"Oh, I mean it, Moira." She clapped her hands over her ears. Gently but firmly, he dragged them away. "And we will not have sex."
"Oh?"
He shook his head. "No, we will make love."
Her lips formed an "Oh," but no sound escaped them.
"All night long," he promised.
"You just—" Her voice squeaked, and she cleared her throat and started over. "You just want my country."
"That is not all I want." He looked around them, gauging the darkness. "But, in the morning, let me show you why your country is important."
Chloe relived the evening over and over. Before she fell asleep that night. In her dreams. And between dreams, when she couldn't sleep.
Her total, overwhelming reaction to him when he'd spread himself on top of her. She knew he'd been playing at the beginning, that he hadn't believed his driver when he first told him he'd swerved to miss a rock. Though what he'd thought his driver was up to was beyond her.
Her sense of protectedness when he'd spread his coat over her. That had been quick thinking on his part. And it had all been for her, when he could just as easily have thrown himself on the floor, pulled the coat over his own head and left her to fend for herself.
Her fear when he'd said he loved her. Fear that he meant it, or that he didn't? She wasn't sure. She tossed and turned on it all night and still didn't have the answer. As long as he wanted her country, she would never know whether she was just part of the package.
He'd said she would understand better when he explained it all. By dawn, she was ready to hear whatever he had to say, see whatever he had to show her. She knew her country was in ruin compared to his, so what could he want with it? Mining rights? What had Hilda said? Ennsway men would get jobs, children would go to school, and Baesland would get farmland.
If William didn't love her for herself, Baesland could lease their damned farmland!
She got up, got dressed, threw open her door and stormed out. One step, then she tripped over a man-at-arms sleeping on the floor.
He jumped to his feet, blinked his eyes and stood quite rigid. "Your Majesty!"
The toe of her sneaker tapped the floor in short little jabs. "Did you forget where your bed is?"
"Uh, no, Your Majesty. His Majesty ordered me to stay the night here."
"You're from Baesland, aren't you?" Even if his uniform hadn't identified him, she could have told by his speech that he had more education than any man-at-arms she'd met in her own castle.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"And what were your orders?"
'"To keep you safe, Your Majesty.''
Like she believed that. "Uh-huh.'' More like he was put there to keep tabs on her. "Go find His Majesty and tell him I'm ready."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Since he ran off to do her bidding, she had to concede that he might have been stationed there by William for her protection. Good thing she hadn't needed it.
An hour later, she met William at his limousine. After his make-love-all-night-long promise, she was tempted to tell him they'd take separate cars, but that was silly. She scooted in next to him. Not too close; not too far. If she'd been pressed up against her own door, and he his, she'd still have felt the currents sparking between them.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked.
"Was the guard to protect me or keep me in?"
He scooted halfway across the seat toward her, extended his arm along the back until she felt his fingers playing with the ends of her hair. "If I wanted to keep you in, I would do it myself."
She jerked her head to free her hair, but she could feel his touch all the way up to her roots. His thigh inched closer, and she shot out her hand to stop him. But with her hand on his thigh, she could no more form a logical refusal than she could sleep last night.
For two hours, he showed her the rich farmlands and idle people Ennsway had to offer. Then he showed her the natural resources and social programs Baesland offered in return, if the border between their countries was dissolved.
It was quite clear that he would marry whoever happened to be in a position to bring him what he wanted—more land. And that happened to be her.
"I see," she said when he concluded their tour. When she glanced at him, saw the warmth in his eyes, she had a moment of doubt about what she had just deduced. Was she wrong?
"It was your father's wish that we be married within three months of the contract date."
"Yes, I read it."
His laugh was low and self-amused. "Yes, I thought you might have. I know how you like to read and study things."
"I don't want to get married, William.''
"But tradition dictates you follow your father's wish."
A sharp laugh escaped her. "Well, you know what I think about tradition, don't you?"
"Ah, yes. Royal brouhaha."
"Exactly."
"Think about this, Moira. Your people want and need revenue. My people want and need expansion. They are all committed to the marriage contract one hundred per cent. If you refuse to marry me, tradition dictates there will be sanctions on both sides. And war."
She couldn't believe it. "War? Surely you exaggerate."
"And if that does not get your attention, there is always my dungeon."
Her lips moved, but she found herself speechless—a rare thing for her.
"You may choose whichever cell you think is less . . . damp, I believe you said?"
"You can't be serious!" She searched for a solution, reaching for her old standby of what a princess of old might have done in just this situation. Well, actually, that was all too clear. She would have let them war it out over her. Not a bright prospect.
"OrI suppose I could lock you in the tower instead."
"Okay, fine."
"This means yes?"
"It means I'll marry you, but I won't sleep with you."
Chapter Eleven
Chloe pretended that she'd gotten used to William being around in her castle all the time, but that was hardly the case. She was civil when they ate together, which was every meal. If she didn't show up in the atrium for breakfast, her favorite place, he came to her sitting room. If she missed a different meal, he tracked her down.
The truth was, she enjoyed it as much as any game she'd ever played. Hide-and-seek, only she didn't mind getting caught. She was resigned to the fact that she had to marry him, and his plans to improve the countries sounded like no less than she would want to do herself, but honestly, couldn't the man swallow his pride and ask?
She saddled her mare and went riding alone, for all of ten minutes. She knew that if she'd asked anyone else to tack up for her, William would have been there before she departed. As it was, he loped up behind her before she'd gotten two miles.
"Moira, I am hurt you did not invite me."
She believed that about as much as she believed he was going to marry her and not entice her to share his bed. "Yeah, right I wanted to be alone."
"I will keep silent."
She noticed half a dozen men riding up behind them, at a discreet distance. William kept his mount beside hers and, true to his word, said nothing. Not that she noticed, she was so lost in memories of how it had felt to ride double with him. She didn't even know she'd turned for home until her mare perked up. Which was a good thing, because on foot, Chloe never could have found her way back.
Only when the stable was in sight did William speak again. "Have you seen the ballroom?"
"You've done something with my ballroom?"
"Not I, Moira. Meet me there in an hour."
She didn't wait an hour, as he'd undoubtedly known she wouldn't, because he was already there after she rushed through her shower. His hair was damp, his clothes were fresh, his grin was as lopsided as ever as he threw the doors open.
Inside, the ballroom was full of tables. And on every table was an arrangement of the most exquisite possessions anyone could want. Perfume in crystal bottles with gold caps. A sapphire-and-diamond ne
cklace, among others, with matching earrings and bracelet. Rich silks that shimmered beneath the chandeliers. To one side stood a life-size marble sculpture that she was certain must have come from a Greek museum.
She wandered through the room, drinking it all in. Inlaid jewelry boxes, monogrammed gold flatware. Pearls, rubies. A Faberge egg, just sitting there on the table as if it didn't belong under glass on a high shelf in a locked room.
A tiara! She paused by it and surveyed the entire room. "My God, where did all this come from?"
"All over the world."
She looked closer and saw, beside each gift, a small card that extended best wishes and announced the giver.
"We must memorize these," William told her.
Her eyebrows lifted. "And this is because...?"
"So we are able to thank our guests personally at the wedding ball. It would be rude not to be well-informed and grateful."
"It's not that I'm not grateful. I just can't possibly remember all this." She didn't want to admit she didn't even know what many of the items were. She'd never seen such wealth.
He followed her from table to table, a teasing little bounce in his step. "What? The student in you has not learned tricks to memorize details?"
She spread her arms to take everything in. "Have you looked at how much is here?" She picked up a name card. "And I couldn't pronounce this in a million years."
"Mmm, the shah. Yes, he will be here, I am certain."
"Old buddy of yours?"
William shrugged. "And this is only part of what we have received. There are many more at Baesland Castle."
"Good Lord. I could sell all this and build a hundred schools."
"Do not even think it."
She was drawn back to the tiara.
"Do you like it?"
She ran the tip of her finger over the sparkling diamonds. "It's beautiful. It's the only thing I've seen here without a name beside it."
"It was my mother's. She was married in it, and it was her wish that someday my bride would wear it."
She pursed her lips in thought. His mother probably would turn over in her grave to have an impostor wear her wedding tiara.
"My mother was quite fond of you, you know. Please consider it"
She didn't have to. It would serve no purpose to refuse. "I'll be happy to." When she saw his chest puff out proudly, she was glad she'd agreed.
William left her side then and circled the table. "Once we have these memorized, the wedding gifts will probably begin arriving."
Her mouth dropped open, she was sure. "Wedding gifts? Wh-what are these?"
"Engagement gifts, of course."
Chloe stood on a low pedestal in the middle of the sewing room. She watched the minute hand on the clock creep around the dial twice while three women measured and pinned and stitched. It seemed like two days, not two hours. Her back ached. Her head reeled. Her stomach rumbled.
"Oh, no no no!" Brigitte, the head seamstress, said. When she'd arrived from Paris, Chloe had thought her accent delightful. Now she was sick of it. "You must not eat. If you do, you will soon be bigger than I can let out."
Along with a less active life-style, Chloe blamed the rich food she'd been served at every meal for the five pounds she'd gained. She admitted she had a sweet tooth, and it had never been so well indulged in all her life.
"I need a break, ladies."
"Just a little longer."
Emma patted her hair, and Chloe insisted. "Unbutton me now."
They treated her dress as if it were made of blown glass, all three of them lifting it off her instead of letting her step out of it.
It was beautiful, and it wasn't even finished yet. The ladies had sewn on a zillion pearls already, but insisted there were as many more to go. The veil had been attached to William's mother's tiara and sat on a higher pedestal in a corner of the room, as if it were on a throne.
Chloe slipped into her jeans and sweater, ignored the fact that the jeans had grown uncomfortably tight in the waist, and headed for the garden for some peace and quiet. Emma followed silently.
Chloe stretched out on her back on the low wall circling the fountain. The cool stone pressed her vertebrae back into alignment. The gurgling water drowned out the French voices that still echoed in her head. The breeze teased her hair and carried delicate floral scents to her nose.
It was with some surprise that she felt something cold and damp against her cheek. It reminded her of Friday's nose, and Chloe wasn't too surprised when she turned her head and stared into the large brown eyes of a German shepherd. Its leash led up to Louis.
"How are you today?" he asked.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Emma making strange hand gestures that had nothing to do with their pre-arranged signals. Chloe decided it might be wise to get her face out of the dog's reach before she got slobbered to death, so she sat up. "Fine, Louis. I didn't know you had a dog."
He grinned and sat beside her. "He is for you." He patted her knee. "I worry about, you, Moira. I agree with Father. I think you're in danger."
"So you're giving me a dog?"
Emma nearly twisted her necklace off. It didn't matter, though. Chloe wasn't ready for another dog; she was still considering flying Friday to Ennsway.
"He'll make you feel safe."
"He catches chandeliers and stops rockslides?"
Louis petted the dog's head and ignored Chloe's sarcasm. "He doesn't frighten you, does he?"
He glanced at her then, and Chloe noticed that he didn't really see her. It was as if his eyes looked right through her.
"No," she replied, and thought, He doesn't scare me.
"When you were twelve, I remember you would shudder at the mere picture of a dog."
Emma cleared her throat. "They have wonderful therapists in the United States. Your Majesty, you mentioned that you wanted to freshen up before lunch."
That signal Chloe could understand. "Yes, thank you, Emma. Louis, your concern is very touching, but I can't have that dog following me around. I suggest you take him back wherever you got him. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
Louis took the hint and left. The dog lagged behind and took one last look at Chloe over his shoulder, with eyes that threatened to melt her heart and change her mind.
"Be strong," Emma said.
Chloe chuckled. "You know me too well."
Emma's face was transformed by one of her rare smiles. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"So—" Chloe pinned her with an unwavering gaze. "I figured Anna thought I might take her puppy away because of something her mother had said. And I thought Hilda might have been under the mistaken impression that I didn't like dogs for some reason that escapes me now. But when my brother sneaks up on me with the biggest German shepherd I've ever seen and asks if I'm afraid of it, and you're standing across the room flailing your arms around like a helicopter, it makes me suspicious."
Emma looked at her toes and turned slightly away, as if she'd have liked to flee but knew her place. "Suspicious, Your Majesty?"
"Now would be a good time for you to tell me why I'm supposed to be afraid of dogs."
"Very well." Emma took a deep breath and looked Chloe in the eyes. "But first I must tell you that it is only recently that I put two and two together. You must believe that I would not have put you in this position otherwise."
"Try me."
"Her— your fear of dogs stems from an attack by one of the guard dogs when you were twelve. She— you never knew—I never knew, Your Majesty, I swear—that King Albert suspected the attack was an attempt on your life. That's why he sent you away. To keep you safe. I think he originally planned to bring you home again, because he banned all dogs from the country."
"Then why didn't he?"
"Good question. Maybe he never found who was responsible. I swear, I had no idea your life would be in danger. I'm so sorry."
Chloe glanced at the door through which Louis had exited. "Surely my father didn't think it was Louis."
>
"I'm sure he wouldn't have sent for you if he had. What worries me, Your Majesty, isn't that your brother was responsible, but that he is suspicious that you are so completely over your fear of dogs."
Chloe whispered, "You think he suspects?"
"Perhaps, when she came for the funeral, he saw her. Perhaps there was something familiar about her, something a brother would see that we didn't think of."
"Great. William thinks someone's trying to kill me, and you think Louis is on to our ruse. I'm not so hungry after all."
William, taking Leonard's advice again about being romantic, had planned every last detail, except for the clouds obscuring the brilliant nighttime stars he had hoped for. He circled the small table for two on the balcony as he waited for Moira's arrival. The tall white candles flickered, casting a soft light that was, in itself, very pleasing. The bouquet of fresh white roses had been chosen for their mild scent, so as not to compete with the meal.
His staff buzzed around, getting every last detail absolutely perfect
"Leonard, is it my imagination, or have the staff been whispering among themselves a great deal?"
"Gossip, Your Majesty. Think nothing of it"
"About the wedding?"
"About the bride."
"What about her?"
"It's nothing, Your Majesty." Leonard held out beneath William's glare for all of thirty seconds. "Oh, all right. There's a rumor circulating that she isn't the same person who left here sixteen years ago."
"Of course not. She has grown into a remarkable woman."
"They mean it literally, Your Majesty."
"That is absurd." It was a simple matter for William to dismiss such a ridiculous thought. He had better things to think about. The evening ahead, for instance. And the night.
The small balcony on the third floor of Baesland Castle had been chosen for its intimacy. A nearby heater stood ready to ward off the evening chill. The dining chairs were positioned close to each other, so that when he reached for her hand, it would seem casual and natural. Maybe she would even reach for his.
Just inside the door, where the music could float softly outdoors, sat a harpist. Elsewhere in the castle was a small troupe of town criers, ready to run through the village with their announcement when Moira accepted the engagement ring still burning a hole in his pocket.
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