Shock Heir for the King

by Clare Connelly

  ‘Caper?’ Liana frowned.

  ‘Thing. They’re not really my thing.’ She ran her hands down the dress, a turquoise colour, it had a sweetheart neckline and was fitted to her waist, then fell into a flouncy skirt that made a beautiful swishing sound as she walked. It was a true Cinderella dress and the diamond tiara that had been styled into her hair completed the look. ‘The dress is very beautiful, though.’

  ‘It does suit you,’ Liana complimented.

  ‘Well, that’s good, because I get the feeling I’m going to need to go to a few more of these things in my lifetime.’ She shrugged her slender shoulders, her tan golden. She’d taken to spending time by the pool as well. Helping Leo swim, and swimming with him, lying in the sun while he napped, remembering how Matthias had felt in the water, how warm and cool had contrasted so sensually against her flesh.

  Her cheeks flushed pink as the memories pushed into her mind and then, as if she’d somehow miraculously dredged him up from fantasy to reality, Matthias strode into the room.

  If she looked like a princess, then he was King Charming come to life.

  The suit was jet black, his shirt whiter than white, a white tie at his neck completed the look. But he wore across his middle a burgundy sash, military style medals were pinned to his chest, and at his waist there was a gold weapon, a blade, long and sharp. He was far more handsome than any man had a right to be.

  ‘Sword!’ Leo pointed delightedly and he jumped up off his little bottom and held his hands out, so Matthias smiled at Liana and then took his son into his arms, tousling hair that had, a moment ago, been perfectly neat.

  She didn’t notice the way Matthias’s eyes lingered on Leo’s face with a hint of something other than happiness; she didn’t see the way his expression flashed with regret and—oh, so briefly—fear.

  ‘Sword,’ Leo said again and Matthias relaxed, smiling as he nodded.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘For me?’

  Liana laughed, and Matthias pulled a face. ‘Not yet. But soon.’

  Leo pouted. ‘I see?’

  Matthias put their son down on the ground and then removed the clip from his waist. He held the sword—in its gold ceremonial sheath—so that Leo could run his fingertips over the blunted end.

  ‘Look, Mama. Pictures.’

  At this, Matthias glanced up, his eyes locking onto Frankie’s, holding hers, and a look of searing heat flashed between them—a look that had the ability to blank anyone else from their presence. Her fingers fidgeted at her sides and then she smiled curtly, tightly, in a way that didn’t feel natural and dragged her eyes down to the sword.

  But desire stayed lodged in her chest, desperate, hungry, craving indulgence. Out of nowhere, she remembered the way his mouth had felt between her legs and her knees almost buckled with the sensual heat of her recollection.

  ‘I see,’ she murmured, moving closer.

  ‘It’s very old,’ Matthias said, turning his attention back to the weapon. ‘It was my great-great-great-great-great-grandfather’s, said to have slain the king of a neighbouring country when war threatened at our doorstep.’

  ‘War?’ Leo was fascinated by this.

  ‘A long time ago,’ Frankie jumped in, sending a warning look to Matthias. He smiled at her and a dimple formed in his cheek that made her fingers itch to paint him. She had in her mind, so many times.

  He stood, unfurling his body length and ruffling Leo’s dark hair at the same time. ‘You look beautiful.’ The words were quietly spoken, intended purely for her ears.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, able to take the compliment when she felt her appearance was really the result of couture and hair stylists.

  ‘But not complete yet.’

  She looked down at the dress and lifted a hand to the diamond choker she wore. ‘What have I forgotten?’

  His smile was enigmatic as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a rectangular velvet box.

  ‘Would you do me the honour of wearing this tonight, Frankie?’ He popped it open to reveal an award similar to those he wore—a thick piece of purple fabric to which a small gold pendant was attached. In the centre of the pendant there was a star, with an arrow striking through it.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, watching as he pulled it from the box. His fingers were deft and confident, and her mouth was suddenly dry.

  ‘The Star of Aranathi,’ he said. ‘An award that was given to my mother—one of my country’s highest.’

  The meaningfulness of the gesture touched something in Frankie’s stomach, and it set in place a chain reaction. Butterflies stirred to life, slowly at first, then faster, until a whole kaleidoscope was beating against her insides. She was oblivious to the watchful eyes of Liana, who’d moved Leo away and distracted him with a juice carton.

  ‘What’s it for?’ she murmured. He lifted the ribbon to the top of her dress, his fingers almost clinical as they held the fabric taut enough to thread the pin through and latch it into place.

  ‘Humanitarian efforts.’

  ‘I don’t...’ Frankie frowned, studying Matthias up close. She studied him not as a woman who wanted a man, but as an artist evaluating a subject. She measured his features and imagined creating him from the nothingness of canvas and pigment. She imagined how she might mix her colours together to shade the cleft of his chin dimple and the very faint darkness beneath his eyes. It was his lashes, though, that fascinated her. They were black and curling, soft like silk and so thick, as though they were a curtain for his eyes. What of his face had been gifted by his mother, and what by his father?

  When she looked at Leo, she saw so much of Matthias. But was some of the Queen there too? The Queen to whom this medal had once belonged?

  ‘I don’t know anything about her,’ Frankie finished after a moment. ‘But I’d like to.’

  His expression shifted with pride first, and then surprise. ‘Why?’

  Frankie tilted her head consideringly. ‘Because she was your mother. And Leo’s grandmother. And it strikes me that I should know something about your family, beyond the fact...’ The sentence trailed off into nothingness as she realised what she’d been about to say.

  ‘That they’re dead,’ he finished for her, his expression unchanged. She threw a scant look in Leo’s direction; the boy wasn’t listening. Nonetheless, Frankie’s brows knitted together when she regarded Matthias. She’d prefer to handle that conversation sensitively, when it came time for Leo to learn of his father’s family’s deaths.

  ‘What did your mother do to receive this award?’

  ‘Many things.’

  ‘War!’ Frankie startled as Leo seemed to jolt out of his reverie and, from the other side of the room, whipped the straw from the juice carton and held it towards Matthias like an ancient challenge to a duel.

  Matthias’s face relaxed, the tension of a moment ago dissipating, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he returned, ‘En garde!’

  Leo giggled and charged his father, but Matthias caught him mid-run, lifting him up easily and tickling him at the belly, so Leo’s laughter pealed into the room and, before she knew it, Frankie was smiling. But it was a distracted smile, a smile that was only skin-deep.

  ‘Excuse me, Your Majesty.’ There was a knock at the door. ‘It is time.’

  ‘Of course.’ Leo’s smile muted itself when he addressed the servant, and Frankie saw in that moment the duality between private and public. The man and the King. The man who could smile and laugh and tease their son about long ago wars, and the King who presented a sombre and considered face to his servants at all times.

  Had he been like that at fifteen? Or had he been allowed to mourn?

  They were to be married in the Artheki Cathedrali, her secretary had informed her days earlier. It was five miles away, ancient, and all the Kings of Tolmirós had been married, christened and mourned within it
s walls for over a thousand years. That information had been inserted into the briefing and, though it was an unimportant detail, it had played on Frankie’s mind.

  She presumed then that Matthias’s parents and brother had been buried there, that their funeral had taken place within the walls of the cathedral at which they were to marry. Had he spoken at the funeral? At fifteen years old, it wouldn’t have been unusual, but her heart broke to imagine the young boy he’d been, and the pressure that must have been upon him.

  She resisted the temptation to run an Internet search on the subject. Her curiosity was natural, but she would prefer her information to come from the source. Snooping around and reading articles online felt somehow wrong.

  ‘Come, deliciae.’ Was she imagining the way his voice caught as he addressed her? The way his eyes seemed to lock onto hers with emotion and an intent she couldn’t comprehend? ‘It is time for you to meet our people.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘OH, MATTHIAS!’ THEY were alone in a sleek dark limousine, with Liana and Leo following in the car behind. ‘It’s so beautiful.’

  Beyond the black tinted windows of the car and the crowds that had lined the streets hoping for a real-life glimpse of the soon-to-be Queen, Frankie could see the streets of Tolmirós and they were setting her soul on fire.

  ‘It’s like something out of a beautiful story book. I had no idea!’ Terracotta-roofed houses, built close together and higgledy-piggledy, one leaning this way and the next the other, were all washed in different colours of pastel paints. Little balconies had wrought-iron details and window boxes overflowing with bright purple and red plants. Many had refused to be contained to the small pots and were making joyous bids for sunshine and freedom, dancing their tendrils down the sides of the buildings, forming veins of green that shone in the late afternoon sun.

  But the most remarkable thing to Frankie was the sense of history that was at every turn. These buildings were ancient. They whooshed past a church with a cupola and a bell tower, white with a shimmering blue face and enormous bronze hands. A statue of a naked man stood in front, and geraniums seemed to grow with complete abandon across a side wall. When she turned in her seat to get a better look, she saw a nun coming from the front gates, throwing something towards the ground. A moment later at least a hundred pigeons descended on the square. The nun threw her head back and laughed and then the limousine turned the corner.

  Caught up in the wonderment of this picture-book streetscape, Frankie didn’t realise that Matthias was watching her intently. She didn’t see the way his eyes were scanning her face, reading every flicker of delight that crossed it.

  ‘I had no idea it would be like this.’

  His lips quirked. ‘What did you expect?’

  Frankie shrugged. ‘I guess I didn’t think about it. Until a week ago, Tolmirós was just some place on the edge of the Mediterranean. And since we arrived, we’ve been in the palace. I expected beautiful beaches and, I guess, a modern city, but this is...just...stunning.’

  Pride flashed on his features and his nod was swift. ‘The city of Novampoli was built in the nineteen-seventies. We needed a place that wasn’t part of the port cities—much of our prosperity comes from being a safe harbour for shipping companies, but my father kick-started a technology revolution. Banking and finance are also primary industries for Tolmirós. We needed a city that would answer those requirements. The first few buildings were modest but within a decade or two high-rises began to shape the skyline. It is now a place of glass and steel, and the food there is second to none. I will take you there, when next I have occasion to go. You will like it.’

  ‘Is it like Manhattan?’ She settled back into her seat, smoothing the skirts of her dress simply for something to do with her hands.

  ‘In some ways, but without the mix of old and new. It is more like Dubai, I think. A somewhat artificial-seeming city, in a place you wouldn’t expect it. The whole island is a city, and an enormous bridge spans from the west shore to its neighbouring island, Emanakki.’

  ‘I’d like to see it some day,’ she said with a smile. ‘I want to see everything.’

  He laughed softly. ‘And so you shall, Frankie. In fact, soon it will be your duty to see and know everything about our country.’

  She angled him a look thoughtfully. ‘Who were you going to marry?’

  He arched a brow at her change in conversation. ‘That seems irrelevant now.’

  ‘I’m curious. Indulge me.’

  ‘I think I told you that I hadn’t yet decided...’

  Feminine disapproval had her lips curling. ‘Of course. You had a queen smorgasbord from which to select your bride. I’m just asking who it was likely to be.’

  He smothered a smile at her comment and nodded. ‘Lady Tianna Montavaigne was the front-runner.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She met the criteria.’ He shrugged, as though it barely mattered.

  But Frankie was persistent. ‘In what ways?’

  He compressed his lips and studied her for a long moment, his eyes tunnelling straight into her soul. ‘She’s royal, for one, though a distant cousin to the ruling monarch of Sweden. She’s been raised to understand this lifestyle, the pressures of it, the need to be discreet, polite, dignified and private. She understands the realities of living life under a microscope.’ He said the final sentence with a hint of disdain, but it was gone again almost as quickly. ‘She is intelligent, beautiful, and we get on well.’

  There was a pang of something in the region of Frankie’s heart. ‘Will she be disappointed not to marry you? Did she love you?’

  He laughed and shook his head ruefully. ‘It is always about love with you, no?’

  Frankie’s cheeks warmed as his eyes held hers thoughtfully. ‘No, she doesn’t love me.’

  Frankie sighed softly. ‘You act as though the very idea of marriage between two people who are in love is absurd.’

  ‘Not absurd,’ he contradicted. ‘Just...romantic. Tianna knew what marriage to me would involve.’

  ‘I just can’t understand why anyone would agree to that,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘A marriage without love seems so...cold. So...devastating.’ She shivered.

  ‘You have agreed to it,’ he pointed out, watching her through half-shuttered eyes.

  Her eyes flashed with pain and then she tilted her chin as though physically underscoring her determination. ‘I... I know. But our circumstances are fairly unique. Were there no Leo, wild horses couldn’t have dragged me into this.’

  He nodded, as though her words were somehow reassuring. ‘Tianna is in a relationship with her father’s chauffeur. He’s from Syria and came to the country as a refugee when he was a child. He’s naturalised now, and she cares for him very deeply.’

  Frankie blinked, her lack of comprehension apparent. ‘So why in the world would she marry you?’

  ‘Because he needs his job, because her parents would never condone the match, because she’d be disinherited and doesn’t particularly fancy the idea of getting a job. There are any number of reasons to keep their relationship quiet. Marriage to me would have provided excellent cover for her to continue her relationship.’

  ‘Oh, Matt, how can you speak so calmly about this?’

  He sighed and squeezed her hand. ‘I can’t see there’s anything wrong with making informed, intelligent choices when it comes to your future.’

  The car began to slow, and the crowds outside their windows thickened. Frankie had been given a crash course in royal deportment. For hours each morning and again in the evening, she’d been drilled in the protocol that would be expected of her as the future Queen. It all jumbled in her brain now, but she tried to grab hold of it.

  ‘Relax,’ he murmured, leaning closer to look out at the view with her. ‘The window will go down soon so you can wave to my people. They’re excited to see you.�
�

  Beyond the window, now that they were driving more slowly, Frankie could see signs with their official engagement portrait, taken on the balcony of the palace, her head pressed against Matthias’s chest. There were handmade signs too, with her name all over them, and people wearing veils and throwing confetti.

  Was Leo enjoying the spectacle? Or was he frightened by the noise? She angled herself in the seat in an attempt to look backwards but the limo was a little far away. ‘Why aren’t Leo and Liana in this car? There’s plenty of room.’

  He didn’t look at her. ‘In case something goes wrong.’

  ‘Like what? He’s never motion sick. He travels well...’ Her voice tapered off as an alternative meaning unravelled in her brain. ‘You mean in case our car crashes?’

  He shrugged. ‘Or theirs does. Or there’s a terrorist attack.’

  ‘So you won’t ever travel with our son?’

  He eyed her now, his expression implacable. ‘No.’

  ‘But you flew over here with him.’

  He nodded. ‘It was necessary on that one occasion. But I will not do so again. I have had this law written into our constitution.’

  A shiver ran down her spine, and her chest heaved with emotion for the young man who’d felt it necessary to write in such a protection.

  Surely this was a reaction to the loss of his parents and brother. She couldn’t help it; she reached over and squeezed his hand, rubbing the pad of her thumb reassuringly over his skin. But he looked at her with a quizzical expression, and Frankie realised her eyes were moist. Emotions were running rampant within her.

  ‘Surely that’s a little extreme?’

  His features were like ice. ‘No.’

  ‘But he’s just a baby,’ she murmured. ‘He’d much rather travel with his mother or father.’

  ‘He is my heir,’ Matthias said through clenched teeth. ‘Keeping him alive is my priority.’

  She ignored the unpleasant suspicion he was speaking as a king who needed a living heir rather than a father who valued the survival of his child. Of course it was both. ‘Then I’ll travel with him in the future,’ she said simply.