against my lower back. “How will you feel if you end up at some stuffy wedding shower and you can barely sit down because I had to remind you, the hard way, that you’re not engaged to an average prince, let alone a little one?”
“I never meant to undermine your measure, Your Majesty.”
He lifted the damp hair from my sweaty neck, pressed his lips to my skin, and trailed kisses down to my shoulder. He brushed one muscular hand against my ribs, cupped my left breast with the other, and drew circles on it with his fingers.
My breath caught in my throat. Good God, we could not be having sex again.
He rubbed my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Pleasure coursed through me and I bit my lip. Why couldn’t we be having sex again?
Pros: We were young and healthy.
Cons: He was a prince and I was an American commoner.
Pros: We were engaged to be married.
Cons: Maybe I was in over my head.
It wasn’t easy dating a royal, let alone being engaged to one. So many expectations. Photographers everywhere. Royal gossips nit picking and judging our every move. “Maybe we shouldn’t…”
“We should.” His hand strayed to my other breast.
Prince Maximillian was hot as fuck, and for some reason I’d captured his heart and mind. Thank you God for whatever I did right in a past life.
He pulled me toward him and we faced each other. His hazel eyes were on fire. His lips were full. His cheeks flushed. His hard-on holy.
Hell yes, I was going for round three tonight with my gorgeous, ginger prince.
“I fear you’ll have to make me pay for my sins, Your Highness. Spank me. Give me an old-fashioned tongue-lashing. That will teach me a lesson.” I batted my eyelashes.
“Are you pulling the sexy, demure, peasant girl thing again?”
“Yes.”
“On you, that’s hot.”
“Thank you.”
He grabbed the top of my hip bones and rubbed his length against the sensitive V between my legs.
“Condom?” I asked.
“Condom!” He leaned over to the side table, pulled open the drawer and fumbled around.
In a former life, I was a cocktail waitress. Now I was engaged to a real prince, he of the ginger hair, the sparkling hazel eyes, and the remarkable royal jewels. How could this be?
“No condoms,” he said and strode to the dresser, opening one drawer then another.
“We’ve been setting the sheets on fire, Max. We might be out of protection. You say that tonight’s free, but I think we’re supposed to attend a surprise party. I distinctly remember an invitation with a photo of a woman’s finger pressed over her lips and the word ‘Shh!’ engraved in big black letters on the cover.”
He opened the door to a large armoire and rifled around in it. “Crap! No condoms. Where’s my wallet?”
“In your pants?”
“I’m not wearing any pants.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
He picked up a pair of trousers from an upholstered chair and checked the pockets. He tossed them back onto the chair, and grabbed another pair lying on the floor on top of a rich tapestry rug. “Condom!” He held the little square package up in the air triumphantly.
He crawled back into bed with me and snuggled his scruffy five o’clock shadow into my cheek. He nibbled on my ear as he rolled on protection. “Honestly, Vivian, I don’t remember receiving an invitation to a surprise party. But there are too many invites and far too many bloody events. It makes me want to call off the wedding and simply elope.”
“We can’t elope.” I smoothed an errant lock of hair off his forehead.
“Why not?” He found his way to my neck and buried his lips in its sweep.
I shut my eyes and fantasized for a few seconds that he was a hot vampire, like the one young Brad Pitt played in that movie they adapted from the Anne Rice book. But then I remembered that I bruise easily, and the whole sexy fang thing would grow old quickly when my neck resembled an heirloom tomato.
“We can’t elope because we’d disappoint too many people—your mother, my uncle, your grandmother, my ladies-in-waiting—”
“You mean your ladies-in-trouble.”
“Oh, come on. We haven’t gotten into that much trouble lately.”
“The police report regarding your recent trip to Monaco might have been destroyed but it’s seared into my memory.”
“There’s nothing to remember.” I cleared my throat. “That was a quick weekend ski jaunt to the French Riviera and perfectly innocent. No one was arrested.”
“Someone called the Royal Palais Princier de Monaco got through to Princess Charlene and asked if Prince Albert was in the can.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I rolled away from him, but his strong arm encircled my waist and stopped me mid-turn.
“And when sweet, unsuspecting Charlene said she didn’t know what the caller was talking about, one of your ‘ladies’ replied, “For the love of your country, it’s time to let Prince Albert out!”
I tried to stifle my giggles but snorted instead. “I thought that was funny.”
“No, that was not funny. I had to send a formal letter of apology, twenty pounds of Friedricksburgh chocolate, and lederhosen outfits for the royal twins.”
“I’m sorry. We were just goofing around.” I glanced at my gorgeous antique ruby engagement ring. It was surrounded by a circle of diamonds, and it was perfect, just like Max. How was it even possible that I had scored such a great guy? Oh, right…through a web of lies and deception when I posed as Lady Catherine Fontaine.
Yes, it was a part-time job. No, I wasn’t a drug smuggler, jewel thief, or a high priced prostitute. But hey, at least I copped to my crimes and even busted my own cover when I was standing at the church altar, right before I was about to marry his brother, Crown Prince Leopold Rochartè the Third. I said, “I don’t” instead of “I do,” and confessed to being a fake, a phony, and a hired impersonator. Then I ran back to my pathetic, mundane life in Chicago’s Southside, and stayed out of the spotlight.
But Max tracked me down, declared he’d fallen in love with me
, and wanted to marry the real me: Vivian DeRose, not Lady Catherine Fontaine. Now I was in a royal palace sharing a king-sized bed with a gorgeous man, instead of lying on a lumpy twin mattress in a one-bedroom apartment that I normally split with my yellow Labrador, Roman. I’d visited half the countries in Europe, hobnobbed with royalty, and I was living in heaven instead of purgatory.