To Marry a Prince

by A. C. Arthur

  Kris looked at his brother again. Candor was one of Roland’s strong points.

  “Sam cleaned it up well at the end, but I don’t know if that’s going to be enough. We should do something more,” Kris stated.

  “Like what? Buy a dress from all the local dressmakers? Aren’t the house staff uniforms already manufactured locally?”

  Kris was surprised that Roland even knew about the house staff uniforms at all. “Last night you were talking to Malayka’s stylist. The two of you seemed...friendly,” Kris stated, ignoring the tinge of irritation he felt at the thought.

  “Yeesss,” Roland drew the word out like he was more than satisfied with the memory himself. “Landry Norris. She was interesting.”

  Kris didn’t need his brother to tell him that. Landry was so interesting Kris had spent a good portion of last night thinking about her when he should have been preparing for his meeting.

  “Her job is to advise Malayka on what to wear. What if she suggests a local dressmaker, maybe not for the wedding gown but for something else? It would go a long way for community relations.”

  Another shrug from his brother. “I guess.”

  “I want you to suggest this to her,” Kris told him.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because you think she’s interesting, remember? And judging by the way you were looking at her last night, I don’t believe it a hardship to ask you to speak with her once more.”

  Kris’s hands had fallen to the arms of his chair, fingers gripping the edges, without thought. Roland leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared long and hard at Kris for endless seconds.

  “Sam said you told her to take Landry on a tour of the island,” Roland began.

  “That’s correct. As you stated, Sam is the face of the island. People expect to see her out and about especially when guests are at the palace.”

  “Then why not have her suggest the dressmakers to the royal guest?”

  “She might. I know that Sam uses a couple of the local dressmakers herself. I’m asking you because I want to make sure the stylist takes the suggestion seriously,” Kris stated.

  “The stylist,” Roland repeated with a nod. “Her name is Landry Norris. I know you never forget a name, yet you haven’t said hers once.”

  Kris’s teeth clenched. “I have these mountains of paperwork to go through today, Roland. Then I have to meet with Dad to brief him and attend yet another dinner with him and Malayka. I’m asking you to do one thing for me and this island’s economy. Can you please just take a moment out of your busy social schedule to accommodate me?”

  Roland chuckled then. He stood, nodded. “Sure thing, big brother. Who wouldn’t do the crown prince’s bidding?”

  The sarcasm wasn’t lost on Kris, but he wasn’t in the mood to address it. He had other work to do.

  “Thank you,” Kris said, moving in his chair so that he could turn his attention to the paperwork on his desk.

  “No problem. I’ll make sure that Landry Norris knows what the crown prince wants from her...”

  Kris’s head snapped up at Roland’s words but his brother was already gone, closing the door with a definite click behind him.

  Chapter 5

  His body reacted first.

  A jolt of lust so quick and potent Kris almost had to cough to keep from choking. The strong scent of chlorine burned his nose as the balmy temperature from the inside pool area warmed his cheeks.

  This was where his training in control and temperament came into play. When he was young, Kris had taken riding, fencing and piano lessons. The latter was because his mother was determined to teach her children something other than duty.

  A sword could cut deep and painfully if Kris wasn’t in complete control of his own weapon, if his mind wasn’t totally focused on the matter at hand. That was the lesson his father had wanted him to learn from the eight-week-long fencing class. There was never any real threat of Kris having to decide local policy via a sword fight. He would, however, need the control and steely resolve of a good leader to face any potential opponent.

  In all probability, this learned control and decisiveness was not intended to spill over into Kris’s personal life or feelings, but it had. Hence the reason he was now clenching his fists so tightly, the blunt tips of his nails attempting to bite into his skin.

  The glistening pool water cast her body in a dreamy seductive haze as he watched intently. She swam gracefully in long measured strokes from one end of the pool to the other. Her bathing suit was yellow, like the sun. A swatch of material covering her backside and a strap crossing her back that he presumed held her ample bosom in place. That was all he saw, other than skin.

  Back and forth, Kris watched as she swam, stopping only a few seconds at each end of the pool to take in air. She was counting, he realized after a few more moments of watching. Each lap she did counted toward her goal. He wondered briefly what that goal was and then silently commended her for striving for it in the first place. He also thanked her immensely for her choice of swimwear as five laps later, she climbed out of the pool, giving him a full, unfettered view of deliciousness.

  She was curvier than he’d presumed. Generous breasts, full waist, glorious hips and thick thighs. His mouth went dry, his erection hard and persistent. Water rolled off her gorgeous brown skin in slow drops that made him thirstier than he’d ever been before.

  At his sides, Kris’s fingers unclenched, his palms tingling with the urge to touch. He could see his hands on her waist, holding her close to him, close enough so that he could rub his erection against her. Kris blinked at the abrupt eroticism of his thoughts. It was unlike him, and yet it felt as natural as breathing.

  She was coming closer, as he stood only a few feet away from the row of chaise lounges along the side of the pool room. Her hair was slicked back from her face, dripping more water onto her body. Kris wanted to catch every drop, with his tongue. She leaned down to pick up a towel and then stood straight once more. He moved quickly, ducking behind the column that thankfully hid his Peeping Tom presence.

  For a few still moments Kris did not move. She knew someone was there. She just didn’t know who. This may have been the only cowardly act of his life, but regardless, Kris walked quickly away.

  It wasn’t until he was locked in his rooms that he thought no, this wasn’t the first cowardly move he’d made, but it would most certainly be the last.

  * * *

  “I apologize,” Samantha DeSaunters stated the moment they were closed in the backseat of the car together. “I meant to meet up with you last week but my schedule changed abruptly. When I had to change the time of the Children’s Hospital brunch to accommodate Malayka’s bridal party meeting things sort of spiraled out of control. I’m just getting back on track.”

  Landry sat back against the cool leather seat, resisting the urge to sigh. It was barely noon and already it was extremely warm on the island. Her nightly swims had been extended to early mornings as a way to cool down. She’d just returned from meeting with Malayka to go over her schedule for next week when the princess had knocked on her door.

  “No apology necessary, Your Highness. I’ve been doing a little sightseeing on my own when I can,” Landry said just as the car began moving.

  “That’s right, Kris did mention that Jorge had taken you out a few times. Jorge is used to driving the palace guests, visiting dignitaries and such,” Samantha said. “And we’re alone now, so please call me Sam.”

  Landry smiled over to Sam and gave her a cordial nod. “Okay, but really I don’t need a personal tour. I know that you’re all very busy with your own jobs. During the time that I’m here and not working with Malayka, I can certainly entertain myself.”

  “Nonsense,” Sam told h
er. “You get the royal treatment just like any other guest of the palace. Now, Phillipe is my driver and while he might look tall and a bit scary at times, he’s a big ole teddy bear. He’s going to take us into town, where I have a quick appointment, and then we’ll walk the streets for a bit before having lunch at my favorite place. Afterward we’ll spend the afternoon at the museums and we’ll be back at the palace in time for dinner.”

  It sounded like a full day, which coincidentally happened to work well for Landry since Malayka was leaving that afternoon for a weekend trip with the prince. Landry had spent a good portion of her morning with Malayka selecting outfits for the trip. The prince had instructed Malayka that none of her staff could join them and Landry had mixed feelings about that declaration. On one hand, she could certainly use a few dinners without the tension that drifted like heat waves between her and Kristian. On the other, Landry could also use some time away from Malayka who had changed from the budding socialite Landry first met in LA to full-fledged princess mode, even though the title was still months away from being solidified.

  “Each one of you have your own driver?” Landry asked to distract herself from thoughts of both Malayka and Kristian.

  “Yes,” Sam replied. “Rex is my father’s driver. He’s the palace transportation supervisor. There are five other full-time drivers on staff. Dante is Rex’s right hand, so he’s been taking care of Malayka’s car service needs. Kris’s driver is Tajeo and Phillipe sticks with me.”

  “What about Roland?”

  Sam shook her head. “Everybody asks that question at some time or another. What about Roland? Why isn’t he coming to the Ambassador’s Ball? Why doesn’t he stay in the palace as much as the rest of the family?” Sam chuckled then. “Roland is his own man, as he likes to tell us. He drives himself, except when my father insists he act like a royal prince should.”

  “And how often is that?” Landry inquired with a hint of humor. She liked Roland and his easy smile even though she hadn’t seen much of him in the last week.

  “Not often,” was Sam’s reply in a tone that said she liked her brother a lot.

  Landry could tell. There was definitely love in this family, even if it was rather stilted in presentation. Landry came from a tight-hugging, wet-cheek-kissing, boisterous family where nobody ever doubted they belonged; everyone felt loved. At the palace, she thought, Prince Rafferty was a serious and domineering father and leader. His children respected him and stuck together because it was what they were taught to do. Love was there, but on well-laid-out terms and with the restrictions of the royal crown. It was as sad as it was a privilege.

  “He reminds me of my brother Dominic. He’s the second oldest of my siblings and acts like he could easily be the youngest. I call him courageous and adventurous, but my dad insists the correct description should be childish and irresponsible,” Landry spoke comfortably as she looked out the back tinted window.

  They were riding in a Mercedes-Benz C450 AMG 4matic. Landry only knew this because Dominic loved cars and since she’d always been madly in love with her older brother, she’d stuck to him like glue when she was a little girl. Thus, her own interest in cars had bloomed. It was white with dark tinted windows. She’d seen another one a couple days ago when Dante had brought her back to the palace, so Landry assumed the palace had a fleet of them. She tried not to be awed by that fact.

  “Really? How many brothers and sisters do you have?” Sam asked.

  Landry turned to look at her then. She was a lovely woman with her pecan skin tone and curly shoulder-length hair. Landry would have to spend at least an hour with the hot wand if she wanted her hair to have lush curls like that. Sam’s were natural, Landry suspected, just like her thick, elegantly arched brows were and the exotic tilt of her eyes.

  The princess wore a navy blue silk polka-dot dress with a sweetheart neckline, a bodice with gathers and bows at the shoulders. It was a vintage-style dress, circa 1940s, Landry deduced. There was a layer of tulle on the underside to give the dress a full-skirt appearance and her white platform pumps had navy blue polka-dot bows at the tops. It was both lovely and classic and Sam DeSaunters wore it well.

  As for Landry, she also wore a dress. A strapless black-and-white-striped one with a cinched waist and fitted asymmetric skirt. Her sandals had one strap around the ankle, one across her toes and a four-inch heel. Sam had a large-brimmed white hat sitting daintily on the seat between them. Landry hadn’t thought that far ahead so she’d probably be scorched by the Caribbean sun today.

  “There are six of us, four boys and two girls. I’m next to the youngest,” Landry told her. “We grew up in a big house that still seemed too small when we were all at home and getting into each other’s way. Makes me wish I’d lived in a palace instead.”

  Of course she’d been joking. Landry loved the old ranch-style home her parents still owned. Five years ago they’d built an addition so that Landry’s maternal grandparents could move in. By that time, Landry had been happy that she’d had a place of her own, but still enjoyed going back frequently to visit.

  “Palace life isn’t all it seems at first glance,” Sam replied.

  “Most things aren’t,” Landry told her.

  Sam smiled then and nodded. “I think I’m going to like you, Landry Norris.”

  * * *

  “These fabrics are gorgeous,” Landry exclaimed as she ran her hands over silks in rich jewel-tone colors and vibrant prints.

  “We have it imported here for special orders,” the woman who Sam had introduced as Detali told her. “The Ambassador’s Ball is soon.”

  “You’re absolutely right, Detali,” Sam said as she moved about in the shop that did not look large enough to hold a tea party, let alone produce dresses. “It’s in five weeks and I haven’t even thought about what I’m going to wear.”

  Detali, a woman who stood maybe four feet nine inches tall, and had the straightest, blackest hair Landry thought she’d ever seen, nodded at the princess. “It is late for you.”

  “I know,” Sam continued. She picked up a large-brimmed black hat with a huge red bow around the rim. Removing the white one she wore, Sam tried on the black hat and looked as stunningly gorgeous as she did in the first one.

  Landry returned her attention to the lovely cream-colored satin with the intricately designed turquoise flowers. “This would look lovely on Malayka. She mentioned the ball and we brought some gowns with us, but yesterday she was talking about something different, bolder.”

  When she was met with complete silence, Landry looked up to see Detali and Sam exchanging a look. “What? Did I say something wrong?” she asked. “Is there a special dress code for the ball that I’m not aware of?”

  Sam had replaced the black hat and was now smoothing down a few of her curls. “No dress code,” she said as she crossed the room to stand closer to Landry.

  “At the press conference last week, Malayka indicated that she did not believe any of the local dressmakers could master her style,” Sam told her in a hushed tone.

  Landry knew firsthand how selective Malayka was about designers. Even with Landry lending her expert advice, Malayka often had trivial excuses for not using a particular designer. “She smokes, so I don’t want her designing my clothes.” “Her nails are too short.” “He has a unibrow.” On and on until Landry had begun to present the outfits before giving Malayka the name of the designer, in the hopes that she’d like the clothes so much that the other ridiculous reasons or rejecting them would be dismissed. That’s why, even though Landry had also been present at the press conference and had heard Malayka’s comment, she simply planned to ignore it. “Does that mean I could not commission a dress to be made for her anyway?”

  Sam lifted an elegantly arched brow at Landry’s question, the corner of her mouth tilting into a smile. “You are her personal stylist.”

  “I a
m and I usually know what will look good on a client before a client even decides it’s worth trying. These colors will look great with her complexion. If we could get the right design, this gown would be stunning.”

  Landry had returned her attention to the material, unfolding it and laying it over the table where she’d been standing. She thought about an A-line gown, something simple, yet chic and daring in some way. It would need to be regal as was the mood they’d decided to portray for Malayka. The wedding gown was already being designed by Peta, as a personal favor to Landry, and also as another boost to Peta’s already stellar portfolio. But for this event, the one where Malayka would be meeting the ruling parties from other islands and countries, she should be breathtaking as she stands beside her prince.

  “If I brought you some sketches do you think you could come up with something in time?” Landry turned to the front desk that looked more like a hunk of a tree trunk with its top smoothed over, dropped down into a corner. Detali had to be sitting on a stool now because she seemed taller as her wide eyes fixed on Landry.

  She looked from her to the princess in question, before opening her mouth to respond.

  Landry wanted to say that she was the one in charge of Malayka’s wardrobe and that if Malayka was too stubborn to wear it, Landry was certain she had another client back in the States that she could pair with the gown. Either way, Detali was sure to receive more exposure if she agreed, and if Landry was successful in not only commissioning the gown, but also having it sold to a celebrity in the States, then it was a win-win for them all.

  It took every ounce of control that Landry had to keep her mouth closed and look to the princess for a response.

  “I think it would be a fabulous idea for the soon-to-be princess to wear a gown from a local dressmaker to the ball. With your name attached to the press that will undoubtedly spread from the prince of Grand Serenity’s first official event with his American fiancée, more Americans may seek one-of-a-kind attire from Grand Serenity. It is good business for the island as well as your client. Don’t you agree?”