Wedded for His Royal Duty

by Susan Meier

  Dom sat on one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Dad told me about King Mason.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes. After your talk with him, he realized it wasn’t right that he was doing an end run around me with the royal guard I supervise.”

  “Wow. He’s really loosening up.”

  Dominic chuckled. “Dad’s not the hard case you think he is. In the past months, he’s been handing over a lot of his responsibilities to me.” He caught Alex’s gaze. “And he sees you as the one running point on this situation with Eva and her mom.”

  “Running point?” He sniffed, not quite sure how to handle the fact that his father trusted him. “For the next four weeks I’m going to be dating a really pretty girl.”

  Dom laughed. “That’s one way to look at it. Or you could say that for the next four weeks you’re protecting the daughter of one of Dad’s closest political allies. It’s a big deal.”

  Alex rolled his eyes. “I was making a joke.”

  “Right. You love being funny. But you’re ready for this. As much as you like pretending that you aren’t.” He shifted on his seat. “I took a few minutes to go over everything that happened at the press conference and you and Eva were great.”

  Alex laughed. “We’re both born to this life. We know how to keep up appearances.”

  “And you did. But here’s the thing. The two of you stood close together at the podium. You smiled at each other at just the right times. But when we left the press room and gathered in the hall, your demeanors changed. There was a visible distance between you.”

  “So? The press couldn’t see.”

  “I know, but the biggest group of people you have to fool wasn’t in that press room. They were in the corridor outside the press room.”

  Alex frowned.

  “It’s our staff. It took only two phone calls for my secretary to get the scoop that you’ve never been to Eva’s apartment and she’s never been to yours.”

  Alex’s face scrunched in disbelief. “What?”

  “The staff knows you’ve basically just met, so it’s not like they expect you to be sleeping together, but they’re gossiping about the fact that the only times you’re seen together are when you’re expected to be.”

  “Really?”

  “There’s a betting pool. All the stable boys believe you’ll never actually marry. The maids are divided. And even though Chef’s a romantic she’s betting against the marriage too. That’s not good for your charade.”

  He sat up, totally confused by the fact that he hadn’t thought of this. “I guess not.”

  Dom rose. “Convincing the staff here at the palace should be your first priority. In fact, if I were you, I’d put on such a show that the stable boys start changing their bets and the maids can’t resist gossiping to their neighbors.”

  Alex leaned back in his chair. He appreciated the heads-up. He would have figured it out for himself in another day or two, but he was glad he hadn’t had to.

  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and brought his schedule onto the screen. He cancelled every event he had arranged for the next week.

  He glanced up at Dom. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see any plans the guard put in place for Eva’s protection, and the names of the men in her security details.”

  “I’ll tell the lieutenant.”

  Alex rose. “Great.”

  As Dom turned to the door, he said, “And don’t forget what I told you about the staff.”

  “I won’t.”

  After Dom left, Alex thought for another second, then strode out of the office.

  The staff hadn’t seen him in Eva’s apartment? Well, there was no better time than the present. He took the elevator to the guest floor, walked down the massive hall to her rooms and lifted his hand to knock—

  A fiancé wouldn’t knock.

  He opened the door and ambled through the tall-ceilinged foyer to the living room.

  “Alex!” his stepmother yelped as she tossed a white robe to Eva who stood on a platform similar to the one his tailor used. She hugged the robe to her bosom, but it was too late. He’d seen the yellow bra and panties. He’d seen the creamy white arc of her breasts. He’d seen the curve of her hip.

  He stopped dead in his tracks.

  Rose about had a coronary. “What are you doing here? And why didn’t you knock?”

  “A fiancé doesn’t knock.” He tried not to watch as Eva turned her back to him and slipped into the robe. But the vision from the back was as awe-inspiring as the front. For a short woman, she had a long, sloping back that ended in perfect round hips and a round butt.

  Eva slid into the robe, yanked the belt at her waist and turned to the sixty-something man who stood with a tape measure in hand, gaping at Alex.

  “Could you give us a minute?”

  The older man said, “Of course, but only a minute. Considering time for fittings, I’ve got about two weeks to make a gown the whole world is going to see. Everybody’s got to be on board with the timing or I swear I will fold like a house of cards.”

  Composed now, Rose took his arm. “Of course, we’ll cooperate with your timing.” She tossed Alex a pointed look. “This will not happen again.”

  “At least not without a phone call to warn us you’re coming,” Eva’s mom said haughtily. “You might be engaged, but a gentleman caller is still a gentleman caller.”

  The three trooped out of the room and Alex laughed. “Have a lot of gentleman callers, do you?”

  “My mom is struggling to find any sense of normalcy in this situation. She thinks her husband left her. And she’s in the public eye. If she wants to ban you from the room, I say we let her.”

  “We can’t. Dom reminded me this morning that the most important group we have to fool is the servants.”

  She frowned.

  “The palace staff. There’s a betting pool. Apparently no one believes I’ll actually marry you.”

  Her delicate eyebrows rose. “And who do we have to thank for that, Mr. Date-Every-Woman-in-the-Known-Universe?”

  “You’re a woman in the known universe and I never dated you.”

  She held up one finger to stop him. “No, you haven’t. And maybe that’s the problem. Just jumping into this wedding the way we have, everybody sees it as nothing but a royal responsibility.” She tapped her finger against her lips, thinking. “So maybe what we need to do is have a date. A real date. Not lunch, but something smashing.”

  “In front of the staff,” Alex reminded her, letting his gaze roam along her fluffy white robe, knowing the pretty bra and panties were beneath, and that they covered a gorgeous butt and breasts just the right size for his hands. “That means the trip to the country home is cancelled. It smacks of PR.”

  “So what can we do here? In the palace?”

  He knew one very important thing they could do. In his apartment. In his bedroom. Too bad the staff couldn’t see that. But they would see the seduction leading up to it—

  “Have dinner at my apartment.”

  She laughed. “Oh, how many times have you used that line?”

  The way she said it cut through him like a knife. His success with women was legendary. But in a good way. She didn’t have to sound so snooty about it. “I wasn’t that bad.”

  She stepped down from the platform, tightened the belt with a quick yank. “Oh, please.”

  “You know, maybe we’re looking at this all wrong. Maybe the reason the staff doesn’t think the wedding will come off is you?”

  She gasped. “Me?”

  “You have an attitude about me.”

  She gaped at him.

  “Maybe what you need to do is start being nicer to me.”

  “Okay. Fine. I’ll be nicer to you. But I need specifi
cs so I can do some prep work. What’s your plan for tonight?”

  “If this was a normal date, I’d call the kitchen staff and tell them to set up a romantic dinner around eight. You’d arrive in something pretty and I’d be spellbindingly witty while they served dinner. We’d dismiss them after they served the main course. Then you’d still be at my apartment tomorrow when they bring up breakfast, and it would look like things got so cozy that you didn’t leave.”

  * * *

  Eva swallowed. She could picture it. She’d be wearing a pretty gown; he’d be in a tux. She’d be shy. He’d be...well, himself. Playful. Sexy. Seductive.

  She swallowed again. “It works.” She cleared her throat. It really, really worked. She got breathless just imagining it. Plus, four hours of a dinner with him, while he was being himself? Just think of the flirting practice she’d get.

  Queen Rose walked into the living room again. “We have a designer who’s about to melt into a puddle of despair if we don’t get your measurements today. Can we speed this up?”

  Eva said, “Yes, of course. Give us one more minute.” She faced Alex. “I’ll be there at eight.”

  Alex smiled. “And take a nap. I don’t want the serving staff telling the press you yawned all night. I want them thinking all kinds of naughty thoughts when they find your gown on the floor.”

  “My gown on the floor?” Her face turned red, but she understood what he was saying. There was no better way to perpetuate a story than to physically stage it. “Okay.”

  “Maybe we’ll make a whole trail. Gown. Bra. Panties...” He caught her gaze. “My shirt.”

  Picturing undressing in front of him and having him take his shirt off in front of her sent her hormones scrambling.

  He leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. “This’ll be fun.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WHEN HIS DOORBELL rang at eight, Alex walked through the foyer entryway to answer it. He straightened the bow tie of his tux, before reaching down for the knob to open the door for her.

  “Good—”

  His voice faltered when he saw her in a yellow gown, the same color as the bra and panties she’d been wearing when he accidentally walked in on her fitting. For a good twenty seconds, he was struck dumb. Then common sense filtered through the image of her standing on the tailor’s platform. Yes, he’d seen her in a bra and panties, but he’d seen women dressed in far less at the beach.

  “—evening.”

  He sucked in a breath. He might have seen women dressed in less, but that didn’t take away from the fact that she was beautiful. Her dark hair had been pulled up in a style that reminded him of a Greek goddess. Her dress clung to her curves, but just at the bottom of her hip it flared into tons of material that frothed out like a bell. “You look amazing.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  Her humble acceptance of his compliment did crazy things to his pulse, but he didn’t try to pretend he didn’t know why. Her innocence struck a funny chord with him. And why not? Her naiveté made her sweet. It had been a long time since he’d met, let alone spent time with, a woman who was sweet.

  But she was also strong. Pretty much his smart-ass equal when he pushed her, which made her kind of fun to be with. He’d have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to be attracted to her.

  But that might be good. What better way to get the tongues of the staff wagging than to let himself act naturally, the way he would with any beautiful woman?

  He reached down, took her hand and kissed the palm. “I hope you like Italian.”

  He saw the little pulse point at her throat jump. Too bad the servants hadn’t seen that.

  She laughed nervously. “Something rich and fattening?”

  “Of course. I’m sure we can find a way to work off the calories.”

  He’d said that for the benefit of the young man who’d walked to the table set up by the large window to light the candles, but Eva’s nervous laugh returned.

  He smiled. After his thirty-second lapse of sanity after seeing her in the dress the same color as her panties and bra that afternoon, it was good to knock her off balance, too. They had to appear to be attracted to each other. Not just him to be tongue-tied over her. They also needed for her to be smitten around him.

  Still holding her hand, he led her into the living room where two glasses of wine sat on the low table in front of the sofa.

  “I took the liberty of choosing a wine.”

  She smiled and accepted the glass from him. This smile wasn’t nervous, but pretty. Soft. Sensual.

  His attraction returned—expanded—became more of an urge for action than a feeling. He pictured himself running his hands along her curved torso, and the lines between reality and pretense blurred a bit. If he’d met her in a casino he would have pursued an evening like this for real. She was pretty. Her innocence was endearing. And she made him work for her affection. If nothing else, the challenge of it appealed to him.

  But this wasn’t real. It was a fiction for the benefit of the press. He was supposed to be acting. Playing a part. He shouldn’t be having real urges.

  He directed her to the sofa. They sat together, side by side, and the soft material of her gown billowed around her as if she were buried in fabric. But, really, no matter how huge the skirt, a strapless gown was only held together by a hook-and-eye catch and a very long zipper. He could probably have that gown undone in twenty seconds, and then he’d get to touch all that soft-looking skin.

  Damn it! What the hell was wrong with him? This was supposed to be acting, not fantasizing.

  He stretched out the collar beneath his bow tie. “Is it warm in here?”

  She fanned herself. “A little.”

  “Maybe we should just get right to dinner?”

  She rose. “I am hungry.”

  “Good.” He set his hand on the small of her back, directing her to the table set up by a wall of windows that displayed the sea behind the palace.

  After he pulled out her chair, she sat and looked up at him with a smile. “What an amazing view! This is lovely.”

  He stared down at her. When she was relaxed, her eyes were a soft, pretty blue. He liked it almost as much as the sharp color they turned when she was angry or determined.

  Realizing he was doing it again—behaving as if this was real—he jumped away from her, tugged the vest of his tux into place and walked to his seat across from her.

  “Thank you. Our legend is that it took three years to build our palace.”

  She opened her napkin and set it on her lap as servants began bringing salads. “I’d love to hear about it.”

  He shrugged, feeling awkward. This scene should have been a piece of cake for him. But once again urges and possibilities flashed through his mind. Things he could do. Things he’d like to do. Things he knew he wasn’t supposed to do. Because this was a charade.

  It was crazy. Odd. Confusing.

  “There’s not much to tell. It took my ancestors three years to build this back in the Middle Ages. End of story.”

  “But it’s so modern.”

  He cautiously met her gaze. “We’ve added on.”

  “And done a lovely job.”

  The servants stepped back, but they didn’t leave. He and Eva began eating their salads. The room was quiet, as if populated by two people with nothing to say. Which was ridiculous. He was a pro. He’d had a thousand first dates. Hundreds of dates in this apartment. And he knew the goal. It wasn’t to take her to bed or even kiss her. This was all about fooling the servants. They had to jump to conclusions when they found her dress on the floor the next morning. And they wouldn’t, if he couldn’t even talk to her.

  He cleared his throat. “And what about your palace?”

  “It’s a little cozier.”

  “You me
an smaller.”

  “No. I mean cozier. There’s a fireplace in every room. There are only a few months in the year when we don’t need a fire. We wear warm pajamas and do a lot of snuggling.”

  He laughed, but he suddenly pictured her in flannel PJs, sitting under a warm blanket, in front of a fire. She was curvy and soft. Made for snuggling. Made for fires and cognac.

  Damn it. Why was he doing this?

  “Tell me about your education.” The sentence wasn’t fully out of his mouth before he winced. He wanted the servers to run to the press with stories of red-hot kisses, not two people reading their biographies.

  He had to get his head in the game. He was sharper than this.

  “Are you okay?”

  He laughed and combed his fingers through his hair. “I’m fine.”

  But they ate most of the dinner in silence because he couldn’t think of anything to say. Every time he came up with something suitable, something intimate, it wouldn’t feel like part of a ruse. It would feel real, so real, his nerves tingled with an anticipation he wasn’t allowed to feel.

  When the meal was eaten, he escorted her to the sofa, and walked to the bar. “What can I get you?”

  “Why don’t we just stick with wine?”

  “Great idea.”

  “Good.”

  She smiled the soft smile and he fought an avalanche of urges. The urge to tease her. The urge to tell her just how great she looked in yellow. The urge to make short order of her gown and slide his hands along the curve of her waist...

  But every time he decided it was okay to make an urge a reality, as part of the ruse, his stomach tumbled. Kisses that were meant to be seen by the staff weren’t supposed to have actual meaning. Even she’d believe they were fake. But he really wanted this.

  Which was wrong for so many different reasons he couldn’t even count them.

  He poured more wine and sat beside her on the sofa.