Marrying His Majesty

Right here, right now, her prince was promising to be faithful. To her. While they were married.

Starting now?

‘You’re beautiful, Lily,’ he said softly. ‘You’ve had such a tough time… ’

‘See, that’s just what I don’t want you to think,’ she snapped, confusion fading. ‘That’s what I suddenly realised. Last time you took me to bed… did you do it because you felt sorry for me?’

‘Of course I didn’t.’

‘Then that’s what I’d like to revert to. I remember lying beside you and thinking it was magic. Thinking your body was scrumptious.’

‘Scrumptious,’ he said blankly and then he grinned. ‘I believe that’s what I thought about your body as well,’ he said and the laughter had slammed back.

Shared laughter… That was what had attracted her to him in the first place. A whole lot of other sensations had fallen into line behind that initial attraction—a body to die for, sensations like tenderness, passion and wonder. But laughter had come first and it was laughter that was a refuge here. If they could laugh… Scary emotions could be left for later.

She could be free later on. She could be free when she had to be free. For now… Maybe this was dumb, but his sympathy, his concern, had seemed to unlock something inside her that had never been touched. From swearing she wanted to keep her life for herself and for her son, suddenly she was thinking what if… what if…

‘So you’re promising to keep yourself only unto me all the time we’re married,’ she ventured.

‘I am.’ Flat. Definite. Absolute.

‘So… ’ She swallowed. ‘If we’re to be faithful… ’

‘Mmm.’

‘And if we’re to be… chaste… as well, then we might have a very monastic type of year in front of us.’

‘I’d make a very bad monk,’ he said promptly, laughter returning. He seemed to be willing to go where she was leading. More than willing. ‘I don’t think a tonsure would suit me.’

She looked up at his thick black curls. She tried to imagine what he’d look like with a neat ring of hair and a bald crown.

She chuckled.

‘Not a sexy look,’ he said, smiling his agreement, and she smiled back at him. And wham! Here they came again. Hormones and hormones and more hormones.

But there were things to be said—things that must be said if those hormones were allowed to hold sway.

‘If… if we were to sleep together we’d need to take a lot more precautions than last time,’ she managed, trying not to sound as breathless as she felt.

‘I’ve changed my brand of condom.’

She blinked. He was smiling. He was with her and beyond.

Two could play at that game. ‘I’ve taken precautions, too,’ she said, and watched his eyes crease into surprise and appreciation—and then darken to something more.

‘You’ve taken precautions,’ he said softly.

‘That’s what I said.’

‘You’ve taken precautions already?’

‘Seeing as I was getting married. Seeing as I didn’t trust myself.’ Seeing also as she hadn’t trusted him not to demand his conjugal rights. She’d never dreamed the advance could come from her.

‘I see.’ His hands took hers, gripping warmly, strongly, surely, and the laughter was back again. Laughter and something deeper. ‘So let me get this right. You’re in my house on your wedding night—our wedding night—you look so lovely I can’t believe it and you tell me you came prepared.’

‘That’s not necessarily an invitation,’ she managed, but of course it was. And he was playing her game.

‘It’d be a prince without chivalry who thought it was,’ he said and he tugged her closer. ‘But if it was a prince who was to issue the invitation… ’

‘What… what sort of invitation?’ she managed.

‘A very proper invitation,’ he whispered. His mouth was against her hair. She could feel his breath. It was unbelievably erotic. Unbelievably sexy. ‘Something like: His Majesty, Prince Alexandros Kostantinos Mykonis, Crown Prince of Sappheiros, requests the pleasure of the company of Her Majesty, Princess Lily Mykonis… ’

‘Princess… ’ It was practically a squeak. She swallowed. ‘Um… princess?’

‘That’s what you are as my wife,’ he said into her hair. ‘Whereas Mia is now Queen of nowhere, as the Kingdom of Diamas no longer exists. She’s about to get a very legal letter telling her she has no further right to use the title.’

She gazed at Alex—at her husband—in awe. Thinking of Mia’s reaction.

‘I think you’re wonderful,’ she said before she could help herself, and the world stood still.

His eyes darkened once more. She saw passion flare and burn. ‘So this invitation I’m thinking of issuing… ’ he murmured.

‘When?’ she asked, still breathless, but no longer worrying about an irrelevant thing like breathing.

‘I’m getting to that,’ he said reprovingly. ‘Patience, my love. Official invites take time. I need to melt the wax for the seal… Oh, I’ll have to find some wax. You don’t happen to have a candle about you?’

‘I don’t believe I do. And I certainly don’t have time to search for one.’

‘You don’t?’

‘Not the way I’m feeling.’

‘So… ’ His hold tightened. ‘If I were to send this invitation without an official seal… If I were to request an RSVP by return post… ’

‘You might get it faster than you expected.’

‘Really?’

‘Really,’ she whispered. ‘Right about… now.’

‘Now?’ His hands were in the small of her back, tugging her closer, closer. ‘Now, my love?’

‘Maybe,’ she whispered.

‘And what might this RSVP say?’

‘Ooh,’ she whispered. ‘I’d have to think about it.’

‘Think fast.’

She thought fast. She could think without breathing. ‘I guess it’d say something along the lines of: Her Majesty, Princess Lily Sophia Mykonis, is delighted to receive the very gracious invitation of said prince and accepts with pleasure.’

‘Does she just.’ She could feel his pleasure. She could feel his heat. The world outside had ceased to exist. There was only each other.

How had they done it? How had they turned a sedate domestic scene—feeding her baby—into passion, just like that?

But there was no mistaking what had happened. Her knees felt distinctly wobbly, but there was no longer a need for them to stay firm. Alex was sweeping her up into his arms, holding her against him, his dark eyes possessing her, loving her, wanting her.

Her prince.

‘About place and time… ’ he murmured.

‘Subject to negotiation, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Okay, let’s negotiate. First factor—time. Is now okay with you?’

‘I don’t believe I have any pressing appointments.’

‘Excellent.’ His dark eyes gleamed. ‘Place?’

‘Maybe not here,’ she said, somewhat reluctantly.

‘We might corrupt our son,’ he said, and those two words… our son… were so sexy that her insides felt quivery along with her knees. All of her felt quivery.

‘See that adjoining door?’ he murmured, and she looked up and saw the door and her eyes widened.

‘You don’t mean… ’

‘I do mean.’ He was laughing again. She loved it when he laughed.

‘You had this planned!’

‘I did not,’ he said, wounded. ‘But, as a good father, I thought I might be expected to take a turn at night duty. I thought if I was to lie awake at night listening for my son then I’d need to be near. Really near. So I allocated you this apartment.’

‘You’re saying your bed is right through that door?’

‘Right through that door. If it’s grand enough for you.’

‘I can make do,’ she said serenely. ‘But I don’t mind a bit of glitz. The last time I… The last time we made love, I believe you were sleeping at the castle. Under a chandelier, if I remember correctly.’

‘I was there as my uncle’s heir,’ he said. ‘He liked glitz. He also expected me to act as his deputy, so I was on duty.’

‘But you’re not on duty now.’

‘I’m delegating responsibility to my son.’ He grinned. ‘I like the idea of delegating. If there’s armed insurrection before the morning, Michales is responsible for waking me up and ringing the newspapers.’

She choked.

‘I love it when you laugh,’ he whispered and it was so much what she was thinking that she gasped.

‘What?’ he demanded.

‘I guess… laughter from you is a real turn-on as well,’ she admitted.

‘You like it when I laugh?’

‘I love it when you laugh.’

‘So we should find ourselves a good piece of slapstick on television?’

‘We could,’ she said cautiously.

‘But I can think of something better,’ he growled and he walked across and kicked the door open. It wasn’t even properly closed, Lily thought, and she couldn’t figure whether she was shocked or delighted.

But then she thought again. Definitely delighted. For Alex was carrying her across to his bed and laying her on the counterpane as if she were the most exquisite thing he’d ever touched.

‘I’m sorry there’s no chandelier,’ he whispered.

‘I can cope. As long as there’s laughter,’ she said, breathless again. When he looked like that…

It was still too soon, the sane part of her brain whispered. Sense said she needed to taste freedom first.

But not now. Not when the rest of her brain was disagreeing. Not as he was tugging his shirt free, baring his chest, making her gasp…

‘Laughter,’ he said, agreeing. Smiling and smiling. ‘Okay, my love, here we go. Two sausages in a pan. One turns to the other and says, “Gee, it’s hot in here.” What does the other one say?’

He was loving her with his eyes. He was smiling down at her with that wicked, laughing smile—and he was waiting for an answer to his dumb riddle. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered, choking with laughter and something else entirely. ‘What does the other one say?’

‘“Bless my soul, it’s a talking sausage!”’ he said, and he grinned like a seven-year-old cracking his first riddle. It was so ridiculous she found herself laughing with him.

While hungering for him with every nerve in her body.

And then he was beside her on the bed, lifting her T-shirt over her head. Unclipping her bra.

‘But it’s not just the sausage who’s hot,’ he whispered, laughter fading, his strong, skilful fingers moving to cup her breasts. ‘Lily, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. You give yourself to me and I can’t believe that you do. I’ll never let you forget it. But now, my love… Now is for us. Now is for laughter. Now is for loving. And if we try very hard… ’ He closed his eyes and she had a feeling he was taking a mighty step forward. ‘Now might just end up being forever.’

Only forever had a habit of being not as long as expected.

In Athens, a plane was landing. A private jet. A woman emerged. She stood on the tarmac and surveyed the scene before her. Deeply displeased.

There was no one to meet her. Olivia had needed to barter with her daughter to get this flight. Mia had grudgingly arranged for Ben’s plane to bring her here. The negotiations had made her seethe. While her daughters lived in splendour, she had to fend for herself.

Okay, maybe she would have done the same if she’d been her daughters’ age, she conceded. Maybe she had. But for Lily to forget she was her mother… Not even to invite her to her wedding…

Some things were unconscionable. Sometimes a gentle reminder was needed.

Or a big one.

She made her way into the terminal, went through Customs—like a mere mortal, she thought savagely—and then thought of what to do next.

A private plane to Sappheiros was out of the question. Unless…

Unless the press came to the party. Which they would. She simply had to open her mouth and tell them who she was.

Mother of the Queen. Mother of the Crown Princess.

She’d done very well for her girls.

She now intended Lily to acknowledge it.

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