by Maisey Yates
“I was not going to be slave to these feelings.”
“And here we are.”
So simply she spoke of Alex’s failure. So simply she laid out the inevitable.
“I want you,” he said. “You must understand, it is not easy.”
“I know. It isn’t easy for me either.”
He didn’t have to explain this dark, tortured thing that aided him. Of course he didn’t. Because it was like that for Tinley too. There was nothing sweet or simple about it. Nothing misty or magical. This was not fated soul mates. It was deeper than that. A tortured attraction that existed to make a mockery of all that he was. To make a mockery of whatever power he thought he might possess.
Their desire was the wolf pack. Come to devour them both.
And he surrendered.
Alex lowered his head and kissed her.
Maisey Yates is a New York Times bestselling author of over one hundred romance novels. She has a coffee habit she has no interest in kicking and a slight Pinterest addiction. She lives with her husband and children in the Pacific Northwest. When Maisey isn’t writing, she can be found singing in the grocery store, shopping for shoes online and probably not doing dishes. Check out her website, maiseyyates.com.
Books by Maisey Yates
Harlequin Presents
His Forbidden Pregnant Princess
Crowned for My Royal Baby
Brides of Innocence
The Spaniard’s Untouched Bride
The Spaniard’s Stolen Bride
Once Upon a Seduction…
The Prince’s Captive Virgin
The Prince’s Stolen Virgin
The Italian’s Pregnant Prisoner
The Queen’s Baby Scandal
Crowning His Convenient Princess
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
Maisey Yates
His Majesty’s Forbidden Temptation
Thank you to Harlequin for one hundred books. Here’s to one hundred more.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT FROM THE INNOCENT BEHIND THE SCANDAL BY ABBY GREEN
CHAPTER ONE
“WELL, I THINK the paperwork speaks for itself. Marriage is the only course of action.”
Alexius de Prospero, Lion of the Dark Wood, Hope of the People, King of Liri, looked across from him at the small, plain woman. He was standing, which made her quite literally beneath him. She was sitting in a floral, overstuffed armchair looking frizzy and distressed.
In fairness, he had never seen Tinley Markham looking anything other than frizzy. It was hoped, on the day when the engagement had first been arranged between her and Alex’s younger brother, that she would have been tamed into something quite a bit sleeker and more fitting for a princess of Liri.
But it was not to be.
For Dionysus had died before they could ever be married. Which had shifted her from the category of future Princess, to unwanted ward.
Dionysus’s death had also hastened the demise of their father, his health failing him shortly after his youngest son died so tragically.
Which had moved Alexius from Prince to King.
Alex’s duties as King had been immediate and pressing. The matter of Tinley not so. Her father was dead, and as she was the daughter of his father’s most trusted advisor, her welfare had mattered a great deal. But it was nothing that he had to see to in the day today. However, now he was butting up against the reality of the will her father had left behind.
Alexius loved his father. And he had been very fond of Tinley’s father as well. But it could not be said that either man was deeply entrenched in the modern era. No. In fact, it might be said—affectionately—that both men were a bit medieval. Again, not a problem for Alex. Until recently. But now that Tinley was approaching her twenty-third birthday, and about to go over the prescribed deadline for marriage, it was a problem. For he was tasked with finding a husband for Tinley.
The consequences of failing were unacceptable.
And he had vowed that he would take care of her. He had sworn it. His father had been on his deathbed when Dionysus had passed. And though he had not made accusations, the ferocity in his father’s leonine gaze had sharpened as he looked at him.
For King Darius had been blessed with three sons. And only one had survived to the end of his life. Only one stood a chance at inheriting the throne. For Dionysus was dead, and Lazarus long before him. And the weight of the deaths of both rested on Alexius’s shoulders.
The firstborn son in Liri was named successor to the throne at birth, as it was with most other monarchies. But owed to years of war and corrupt leadership, there was a tradition.
All heirs of the King could issue challenges for the throne.
So while Alex had been born King, either of his brothers could challenge him at any time. Either to a battle, with the victor—either the last left alive, or the last to surrender—taking the throne.
Or there was the Dark Wood.
A week spent there, the last to surrender, or the one to emerge alive, named King.
The Lion of the Dark Wood.
And it was rumored that Alexius, even as a boy, had sought to end potential challengers to his throne.
King Darius had never accused him of such. His mother, on the other hand...
Things had changed.
And for all his life after, Alex had felt the distance between him and his mother. And the tension it had put between his mother and father.
What if he had been watching Lazarus more closely? What if he had stopped Dionysus that night he’d gone off drunk into the forest, rather than heeding his own selfish desires?
What if.
Some of his people revered Alexius as a god. He had, after all, met the challenge. Others saw him as fallible. A man who’d let those who should have been in his charge come to a tragic end. A man who had, perhaps, been born a ruthless, power-hungry monster.
Alexius had never known what his father believed. But the King had said to him, with a ferocity in his voice, that Tinley was now his responsibility. For her father was dead and her mother had never truly had the best interests of her daughter at heart.
I had thought for her to marry Dionysus. To honor her father’s position in the country. But she was suited to be the wife of the spare, not the heir. She is fragile, that girl. Sweet. She needed your brother. Her father’s wishes were that she marry, and the estate and money is tied up in his wishes. Find her a husband. Ensure she never wants for anything.
Alex had spoken nothing of Dionysus’s flaws, for what would the point be? The King had had a blind spot when it came to his youngest son. He saw only the son, and none of the ways his selfish actions might have harmed Tinley.
But he’d asked Alex to ensure she wanted for nothing, and she hadn’t.
Not a thing. In fact, he had made sure that she was able to attend a very prestigious University, where she had gotten a degree in social work. She currently held a position working for a charity, and he knew that while money meant very little to her on a person
al level, she appreciated what she might accomplish with it in the broader world.
There was a clock ticking down. Tinley had to be married in her twenty-third year. If she was not, her father’s money would be given to her next male relative.
It was funny to him, that his father thought Tinley suited Dionysus. Alex hadn’t thought so. Tinley, though, had idolized Alex’s brother. Had loved him. In the way a puppy loved its master, he’d often thought.
She’d had no idea he was dallying with other women, and happily, while Tinley was trailing after him, a flurry of ginger hair and pure devotion.
Watching it had made Alex’s stomach sour.
“Yes,” he said, his voice firm. “I was happy to allow you to live your life, but you have not come any closer to securing a marriage in the last four years than you were as a girl of eighteen.”
“I was engaged at eighteen,” she said softly.
“Younger,” he said.
He looked around the cottage, which was something like a mishap out in the middle of the forest that had collected itself into four walls and a roof. There were baskets stacked in every corner, filled with yarn and what looked to be unspun wool.
The kitchen itself, which occupied the same space as the living area, was in a tip. There was a pie sitting on the counter, and there were baskets of blueberries, and flour sprinkled everywhere.
The woman herself had a bit of flour on her face.
As if the picture of spinster had not been painted well enough, a very large, fat ginger cat chose that moment to saunter into the room.
“To my point,” he said. “You are no closer to finding a husband than you were four years ago. And I fear that you must. I wanted to keep my intervention to a minimum. But that is no longer practical.”
She narrowed her eyes. “To what point?”
He let his gaze travel to the cat. “Nothing.”
She frowned deeply and stood from the chair, making her way over to the beast. “Algernon is a rescue.”
“I would’ve expected nothing less.”
The cat walked by her, making a beeline straight for Alexius. The beast wove itself through his legs leaving behind a smattering of orange hair on his black pants.
“Retrieve your creature.”
She huffed and crossed the space inelegantly, her softness amplified by her movements, her red hair a wild curl as she bent in a huff to pick up the massive mammal. “Leave the mean man alone, Algie. He hates cats. And sunshine. And rainbows. And everything good and proper in the world.”
The problem with Tinley, the problem that had existed with Tinley since she’d begun to blossom into a woman, was that she was improbably beautiful. To him, at least. Her figure lush and soft, her hair untamed. She was unpredictable and unquenchable. She had freckles on her face and a gleam in her eyes that always seemed to hold a secret bit of humor. Her lips were full and quick with a smile, a wide smile that creased her cheeks and eyes and would make lines there when she was older.
She didn’t seem concerned by it.
She rarely seemed concerned by anything.
And there was a part of him that had been drawn to that for years.
It was untenable. She was nothing like what he needed or wanted.
His body, though, had other thoughts about her, ridiculous though she was. A perversity in his nature.
“Need I remind you, Tinley. I am King. I am your King.”
Tinley whirled in a circle, still holding her cat. “And I was going to be a princess.”
“Not anymore.”
Her mouth snapped shut, and her skin went waxen. “No.”
“I’m not trying to be cruel, Tinley.”
“Of course not. You don’t have to try.”
The moment stretched between them and he allowed it. She could despise him all she wanted. It wouldn’t change the circumstances.
“So that’s it. I marry, I get my inheritance. I don’t marry. I don’t get my inheritance. And not only do I not get the inheritance, my horrible cousin will get it, and he will likely spend the money on liquor and whores.”
“That about sums it up.”
“Well, that’s just excellent. Anything more?”
“Yes. You leave Liri, and the palace withdraws its support.”
The color drained from her face. “You would do that to me?”
“It’s not I who wrote this will out, but your father, and mine.”
“So what? They’re dead, and you’re the King. Surely you can override all of this.”
He could not believe this child was arguing with him. He couldn’t recall a time when anyone had dared. “I cannot. Because it was signed by the previous King. And these things are not that simple. And when it comes to you and your well-being, it is a matter of honor.”
“Certainly not a matter of affection.”
“Affection between you and I is inconsequential to me. But what is not is honoring that which my father has demanded of me. You must be cared for. And this is the way your father demanded you be cared for. I owe my father.”
“Why, because you lost his other sons?”
She threw the challenge down with a resounding echo. She was the first one who had dared to lob such an accusation at him in a very long time. It was notable for that reason alone. And if he’d had a weak spot in that wrought iron chest of his it might have hurt.
But he was beyond hurt now.
Beyond feeling.
He was a man with drive, purpose. A man determined to become that which Liri required he be. He was prepared to do what needed to be done to honor his country and his father.
He too had a marriage time line. Though he was able to wait until thirty-five.
He had a prospective bride selected. A beautiful, frosty socialite who had been trained for just such a position.
The very opposite of the explosion that was Tinley Markham. Tinley had been given every advantage that a socialite would have been, but she had always been... Well, she had always been unruly. The only child of Barabbas and Caroline Markham, she had been practically raised on the grounds of the palace. But her positioning as the future wife of his brother had certainly been more about his father’s feelings regarding her father, than it had been about her particular suitability. The engagement had been cemented before Tinley had hit puberty.
And Tinley had... Well, she had worshipped Dionysus openly. And he had thought nothing of her. And why would he? She was a girl, and his brother Dionysus, four years her senior, was a renowned playboy with a voracious appetite for lush women. Blonde and ceramic or raven haired and brown skinned, he didn’t much care. But he’d favored a particular sort. And in mass quantity. He had also favored drink.
It had been viewed as a lark. By his father, by the country. He was lighthearted. A man who knew how to enjoy a party.
Alexius had seen the darker side of Dionysus, even if no one else had.
It would be easy for Alex to name alcohol as the primary culprit in the death of his brother. Dionysus’s obsession with sex and alcohol.
But then, Alex himself had known of those weaknesses in his brother. Had known what weaknesses they were.
And when, at a party where Tinley was in attendance, foxed out of his mind with a doe-eyed beauty clinging to his arm, Dionysus had claimed that he was going into the woods to face the spirits that had taken their brother, Alex should have known it would end badly.
He had known. On some level. For Lazarus had been lost in those same woods two years before Dionysus’s birth and Alex should have had it in the forefront of his mind.
Instead...
Instead, that night, he’d made a different choice. He’d fallen prey to his own weaknesses. He’d sought to appease his own selfish desires. For the first time in his life, he’d truly thought only of himself. Consciously. Willingly.
And it had ended in tragedy.
His father had often said that his remaining sons were two sides of one coin. Their core was the same. Royal and resilient. They had the same golden eyes as their father that had earned him the name Lion of the Dark Wood. One that had become a title, along with King.
But Alex had always been missing the humor. The levity. And Dionysus had loved nothing more. He was named for the god of drink and revelry, after all.
It was their beautiful Greek mother who had named them, and she had done a fair job.
Except Lazarus was dead and wasn’t returning.
And Dionysus’s love of excess had in fact been his demise.
Alexius was simply...
He was simply King. And the rest was rumor, speculation, and in the case of Tinley, an inconvenience.
She held the cat clutched to her chest, and the creature left a gingery trail on her sweatshirt.
“I do hope you washed your hands before you made the pie.”
“It’s a cat friendly house.”
The cat really was enormous. It spilled from Tinley’s arms. “I suggest you find lodging for the beast. For you are returning to the palace with me.”
He would not be ferrying himself back and forth between the palace and this badger’s den she called a home. She was his project and he would have her in a convenient space.
Her eyes went round. “I will do no such thing.”
“Leave your animals?”
“Return with you!”
“You haven’t a choice, Tinley. I will see the stipulations of my father’s last wishes fulfilled, and quickly.”
She frowned. “And if I don’t?”
“I will think nothing of using force, Tinley.”
She frowned yet more deeply. “I am certain you would. All right. I will come. But my animals—”
“You cannot possibly think that you’re bringing that into the royal palace of Liri.”
“I fully think it. Your father had dogs.”
“He did. Dogs that would have...eaten that.”
“Algie is coming with me.”
“Algie,” he repeated, the word dripping with disdain.
