“I am committed,” Dante assured him. He might not have been thrilled about the sudden pressure to marry, but he understood it. And he knew that he had an obligation to choose a bride who would not only make a suitable wife but an able representative of Ardena, and he was convinced that Marissa Leandres was the most appropriate choice.
Having been born a princess, she was accustomed to the intrusiveness of the media. Yet despite having lived much of her life under public scrutiny, she’d managed a mostly quiet existence without any scandals in her past or obvious skeletons in her closet. Not just a quiet but chaste existence, if her mother was to be believed. As he’d told Elena, he didn’t expect a virgin bride, but he definitely didn’t want an ex-boyfriend posting naked pictures of her on the internet after their engagement was announced.
Marissa was beautiful and if she’d chosen to play up her looks and dress the part, she could have coasted through life on the power of her celebrity. But she was smarter than that. Not just intelligent and well educated, but possessing a sharp mind that probed and challenged. She had ideas and opinions that she expressed articulately, and he genuinely enjoyed just talking with her.
She was kind and compassionate and was respected around the world for her charitable works. A lot of high-profile people had specific causes they endorsed or programs they funded. Marissa didn’t lend her name to events for the publicity or write checks for the tax deduction. She was truly committed to bettering the lives of women and children around the globe, with a specific push toward doing so through access to better health care and education.
“What are you committed to?” his father asked now. “The concept of marriage in general or the princess in particular?”
“Both.”
“Good, because you have to remember that the woman you choose as your queen will also be your wife. There will be times when it’s just the two of you behind closed doors, and it’s important that you can look forward to those times.”
“We had the talk about the birds and the bees a long time ago,” Dante reminded his dad.
“Unfortunately, we didn’t also talk about good judgment. If we had, when I’d stepped down, the people wouldn’t have been so concerned about a playboy running the palace.”
It was only years of experience and training that ensured he didn’t flinch beneath his father’s steely gaze.
“But youthful indiscretions can be forgiven,” Benedicto continued, “maybe even forgotten. And your behavior since taking the throne has been circumspect.”
Dante felt no pride in response to his father’s words. How could he when the image of the red-haired, green-eyed goddess—naked on his bed, save for the mask that concealed her face—nudged at the back of his mind? However, he could, and did, feel relief that at least he had shown some discretion that night. No one, not even Juno, knew that Jupiter was really the king of Ardena.
But as much as he’d enjoyed the hours he’d spent making love with Juno, he’d had an unexpected revelation when he’d woken up alone. He was tired of one-night stands. He wanted a partner. Someone not just to share his bed but to share his life.
And then he’d met Marissa, and he’d felt a surprising sense of rightness, as if everything was falling into place. Almost as if it was…destiny.
“You’ve had to make a lot of adjustments since February,” Benedicto continued. “And you’ve done so without complaint.”
“As much as the whole firstborn thing wasn’t really my choice, none of this is—aside from the timing—unexpected. Both you and Mom spent a lot of years not just prepping me to take the throne, but providing an example of what it takes to make a marriage succeed.”
“I hope we have, because finding a comfortable balance between your duties and your desires is important in life.” Benedicto smiled. “We didn’t have five kids together out of a sense of obligation, you know.”
“Please.” Dante held up a hand. “There are certain details a son doesn’t need to know about his parents’ marriage.”
“Fair enough,” his father said. “But you should think about those details before embarking on your own.”
Oh, he’d thought about those…details. And even though he’d kissed Marissa only once, that single kiss had been enough to hint at the passion within her, a passion he was eager to explore.
One step at a time, he reminded himself.
Marissa never slept easily in an unfamiliar bed, so before she returned to her room, she decided to find something to read. Upon their arrival, Dante had given her a quick tour of the palace, and she was fairly confident that she could navigate the route to the library and back to her suite.
She only took one wrong turn on the way and was happily perusing the shelves when Dante’s father entered the room.
She curtsied. “Good evening again, Your Majesty.”
He seemed startled to see her, as if they hadn’t shared a meal at the same table a few hours earlier. And when he did address her, he said, “It’s good to see you again, Elena.”
Marissa was taken aback, not just to hear him speak her mother’s name but by the warmth in his tone. “I’m not Elena, Your Majesty. I’m her daughter, Marissa.”
He frowned, as if what she was saying didn’t make any sense to him. Then the bewilderment in his eyes cleared and he smiled at her. “Forgive my confusion,” he said. “I didn’t realize before how very much you look like her.”
“Do you know my mother?”
“I did, a very long time ago.”
Which surprised Marissa, but not nearly as much as his next statement.
“In fact, we were supposed to be married.”
She frowned, thinking it likely that he had the Princess Royal confused with someone. Because if Dante’s father had been engaged to Marissa’s mother, she was sure that detail would have come up at least once during the numerous conversations in which Elena had pushed her daughter to consider marriage to Benedicto’s son.
“I’d only met her a few times,” the king’s father continued, “but every time, her beauty quite simply took my breath away. She thought I was quite handsome, too. At least she said that she did.
“But she was stubborn and headstrong, and regardless of her feelings for me, she refused to be forced into an arranged marriage. So while my father and her father were discussing the details of our betrothal, she ran off and married another man.”
“Gaetan Leandres,” Marissa murmured, familiar with at least that part of the story. “My father.”
His eyes clouded again. “That might be right. It was a long time ago.”
“At least forty years,” she guessed, since her brother Michael was almost that age.
He nodded.
Marissa had thought she was familiar with the story of her parents’ whirlwind romance, but in the version she knew, there had never been any mention of Benedicto Romero. If what Dante’s father was telling her now was true, and she had no reason to suspect that it wasn’t, then there was obviously a lot more to the tale than she’d ever suspected.
And she couldn’t help but wonder if that “more” was somehow motivating Elena’s efforts to push her daughter and the present king of Ardena together.
Chapter Nine
On Wednesday, Marissa was invited to take tea with Dante’s mother in her sitting room.
After the petits fours were set out and tea had been poured, Arianna said, “I understand you don’t often travel outside of Tesoro del Mar, so I wanted to express how pleased we all are that you’ve chosen to visit Ardena.”
“His Majesty was very persuasive when he issued the invitation,” Marissa told her.
The queen mother smiled. “My son inherited more than his fair share of his father’s charm. As a result, it is a rare occasion when he doesn’t get his own way.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“But I didn’t invite you here to talk about Dante. I invited you here so that we could get to know one another.” Arianna sipped her tea. “Considering your roya
l status, there’s limited information readily available about you aside from your charitable endeavors.”
“Have you been looking for information?”
The queen selected a pretty pink cake from a platter. “You can’t blame a mother for being curious about the woman who has snagged her son’s attention.”
“No,” Marissa agreed. “But if you’re trying to determine if I’m good enough for your son, why don’t we just agree that I’m not?”
Arianna seemed to puzzle over this as she sipped her tea. “Are you saying that you don’t want to marry Dante?”
His mother sounded so incredulous, Marissa had to smile.
“I think he’s a good man, and I’ve enjoyed spending time with him, but I have no interest in being his queen.”
“So your only reason for coming to Ardena was to not have a relationship with my son?” the queen asked skeptically.
“Well, that wasn’t my only reason,” Marissa conceded. “I also came because Dante suggested that my attendance could help promote the auction for Mercy Medical Center.”
“I’m sure it will,” Arianna agreed. “But I didn’t realize that was the enticement he used to bring you here.”
Now it was Marissa’s turn to be puzzled by her choice of words. “Are you suggesting that he had another reason?”
“Well, according to all of the newspapers, the king is courting his queen.”
“The newspapers are wrong.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Dante knows I don’t want to marry him.”
“You’ve told him this?” his mother asked, amusement evident in her tone.
“Yes.”
Arianna smiled. “That could be precisely why he’s chosen you.”
“He hasn’t chosen me,” Marissa said, though she was aware that the protest sounded weak.
“Perhaps not,” the queen allowed. “But if he has, remember that it’s rare for Dante not to get what he wants.”
The queen’s warning echoed in the back of Marissa’s mind for the next few days. She was certain that a single conversation with Dante would answer all of her questions. Unfortunately, the king remained elusive.
After more than a week away, she could understand that he had a lot of work to catch up on. She could hardly blame him for being tied up with appointments and conferences or away from the palace for various state functions.
And she managed to keep herself busy, too. She had meetings with the fundraising committee to review and revise all manner of details for the upcoming auction. She walked in the garden and swam in the pool, and she spent a lot of time at her computer, emailing her friends and family back in Tesoro del Mar. Hannah was ecstatic in the early stages of her pregnancy; Gabriella was cranky in the last trimester of hers. And Dr. Marotta insisted that everything was running so smoothly at the hospital, no one even noticed that she was gone.
She was pouting over that one when she ventured outside to enjoy the sun on Monday afternoon and found her attention caught by some trees in the distance. As much time as she’d spent wandering the grounds, she’d never noticed them before and she couldn’t resist exploring.
She tipped her head back and jolted when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. With a self-conscious laugh, she pressed her hand to her furiously beating heart. “You scared me, Your Majesty.”
“My apologies,” Benedicto said. “I couldn’t resist the lure of a beautiful woman in my olive grove.”
“I should be the one to apologize if I’ve wandered where I shouldn’t have. I didn’t expect to find an orchard on the grounds, and my curiosity was piqued.”
“Guests are free to wander wherever they wish,” Benedicto assured her. “And it has been a long time since anyone has shown an interest in my trees.”
“They’re beautiful,” she said truthfully, letting her fingers trace a deep ridge in the gnarled trunk of the tree closest to her. “So unique and full of character.”
“There’s a lot of history in those twisted branches,” the former king agreed. “And a lot of generations have harvested their bounty.”
She noted the clusters of green fruit. “When will you pick these?”
“Actually, we don’t pick them. We shake the branches,” he told her. “And we usually start around the end of November, finishing in late January or early February. You’re welcome to help, if you’re interested. We can always use an extra pair of hands.”
“I am interested,” she said. But she wondered if she would still be in the country then or if, having satisfied her obligations in Ardena, she would have gone back to Tesoro del Mar.
…it’s rare for Dante not to get what he wants.
But what did he want? Did he want her help with the auction or did he want something more?
Arianna’s words teased Marissa’s mind with possibilities. To marry the king of Ardena would mean many things. For Marissa, the biggest negative would be the complete lack of privacy. As queen, everything she said and did would be scrutinized and criticized, analyzed and interpreted. But she wondered now if there might not be enough positives to more than balance the scales. And one undeniable positive was the attraction she’d felt for the king almost from the start, an attraction that continued to grow.
“What are you interested in?”
The tantalizingly familiar voice skimmed over her like a caress, making her think of all kinds of answers to the question that had absolutely nothing to do with olive trees.
“The princess was asking about the harvest,” Benedicto explained to his son.
“And mother was asking where her husband had run away to,” Dante said.
Though his tone was light, Marissa heard the undercurrent of worry.
“She should have guessed I’d run away with a pretty lady,” he said and winked at Marissa.
“Obviously your son comes by his charm honestly enough,” she noted.
Benedicto grinned. “But be careful—he’s as stubborn as he is charming,” he warned. “He needs a woman with a strong backbone, someone who will not only stand up to him, but stand behind him.”
“Dad—”
“I’m only trying to help your cause,” Benedicto explained.
“It would be a bigger help to give us some time alone,” Dante said pointedly.
“Okay,” his father relented, squeezing Marissa’s hand before he released it. “But don’t try any hanky-panky. This one isn’t just a princess. She’s a real lady.”
“I know.”
Marissa watched Benedicto make his way back toward the palace. When Arianna met him in the courtyard, something her husband said caused her to throw her head back and laugh. Then Benedicto caught her around the waist and drew her into his arms for a kiss that made Marissa sigh.
“Your father is a wonderful man,” she said to Dante now.
“He obviously thinks just as highly of you,” he noted.
“I didn’t realize we’d wandered out of sight. I’m sorry you were worried.”
“Why would I be worried?”
“Maybe because his memory has started slipping a little,” she suggested.
“Why would you say that?” he challenged.
“Am I wrong?”
Dante glanced away, back toward the house, but not before she saw the flash of pain in his eyes. “No,” he admitted.
She waited for him to continue. After his father and mother went inside, he did so.
“The official diagnosis is vascular cognitive impairment,” he explained. “Likely precipitated by a series of minor and undiagnosed strokes he suffered over the past two years.”
She touched a hand to his arm. “I’m sorry.”
“There are moments of obvious confusion, and my mother doesn’t like him to wander off on his own. But his good days outnumber the bad, so we’ve managed to keep his condition under wraps.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone,” she assured him.
“I know.” He caught her hand as she started
to draw it away and linked their fingers together. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being so warm and generous, kind and compassionate, smart and strong.”
She lifted a brow. “That’s a pretty thorough character assessment considering you met me hardly more than a week ago.”
“In that brief amount of time, I’ve had the opportunity to observe you in various situations,” he told her. “I’ve witnessed your interactions with your mother—who is an undeniably strong and unyielding woman. But you don’t let her push you around. You decide when to stand firm and when to give way. And I’ve seen you as a volunteer at the hospital, and I’ve watched your eyes go soft when you hold one of those tiny babies in your arms.”
“You’re very observant, Your Majesty.”
“You’re a fascinating woman, Your Highness. But aside from all of that,” he continued, “I know my dad likes you. And while his mind might drift to the past occasionally, he’s always been a great judge of character.”
“Well, he did warn me about you,” she said lightly.
He tugged her toward him. “You don’t look very worried.”
“Why would I be? You assured me your intentions are honorable.”
“But ‘honorable’ is not synonymous with ‘innocent,’” he cautioned as he reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertip brushing the sensitive shell as he did so.
She shivered in response to the light caress. He smiled.
“That’s something else I’ve observed—the way your pulse races when I touch you.”
She swallowed, as disconcerted by the accuracy of his insight as she was by his nearness.
“Considering your legendary exploits, I would expect you to be accustomed to the effect you have on women.”
“Right now I’m only interested in the effect I have on you,” he said, stroking a finger down the curve of her cheek.
She pushed his hand away. “Well, I’m not interested in your meaningless flirtations.”
“Why do you refuse to believe that I’m attracted to you?”
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