I awaken from the best sleep of my life to the sound of soft snoring and the tickle of silky auburn hair against my chest. Pink sunlight peeks through the slits in the drapes. The morning light gives a pink glow to the soft curves of Everly’s naked body. One of her legs is tangled with mine. Her hand rests on the pillow beside my head, palm facing the ceiling, fingers relaxed.
On a normal day, I’d throw back the covers, take a quick shower, and go straight to work. On a normal day, she wouldn’t be in my bed after sex. But not today. Today is anything but normal. Why? Because I’ve got the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my bed—warm and willing and all mine. I trail my fingers through her long hair and struggle to name the emotions swelling in my heart. When she doesn’t stir, I grow bolder, letting my hands roam over her smooth skin. I trace a circle around her areola. The nipple puckers into a stiff nub.
“Mmm.” She sighs and stretches, like a lazy cat. “What time is it?”
“Early,” I reply, concentrating on the way her body responds to my touch. “Go back to sleep.”
We fucked all night—slowly, tenderly, exploring each other’s bodies. On the chaise. On the study floor. On the bedroom floor. In the shower. And, finally, in my bed. A glance at the clock shows we’ve only been asleep for a few hours. Yet, I’ve never felt more energized in my life. I can’t get enough of her.
“Should I go back to my room?” She plants a kiss on my sternum and twirls her fingertip in my chest hair. Her fingers feel delicious. I grab her hand and kiss the palm then place it facedown over my heart.
“No.” The thought of losing her warmth is unbearable. I’ve already lost so much in my life—my father, my freedom, my desire for other women. I can’t give her up. Not yet. “I want you where I can keep an eye on you.” To prove my sincerity, I wrap an arm around her and drag her closer.
“Good.” She snuggles into my embrace. The lacy fringes of her eyelashes fan across her cheeks. She feels good. Right. Like she was made to fit in the crook of my arm. I’ve never believed in serendipity before now. However, I have to acknowledge the possibility that destiny brought us together to save Androvia—and each other.
“I was thinking…perhaps you should move into my room permanently. If you want to.” I draw in a breath, suddenly afraid she’ll deny my request. No one ever denies me. No one but her. I can’t bear the thought of her rejection. “I want this marriage to work, Everly. I want us to be a real husband and wife, and I don’t think we can accomplish that in separate bedrooms.”
Her eyelids flutter open. She lifts on an elbow to frown at me. “What will the dust bunnies and spiders do without me?”
“I’m serious.” To prove my sincerity, I lift her hand and kiss her palm. “Share my bed, Everly. Be my wife in every way.”
The smile slips from her lips. I watch the thoughts flicker behind her soft blue irises as she weighs her options. I know right now—in this moment—that I’m totally and completely fucked. I’m going to fall in love with her, whether I want to or not.
14
Everly
Two weeks later, I find a second gift box on my pillow. Still reeling from the dead mouse, I hesitate to open it until I see the envelope nestled beneath the ribbon, closed with the royal seal. Inside is a note written in Henry’s elegant script. For a hand job well done. Love, H.
I snort and turn the note over in my fingers. After lunch yesterday, he’d ordered me into the king’s office to jack him off. Although the command had been unexpected, it wasn’t unwelcome. I loved watching the veins pop in his neck as he fought against his orgasm, the primal growl ripped from his throat by my pumping fist. The burn of betrayal tempers my excitement. We’ve been doing well up to this point, and for a few days, I had forgotten my place. His note is an unsubtle reminder that I’m one-half of a business partnership and his royal broodmare. In a fit of temper, I rip the note into tiny pieces then throw them at his adjoining bedroom door. Motherfucker.
“Is everything okay, Your Highness?” Olga is already here, opening the drapes and preparing my clothing for the day.
“Yes, fine. Just—men.” I don’t bother to hide the disgust in my voice.
She laughs. “I understand. I have one of my own.”
Pink morning light filters through the windows. The soft bedsheets cling to my body, tempting me to snuggle deeper into their depths. I’ve never been an early riser, but no one would ever accuse me of being lazy. Today, however, could be an exception. Except it’s the beginning of my new schedule, and I don’t want to make a bad impression. Wake up is at six a.m., breakfast at seven, and official business begins at eight. The promise of a routine is comforting, and I’m looking forward to learning about life at Wasserfell Palace.
With a groan, I sit up and grab the box. Beneath the lid is a mobile phone. The numbers of all my former business associates, colleagues, and friends have been entered into the contact list. I’m not even going to think about how Henry got the information. My thumb hovers over an unfamiliar number. Last name Master. First name Lord And. That rascal. His audacity never ceases to amaze me. I press the call button and wait.
“Good morning, lazy bones.” Henry’s deep voice rushes through the phone, sending a shiver through my body. “I’ve been expecting your call.”
“You’re a cocky bastard.” Even though I’m irritated by him, my smile grows wider. “Considering the insulting note you left with this phone.”
“It wasn’t meant to be insulting. You’re making an effort, and I appreciate it.” The caress of his voice reaches through the phone and reverberates through my ears and into my panties. I could listen to his sexy British accent all day long.
“Thank you.” Warmth spreads through my body at his praise. I forget to be angry about the note.
“See? I can be nice.” Amusement softens the usual authority of his tone. He can be so charming when he wants to be. I’m beginning to appreciate the many facets of his personality. He’s deep. Complicated. Mine.
“Returning a basic right isn’t being nice. That’s being a control freak.” I step out of bed and into the soft robe Olga is holding.
“Whatever.” He lowers his voice, like someone else might be in the room with him. “If you keep being a good girl, I have more nice things in store for you.”
“Like what?” For some reason, I feel like a teenaged girl talking to her high school crush.
“I guess you’ll just have to wait and find out.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Come on, Everly. Don’t you like this game?”
Yes, I do, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I admit it to him. If I give in to my feelings for him, I’ll be vulnerable, and I just can’t have that. Not when I’m finally beginning to get a foothold on life again. “It’s tolerable.”
His laughter booms into my ear. The sound is rich and robust and travels all the way from my ears to my toes. “After dinner tonight, I want you on my bed waiting for your lesson. Naked. Handcuffs on. Legs spread apart. I think we need to get back to our lessons.” Our lovemaking has been tender and unhurried since the funeral. It sounds like things are about to change on that front, also. “Do you understand what I’m asking of you?”
“Yes.” Blood rushes into my breasts, turning my nipples into tight, stiff peaks. I cross my arms over my chest, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder, and glance at Olga. If she’s aware, she doesn’t let on.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” A blush heats my face.
“Good girl. There’s another present for you in the top drawer of your dresser.”
I almost skip across the room. Inside the drawer is another box, this one wrapped in red velvet. Beneath the lid is a set of keys. I hold them up by the jewel-encrusted fob. “Are these real rubies?”
“I give you the keys to my castle, and this is your question?”
My heart leaps. “Are these for our apartment?”
“Yes. You’re now in charge of yo
ur own safety.” His tone sobers. “But you must always, always keep the outside doors locked. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” The gesture brings the sting of tears to my eyes. I swipe them away. How ridiculous. I’m crying over keys when I should never have been locked up in the first place. This man has me in a tizzy.
“I will have your trust, Everly. Don’t make me regret this.”
“I won’t. Thank you.” The keys are awesome, but the real gift is his faith in me. I recognize the effort behind his actions and vow to meet his expectations.
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you this evening.” He ends the call, leaving me to grapple with my emotions. Damn him for playing with my head. Even as I curse him, I’m excited to see what tonight holds.
15
Henry
After Everly’s call, I gaze out the window, ignoring Shasta and the other employees who’ve gathered around the conference table for our meeting. I need a minute to get my thoughts together. My wife has transformed from a necessary inconvenience to a fascinating perk. I can’t stop thinking about her soft curves, sassy mouth, and enormous heart. She’s so much more than I expected, and I need to adjust my expectations to nurture her talents. Providing anything less than my full support would be a great disservice to her and this nation.
“Sir, I really think you need to see this,” Shasta says for the second time. Reluctantly, I jerk my attention back to her. She pushes a folder toward me. “Something unexpected has happened, and we need to know how you want to handle it.”
At her words, a knot of foreboding tightens in my gut. So far, the monarchy has been one fiasco after another. I brace for the worst. “What is it?”
She flips open the folder and spreads the photographs across the table. “It’s the public. They’re obsessed with Princess Everly. People are waiting by the front gates for a glimpse of her. Yesterday, two paparazzi managed to climb the south wall, hoping to steal an exclusive of Her Royal Highness. The hubbub seems to stem from this photo.” She taps a glossy eight-by-ten of Everly with the little girl from the funeral procession. “She’s getting inundated with interview requests from all over the world. How do you want to proceed?”
I hold the picture in front of me. The photographer captured the softness of Everly’s smile and the wonder in the little girl’s eyes as she handed her bouquet to the princess. This picture embodies everything my new wife represents—compassion, warmth, and caring. “Have you shown this to the princess?” Shasta shakes her head. I lower the photo, unable to tear my attention from Everly’s face.
“Not yet. We wanted to hear your thoughts first, sir.”
Harriet, my publicist, leaps into the conversation. “If you don’t mind, sir, I have several ideas. If Your Majesty agrees, she can be the face of the new and friendlier Androvia. Interest in your wife will detract from the negativity of border skirmishes and drug wars. The possibilities are endless.”
I push my chair back from the table and pace to the French doors leading out to the terrace. My gut tells me to keep Everly sequestered inside the palace where she’s safe, but my head recognizes the impracticality of such an action. The thought of sharing her with anyone stirs my male possessiveness. She belongs to me. “What would you suggest?”
“Accept a few tasteful interviews. Do some photo shoots inside the palace. Feed the public’s curiosity with selective information.” Harriet leans forward, her face shining with enthusiasm. “It’s important to get ahead of the media’s curiosity and control their perception.”
“Is there any talk of the scandal surrounding her father?” I turn to face the room.
“No, sir. The fervor has died down considerably and is being overshadowed by problems with the current White House administration. Our polls show that public opinion sides with Princess Everly. She’s being hailed as a role model. The buzz is incredible.” Harriet shakes her head and sinks back in her chair. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Not since Princess Diana.”
Now that I’ve wrapped my head around the information, I’m not surprised. Everly brings out the best in people—even someone like me. I was a fool to think I could keep her a secret from the world. “Very well. Set up a meeting with the princess. I’d like to hear her thoughts on the topic.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Harriet jots a note on her tablet. “May I just say that I’m thrilled to be a part of this team, sir. Opportunities like this are rare. I see amazing things in store for Androvia.”
“Thank you, Harriet.” Warmth buzzes through my veins—a combination of pride for my new wife and hope for the nation. Perhaps I’ve been too focused on war to consider the possibility of peace.
“Your Majesty, there’s been some kind of emergency. The Chief Minister needs to speak with you right away.” Shasta interrupts my train of thought.
“Send him in.” The team scurries out of the room. Rupert strides inside. His face is a deep red. “Are you okay, Uncle? You’re looking flushed.”
“No, I’m not okay.” He slams the door shut behind the last person, sealing us inside the conference room. “I’m furious, Heinrich.”
I pour water from a sweaty glass pitcher into a crystal goblet and take a sip before answering. “What’s the matter? Did someone forget to press your suit this morning?”
He slams a fist onto the table, making the water slosh inside the pitcher. “You sent foot soldiers to close the southeast border. You can’t do that. We have a pact with the Odessa, allowing them free passage across our borders.”
“Correction. You had a pact with the Odessa.” His reference to neighboring Ukraine’s most powerful mafia syndicate confirms my worst suspicions. He’s been a part of Don McElroy’s scheme to transport Afghan heroin across Androvia and into Europe. I exhale a long breath and steady my nerves for the unpleasantness about to unfold. “I don’t have any such agreement.”
“Your father and I put a lot of effort into this deal, and I won’t allow you to ruin our hard work.” Spit flies from his lips. I’ve never seen him so angry. He braces both hands on the table, leaning forward like he’s about to pounce. “Withdraw the troops. Now. It’s not too late. I can smooth things over.”
“No.”
“It’s not a request. It’s an order.” Rupert’s voice roars through the room. “I demand that you take action. Immediately.”
“Sit down, Rupert.” I keep my voice even, but my tone is deadly. “Have you forgotten that I’m in command? Not you.”
“I will not sit down.” He shoves a hand through his hair, revealing a small bald spot on his crown. “I expected problems from you after the change in monarch but not epic stupidity.”
“Careful.” I stand, straightening to my full height. Rupert is tall, but I’m taller. The position forces him to look up at me. “If I were you, I’d choose my next words wisely. You don’t want to say something we’ll both regret.”
“This is unbelievable,” he mutters. “Do you have any idea how much money the Odessa funnels to Androvia? Do you know how angry they’ll be when they find out you’ve shut down their access?”
“You mean, do I have any idea how much money they funnel into your pocket? And the answer is yes. I’ve known for a while.”
Beads of sweat break out on his forehead. He withdraws a handkerchief and dabs at the perspiration. “Don’t be a fool, Henry.”
“There’s only one fool in this room, and it isn’t me.” I take a step toward him, forcing him to retreat to the opposite side of the table. “I don’t know how deep you’re into this mess, but I suggest you find a way out.”
“They’re going to retaliate. You know that, right?” The veins on his forehead bulge. “And I can’t be held responsible for what happens.”
“Then I suggest you get on the phone with Don McElroy and sort it out.” I open the door for him to leave.
“You’ve put me in an impossible position.” The color slowly drains from his face, leaving behind a ghostly pallor. “I can’t win. Either way, I’m screwed
.”
“Looks like it.” With dragging footsteps, he exits the conference room. I wait for him to pass before summoning Shasta. Rupert’s threats are credible. Don McElroy will be furious to learn that his dealings with the Odessa have been curtailed. It’s time for me to set aside my pride and call in reinforcements.
“What can I do for you, sir?” Shasta asks.
I drag a shaking hand across my face. Shit is about to get real. “Get Nicky Tarnovsky on the phone.”
16
Everly
Once I’m dressed, Olga accompanies me to the palace doctor. After a thorough exam, he declares me fit for childbearing and in good general health. I try not to roll my eyes. The palace administration takes “an heir and a spare” seriously. Olga isn’t as fortunate. She has a case of bronchitis. At my prodding, he writes a prescription for an antibiotic and orders her to rest, orders I know she won’t follow. She’s silent as we walk back to the apartment.
“You’re taking tomorrow off. I won’t hear another word about it.” When she opens her mouth to protest, I hold up a hand. “With pay.”
Tears well in her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say thank you and take the time to recuperate. I’ll make sure you’re compensated.”
“Yes, madam. I can’t thank you enough.” She pauses at the apartment door to curtsy. “You’re very kind. I don’t deserve this.”
“I’m not being kind. I’m being selfish. I need you healthy and in tip-top shape so you can help me get through the next few weeks.” I smile and touch her arm, causing her to blush. “Go home. Get some rest. I’ll expect to see you back the day after tomorrow unless you’re not better. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”
Knowing I’ve helped someone fills me with the satisfaction that’s been missing from my life since arriving in Androvia. Despite growing up in the political and social spotlight, I’ve always been empathetic to the plights of those less fortunate. Philanthropic work has been my passion since high school, and I’m hoping my new status won’t change this. Being the queen of my own country will give me the power and platform to help those in need and shine a light on worthy causes.
The Rebel Queen Page 12
