The Princess's Forbidden Lover

by Clare Connelly

  Cleaners. Palace. Couture suits. It was all a very different world, and one he had no interest in having closer associations with than this article made necessary.

  “You should go get changed.”

  “Yes. I brought clothes in your bag.”

  He nodded towards the door; he’d brought what little things they had when he’d come in earlier. That included the groceries from Harry’s. “There’s a bathroom through there,” he nodded towards the doorway she’d seen earlier. “Though it’s hardly luxurious. Why don’t you freshen up and I’ll fix us something to eat.”

  Lilah nodded. “Great.”

  Despite the ravaged state of her outfit, she walked with elegant poise towards the bag and crouched down neatly to unzip it. She laughed softly as she pulled the first dress she laid her hands on from beside his laptop. It was one of her favourites: a black jersey with long sleeves and a bell skirt. She usually teamed it with a vintage Harry Winston choker and a pair of bejeweled pumps.

  “You could have told me how unsuitable my clothes were.”

  “You wouldn’t have had time to buy anything else,” he assured her. “You’ll be fine.”

  She shook her head as she stood. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  “Take your time.”

  Lilah closed the door to the bathroom with relief. She sagged against it, her breathing off-kilter, her mind swimming. She wasn’t sure what had got into her, but she felt like a young girl on the brink of her first kiss. Which, she thought with a small grin, was exactly what she was.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “There are toothbrushes under the sink.” His voice came through the door at the exact moment Lilah was staring at her face in despair. She’d washed as best she could. But the water in the bathroom was as icy as the water in the kitchen, once she finally got it running, and the most she could entice herself to do was splash her face a few times and use a flannel to pat down her body. She was covered in goosebumps, shivering from head to toe.

  “Th-th-thank you.” She stammered back, her teeth chattering in a way she’d always presumed cartoonists had invented. Her hands shook as she slipped her underwear on, then pulled the dress over her head. It provided some relief, but nowhere nearly enough.

  Lilah hadn’t packed any make up. There hadn’t been any time, and she hadn’t known then that she’d be away from her usual supplies for longer than a few hours.

  With a shake of her head, she ran her fingers through her hair, neatening it a little before pinning it into a low bun at her nape. Still, her teeth chattered. She jumped on the spot to warm up and rubbed her hands together.

  Nothing helped.

  The room itself was right on the edge of the cabin, and the large window overlooking the forest might have been stunningly picturesque in the summer. However on a wintry morning such as this, it acted as a refrigeration panel.

  Her fingers fumbled as she opened the cupboard.

  There was indeed a box full of toothbrushes, still in the store packaging. There was also some floss, paste, and a reasonably pedestrian looking jar of unopened moisturizer. With a sound of triumph, she unscrewed the lid and rubbed a small amount into her cheeks and forehead, then concentrated on brushing her teeth.

  By the time she braced herself to return to the main room of the cabin she was looking much more like her usual self, though she wasn’t sure her internal temperature would ever return to normal.

  “Oh.” She paused just outside the threshold, spinning to admire the room. “You’ve done so much!”

  His eyes slanted in her direction, and despite the appraisal he wanted to indulge in he was careful to give little away.

  “You lit the fire!” She exclaimed, moving towards it quickly. “Thank goodness. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been this cold my whole life. I had no idea what cold really was until now.”

  “The fire’ll kick in soon enough.”

  “I’m sure.” She stood before it, wishing she could sit on the floor and let the heat wrap around her like a blanket.

  “Here.” He stalked towards her with that inimitable style of his – pure laid-back athleticism – a mug in hand. “Why don’t you sit down and have some … tea. Seeing as you have such a predilection for the drink.”

  Her smile was a ghostly imitation. “I’ll stand. I’d like to stay as close as possible to the fire without actually being in it.”

  He grinned. “Here.”

  She took the proffered mug with true gratitude.

  “You can just grab a spot on the floor. I swept it all, remember?”

  “That’s fine,” she shook her head.

  “Right.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess princesses don’t sit on the floor. Let me grab you a chair.”

  Something in his tone fired a spirit of rebellion in her gut. “Ordinarily, that’s true. But then again, yesterday was the first time I’ve ever dangled off a high rise from a rope.”

  She settled herself onto the floor, folding her legs neatly beneath her. She was the epitome of elegant grace, but positioned as she was, she looked almost child-like.

  “I’ve put a tin of soup on to heat. I know it’s not exactly breakfast fare …”

  “It will be lovely,” she promised, her stomach making a little groan of complaint. “We didn’t eat dinner.”

  “No, we didn’t.”

  “I’m sorry. I seem to have caused you quite a degree of inconvenience.”

  “Just my standing reservation at Lin Lee Chin’s,” he said with a shake of his head.

  “A restaurant?”

  He laughed. “Not really. More of a small fast food outlet. Very authentic. The best Chinese you’ve ever eaten. I go every Tuesday.”

  Lilah pushed aside the sharp sense of envy. What must it be like to have such rituals and independence?

  “Did you carry me inside last night?”

  His eyes were faintly mocking. “Well, Princess, you were asleep by the time we got here.”

  He sat down on the floor beside her. It was a perfectly normal gesture but Lilah found the proximity instantly jarring. She might have wriggled a little away if she weren’t worried it would make too much of a big deal out of the simple action.

  “It was either that or leave you in the car all night. Wild horses stampeding past wouldn’t have woken you.”

  Her smile was distracted. “I must have been tired. I’m usually a light sleeper.”

  “You were out cold.”

  “Well, thank you.”

  The utterance was stiff. It fascinated Will how she could go from charming-bordering-on-flirtatious to ice-cold-princess in the blink of an eye.

  “I hope you weren’t too uncomfortable on the floor.”

  “I’ve slept on worse floors.”

  She nodded, and sipped the tea. For lack of milk, he’d prepared it black, but Lilah didn’t mind.

  “You’ve been stationed overseas for several years,” she prompted, trying to recall the information Kiral had furnished her with in order to convince her to go through with the interview.

  “Seven years,” he rubbed his jaw. “Feels like seven months.”

  “Where exactly?”

  “All over. Nigeria, Malawi, Iraq, Tel-Aviv, Brussels briefly, Delani, then back to Iraq.”

  “That’s where you met Ki?”

  “No. I met your brother in Brussels. He was there to sign a peace accord and I was covering it at the time.”

  She frowned. “I adore my brother, but he has as little time for journalists as I do.” She speared him with her smile. “No offence.”

  “None taken. It’s a double-edged sword for families like yours. You court the media because it helps to further your causes and to keep you popular, but the attention can be intrusive.”

  “Yes. We are fortunate that in Delani the media is very respectful of our boundaries.”

  “That’s not good fortune,” he interjected softly. “It’s the law. And it’s a law that carries severe consequences if it’s broken.
”

  “You make it sound as though it’s some incursion against freedom of press.”

  “Placing strictures on what journalists may or may not cover is exactly that,” he pointed out levelly.

  “There are no such strictures. Journalists are free to write what they wish. What they are not allowed to do is trail about behind us looking for unflattering photographs.” She pressed a finger into his chest, warming to the theme of defending her country. “Do you know something? The only time I am ever hounded like that is when I travel to New York or London. These two cities I find quite atrocious. I have often felt almost unsafe to find that just I, and perhaps one or two bodyguards, are surrounded by maybe fifteen men with cameras and cars and motorbikes.”

  “Paparazzi are not journalists,” he shrugged, not wanting to stop arguing with her in case she removed her finger. The contact was fascinating, though he knew she had no intention of doing anything other than making a point.

  “No, but they sell their photographs to reputable papers who don’t hesitate to print them. And often fabricate a story to explain them, with scant regard for how closely their words mimic –or don’t – the truth.” She shook her head, pointing her finger to his chest with renewed firmness. “And our laws do not only protect the royal family. No one can be photographed in their own home without their permission. People have a right to privacy. In restaurants, theaters, streets. It is not right that simply by being born into this family I am seen to sacrifice those personal rights.”

  When he smiled, it dazzled Lilah and his eyes sparked directly with hers. She realised that she’d been leaning forward, touching him, speaking passionately. Such behavior was completely inappropriate. She pulled back sharply, putting some vital distance between them.

  “I didn’t mean to speak so strongly,” she murmured, sipping her tea and averting her gaze.

  “It’s not shameful to speak passionately about something that’s important to you.”

  “No.” She swallowed. “Of course it isn’t. But I know you feel exactly as I do. So I don’t need to convince you, right?”

  “Right.” His eyes bore into hers in a speculative way, as though he was trying to make sense of all the things she’d ever said to him. His attention was like the wattage of the sun, but it made her uncomfortable because he looked at her as no one else ever had.

  Every fibre of her being was prickling with a wholly new kind of awareness. She felt that she could almost hear his breathing, and feel his heart beating, all from the intensity of how he stared at her.

  “So level with me, now that we’re here in the wilderness with no one but the birds for company. This marriage of Kiral’s …”

  Lilah straightened instantly. “Which you are determined to find fault with.”

  He shrugged. “I guess it just seems like madness. They’re not in love.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Because of how he speaks. It’s purely business.”

  “You’re wrong.” Her cheeks flushed and at his look of sardonic disbelief she lifted a hand to his chest once more. “Not about the love, though if you repeat that I will deny it. Have you heard the story of The First Sheikh of Delani?”

  Her hand was warm. He liked the way it felt on his chest. “No,” he lied, simply because he wanted to hear her repeat the famous myth.

  “It is one of the most sacred texts of my people. It is long. But essentially, we believe inherently that the prosperity of Delani is intrinsically linked with the lineage of my family. When a King does not have a living heir, there is a growing sense of apprehension.”

  “Even now, in the twenty first century?” He murmured, careful to flatten mockery from his tone.

  “Oh, yes. Absolutely. My brother has delayed for years longer than, perhaps, he ought to have.”

  “Why?” Will pushed, his journalist’s instincts sensing more to the situation than Lilah was explaining.

  “Melania wanted to study at college. She is a very bright and driven woman. He felt it appropriate to wait.”

  Will nodded, though he wasn’t sure he believed that to be a sufficient explanation. “And you?” He prompted, his eyes dropping to her lips. Hot need flashed through him, unmistakable and unwarranted.

  “Me?” She repeated, pulling her hand away and placing it in her lap. She stared at it.

  “Is there a similar pressure on you to marry? To produce a perfect little royal baby?”

  He was fascinated at the expressions that chased across her face, visible even in profile. “Yes.” A succinct answer given the turmoil that he guessed she was feeling.

  “And? Who’s the lucky man?” Desire was replaced by a slick welling of jealousy. It flared inside of him and he marveled at the emotion.

  “No one, yet.” Her smile was lopsided. “There is not the pressure on me that there is on Ki. And he is several years my senior.” She shrugged. “Nonetheless, at some point …”

  “At some point,” he nodded, wondering how he could be so invested in the future of a woman he barely knew.

  “I …” Her tongue darted out as she licked her lower lip. “What’s it like outside?”

  It was the clunkiest conversation change of her life. She could have winced at how juvenile it sounded. But he had the good grace not to roll his eyes.

  “It’s beautiful. We’ll eat and then go for a walk, if you’d like. Find somewhere to resurrect the bird’s nest.”

  “A walk?” She blinked, as memories of her childhood came back to her. When was the last time she’d walked anywhere without a handful of bodyguards? When was the last time she’d walked for pleasure instead of for the purpose of getting from one appointment to another?

  “Yeah. You know, you put one foot in front of the other until you’ve covered as much ground as you want?”

  She laughed. “I haven’t walked for fun in … well, since I was a child.”

  He studied her. Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, he wondered about her life. The gilded cage she must have been raised in. Had it been as miserable for her as he would have found it?

  “You, on the other hand, look so at home out here,” she heard herself remarking.

  “Do I?”

  “Did you grow up somewhere like this?”

  “A cabin in the middle of nowhere?” He teased, pushing to his feet and holding his hands down for her.

  “I’m fine,” she demurred, instinctively resisting the contact. Her hand was still tingling from where she’d pressed it against his chest. There was danger in physical contact with this man. “No, just … somewhere woodsy.”

  “Woodsy?” He laughed. “My house was a few streets away from Harry’s. But my folks had a cabin a bit like this. We used to spend summer’s there.”

  “So you have done this before.”

  “Brought a billionaire princess to a derelict cabin on the edge of an almost-frozen lake? Nope. Never checked that box in my life.”

  She couldn’t help the smile that danced on her lips. She realised that she smiled a lot around this man. “You know what I find unusual?”

  “Many things, I’d imagine.”

  “Perhaps.” She watched as he lifted two bowls out of the pantry and wiped them with paper towels. He began to ladle the soup into them. The smell was heaven-sent. Lilah’s stomach clenched with sharp hunger. “But I meant how strange it is that I am not completely freaking out right now.”

  “Why would you be?”

  “Well, for a start, I still don’t really know why you whisked me away from the building.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Right. Beyond your as-yet unfounded suspicions, I mean.” She shook her head ruefully. “And I don’t have my phone. And I have no idea how my security agents are reacting to my disappearance. For all we know there’s a massive hunt on for us, and yet … out here … I don’t know. Nothing else seems real.”

  He nodded. “It’s the magic of the wilderness.”

  “It is magical,
” she agreed quietly. Her eyes drifted to the window. The daylight had broken with a milky softness, yolking into the valley hesitantly almost, as though anxious to disturb the magic of the night. “There seems to be no need for time here.”

  “It’s a slice out of life.”

  “Yes! That’s exactly it.”

  He slid a bowl of soup towards her and Lilah toyed with the spoon. “Do you see Harry often?”

  He frowned as he lifted some soup into his mouth. “Not as often as I should.”

  “You speak as though you owe him an obligation.”

  Will’s eyes were thoughtful as they studied Lilah’s beautiful face. He had been wrong to think that the cosmetics she wore made her seem regal.

  Her bearing was regal.

  Everything about her was elegant and graceful. Even the way her fingers lightly gripped the spoon as she lifted it to her lips seemed to be a divine act.

  She swallowed the liquid and compressed her lips. “It’s not bad,” she said, thinking longingly of the almond croissants she liked to start her day with while abroad.

  “It’s food,” he laughed.

  “Does Harry have any family?” She returned to her line of questioning.

  “Why do you care?” He softened the rude question with a smile. Her tummy flipped.

  “I liked him,” she said simply. “But I felt a profound sadness in his home.”

  “You felt it?” Will teased to hide the astuteness of her observation.

  “Yes. Sadness and grief were palpable.”

  Will had a little more of his soup and then placed the spoon in the bowl. “Harry’s wife died years ago. I never knew her.”

  “Did they have any children?”

  He nodded, wondering why his instinct was to talk openly to Lilah when he rarely spoke on this matter. “A girl. Maddie. She … she died eight years ago.”

  “That’s a tragedy. And so it’s just Harry?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How did she die?”

  “Maddie?” He swallowed, pushing down on the familiar sense of panic. “She was picking up some groceries from the store when a guy went on a shooting rampage. Seven people died that day, including Maddie.”

  “That is appalling,” Lilah murmured, her face pale. “What a waste of life.”