Wedded for His Royal Duty (11 page)

CHAPTER TEN

A
LEX
EXPECTED
HIMSELF
to be nervous the day of his fake wedding. What he hadn’t expected was the weirdness that accompanied it. When the royal photographers snapped pictures of him, his father and Dom, he decided he got an odd shiver because it was all so real. Everything might be fake, but it needed to appear real, so they’d spared no expense. Left no tradition unturned. Including the exchange of personal gifts. Because it all had to be documented to look real.

His father went first. Handing him the keys to the country house, which were largely symbolic since the retreat now had key pads, he said, “This house gave your mother and me great pleasure.” The photographers snapped nonstop. “It’s my hope it will give you and Eva many years of happiness too.”

Flash. Flash. Flash.

He took the keys, hugged his dad, and suddenly felt something he’d never felt before. Overwhelming respect for the king, followed by blind sorrow for the man who’d lost his wife and been forced to raise two sons alone. He squeezed his eyes shut, wrapped his arms around his dad more tightly.

It was the first real hug he’d given his dad since his mom passed.

When his dad pulled back, his eyes were filled with tears. Rose stepped forward. Wearing a very simple pale blue gown, she looked elegant and regal. She handed his dad a handkerchief. “Here, sweetie.”

The king took it and waved off the photographers. “Don’t get pictures of that. No one wants to see me maudlin.”

“Then you’re not going to want to watch him open this,” Dom said, taking the small rectangular box from Ginny, who had her lips pressed together as if forcing herself not to cry. Eva’s maid of honor, she wore a pale green dress with her hair pulled off her face and cascading down her back, a vision of yellow curls.

Dom handed the box to Alex. He removed the lid and there was an eight-by-ten picture of their family, a candid shot at one of their Christmas parties. Their mother beaming. Dom trying to look kingly. And Alex sticking out his tongue.

The room grew silent.

It seemed the photographers held their collective breaths.

“It’s—”

“It’s so very you,” Ginny said with a sniff that was half laugh, half sob. “Sticking out your tongue. Being a pain in the butt.”

Emotion tightened his chest. He remembered the day as one of the happiest of his life. But when he pictured the ballroom in the house, he didn’t see himself, his mom or even guests. He saw Eva standing in the cobwebs.

He hugged Dom, then Ginny, thanking them.

His father’s manservant, Henry, who’d been at the palace for as long as Alex could remember, took the gifts with the promise that they would be in Alex’s apartment when he returned from his honeymoon.

Alex nodded. The photographers left. The little family dispersed. His father needed to be in the church’s front row with Rose when Alex and Dom walked onto the altar, but first they had to retrieve Jimmy from the nanny because Ginny was maid of honor but Rose wanted the baby at the wedding.

When the bells chimed out four o’clock, Dom and Alex walked onto the altar. Rose and the king were in their seats, Rose holding Jimmy who patted her cheeks. The organist began a processional and Eva’s two university friends walked in followed by Ginny.

Then the music changed and Eva was at the door of the church. With no father to walk her down the aisle, she’d decided to walk in unescorted.

At the time it had seemed like the bad choice, but after their discussion at the country house, when he’d seen just how strong and smart she was, it no longer seemed wrong.

In her long white dress, with her black hair pulled into a tight knot with a ring of pearls around the knot, connected to a veil that fell from the pearls to the long, long train of her dress, Eva was the epitome of quiet elegance. Perfection. Strength.

Yet somehow she managed to look innocent and beautiful.

His breath fluttered in and stuttered out. Longings filled him.

She walked up to him. The minister said, “Who gives this woman in matrimony?”

She held Alex’s gaze. “I give myself.”

Emotion trembled through him. Because he finally saw. For as much as he’d believed he didn’t have a place in his family, she’d felt worse. She had no siblings. And all her country seemed to want her to do was produce the next heir.

But she was a queen.

He took her hand, kissed her knuckles. Then turned her to face the altar.

After a long ceremony and hours of pictures, they wound their way down the palace halls and corridors to the back door of the ballroom for a receiving line and reception.

This time there was no Uncle Gerard. Alex was sure his absence would be reported in the papers tomorrow, and wondered how the world would react when King Mason finally announced his brother hadn’t attended Eva’s wedding because he was under house arrest for treason.

What a world his wife would be returning to.

When it came time for their first dance as a couple, he led her to the dance floor. When their gazes met, he saw her fatigue.

As he swung her around to the tune of the waltz, he said, “It’s been a long day.”

She forced a smile. “Yes, it has.”

“Where’s the woman who wanted to make apple pancakes?”

She laughed. “I think I left her back at the country house.”

“Maybe we should go get her?”

She laughed again.

His spirits lifted. He twirled her around. “It is a little nerve-racking to be guest of honor in front of eight hundred people.”

She met his gaze again. “And sitting for hours for a bunch of pictures no one will see.”

He danced her in a big looping circle around the floor, twirled her out, then pulled her back in, making her giggle.

“Stop! That’s not a waltz.”

“And we care because?”

She giggled again. “I don’t know. Honestly. I just don’t know anything anymore.”

“Sure you do. You have tons of stuff you have to face when you go back home. But that could be days away. Weeks away.” He dipped his head to catch her gaze again. “Why don’t we have some fun?”

* * *

Why not?

She could think of a million reasons, but most of them revolved around keeping her heart when she desperately wanted to lose it to him.

Still, when he twirled her around again, she laughed. When the dance ended and he gave an exaggerated bow, she laughed again. The wedding guests loved him.

She
loved him.

And there it was. The truth that stood on the edge of her mind every day, but which she wouldn’t let manifest because it was too frightening. How could she love a man who didn’t love her?

When the dance was over, her mother met her on the edge of the dance circle and led her to the private table set up for Alex and Eva. She handed her a glass of water.

“Drink this.”

Eva shook her head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“You need to stay hydrated,” her mom insisted.

Alex took the glass from her. He cast a funny glance at Eva’s mom. “We’ll both take regular breaks and have
sips
of water. Not glasses or gulps.”

Karen sighed, but Eva nodded, as the photographer came over to take a candid shot of them in a down minute. She smiled, but inside her heart broke a little. There would be thousands of pictures of a fake wedding.

Alex pulled her out to the dance floor again. “What are you doing?”

He drew her into his arms. “You think too much. And tonight we’re not thinking. We’re dancing.”

She recognized his point immediately. Her face probably showed her unhappiness. He didn’t know it was over the fact that she loved him. He thought she was upset about documenting an event that was essentially fake. But that was good. It gave her breathing room. And maybe even a chance to let herself feel the love she couldn’t deny—if only for a minute or two.

He tightened his arms around her, and she realized the music had shifted and they were dancing a slow song.

Even considering all the times they’d kissed, she hadn’t ever had the presence of mind to appreciate being close to him. The first time he’d kissed her to persuade her not to marry him, he’d yanked her against him. They’d been pressed together from chest to knees and she’d felt the strength and power in his tense body.

Then he’d sneaked the kiss at the engagement party. The real kiss. And the press of their bodies had nothing to do with strength or power. That had been a kiss of real emotion. And she’d felt it in every place their bodies brushed.

But now they were dancing. Her brain was clear enough to take in the breadth of his shoulders, the solidness of his chest, the leanness of his torso. She let the hand she had at his shoulder drift down and come up again.

His head tilted as he caught her gaze.

What would he do if he knew she was nearly overwhelmed by love for him?

What would he do if he knew curiosity about how he felt beneath all these clothes raced through her?

What would he think if she told him she was tired of being a woman one step behind everybody else her own age because she’d been sheltered, protected by an arranged marriage?

What if she told him she wanted to make love with him once, just once, for the pleasure of being with the first man she truly loved? So that she could move into the rest of her life a whole person, a real woman, the woman she was meant to be?

If she promised him no emotion, no attempt to break down his walls, and asked for just one night of everything...

Would he be able to say no?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T
HEY
WERE
SCHEDULED
to spend the night at the palace and leave for their honeymoon the day after the wedding, but for security purposes Alex had changed that, deciding they should leave immediately after the wedding.

The royal guard whisked them to the family helicopter which took them to the yacht. Alex led Eva to the king’s suite of rooms, and at the door, lifted her into his arms.

She laughed. “Isn’t carrying me over the threshold an American custom?”

He shrugged, deftly turned the doorknob with one hand and used his foot to nudge the door open. “Who cares?” He said it light and breezily, knowing he didn’t have to remind her he was doing it for the staff, but feeling the odd sense of longing that had followed him around all day.

She laughed again, and the sound reverberated through him. It reminded him of sunny days and happiness, so he put her down quickly, in front of the sofa of the sitting room.

She turned to him with a smile, but he walked to the bar. She knew the drill as well as he did. Theirs was a fake marriage. The dancing and flirting they’d done at the wedding had been wrong. Dangerous to her future and his sanity. Now that there were no crowds to please or fool, he had to step away from her.

A bottle of his father’s best champagne lay in a bucket of ice on the bar. He sniffed a laugh. His father certainly knew how to carry a charade to its full conclusion.

He lifted the bottle. “Champagne?”

Her satin gown swished and swirled as she made her way to the bar. “Yes. Thank you.”

He popped the cork, found two glasses and poured.

He handed her a glass and she saluted him. “To us?”

“Sure, why not?” He said it swiftly, easily, but seeing her so casually sitting on one of the seats of his royal family’s yacht, looking like she belonged there, sent a ping of that yearning through him again.

He ignored it.

“There are two bedrooms in this suite.”

She raised her eyes, caught his gaze. “I figured.”

Her eyes were filled with the emotion that always stopped his heart. Hopeful, yet somehow resigned. She was a woman so married to duty that she rarely got what she wanted, but a part of her still hungered for it.

She took a sip of her champagne, then another, her full lips barely touching the flute. The delicateness of her face was at odds with the strength of her character, which somehow managed to mask a very feminine, very sexy woman. And right at that moment he’d give anything to run his hands down her arms, along her torso, while he kissed her, if only to show her that she was worthy—worth it. That she was beautiful and powerful and perfect.

He took a step back. Dom had said there had been a moment on his wedding night when he’d looked at Ginny and simply hadn’t been able to resist her. At the time, Alex had thought his brother a besotted fool, or a man who simply hadn’t been with enough women. But tonight, looking at Eva, knowing her the way he did, he wondered how much willpower he’d have to muster to walk away from what he so desperately wanted.

She finished her champagne and slid off the stool, her gown a glorious complement of silks and satins that rustled around her. She pointed to the right. “I imagine my bedroom is that way.”

“Yes.”

“I’m pretty good at this guessing stuff.”

“You had a fifty-fifty chance of being right.”

She smiled. “Better odds than blackjack.”

“Much better odds.”

She waited just the tiniest bit, while he waged a battle in his head. Not because he wanted her so much...though he did. But because she wanted him. It was there in her eyes. And it was easier to deny his own need than hers. The moment was fraught with possibilities. Glorious, wonderful things.

With slow, deliberate movements she walked over to him. He took a breath, held it.

But she didn’t rise to her tiptoes to press her lips to his. Didn’t touch him. Instead, she pulled the long, looping net veil to the side as she presented her back to him.

“Can you undo this for me?”

He swallowed. His fingers went to the small hook-and-eye closure above the long zipper of her strapless gown. “You know the night we left your dress in my hallway?”

She hesitated. “Yes.”

“I told myself I could have had that little yellow gown off you in about twenty seconds.”

The hook and eye disengaged. She turned and met his gaze. “Sure of yourself?”

“Experienced.”

Their eyes held. If there was one strike that counted against him with her, it was his experience. He’d slept with everyone from starlets to vacationing waifs. She’d given herself to no one.

“Sometimes experience is a good thing.”

“You didn’t think so when you first met me.”

“I was wrong.”

He held her gaze. “No. You weren’t.”

She turned, presenting her back to him again so he could get the zipper. “I’ve been wrong about a lot of things, remember? I thought I didn’t want to be a queen. Thought I’d be content being a placeholder. Turns out I’m not.”

He glanced down at the zipper for her gown. Once he began pulling it down, he’d be seeing her back, the slope of her torso that led to her perfect bottom.

He stalled. “And you’ve got something of a fight ahead of you when you go home.”

“I’m ready.”

He wasn’t. He thought no woman could tempt him beyond his power to resist. But as his fingers itched to pull down the zipper of her dress, his libido sat on the bleachers of his brain, munching popcorn, waiting for the show to begin.

His brain screamed that he should turn her around, send her to her room and dispatch a maid to help her with her dress.

His libido groaned, told him that was a damned fool idea. He’d seen her back before. One more peek wouldn’t hurt.

He took the zipper in his tingling fingers.

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Do you want me to call a maid?”

Yes.
“No.” This was stupid. He had seen her back before and for the love of all that was holy, it was only a back.

He pulled the zipper down past her strapless bra and when he saw the yellow lace, he laughed. “Yellow undies for your wedding?”

“With all the white that was floating around, I wanted a little bit of color. I love yellow.”

He was beginning to love yellow too.

He pulled the zipper to her waist, thinking that would be the end of it, but to his surprise it ran the whole way to her bottom. The whole way to yellow satin panties, trimmed in lace, looking so sexily feminine, his gut tensed.

The room suddenly got hot.

The top of her strapless dress collapsed into her hands and she brought her arms up to catch it. When she turned to face him, the bodice was a crumbled heap against the pretty yellow bra and bare shoulders that were creamy white as if they’d never seen the sun.

The temptation that had been hovering on the edge of everything they’d done the past four weeks overwhelmed him. All he wanted was a simple touch.

He put his hands on her shoulders, onto skin that felt like new velvet.

And maybe a taste.

He leaned down, his gaze trapped with her expectant one, and knew this was absolutely wrong, but telling himself he could handle it.

When his lips met hers, she lifted her arms to his shoulders and the dress fell, puddling on the floor between them. The lace of her bra crushed against the silk of his shirt but he swore he didn’t feel the barrier between them. He felt that lace brushing his chest—

He pulled back, sucked in a breath of air. As much as he wanted this, he couldn’t have her.

Bending down, he picked up her gown, pressing it against her chest until she took it.

“This is wrong.”

She leaped to her tiptoes and brushed her lips across his. “No, it’s not.”

“I think you’re forgetting something very important. You told me you wanted to become queen.”

She held his gaze, waiting for his explanation.

“I want you to fulfill your destiny.”

“And you don’t want to be a husband to a queen? Don’t worry. I don’t expect you to stay married to me. I just want this. Want you. Just once.”

He laughed, shook his head. “That’s actually the point. Our annulment will be predicated on the fact that we never consummated the marriage. If we do this now, you can’t get an annulment. You’ll be forced to get a divorce. And you, with a divorce in your past, won’t be allowed to reign.”

She stared at him, as if she’d actually forgotten. Then she stepped away. “Oh.”

Disappointment swelled inside him. For some damned reason or another he thought she’d say, “So what?”

“You never thought of that?”

She shook her head, then smoothed an errant strand of black hair off her face. “I’m kind of making a fool of myself, aren’t I?”

He reached out, took her elbows and pulled her close again. “I’m the one in the wrong. I want you enough that I almost slipped.” He admitted it because he couldn’t stand to have her think that any of this was because she wasn’t beautiful, sexy, special. She was. And he wanted her so much his whole body ached. He almost didn’t know where he got the courage, the honor to say, “But I also like you too much to deny you of your destiny. I don’t know what you’re going to do as queen, but I know you well enough to realize that whatever you do it will be special, wonderful. Your country probably needs that.”

Her eyes saddened into the soft blue that made his chest hurt. But he held his ground, and his breath.

* * *

Eva stared into his eyes, a million confusing truths racing through her brain. This was the unspoken reality of what happened to people with destinies. Alex hadn’t said it. He didn’t need to. It was all there in his eyes. People with destinies rarely got what they wanted. Duty, responsibility came first.

She cursed it, then reminded herself of all the feelings she’d had the day her dad had called. The horrible knowledge that she’d been overlooked. The intense desire to be part of the team that put her beloved country back together again.

Would she throw it all away for one night with a man she longed for? The first man she’d ever really wanted?

She swallowed. She’d thought the answer would be easy. Instead she stood frozen. How could she decide without a kiss? Without a touch?

Her lips tingled at the thought of another kiss. Her entire body exploded at the thought more of his touch.

Something must have changed in her expression because he pulled back. “Oh, you are temptation. But, no. I can’t be the person who steals your destiny from you.”

Her eyes clung to his. “There is one way.”

His eyebrows rose.

“I know I told you I wouldn’t force you to stay married...but what if we wanted to?”

“Stay married?”

She nodded.

He squeezed his eyes shut. “You have known me four weeks. I can’t ask for a life commitment after four weeks.”

“But you were willing to marry a princess you didn’t know.”

“And now I know her and now I know she deserves more. Real love. Trust. A man who doesn’t have walls.”

He turned her in the direction of her room. “Go before I can’t be noble anymore.”

* * *

The next morning, she met Alex in the sitting room of their yacht suite for breakfast, pretending nothing had happened. He’d said that she hadn’t made a fool of herself, that he wanted her, and if the intense expression in his eyes had been anything to judge by, he had wanted her.

In some ways that made her happy. In others, it turned her heart inside out. The very fact that he couldn’t consummate their marriage once again said he might like her, he might be attracted to her, but he didn’t want her forever.

Still, what did she expect? Everlasting love after four weeks? That was silly. And if there was one thing she’d realized she wasn’t, it was silly.

So she put on shorts and a T-shirt, combed her hair but really didn’t fix it. It might not be a real honeymoon, but it was a vacation. Then she sat at the small table with Alex.

Without looking up from the newspaper he was reading, he said, “I didn’t know what you’d want so I asked the staff to bring a bit of everything.”

She laughed and the paper fell. Obviously, he’d been waiting for a sign that she didn’t hate him.

How could she hate him for sticking to a deal she’d agreed to?

So she smiled.

He carefully returned her smile. “What do we want to do today?”

“I got word two days ago that my stipend was in my bank account. I need to get money to my shelters. But I was also hoping to have time to make phone calls to all the managers.”

“That’s what you want to do when you have an entire yacht at your disposal?”

“I haven’t spoken to them in weeks. I need to catch up.”

“All business on our honeymoon?”

“I’m sorry.”

He folded the paper. “No. No. Don’t be sorry. The staff assigned to our suite is made up of our most loyal personnel. They won’t breathe a word of the fact that we don’t sleep together. So, they won’t bat an eye if you spend our first day on the phone handling business.”

“It’s okay then?”

“Yes, but tomorrow we should do something together.”

“I don’t water ski or do any of the daredevil sports you like.”

He laughed. “That might be a good thing. The whole purpose of all this is to keep you alive.”

She smiled. “Okay. So tomorrow we’ll sit on deck chairs and read.”

“Sounds good.”

It really didn’t sound good to Eva. It sounded like another chance in her life passing her by. She’d never make love to her first love.

It was the price she’d pay to be a queen. The price he’d pay to protect her.

And for the hundredth time, she wished the old Alex, the Alex who didn’t care about royalty and responsibility, would swoop in and save her. Sweep her off her feet, make her glad to give up the crown.

But that was stupid...wasn’t it?