Tempting the Prince (Sexy Misadventures of Royals)

by Christi Barth

  She felt like it was true.

  Like they were two normal people playing an extreme game of dress-up. Cosplay? A sexual fantasy scene with a great wardrobe?

  It just didn’t compute that she was kissing the man who’d rule a kingdom.

  Mallory was kissing the man who laughed at her jokes and made her try sour beer and had unexpectedly joined her and Kelsey for breakfast every day this week as they tried coffees from every country attending a trade summit Moncriano was set to host next month.

  “Regardless, we should make sure that nobody sees us,” she said awkwardly.

  “One more kiss,” he demanded.

  “Only one,” she cautioned as his mouth captured hers once more. This time with just as much heat, but more tenderness. Like he was extending the compliment he’d paid with his lips.

  Christian stretched his fingers across the small of her back. The heat of his touch radiated through the thin satin of her gown. His other hand cradled the back of her head as he slowly lowered her into a dip.

  The position, for all that it was drenched in the utmost romance, was also so very sensual. It pressed his muscled thigh right in between her legs. Right where Mallory ached and pulsed for him, wishing for more.

  With amazing strength, he held her there, bent backward, breasts tight against his row of medals. And when he broke off the kiss, Christian kept them locked in that intimate position.

  “You, Mallory. You’re who I want. Remember that.”

  Oh, no worries there. She’d never forget her first ball where the gorgeous prince chose her.

  Just like she’d never forget that he couldn’t choose her for real. That stolen kisses in the shadows were all Christian could give her.

  Chapter Six

  Chandeliers were basically oversize prisms. Which meant that the afternoon sun reflecting off the two chandeliers overhead were blinding Christian. The damn things weren’t even turned on, but one crystal in particular made him feel like he was being examined at the ophthalmologist and would be seeing nothing but blocks of white for the next few minutes.

  Which was still less painful than paying attention to the Privy Council. They were reading a list of every official engagement King Julian had missed in the past six months. Dates. Places. Excruciatingly detailed descriptions of what he was supposed to have done.

  Things Christian didn’t need to hear.

  Mostly because he’d been there for a good three-fourths of them. The rest of the family had helped cover, as well. A few items had been rescheduled. But they were both insensitive and flat-out dumb not to think that Christian already knew every single thing they listed.

  He knew.

  He’d kept his own list. To confront his father. Except that the royal physician didn’t think confrontation would help. Would, in fact, make his father more resolute about not rejoining the world.

  Christian still maintained the list. Because there’d need to be a reckoning.

  Someday.

  He pressed his fingers to his temple to shield his eyes.

  Sir Kai must’ve taken that as a “put me out of my misery” signal. He stood from his padded bench along the wall where several aides sat and approached the long council table.

  “Lord Chamberlain, His Highness is quite busy. As are all of you. It seems as if a recitation of schedules is something that perhaps I could hash out privately with your office?”

  The keeper of the privy purse bristled. Jowls actually shook, along with the hair that looked like an exploding dandelion. “We’re building a case here.”

  A case for what? Christian risked a sideways glance at Elias, pulling extra duty as his bodyguard since the schedule had been overloaded by the ball. These wordless exchanges with his best friend were often the only things that kept him sane in these meetings. He’d miss it the next time when Elias wasn’t here to shrug his confusion.

  Damn it, everything was changing and he wasn’t ready for it.

  Kai stuck a hand beneath his lapel, Napoleon style. He said it commanded attention. Christian just thought he enjoyed the power pose. “If you’re here to ask that Princess Kelsey increase her official appearances, I’d remind you that she’s still learning the ropes. The rest of the royal family maintained a full schedule before she returned, and thus will continue to add her slowly, so that she may be properly schooled.”

  A younger man he’d never seen before waved a hand in the air. “That’s fine. The last thing we want is for the American to commit a grievous insult to one of our summit guests.”

  What. The actual. Fuck.

  Christian dropped his hand. Actually, he flattened it in a hard slap to the seventeenth-century wood. “You will apologize. Immediately. While we are most fond of our American allies, Princess Kelsey is a full-blooded member of the House of Villani. She is Moncriano. And you will respect her not only as third in line to the crown, but as a strong, brave, smart woman.”

  Silence thickened the air. Hopefully the shock was at that idiot speaking so out of turn, and not at Christian asserting his authority.

  After looking up and down the long table and not getting so much as an eye flicker of support, the man stood to bow deeply at the waist. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. It was an inconsiderate remark.”

  “Indeed. Not to mention the biggest mistake of your career.” Christian jerked his head toward the door. “Now get out.”

  Half crouched to reseat himself, he froze, braced on the table. “I’m sorry, Your Highness?”

  “Oh, I’ll bet you are now. You heard me. You’re dismissed.”

  “You can’t fire me. I’m the minister of climate change.”

  Thank God. Christian had wondered—a split second too late—what role the pissant held. “Then you should be able to sense that change is in the air. That’s an appointed post, not an elected one. So I’m within my rights to demand that it be vacated. I will not have someone on this council who does not respect the Crown and all who represent it.”

  He’d wanted to yell.

  Hell, he’d wanted to blacken his eye.

  But Christian remembered all the debriefing sessions at his father’s side after council meetings. The king had taught him that cold steel was more powerful and cutting than uncontrollable fire. A calm, measured threat or pronouncement could strike far more fear than something that could later be labeled a tantrum.

  Sure enough, it only took a moment before the ex-minister stiff-legged it out of the room. Christian looked at Elias expecting a fist pump. Instead he got a subtle go on gesture.

  Ah. Crap. Right.

  He leaned back against the high, velvet-covered wood of the chair and gripped the carved arms. “I am more than willing to repeat this exercise with any and every one on this council. I would, of course, prefer that it not be necessary. And that if you hear of any such disrespect being accorded to any member of the House of Villani, or those in our circle,” he added, thinking to also quash the rumblings he’d heard of some nobility being unhappy with a bodyguard dating their princess, “I expect you will excise it as cleanly as what you just witnessed.”

  A ripple of yes, indeed, of course Your Highnesses circled the table. While shock was still evident, Christian was positive there was a layer of admiration on top of it. He’d take that as his win for the day.

  Letting himself slump into a more comfortable position, Christian picked up his water glass. “Let’s resume. Lord Chamberlain, what is the point of this unscheduled meeting for which I received no agenda?”

  “We believe that it is time for you to ascend to the throne.”

  Holy fuck, they were actually doing this.

  Kai had danced around the possibility with him. But Kai knew the full extent to which Christian had been covering for his father. The Privy Council, at best, knew maybe half of it. Which made this even more dire.

  But Chris
tian knew there was only one response possible. He set the glass back down and stated clearly yet calmly, “Moncriano has a king.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Not for several months now.”

  How was this happening already? “King Julian has been indisposed, it’s true. But he’s ruled for more than three decades. I’d say that affords him a few months of sabbatical.”

  The secretary of state was a whip-smart woman he’d enjoyed dancing with at the ball a week ago. They’d debated the differences between nationalism and neutrality. Christian counted her as a friend. So when she spoke, her tone was softer. As though apologetic for holding his feet to the fire on the issue.

  “Your Highness, people are talking. His absence has been noticed. Repeatedly. His absence at social and governmental events. From everything as big as the Persephone Ball to those as small as the summer barbeque for the palace staff.”

  Damn it.

  Kelsey had stood in at the barbeque. They’d reasoned that she was still such a new and exciting commodity it might distract everyone into thinking it was a treat that she’d attended, rather than a cover-up of the king’s absence.

  Obviously, it hadn’t worked.

  He had to buy time. Time to figure out what to do. Time to talk to his father.

  No, to get his father to talk to him. Time to absorb the enormity of what they asked.

  “King Julian has been a good ruler. A popular ruler. And when there’ve been hard times, he’s shared his pain with the country. I’m shocked that you, as a group, would escalate to this so quickly. It’s too soon to contemplate any action, let alone one so drastic.”

  “With the vote on the European Union looming, and with a new prime minister, it is imperative that we reduce all hints of instability.”

  “My father is not unstable.” Damn it, he’d slipped. Made it personal by referring to his father rather than the king.

  “Your Highness, I wish that were true. But the fact is that he doesn’t leave his rooms. He doesn’t speak to his own family. He does not rule. You do. And it’s time we made that official.”

  Elias was suddenly at his shoulder. “Apologies to all, but His Highness has a call with the king of Spain.”

  His friend had thrown him a lifeline. Christian shoved back his chair. “Your concerns have been heard, I assure you. I will take your suggestion under advisement. I shall also take it to the king. Good day.”

  Christian managed the briefest of nods before heading out. The footman had to scramble to open the door. In the hallway, he continued to take long, fast strides to get as far away as fast as possible.

  “Elevator?” Elias asked.

  “No.” He needed a run up the stairs. Although he doubted twenty flights would begin to compose him. Two turns later, they were past the receiving rooms, the throne room, and the music room. Christian paused at the gold-veined mirror that had been a present from Louis XIV. He stared at Elias in it. “Did you know that was coming?”

  “Know it? Of course not. Did I fear it? Absolutely. For weeks now.”

  “Fuck.” He spun away from the mirror to the opposite doors leading to the garden. They were flanked by miniature lemon trees in porcelain pots. Probably some Ming dynasty gift from an emperor. Christian didn’t care. He kicked the pot with the side of his foot. Hard enough to topple it and send it rolling away in a rustle of crushed leaves and thudding fruit.

  Elias glanced down the hall to be sure they were alone. Then he came over to stand shoulder to shoulder with Christian. “It can’t have been a surprise to you. You only try this hard to hide something when you know it needs to be hidden. And you’ve been working damn hard to hide your father’s condition.”

  Yeah.

  All true. Despite all of that, Elias had stood up for him, known he’d needed an escape.

  Christian gave him a nod of appreciation—as well as recognition of the facts he’d laid out. “Thanks for getting me out of there.”

  “I’ve got your back. Whether you’re my friend, my prince…or my king.”

  “Don’t start.”

  In his most solemn voice, Elias countered. “Christian, I’m afraid that’s exactly what you’ll need to do.”

  “Right now I need to clear my head. Alone.”

  “Got it. I’ll be here when you’re done.” Elias pressed on the corner of the molding beneath the mirror and a hidden door swung out, revealing narrow stone steps so old they were grooved in the middle.

  Christian took the first two flights two steps at a time. Then he switched to every step, feeling his pulse pick up and sweat bead at his hairline. At the seventh floor, the stairs stopped at a wooden door. He pushed it open and burst out onto the roof of the tower, heading for the low, crenellated wall at the edge to brace himself while he caught his breath.

  “Christian, no!”

  As soon as he recognized Mallory’s voice, her body hurtled into his, knocking both of them to the floor.

  Ow. Knocking elbows and hips into uneven stone wasn’t pleasant. Mallory’s body draped across his diaphragm wasn’t helping him catch his breath, either. “What the hell was that for?”

  “I’m saving you?” She sounded unsure but didn’t roll off of him. If anything, she rearranged herself to cover his legs, too. Propped up to talk to him on her elbows but kept her hands on his wrists.

  “From what?”

  “You, ah, were running when you slammed through that door. Running straight for the edge.”

  Who knew the day would give him two nominees for most awkward conversation ever? “Christ. You thought I was going to jump?”

  Her green eyes didn’t so much as flicker, watching him like a hawk. “I don’t know? I mean, that’s what your mother did, right here, wasn’t it?”

  “What a legacy to inherit.” His parents were collectively ruining his day. Considering one of them had been dead for over twenty years, that was quite a feat.

  “Christian, you can talk to me. Or we can go downstairs and find you someone else to talk to—”

  He cut her off by pulling out of her grip and sitting up, tipping Mallory off of him. “I’m fine. I mean, not fine, but damn well not suicidal. I ran up the stairs because I was upset.”

  “All of the stairs?”

  “Yeah. That’s why I’m panting. So when I got up here, I wanted to lean on the wall to catch my breath. Momentum’s what had me still running. I had no intention of going over. At all. Ever.”

  “Oh.” Mallory scrambled off his legs. “I’m sorry. That was dumb. Probably insulting to you and your mental health.” She stood, a frown pulling her auburn brows together. “I’ll leave you alone.”

  “No, wait.” Christian grabbed her ankle, the inch of bare skin between her taupe shoe and red pants. “Stay. Sit with me, won’t you?”

  “Are you sure?”

  At the bottom of the stairs, he’d been sure as hell that he didn’t want to be around anyone. But now, Mallory’s presence seemed like the only thing that would make him feel better. “Very.”

  He got up and walked her to the corner so they could both lean against the wall and still face each other. Beyond the stones was endless blue sky, dotted with only a few puffy white clouds. Below were tight rows of buildings, with steeples popping up in between and bisected by the blue curve of the river. His capital city looked like a postcard. Bucolic.

  Did people down there look up at the palace and assume everything inside was happy and wonderful? That the life of a prince was obviously better than theirs?

  They’d be wrong.

  Privileged, yes, none of which he took for granted. But hard and complicated, too.

  Christian sat, stretched out his legs, crossed his ankles, and then took Mallory’s hand. “Thank you.”

  Her head dipped. She wouldn’t look at him. But her fingers tightened around his. “For being a presumptive idiot?”


  “For caring enough to act. To risk yourself. Trying to stop me was dangerous. My God, I outweigh you, and if I’d been intent on going over, determination would’ve given me extra strength, too. You were brave and selfless. I’m blown away.” Christian flipped over her arm to kiss the underside of her wrist. Then he uncurled her fingers to plant a soft kiss right in the center of her palm.

  Her cheeks reddened. “I overreacted.”

  “You didn’t. My mother did throw herself off this tower. A severe case of postpartum depression coupled with Kelsey’s disappearance was too much for her to handle. That’s a fact that I can’t change or ignore. I’m very glad you didn’t ignore it.”

  During the attack when Mallory had been shot, his bodyguard had thrown Christian to the ground and protected him from the gunfire with his own body. A sacrifice, yes. But it was his job.

  Mallory had just attempted to also save his life, without any training, without any motivation beyond her caring heart. That was, without a doubt, the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for him.

  Finally looking up, she asked softly, “You said you were upset?”

  “Turns out my mom might not be the only one with mental health issues. I don’t know how much Kelsey’s filled you in on what’s been happening while you were gone—”

  Jumping in to cut him off, she said, “We tell each other everything.”

  “Everything?” Whoa. Did that mean… “You told her about us? What we did? The hot, hot sex?”

  “Ah, no.”

  That explained why nothing with Kelsey had changed. No questioning, barbed looks from her over breakfast. But if the two of them shared everything, then why not this?

  Shit.

  The most obvious reason just sucked.

  Better to know for sure, though. “Do you regret it?”

  Was it possible her cheeks got even redder? Mallory shook her head violently, her long hair whipping across her face. “Not at all. It…it’s just…we agreed it wouldn’t happen again. So I kept it. For myself. A secret treasure.”