Fourth and final part of The Princess's Bodyguard series

After years, Mercedes and Sam are finally able to be together, but the princess realizes that she still has a lot to pay before they can have happiness.

Mercedes ignored the cameras and lights that circled the four of them. She peered around her father to watch the fifteen year old. She was waiting for the young woman to show any signs of discomfort during her first interview.

The king took his time as he shared his politics with the interviewer. He bragged about how proud he was to be able to pass a piece of his work load to his granddaughter. "She is the brilliant mind that writes for our website and social platforms."

Mercedes and her father both agreed that Whitney was old enough to take on a single duty for the family, but he went against her wishes and appointed her to manage their online presence. The mother didn't want her teen open to a fast paced world filled with opinions. The king believed, with his granddaughter being young and so smart, that she was better fitted for the job over an older man that had a college degree in marketing.

The interviewer smiled at the young woman. "You've proven how bright you are by holding the record as our country's youngest nonfiction writer." They flipped through their cards, and after a peek, they lowered them. "You've sold thousands of copies internationally since its release just six months ago. I doubt that excitement has worn off, but have you begun to think of publishing a second book?"

The king watched her sit in a long silence. He rested his wide hand over her linked fingers. "You only have to answer the questions that you want to."

"I'm not shy. I want to be smart with my words."

The interviewer laughed at how quickly the young woman spoke up to her grandfather, but encouraged, "Take your time."

"I wrote about holistic medicine because it gave me extra years with my father- more years than most doctors believed were possible. I will always be interested to learn more, but no, I will not write another book," Whitney answered. "I want my father to watch over me as I build a list of accomplishments."

The interviewer nodded, knowing the time lost was worth it. "You have many angels watching over you," they promised. "Your grandmother and uncles, Prince Malcolm and Miles, they're all proud."

Hearing her brother's name still gave the older princess pause, and it was nothing of his doing. She hated how easily her father killed off his youngest son when he grew tired of answering questions about his return home; a plane crash at sea was enough to make people overlook a missing body and pledge limitless loyalty to their king. The only bit of joy she found was in thinking of the kicks Miles had touring the shrines built in his name.

"This family has seen a fair amount of grief, so what would you say to a struggling person?"

The king was the only person willing to speak up. "In the moment, death will feel unique, so personal, to you, but it's not. Your journey is." With care, his hand returned to his granddaughter's. "Some will be able to smile, and others might need time to find theirs… The memories are forever, not the grieving," he concluded his long speech.

When asked to give a piece of advice, Mercedes breathed, "My father's words were very wise."

The interviewer corrected, "I was hoping that you'd have a few words for widows. You moved into a new relationship in less than a year."

"A year?"

"We're being polite about it," they announced, knowing the rumors painted a picture of the princess walking out of her husband's memorial and straight into another man's arms.

"Whitney, you're excused," Mercedes coldly announced. She scowled at the interviewer as she listened to her daughter's footsteps fade. She scolded, "Do you know how disappointed I am with you?"

They shrugged. "We only wanted to know how you came to terms so quickly. Did you- Oh, what do those Americans say?" they asked, already sure of what they meant. "Get over someone by getting under someone else."

Her mouth dropped as she listened to their words. "Five years. I haven't spoken publicly in five years. I was happy in my quiet bubble, but my father insisted that I do this interview, 'Three generations of power,' " she quoted the interview's title. "And you spit on this opportunity by talking about pointless gossip." As she stepped around her father's legs, she declared the interview done.

Mercedes sat in the garden, on the same bench she and Tank gave their first interview; it became her safe space since her husband passed three years prior. With closed eyes, she looked heavenward and breathed in the fresh air. She felt the sun shine across her skin until the rays were blocked by a passing figure.

Sam sat with her and partook in her silence. He looked out at the two boys that were too invested in their game to be distracted by the adults. His presence was enough for the mother, but after minutes dragged by, he reminded, "I always told you that you can't hold your feelings in." He rubbed his hands against his jeans as he waited for her to speak out.

She had put the interview out of her mind and was thinking of the weird state of her family. "I feel guilty. Whitney carries a bitter anger. Malcolm… Well, I don't know what he's thinking." She frowned as she watched the toothy seven year old play. "It's been a year, and all of the doctors say that he'll talk when he's ready."

Tank's funeral was the point where Whitney began to be short with her mother, but no one knew what caused Malcolm to stop speaking two years later.

"After we returned home from his funeral, she yelled at me for not crying. I can count the words she has said to me since." She hung her head. "I feel all the emotions that she does when I think about him, but I don't know how to behave to make her happy."

Sam watched her with pity. He didn't have any smart advice to give; "That was all a part of the suit." he would joke. He laced their fingers together, and her head tilted onto his shoulder.

She huffed at his silence. "Do you really want to be a part of all this?" she asked. She promised to be understanding if he wanted to walk away from her.

After resigning from their jobs at the palace, Sam and Penny settled into the countryside. They both tried to make the best of their marriage, but after celebrating their eighth year, they knew it had run its course. They separated and agreed that their son, Cyrus, should have an equal amount of time with each parent.

Sam reunited with Mercedes after an invitation to a day at the palace. He accepted under the pretense of giving the homeschooled prince a friend, but he was excited to meet the princess after seven years. Their feelings for each other naturally rose to the surface, and they promised not to miss their opportunity to have everything they couldn't before.

Cyrus chased his new friend across the yard, and they stopped in front of their parents. He tucked his rubber ball under his arm. "Are we staying here tonight?" His blue eyes were locked on the adults as he waited for an answer.

"Yes, we're staying," Sam promised as he gave Mercedes' hand a soft squeeze.

He was told the plan earlier, so he explained, "Just checking." He looked to Malcolm's smile for confirmation that he was just as happy with the news. He passed the ball to his friend before they ran off.

When the children were out of earshot, Mercedes turned to Sam. "I know you were excited when I asked you to be my date to the award ceremony tonight, and you look very handsome with your haircut," she complimented as she reached out to comb her fingers through his blonde hair. She had to cancel their first public outing as a couple. "Now isn't the best time to step out with a new man on my arm. I didn't realize that people are still sore over Tank. I'm not ready for the comments they would make against you."

"I understand," he frowned.

"Just wait a little longer, please." She gave his hair one extra brush before her fingers settled behind his neck. "This doesn't mean that I want you to leave. The boys are happy… and I like the idea of coming home to you." She used her hold to keep him still as she leaned in for a long, drugging kiss.

Mercedes parted from Sam to finish the work on her agenda, but they were always drawn back together.

"Ouch!" Mercedes cried out, pulling her hand from behind her back. She prayed before looking down to inspect her finger. When she looked up, her eyes locked with the man that peeked into her room. She promised him that there was no need for concern. "I thought I broke a nail." She asked Sam to help her with the stubborn zipper.

A rack of fashions had been rolled in for the princess. Seven dresses were distanced on the rod, but all were new and beautifully designed for her to wear to that night's event. Trying on the first two, Mercedes assumed the seamstresses accidentally cut the fabric too short. The next two set it in her mind that all of her dresses would be too tight.

Sam was patient as Mercedes placed the dress on the hanger, but when she finished, he pulled her close. He hungrily kissed her as if he was hunting to be reminded of the taste of her smooth lips after five hours. He teased the hem of the slip that smoothed against her body. "I like this dress. It's easier to get you out of," he laughed against her lips. He bundled the end of her slip above her waist, and his hands caressed her plump bottom. "You can't look this beautiful and think that I wouldn't get you alone."

"Where are the boys?"

Sam smiled at his plot. "I told them about a storytime at the liberty. Malcolm lit up and gave the nanny no choice but to take them." He tilted her head to expose her neck for kisses. "I just wanted you all to myself for a while."

"I'm in the middle of getting ready for the-" Her words were cut by a heavy moan as the man licked over her sensitive spots. She knew getting Sam off would take just as long as it would for her to restart her beauty routine. "So don't waste time debating over it," she commanded herself.

The couple stripped where they stood before crawling into bed.

Keeping his eyes on her, he began to kiss up her body. First her toes, then ankles. Kissing and licking softly along her calves. Moving his mouth further upward, he came to rest on his stomach. As he lightly nipped at her left thigh, his ears hummed with the sound of his love's moans of anticipation.

"Please," she whispered.

He licks his lips as his fingers parted her. His tongue flicked out and upward along my clit, softly at times and then more urgently at others. He had her well exercised before he closed around her clit.

Mercedes dropped her head back against the pillow and dug her fingers into the sheets. She squirmed, but there was no real fight to stop Sam from feasting on her body. "Oh, Sam." She ached for more, and Sam was eager to give her just that.

Sam slid one finger into her slick womanhood. He moved his finger in and out slowly, adding a second, then a third. Curling his fingers upward against her g-spot, his tongue ran circles over her clit.

"That feels so good." Her fingers tightly squeezed the sheets, and her toes began to curl. She felt his mouth vibrate around her as he moaned against her. "I'm close," she whined with her climax coming quicker than she knew.

He milked her orgasm, continuing to suck and flick her clit, until her body's tremors softened. His fingers slowly massaged her lower lips as he pecked a trail up to her other set.

She smiled, "Your tongue is a dangerous weapon." She licked across his bottom lip before he allowed her to taste the flavor he had been savoring on his tongue. She took in a sharp breath when his hand moved up her body to cup one of her tender breasts. "Be gentle with me, please."

"Always," he breathed against her lips. He rolled to his back and directed her over his lap. He firmly held her curvy hips as they softly bounced until his throbbing member was buried deep into her hot core, a place that he's already declared as his home.

Mercedes took his hands. She repeatedly arranged and reshaped his fingers to her breasts, trying not to trigger the ache. She bit back her whimpers, but to Sam, her pain was clear.

He called her name as he freed his hands. He trapped her face between them and pulled her close. "It's okay," he promised before pecking her lips. Although her chest was one of his favorite physical attributes of hers, he understood limits. His lips wandered back to her neck, and his hands back to her sides. He steered her hips up and down, but held them in place in moments when he wanted more control. His rhythmic thrusts stoked Mercedes' joy.

Mercedes straightened and began to bounce and sway manically against him. Her moans started as a mix of "Yes" and "Sam," but quieted as air clogged her throat, and heavy gasps occasionally escaped. When her body reached its glorious peak of ecstasy, she couldn't bear to move. She stiffly dragged her nails down his chest, silently warning him not to move and add to her overwhelming orgasm.

Once upon a time, feeling Mercedes' walls clenched tightly around his shaft was enough to drive Sam over the edge with her, but after they were reunited, he had a need for her that wouldn't let him have her just once.

Sam sighed as the woman climbed from over him and rested on her stomach. When he returned to her, he held his body lowly against her. He whispered loving affirmations between kisses to the back of her shoulder, his fingers tickled up her spine, his rigid hardness rested comfortably between her split. He growled into her neck, "I hate that you have to go."

"Don't worry about that. I want-" Mercedes excitedly purred, ready for another round. She admitted, "I want to feel you inside of me again."

He raised her hips until she was balanced on her knees and palms. He entered her channel with a husky moan, his steely length easily sinking into her wetness. The blonde man groaned as she dipped and wiggled her bottom back into his lap. "Mercedes." He warned her that if she kept it up, then their moment wouldn't stay sweet. He took hold of her hips and started thrusting in and out of her with long strokes.

She could feel her body warming with every lung. "You keep hitting the right spot, and-" After only a few thrusts, she was thrown into another dizzying explosion. Her body shuddered, and a low cry escaped her, but unlike before, Sam continued. When her heart calmed, she swooned, "You feel so good."

Sam's strength grew as it was powered by three things: the echoes of their bodies meeting, the satin softness that clenched his pulsing member, and every unladylike word that Mercedes used as she asked to be taken faster, harder, deeper.

After some time, he had given up any effort to be careful. One hand clenched her hip, and the other pressed into her back, forcing it to curve. His weight forced her deeper and deeper into the mattress as he pounded with desperation.

"Sam, use me until you're satisfied. I won't be able to think straight when you're done." In a palace full of her family and workers, Mercedes struggled to not get too far beside herself. She clawed out for a pillow and buried her face into it to cover her squeals of delight.

With deep growls, he gave her all he was worth. "Cumming, cumming," he announced through clenched teeth. Every muscle inside of him tightened as his manhood exploded with pulsing jets of his white seed spurted deep into her. After the heat of their mutual explosion had passed, Sam calmed his thrusts, slowly slipping his shaft in and out of his lover's cum-filled hole until it finally began to soften. He fell into the bed and watched the electrical sparks dance above him.

"You're always rough in that position," Mercedes teased, studying his well earned glow.

Sam's bottom lip fell at the shame of not keeping his promise to her. "I'm so sorry." He tried to sit up, but she nudged him to stay. He pulled her close for comfort.

Her arm rested across his tight torso and her chin poked his chest. "I didn't break," she smirked up at him. She kissed at a deep scratch in his flushed skin before beginning to chuckle at the fact that, finally, he was all hers to mark up.

He looked down at her dazzling brown eyes and could only think of one thing to say. "I love you." They rolled, and he captured her lips under his before she could repeat.

Mercedes entered the event through a secret door. She happily skipped the pictures and the questions on the carpet, but the event was spoiled within thirty minutes. She didn't like the blatant stares. She didn't like the whispers from behind her back. And she didn't like being a punchline in the opening act's roast.

She had quietly escaped from her family and was waiting outside of the venue. She sipped from her red wine as she leaned into the stone railing. From her height, she could look out over the beautiful landscape that was so different from her own.

"If you run away again, everyone will know that it was me," Puck announced as he joined her in the night air. It wasn't hard to see that the princess was unhappy, but he was the man she vented with- even before Sam was in the picture. His promotion didn't change the man he was. He liked to give her what he thought she needed. "Are you going to tell me now or later?"

"Can we take a walk?" she asked, pointing at the lights that lit the path through the garden. She left her half filled glass on the railing and started forward. She told him about the interview and all the things she heard back inside of the ceremony. "It feels like I woke up one morning and became everyone's fool. I stopped magazines from printing lies, but they still go out online."

"The people that read that trash have nothing going on in their life," he declared. "They're just mad that you don't give them the kind of attention they want. You stopped doing interviews and going to these stupid parties years ago. They got used to saying what they wanted without you fighting it. Tank died, and they got jealous because you're single again.

"You can go where you want. You don't have to answer to anyone." He began to look off longingly. "You don't have anyone to drag you on double dates or yell at you for watching another episode without her. You don't have to clear your browser history."

Mercedes pulled him to a stop. She asked him to be serious with her coming word, but not "Head of Security serious." She wanted him to hold back on the sass. She shuffled through her clutch purse, and pulled out a velvet box. "I want to propose to Sam."

In the box was a white gold three stone engagement ring. A deep green emerald shined with two clear diamonds framing it. Mercedes gasped when she first saw the ring. "It matches his eyes," she smiled, sure it was the right choice.

Taking the box, Puck reminded, "You've only been with him for seven months… and you haven't even taken him out on a real date."

She began to share a story from her time on the coast, where she spent days at the beach. She was intrigued by the surfers. She remembered watching a father teach his young boy to surf. His father was there to catch him every time he fell off the board. After countless dips, the son rushed back to shore and shouted that he would never try surfing again. The father tried to convince his son against it, but she never saw the pair at that beach again.

"My life felt like a giant wave that was knocking me down, and I asked myself, 'How many times do I have to go under before I can walk away for good.' " She sighed before admitting. "I was waiting for my father to scoop me back up to the surface and put me on the board. I felt stupid every time I realized that my father was sitting on the shore, comfortably watching.

"I was drowning until Sam came back into my life." The corners of her lips began to turn up. "He makes me happy. I feel safe- and it's not his job," she rushed out, knowing Puck was cocking up an argument.

He shrugged, "Well, how do you know if Sam even wants to be a king?"

"He'll never be a king," Mercedes promised.

After becoming the queen, she'd have the choice to put a king at her side. She was prepared to co-rule her country with Tank. Share the crown, share the responsibilities. Tank had experience with the struggles of governing a county. Mercedes wasn't doubting Sam's abilities, but she didn't want to put that weight on his back.

Puck worked through a few more points with the princess. Finally believing in her reasoning, he teased, "So, does Sam wear the ring? It's a little flowery, but I can see it."

Mercedes rolled her eyes. She took her ring back with a smile, and they continued through the trail. When they reached the building's entrance, she checked her glass for flies, then drank. "Are we going home or should I steal a car?"

He knew the wise choice was to make her stay. He huffed, "I guess I'll go back to being the most interesting bodyguard in the lobby." He escorted Mercedes back to her seat as she grumbled.

Taking her seat was the last memory Mercedes had of that night.

Mercedes brushed her face against her pillow before stiffly turning to her side. Her eyes were slow to adjust, but recognised the man that watched over her all night. "What time is it?" she croaked. She mentally thanked God for curtains and then Sam for drawing them.

"Two in the afternoon." He helped her sit up by propping pillows behind her. When she managed to stay up without needing to lean into him, he began to prepare the aspirin and water. He peeked over his shoulder to explain, "Whitney thought you were acting weird last night, so Puck brought you home alone. What did you drink last night… because you were worse than when Miles used to drink." He wasn't happy to see her under the influence, but he smiled at her rating scale.

"Just wine, and it wasn't a lot." She took the medicine but promised, "I'm not hungover. I'm just tired." With a frown, she asked Sam to elaborate on her weird behavior.

He decided to save most of her antics and rambling just for his memory, but he had one story to tell. He fell back into his side of the bed and started. "… You told me that I HAD TO marry you, and then you threw this at my chest." He smiled as he returned the velvet box.

"Did you open it?"

He shook his head. "You gave me enough surprises last night." He ended the conversation to watch the door crack and two little faces pop into the room. He announced, "Yes, she's awake now."

After being told no six times that morning, the sons cheered when they finally heard the opposite. They ran to jump onto the bed and sat opposite of their parents. They began to summarize their time at the library- Cyrus speaking at a thousand words a minute, and Malcolm enthusiastically nodding.

Mercedes smiled as she listened to the boy's story, but an idea bounced around in her head: a task that she had to cross off at that moment. Petting the box with her thumb, she asked the seven year olds to be honest with her. "Malcolm, do you like Sam?"

He didn't need a second to think it over before nodding yes.

"And Cyrus, do you like me?"

"Yeah, your nice, and you tell me I'm smart, and-"

"You are," Mercedes reminded.

He pouted, "That's not what they say in school."

Shaking her head, she announced, "You two are the most perfect boys." She swept her finger under her son's chin and returned his smile. Still stiff from her sleep, she groaned as she struggled to shift her body to have a better view of the three that occupied the bed with her. "How would you feel if the four of us- and Whitney- took a trip to Tanzania?"

Cyrus's face lit up, but he still asked, "Where's that?"

"It's a country in East Africa. We'll meet nice people, eat good food. We can take a safari through a few parks and see some beautiful animals- like an elephant," she dropped, knowing that it would tilt the scales of Malcolm's decision. She was too deep in her fantasy to notice the teen being nudged into the room by her grandfather.

Standing over the corner of the bed, Whitney called, "Malcolm, and I don't remember your name, but you two need to leave." She helped the boys crawl out of the bed, but her stern energy didn't change. She remained silent until the door closed, and four were trapped in the room. She threw a paper bag into her mother's lap and ordered, "Take it. It's a pregnancy test." She folded her arms over her chest as her blood boiled with anger.

Mercedes was taken aback. "What- W- Why?" she stuttered, unsure of where to start. "Why would you think I would need this?" She was too tired to unfold the bag and check for herself.

Whitney admitted that, while Mercedes and Mr. Puckerman was taking their walk, she spiked her drink with a fruity recipe that she studied for her book. The teen only wanted her mother to feel drowsy enough to leave the event early. She didn't expect the drunken embarrassment that filled the seat between her and her grandfather.

"It only causes extreme reactions in people that take antidepressants AND PREGNANT WOMEN!" she seethed.

Mercedes turn her head, unable to look at the fifteen year old that glared down at her. "Why do you hate me so much?" she whispered with a shiver. Her heart raced at the thought of what her daughter had done to her. She warned, "Do not tell me it was because I didn't cry at your father's funeral. That did not warrant all of this."

Whitney ran her claws through her hair, threatening to pull a few curls out. She rounded to the opposite side of the bed to force her mother to see her. "You hate me." She dared the woman to agree, and she refused any words that went against it. "Are you jealous? I had my dad, and I got yours too… Or do you hate me because I'm the only child you had with your husband?"

She shot straight and demanded that her daughter tell her where she got her crazy idea from.

"My dad wrote in his journal that you both had affairs." Through clenched teeth, she asked, "Are the kitchen workers right about you?"

"What?" She really didn't need an answer. Her mind was locked that every worker in the kitchen was going to lose their job that day- from the head chef down to the dishwasher.

Whitney hated to explain an openly talked about rumor. "They said that you took bodyguards in your office. That's how Sam ended up in your bed within the same minute he walked back through the door. Did you have Malcolm with a guard?" She wasn't shy to question, "Was it Mr. Puckerman?" Since she was a child, she hated to find her mother alone with him.

Mercedes refused to dignify her ridiculous theory with an answer.

Sam stood to defend his lady. He tried to stay soft as he taught the girl. "People can say what they want, but what does this say about you if you believe them?" He reminded her, "She's your mom. You should know what-"

Whitney silenced him and warned him about getting out of line because "it's a privilege to be in this room now."

"Whitney," the grandfather called, pulling the girl's attention back to her mother.

"In years of writing, all my dad talked about was how much you hated him and how you'd rather miss time with me than sit next to him. You didn't see my first steps. You don't know what my first word was." She pointed at the bag still between Mercedes' legs as she accused. "If that test comes in positive, you'll tend to that baby like I watch you tend to Malcolm. You act like he's your angel sent down to you, and you hugged him, and kissed him, and said, 'Good job.' You know that you never did that for me. You haven't even congratulated me on my book."

"How do I do that when you keep me shut out?"

"I didn't shut you out. I stopped chasing and begging for your attention years ago. I didn't want anything from you… until Dad died." With a few deep breaths, her anger flared, and the wildfire quickly spread within her body. She jabbed her finger in her mother's direction as she explained, "His funeral was your last chance to show that you cared about him. All weekend, your face was dry as a dessert."

"I couldn't do that in front of you," Mercedes argued. Her head throbbed, but she ignored it. She was in the grips of Whitney's pain. "You were surrounded by enough people that showed they were in mourning. How would you feel to watch me, the last parent you had, break down like I did every night."

"I would have felt like you tried to love him… and you fail." She positioned her arms back over her chest and tucked her hands deep to stop their tremble. The teen was far from believing any story about her mother crying over her father. "The man you hated most is gone, and in your eyes, I have to bear his cross."

Mercedes' face burned with the shame of making her daughter feel the way she did. She stood and began towards the girl. "We had our moments, but I didn't hate your father, and I could NEVER hate you. I-"

Whitney reached out to stop her mother at an arm's length. She brushed her away and moved onto the topic that brought her there. Locking eyes with the woman, she strongly ordered, "Remove yourself from the line of succession and step down from all roles you hold as a member of the family." She ignored her mother's shocked face. "If the crown is heavy, you will surely break your neck. After your drink, you spent most of last night whining about how hard it is to be a princess. How am I supposed to see you as a queen now? This is your chance to get out. You, and the circus that always follows you, can go anywhere in the world and leave us alone."

A chill struck the mother as she studied her daughter; in anger, Whitney was a splitting image of her father. She was too tired to cycle through anymore emotions with the girl. Flat and robotically, she directed, "Put your father's journals back where they belong and go to your room. I can't see your face again today."

Passing her mother, the teen mumbled, "That won't make today any different than any other."

Mercedes rediscovered her passion and stopped her father from following the girl out. "I know you put her up to this," she accused. "You couldn't stop yourself from poisoning my child with your obsession with who's getting the crown and how they would run the country."

"She's smart and old enough to make decisions."

Shaking her head, she protested, "You can't throw me away like you did to Miles. I won't let you."

The king smirked and promised, "Oh, I would never. You're my daughter and the mother of my only grandchildren. With me or not, my grandchildren will never want for anything, and Malcolm would never want you to struggle to make a home or lose time looking over your shoulder for photographers." He spun the woman to watch her lover. "A quiet life back on the coast, where you can marry Mr. Evans and have the family that you want. I will give you the best peace of mind… but you have to allow me to give Whitney the crown." He warned her not to rush into her decision. He placed a kiss on the side of her head, but didn't react as she flinched away from the rarest act of affection he's ever given her. He exited the room, giving her time to pick over her options.

For all that she sacrificed, was she finally going to have what she wanted or was she surrendering?

Thank you for reading.