To Marry a Prince

by A. C. Arthur

  Landry smiled as she realized Sam had been thinking along the same lines as she had. Part of her wondered if that was the reason for this little trip here today, but Landry was too excited by the prospect to give it too much thought.

  * * *

  He was sick.

  What he was doing was ridiculous.

  This was his house. His island. He could have any woman he wanted, whenever he wanted her. That was a fact and not just some colossal stroke to his ego. Kris liked to deal with facts and truths; unshakable reality was where he preferred to live and function.

  His mother used to tell him stories at night before he fell asleep. Some were fairy tales that always had happy endings. One night, when Kris was five years old, his father had entered his bedroom just as Vivienne was telling Kris the story of the prince who rejoiced after finally finding his perfect princess. Rafe was furious and demanded that Vivienne cease telling “his heir” these types of stories because a head full of fluff was not what was going to lead his island to greatness. The next night when Vivienne came to tuck Kris in—and as he’d waited patiently for her to begin another story about some faraway land where love was able to heal all wounds—he knew immediately that the next story would be different.

  The stories Kris received that night and many nights thereafter were ones of wars won by the strongest and the smartest. Sure, there might be a kiss here or there, or even a damsel in distress at some point, but the core of every story had been the same—honor, integrity, loyalty. Until the words were branded in Kris’s mind and his soul.

  So it was reasonable that he stood there, in the pool room that was closest to the center courtyard of the palace, watching as he had done in the last five or six nights. It also made sense that he would lose count of how many times he’d stood there or how long he’d spent thinking about seeing her when he was away. It was all totally realistic. Wasn’t it?

  Kris let the question remain unanswered as he slipped his hands into the front pockets of his tan dress pants. He still wore his suit jacket, but it was pushed back up his arms. The sage-green tie that seemed calming against the bright white of his shirt was hidden from view by the wide column in front of him. There were a dozen columns along the perimeter of the pool room, separating the white-tiled floor leading to the pool and the elevated section covered in a glossy black marble flooring where a row of chaise lounges sat.

  He had always stood behind this one because it offered the best view of the entire length of the pool. Her bathing suit tonight was gray with pineapples all over it. That shouldn’t have turned him on, but at this moment Kris wanted nothing more than to taste a fresh, sweet pineapple dripping juice on his tongue and slipping softly into his mouth.

  “Why don’t you come on in and join me this time?”

  The sound of her voice halted Kris’s salacious thoughts.

  When a wet hand touched his, he realized she’d gotten out of that pool and walked right up to him without him even knowing. So much for being an astute leader. If she were an enemy she would have had the knife embedded in his gut by now. His teeth clenched with the displeasing thought.

  “Come on. It’s late so I’m sure you’re finished with work for the day. A swim would be nice and relaxing. That’s why I try to squeeze this in at least once a day,” she was saying as she’d already started walking.

  Kris followed her because he hadn’t had a minute to think of what else to do. She was in front of him, seemingly pulling him along. But Kris never followed anyone. He was a leader, had been since birth, that was a fact.

  “Since I’ve been here on the island I’ve managed two sessions in this fabulous pool per day. And let me tell you it’s been heaven. The pool in my building back in LA is nice, but this scenery combined with the lingering scent of the ocean is total bliss,” she continued and stepped up to walk them past the chaise lounges.

  There were doors along this wall that led to changing rooms and extra swimsuits for guests.

  “Now, I haven’t had a chance to get down to the beach, but judging by that view from my room, that water is going to be heavenly. Maybe when Malayka goes away this weekend I’ll have to trot myself on down there to try it out.”

  She stopped then, right in front of one of the doors and looked up to him. Her hair was pulled up in a messy, wet bun with straggling pieces dripping down onto her shoulders. Her face, free of all makeup was perfectly round. Long eyelashes and pretty eyes, pert lips, high cheekbones, were like nothing he’d ever imagined. Yet, every night this was the face he saw before he fell asleep and each morning it was the one he wanted to see as soon as he awoke.

  His thoughts startled him because up until this point, Kris hadn’t dared consider it a fact.

  “I’m sure you have swim trunks in your room, but it’s closer to just go in there and grab some that’ll fit so we can dive in,” she said to him. “I’ll wait right here.”

  He continued to stare at her, watching as her lips moved and her eyes smiled back at him. She was genuine; at this very moment she wanted him to take a swim with her, and Kris, well, he wanted something...different.

  Reaching around her he opened the door to the room. Then, he wrapped an arm around her waist and began walking forward, forcing her to move backward.

  “Wait...what?” she was saying as he maneuvered her into the room and closed the door behind them.

  The lock sounded loudly as he clicked it into place and the smile in her eyes disappeared. It was replaced by something that had Kris growing warmer, instantly.

  “You wanted me to take off my clothes. Isn’t that correct?”

  His question was spoken in a deadly serious tone, his heart beating wildly as he moved closer to her. She moved back until she was against the mirrored wall, shaking her head as she continued to stare at him.

  “I was only suggesting you get changed into swimming trunks so that you could go for a swim,” she told him.

  Kris took off his jacket, extending his arm a bit so that when he dropped it, the material landed on one of the two oak benches instead of the floor.

  “Right,” he told her. “Well, let me just take off my clothes so that I can slip into those swimming trunks.”

  She swallowed so hard Kris could actually hear the action. He was removing his tie now and her gaze had dropped down to his fingers.

  “You’re a grown man—you don’t need any help changing your clothes,” she said before clearing her throat.

  After the tie landed on top of his jacket, Kris immediately began unbuttoning his shirt, first at the cuffs and then down the center. She looked up to him then, determined to keep her gaze on his face. That was fine with him. For now.

  When he was bare to the waist, Kris stepped closer to her. “I think I have a better idea than the pool.”

  “The pool was what I offered. Nothing more,” she said definitely.

  He continued moving until the tips of her breasts covered scarcely by the wet material of her bikini top touched his chest. It was a scorching dollop of pleasure. The thought of her nipples just on the other side of that material, probably hard and aching for his attention, had him aching, as well. Yes, he admitted to himself, he wanted her to want him as ferociously as he needed her right now. It was all that mattered, all that he cared to think about at that second.

  Chapter 6

  Again, Landry had quite possibly gone a little too far. She’d known Kristian was watching her for the last couple of days. While underwater one evening she’d caught a glimpse of his silhouette, but when she’d surfaced it was gone. Throughout the rest of the swim she’d continued to stare in that same spot, feeling as if he was still there even though she hadn’t seen him again. The next night she’d heard him approach and had a giddy kind of pleasure at knowing that he was watching her.

  Did he want her?

  Could t
he prince want to get into this pool with her, and maybe, want something more? Like what? She’d thought about that the next night and then the following night. What could Kristian DeSaunters possibly want from her? Okay, well that was a silly question. He was a man and she was a woman. Sex was the common denominator and Landry could accept that. But she wasn’t too keen on Kristian’s official title and her temporary employment on this island. The two didn’t match up as seemingly sensible as the sex part did.

  Yet, here she was, in this small room with him so close and his chest so bare. The air seemed thick as she struggled to breathe in and out, slowly, precisely. It was the only way to keep her mind clear, to focus on what she should do...rather than what she so desperately wanted to do.

  “Touch me,” he said.

  No. Landry almost gasped as she realized those words weren’t just a statement. They were a command.

  Her mouth suddenly went dry as her gaze involuntarily dropped to his bared chest. His very toned and muscled chest. She had to admit, that in his suits, Kristian did not look as buff and chiseled as he apparently was. Her fingers tingled with the urge to do exactly as he’d instructed. Yet, the part of her that she’d been frequently warned about would not go peacefully into bliss.

  “How do you know I want to touch you?”

  She’d never seen Kristian smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched and she thought she would lose control if his full smile was as potent as the seriously sexy glare he was giving her now.

  He lifted a hand to touch a strand of her wet hair. “I know that it is taking every ounce of your restraint to keep from doing so because your fingers are clenching and unclenching. I know that feeling very well. I’ve felt it each night I stood watching you.”

  Well, Landry thought, that clears up the whole spying because he wants me theory.

  “I also know that it makes more sense for us to get this out of the way sooner, rather than later.”

  While his previous comment had sent pleasure shivers racing down her spine, this later one irritated her.

  “Like a task on your agenda?”

  “No,” he said in a husky whisper as he stepped closer and let the fingers that had been toying with her hair trace a warm path along the line of her neck. “Like a thirst that must be satiated.”

  Okay, she could relate to that.

  Landry swallowed and shook her head slightly.

  “I’m not...” She paused and cleared her throat. “We’re not in a position to...um, do this. I mean, I don’t think it’s proper protocol or whatever.”

  His head had already begun to lower, his lips brushing lightly over her forehead as she spoke, then moved down to touch the tip of her nose.

  “I’m the prince. I create the protocol,” he whispered softly over her lips.

  The kiss was probably meant to be sweet and seductive. Perhaps a prelude to a long, languid evening of lovemaking, if she were so disposed to believe in such things. Instead, it turned into a fiery duel of tongues and tangle of arms as they gripped each other and held tight, as if this were not only a quest to quench a thirst, but an actual fight for survival as well.

  His bare chest pressed against her almost naked one and Landry’s blunt-tipped nails dug into the skin of Kristian’s shoulders. Moments ago she had been cool from stepping out of the water into the air-conditioned room; now her entire body was warm, growing warmer. Kristian was not only a prince, but he was also a master at this kissing thing. His arms had folded around her back, pulling her up so close to him that only her toes remained on the cool tiled floor. Her head had long since tilted as to offer more access for his delicious assault, her breasts rubbing seductively against him.

  It was as if he were attempting to devour her and to her own bafflement, she was offering herself up to him like a buffet feast. In fact, when his hand moved down to cup her butt, she took the initiative and lifted her leg until her inner thigh ran slowly over the material of his pants.

  He groaned.

  Yes, the crown prince of Grand Serenity Island groaned because she’d brought her leg up and was now wrapping it behind his back.

  His hands moved quickly. One holding her firmly in his grasp while the other slipped between them as he undid the buckle and zipper of his pants.

  This was not happening, she thought, even as she pressed closer to him. Not close enough because the ache that now throbbed between her legs persisted. This could not be happening.

  It should not be...

  She moaned when her back was flattened against the mirror and he sucked seductively on her tongue. Her arms were wound tightly around his neck, holding him in place because she wanted more. She knew he did too. His hands were finished moving between them; his length was hard as it pressed against the bare skin of her lower abdomen. He pulled slightly away so that they could both catch their breath. It was a momentary separation as the kiss ensued once more. Their wild abandon filling the room with moans and sighs and guttural urgings.

  “I want you,” he whispered.

  “I want you,” she echoed him.

  Then suddenly, without preamble, they both stopped. She stilled and he did too. There was no more kissing, no more moaning, only breathing and thinking.

  Too much thinking.

  * * *

  Kris loosened his hold on her. When her feet were firmly on the floor, he stopped touching her and backed away. All the while avoiding another glimpse of himself in the mirror directly behind her.

  It was there that he’d been reminded, once more, of what he could not do.

  He turned his back to her and began fixing his clothes. She did not move but Kris would swear he could hear her thinking, wondering, most likely as angry and confused as he was at this moment. He owed her an explanation and an apology. When his pants were once again in right order, Kris reached over to the bench and pulled on his shirt. He buttoned it as rapidly as he could, desire to get this over with as quickly as possible.

  Not for his sake. No, he was thoroughly disgusted with himself for what he’d allowed to happen, what he’d instigated. But he was more disappointed with how he’d treated Landry, a guest to the palace and someone who worked for them.

  “Why?”

  She asked in the middle of Kris’s mental recriminations. How did she know? Of all the questions in the world, how could she grab hold of the one he definitely did not want to answer? The answer to his questions did not matter. Kris knew what he had to do.

  “I shouldn’t have brought you in here,” he said after another deep breath.

  Then Kris turned to face her, to look her directly in the eye as he spoke, because she deserved that much.

  “I’m not in a position to do this. I knew that when I stood there watching you but I could not turn away. When you confronted me, for a moment I thought... I wondered.” He paused and cleared his throat.

  “Please accept my apologies. It will not happen again.”

  He gave her a curt nod and turned to leave, all the while ignoring the inquisitive...no, the assessing look in her eyes.

  “It will,” she said the moment his fingers touched the doorknob. “You won’t like it and I’ll probably regret it, but I’m betting that it will happen, Your Highness. That’s just the way life goes.”

  Kris walked out. He did not turn back. But he did not forget her words, not that night, nor the nights that followed.

  Chapter 7

  “The Ambassador’s Ball is not far away. How many dresses do I have to choose from?” Malayka asked Landry as she lounged just a few feet away from the pool.

  They were at the south side of the palace, outside, where an infinity pool’s edge led down a steep cliff and waves from the sea crashed below. The view was stunning—the brilliant blue ocean reminded Landry of watercolors and the crisp clear powder blue of the sky with
its cotton-candy-like clouds never failed to take her breath away. Even with the view, Landry preferred the inside pool near the courtyard because she didn’t have to battle with the harsh rays of the Caribbean sun there.

  Malayka, on the other hand, had the straps to her hot-pink bikini top pulled down as she lay with her caramel-toned skin glistening in the sun. When she was done, the woman would either have a sun-kissed complexion all over, or look like a ripe tomato.

  “Peta is sending the last two you requested—they should be here next week. Since we’re not able to use samples and in addition to the changes to the design you requested, they were delayed a few days. Right now there’s the blue Balenciaga and the white Versace.” Landry spoke from where she sat in a chair beneath an umbrella-topped table. She knew better than to add the fact that they couldn’t use samples because most designer samples came in a size 4. Malayka was a 6 or an 8. Landry had made the mistake of mentioning sample sizes before and Malayka had rewarded her with a complete meltdown. Another lesson learned for Landry even though she thought the performance had been more dramatic than authentic. In her business Landry recognized the whole body shaming and desire to be as thin as possible debacle. Only, in Landry’s mind, she’d always tried to instill in her clients that size did not matter; it was what was on the inside that counted. That particular conversation had fallen on deaf ears where Malayka was concerned. Still, the woman didn’t have to work too hard to keep her cute curvy figure and now that she’d snagged herself a prince, Landry wondered if she would even bother at all after the nuptials.

  Resisting the urge to shake her head in pity, Landry decided to focus on something else. Her tablet was propped in front of her, a glass of almost-finished mango lemonade beside it. She held her pen and scribbled notes on the pad she always brought to meetings and kept her sunglasses on, more so to keep Malayka from witnessing her rolling her eyes at the uppity tone the woman had adopted over the last couple of weeks.