Her Christmas Prince

By Mariah Stone

Her Christmas wish list didn't include a Russian Prince. Perhaps it should have…

 

Lady Helen Courtney is on the verge of having everything she's ever wanted. The arranged marriage to her childhood crush is a dream come true. Finally she'll have a family of her own and all the love she's craved since she lost her parents. But when she arrives in St. Petersburg, her intended is nowhere to be found. His brother, however, is there—and he's entirely too tempting for her peace of mind.   

 

Prince Roman Lipov has always been the responsible brother—stoic, honorable, in control. Putting his own happiness above his duty to family and country was never an option. But Helen is gorgeous, independent, and everything he never knew he needed. Falling for her can only end in disaster. And yet…their connection is so visceral that he begins to wonder what it would be like to follow his heart instead of his logical mind for once—just once—in his life. 

 

When Helen's intended returns, can the lure of forbidden love and the promise of happily ever after triumph over duty? Or is Helen destined to lose her Christmas Prince once and for all?  

 

Buy the book to fall into the hands of a Russian Prince today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stone Publishing
• Release date: May 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393447573

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Grandhall Park, Dorset, England, July 7, 1802

Alexander, give the pearls back to me, Prince Roman Lipov said.

His younger brother studied the black-pearl necklace by the brightly lit window of the sitting room. Wonder lit his handsome face, but after a quick glance at Roman, he forced his expression into boredom.

I am positively astonished that you find this gift beautiful, Alex said.

Roman clenched his jaw. He was a grown man at eighteen, and chasing his brother to retrieve the necklace would be childish.

The pearls are ashen. They look as though they were burned, Alex continued with a smirk. No woman would like anything burned for a gift. Are you not supposed to know this as the older brother?

Roman barely restrained himself from lunging at Alex. They were guests here at Grandhall Park. He knew better than to bring shame upon the family of the Russian ambassador in the British Empire by making a scene.

You speak nonsense, Roman said. Do you know how rare these pearls are? The only place on earth where they occur is Polynesia.

Alex raised his brows and took another look at them. Indeed?

Producing a Cossack dagger that Roman had brought him as a gift from the Caucasus, he put the necklace on the sharp, ornamented blade. Roman’s heart stopped.

He held out his hand. Alexander, for the last time. Give. Them. Back.

Why?

You know why. The necklace is a gift for Kitty Kovrova.

Alexander cringed. Kovrova? A ballet dancer?

Roman clenched his jaw. Yes. A ballet dancer.

Alexander looked Roman up and down. My responsible older brother seems to have one or two blemishes on his shiny surface.

Alex, if you please.

Alex walked towards Roman, the necklace swinging on the edge of the dagger.

This little necklace could probably buy her an estate. His eyes shone. Or it could buy many, many nights of grand entertainment for a bored young man in London. Do you want her to become your lover that much?

Not lover.

Alex gasped. "Your wife? Alex almost choked on the word. A ballet dancer, the wife of a prince? You lucky bastard. And I must marry Lilly."

Lilly was the oldest daughter of Duke and Duchess Herbert, the owners of Grandhall Park.

You are the oldest one, you should marry for duty, Alex said almost whining.

Is she not agreeable to you? Roman asked.

She is, Alex said, moving the dagger so that the pearls rolled up and down slightly. Roman grimaced. Pearls were very fragile gemstones; a careless knock might leave a scratch or even chip it. I also like many, many other young ladies. I am only fifteen, Roman, and I have been engaged to her since I was thirteen. You cannot expect me to experience one woman. I need to live a little before we marry.

So live a little. Just give the necklace back to me.

So that you can waste it on a dancer? Please. I am younger than you and yet you are the naive one. Let me tell you what shall happen. You will give her the pearls and ask her hand, she will agree, and Mother and Father will never give you their blessing.

Alex raised his golden eyebrows, and Roman gritted his teeth. Alex was right, and they both knew it.

Seeing his victory, Alex continued. You are the oldest son of the Russian ambassador in England. You are you. Incapable of dishonoring the noblest and richest family in the Russian Empire. It would be worse than death to you. You are not me. You shall never run away with her, even if you would secretly love nothing more—something I would do gladly.

Roman felt the blood drain from his face. Alex had not even met Kitty. It was impossible that he would run away with her. Alex had been born in England and lived here for most of his life. Roman, on the other hand, stayed in St. Petersburg to get the right law education and to serve the government. He only came to England to visit his family every July, although he would have preferred to live wherever his family was. Before Mother and Father had sent Roman back to Russia, the brothers had been close.

Now, Roman was a stranger to Alex. Alex was much closer with the Herbert girls and with the quiet orphan niece being raised with them—Helen.

Alex guffawed. You are wasting this exotic treasure on her.

That is not for you to decide. Roman took a step towards Alex who respectively stepped back.

Let me take it, Alex said. I shall give it as a gift to Lilly, my future princess, so that she closes her eyes just in case some rumors tell her how naughty her betrothed really is.

Roman took another step. No.

You can find a more appropriate gift for a dancer, Roman.

I do not want to encourage the behavior you are about to indulge in. Give me back the necklace, it is mine.

It is me who does not want to encourage your behavior with Kitty Kovrova. If you love her, make her your mistress. Not your wife.

Another step forward. Roman’s face started to burn. This does not concern you.

"No. Kitty does not concern you. If you need to buy her affection with this, she must really hate you."

Something snapped in him. Give it to me!

But Alex swung the dagger, and the pearls fell on the floor. Roman sank to his knees to grab them when Alex’s boot stomped on them.

Once. Twice. Three times.

The crunching of the pearls exploded like cannonballs in Roman’s ears. Under Alex’s boot lay sparkling, sand-like crumbles and dust, the color ranging from whitish-pink to dark gray to the shiny green of a bottle fly.

With the pearls gone, all hope of standing out amongst Kitty’s admirers was crushed, as well.

Roman launched at his brother’s knees. Alex fell, banging his head loudly on the parquet floor. Roman grabbed the dagger and put it at his brother’s throat.

A girl shrieked. Roman and Alex turned their heads in the direction of the doors, where thirteen-year-old Helen Courtney stood.

Her hands were covering her cheeks, her brown eyes wide in horror.

Roman, stop! she cried. Do not kill him, please!

Roman stood up, blood pulsing, heart beating like a fist against his ribcage. Like all three Herbert sisters, Helen was in love with Alex, though he’d probably never noticed girl.

With broad strides, Roman walked towards the doors where she stood. He stopped next to her and said, Listen to my advice, little girl. Take this dagger and cut out your heart. Because no one will ever love an invisible little mouse like you. Especially not him.

He shoved the dagger into her hand and walked away.

1

St. Petersburg, November 24, 1813

The horse-drawn sledge pulled up in front of Lipov Palace, and Helen breathed out a sigh of wonder and relief, her breath steaming in the frigid air.

Tired, disheveled, bone-cold, and wet, she was here.

Her new home.

With Alex.

Her pulse quickened at the thought that she would see her future husband in a few short minutes. The long, cold journey had been worth it.

Pulling the sides of her hooded cape closed over her chest, she gazed up at the mountain of snowed-in stairs leading into the palace. The building was so grand, it was difficult to imagine that the Winter Palace, the residence of Emperor Alexander I, was even bigger.

The palace had three floors, and soaring columns decorated the facade. Tall windows lined the first two floors, the windows on the third floor were smaller. On the roof above the entrance, stood eight white statues, reminding her of a snow-covered Greek Pantheon. Under the statues, on the facade wall, a golden icon glimmered in the sunlight.

This would probably never be her house, since she was marrying the youngest son. Not that she cared about such things when she was about to marry the man she loved.

While the footmen were dealing with her luggage, Helen glanced at her maid, Jane, for support. But it looked as if Jane needed it more than she, goggling at everything with big eyes and an open mouth. The maid Helen had shared with Lilly had remained in England. Jane was the only maid Helen’s aunt could find who was not afraid to move to Russia.

Not until now, at least.

Helen smiled at her. Jane, be a dear and watch that our luggage gets settled, would you please?

Yes, Miss.

Thank you.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. She was going to see her future