The King's Convenient Bride / The Illegitimate Prince's Baby: The King's Convenient Bride

Leave it to Sophie to know exactly which of his buttons to push. From the moment she was born, she had made it her mission in life to torment him, as sisters often did.

“She’s the real deal. But you already know that, don’t you? That’s why you’re so determined to keep her at arm’s length.”

She couldn’t be more wrong. He was doing Hannah a favor. But Sophie would never understand that. “You’re in no position to give me relationship advice. Who did you run off with the other night, Sophie?”

Her smug smile was all the answer he needed.

“You’re coming to a family dinner tomorrow night,” she told him. “You and Hannah, at my residence.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

Though he was inclined to refuse, for no reason other than the fact that she demanded it, he realized it was probably a good idea. Were Hannah to befriend Sophie, she might be less unsettled in his absence. She had looked utterly crushed when he refused her dinner invitation. He liked Hannah, and he didn’t want her to be unhappy. But he couldn’t change the person he was.

“All right,” he told Sophie.

She looked surprised. “Really? And here I was all prepared to pull out the brass knuckles.”

He would have guessed as much. But, after the heated disagreement he’d just had with the prime minister, he simply wasn’t in the mood for another fight. “What time would you like us?”

“Seven o’clock. And bring a bottle of wine. In fact, bring a red and a white. I’m making roast leg of lamb.”

“You’re making it? Well, I’ll be sure to bring a bottle of antacid, too. And perhaps I should put the palace physician on high alert as well. Just in case.”

Pleased that she had gotten her way, she ignored the jab. Besides, she knew as well as he did that the insult was unfounded. She had trained at one of the most prestigious culinary academies in all of Europe, and was an accomplished, gifted chef. It was a passion that had been vehemently discouraged by their parents. But Sophie somehow always managed to get what she wanted.

It both annoyed and impressed him.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow then,” she said.

He kept his face bland. “I can hardly contain my excitement.”

She only smiled.

“Is that it?” he asked.

“I suppose you noticed Madeline on Monday.”

The mystery woman Hannah had asked him about. Of course he’d noticed her. She would have been hard to miss, staring at them the way she had been. “What about her?”

“It would seem she’s back to her old tricks.”

“Forgive me if don’t shudder with fear.” Madeline was of no consequence to him or Hannah, which was why he hadn’t felt the need to explain who she was. She was nobody.

“You know how she can be. Anything to get attention.”

“And confronting her would only feed that need. She’ll get bored and find someone else to antagonize.”

“She could do some damage in the meantime.”

He seriously doubted that. “Is there anything else you needed?”

Sophie shook her head, obviously exasperated with him. “Does your fiancée have the slightest clue how difficult you can be?”

He didn’t respond.

“So, I’ll see you both tomorrow evening?”

“We’ll be there.”

She flashed him one of those cryptic, I-know-something-you-don’t smiles. One that made him uneasy. Then she was gone.

Forget Madeline. Sophie was the one he should be worried about. This whole dinner scenario seemed a bit too…domestic for her taste. Why did he suspect that there was more to this than she was letting on?

Hannah had just finished a quiet dinner alone in her suite, a meal she’d had little appetite for, when Elizabeth knocked on the door.

“You should have left hours ago,” Hannah scolded her. She may have been a palace employee, but for heaven’s sake, she needed a life of her own outside of work. It seemed as though she was always there.

“I was just finishing up a few things,” Elizabeth told her. “I was on my way out when a call came in for you.”

“Who is it?” She was hoping maybe a friend from back home. God knows she could use a friendly voice right now.

“It’s your mother,” Elizabeth said, then added, “Again.”

This was the fourth call since Hannah left Seattle. Hadn’t her mother gotten the message that Hannah wasn’t ready to talk to her? She was still too bitter and angry. It was very possible, if Hannah talked to her in her current state of mind, she might say something she would later regret. Like she had the last time they spoke.

“Tell her I’ll call her back.”

“She said it was urgent.”

She would say just about anything to get Hannah’s attention. To get her to come to the phone.

“She sounded upset,” Elizabeth added.

Hannah felt a slight jerk of alarm. She remembered the last urgent call from her mother. She had been in the university library studying for exams, so engrossed she almost didn’t answer her phone, when it buzzed in her pocket. And when she heard her mother’s distraught voice, her heart sank.

Sweetheart, you need to come home. Daddy was in an accident….

But he was gone now, and she couldn’t imagine anything urgent enough to warrant a return call. “I’ll call her tomorrow.”

Elizabeth didn’t say a word, but she had this look. Not quite disapproval, because a palace employee would never be so bold as to disapprove of anything a royal did or said. It was more the lack of emotion that was giving her away. It was obvious she was trying very hard not to react. Or maybe it was Hannah’s own guilty conscience nagging at her. Either way, Hannah knew exactly what she was thinking.

And she was right, of course. “I know, that’s what I said yesterday. So technically, today is tomorrow. Right?”

“That is true,” Elizabeth agreed.

“You think I should call her, don’t you?”

“It’s not my place to pass judgment.”

Maybe not, but Hannah was pretty sure that’s what she was thinking. And the truth was, her mother wasn’t likely to stop calling. Not until Hannah gave her the opportunity to apologize for her inappropriate behavior these past few months.

Maybe it would be best, to ease her mother’s guilt and Hannah’s, if they cleared the air. And besides, it was what Daddy would have wanted. Hannah had always been more like him than her mother. So many times her father had told her, “Your mother isn’t like us, Hannah. She’s fragile. You just have to be patient.”

But sometimes her mother could be so insecure and vulnerable it had been difficult even for her. Not that she was a bad person. She needed constant reassurance that she was loved and appreciated. At times her neediness was utterly exhausting.

“My lady?” Elizabeth was watching her expectantly.

Hannah sighed, knowing what she had to do. Knowing that, for her father’s sake, she had to settle this. “I’ll talk to her.”

“She’s on line two,” Elizabeth said. Then, ever the proper assistant, nodded and slipped quietly from the room, shutting the door behind her.

Hannah walked over to the phone, hesitating a minute before she finally lifted it off the cradle and pressed the button for line two. “Hello, Mother.”

“Oh, Hannah, honey! It’s so good to hear your voice!”

Hannah wished she could say the same, but right now the sound of her mother’s voice, that syrupy sweetness, was just irritating. “How have you been?”

“Oh, fine. But I’ve missed you so much. I was afraid you wouldn’t come to the phone again.”

“You said it was urgent.”

“How have you been? How do you like it there?”

“Everything is fine here.” If she discounted the fact that her fiancé had taken off the minute she arrived. Or that he refused to share dinner with her.

“I’ve been very busy,” she told her mother.

“Is the palace beautiful? And is Phillip as gorgeous as I remember?”

She was stalling. Hannah wished she would just say what she had to say and get it over with. “The palace and Phillip are exactly the same as the last time you saw them. Now, I’d like you to tell me what was so urgent.”

“Can’t I have a pleasant conversation with my daughter?”

Sadly, no. She had shot any chance of that all to hell with her selfishness. “It’s late, and I’m tired.”

“Okay, okay.” She bubbled with phony laughter. “I’ll get to the point.”

Thank goodness. Just apologize and get it over with already.

“Now, Hannah, I don’t want you to get upset…”

Oh, this was not a good sign. That didn’t sound anything like an apology. “Upset about what?”

“I called because I have some good news.”

“Okay.” Spit it out already.

“Keep December thirtieth open on your calendar.”

Oh, no.

“Why?” she forced herself to ask, even though she already suspected what was coming next.

Dreaded it, in fact.

“Because I’m getting married!”

“Married?”

“Now, honey, I know what you’re thinking—”

“Daddy has been gone barely a year!”

“Hannah, please, you’re not being fair.”

“Fair?”

“A year is a long time when you’re alone.”

It was the same song and dance she’d fed Hannah three months after his death, when she’d gone out on her first date. I’m lonely, she’d told Hannah. What she didn’t seem to get is that she had just lost her husband, therefore she was supposed to be lonely. She was supposed to mourn his death, not take the first opportunity to run out and find a replacement.

“Please don’t be angry, Hannah.”

“Who is he?”

“No one you know. He owns a small law firm outside of Seattle. But you’ll love him, honey.”

No, she wouldn’t. No one could replace her father. Ever. And if her mother honestly believed someone could, she was more oblivious than Hannah could have imagined.

“I was thinking, I could bring him to your wedding. So you could meet him.”

She didn’t want to meet him. “For security reasons, that won’t be possible.”

“Please give him a chance. He’s such a sweet, generous man. And he loves me.”

Hannah was sure that what he probably loved was the substantial estate her father had left behind. “You say that like Daddy didn’t love you. Or is it that you didn’t love him?”

“That’s unfair. You know that I loved your father very much.” There was a quiver in her voice that said she was on the verge of tears. No big surprise there. She often used tears to win sympathy. But Hannah wasn’t buying it this time.

“Then why are you so eager to replace him?”

“You’ve gone on with your life. I should be allowed to go on with my life, too.”

It wasn’t the same thing and she knew it. Besides, Hannah wasn’t out trying to find a new father, was she? “And so you have, Mom. You don’t need my permission.”

“No, but I would like your blessing.”

“I really need to go now.”

“Hannah, please—”

“We’ll talk about this when you’re here next week,” she said.

“I love you, honey.”

“Goodbye, Mom.” She could hear her mother still talking as she set the phone back in the cradle. But if she stayed on the line any longer, she would have wound up saying something she regretted.

There was nothing she could do or say to change her mother’s mind. She had obviously made her decision. And since Hannah had no control over the situation, there was no point in wasting her time worrying about it.

She had other things to keep her occupied. Wedding plans and redecorating, and hours of reading to do. She didn’t need her mother anymore.

She sat on the sofa, surrounded with binders full of information to read, color swatches and wallpaper samples to choose from, last-minute wedding plans to tie up. But she couldn’t seem to work up the enthusiasm for any of it.

She felt too…edgy.

Hannah decided a long, hot bath with her lavender bath gel might relax her. Afterward she towel-dried her hair and changed into her most comfortable cotton pajamas. She curled up in bed to watch television, browsing past the gazillion channels available, but there wasn’t a thing on that held her interest.

She snapped the television off and tossed the remote on the coverlet. She was bored silly, yet she didn’t feel like doing anything.

Hannah glanced over at the closet door, where Phillip’s jacket hung. She had planned to give it back to him tomorrow. But what if he’d forgotten he’d lent it to her, and was wondering where he’d left it.

Yeah right. She just wanted an excuse to see him. Which in itself was silly because he was her fiancé. She shouldn’t need an excuse to see him. Right? If she wanted to see him, she should just…see him. Shouldn’t she?

Yes, she decided. She should.

Before she lost her nerve, she rolled out of bed and grabbed her robe, shoving her arms in the sleeves and belting it securely at her waist. She stuck her feet in her slippers, grabbed Phillip’s jacket, and headed out into the hall.

His suite was all the way down the main hall at the opposite end of the east wing. She had never actually been there, but it had been part of the tour Elizabeth took her on earlier in the week.

When she reached his door, she lifted her hand to knock, then hesitated, drawing it back.

What was she doing? Begging for his attention? Was she really so pathetic? Had she so little pride? Wasn’t she stronger than that?

She turned to walk back the way she came from, but hesitated again.

On second thought, why shouldn’t she stop by to give him his jacket? He was her fiancé, wasn’t he? And damn it, she had worked hard to prepare herself for her role as his wife. Didn’t she deserve a little something in return? Was a little bit of his time really all that much to ask for?

No, she decided, it definitely was not.

She turned back, and before she could talk herself out of it again, rapped hard on the door.

Seven

Get a grip, Hannah, she told herself, since her heart was about to pound clear through her chest. It’s not like he’s naked.

But darn close.

A pair of Egyptian cotton pajama bottoms rode low on Phillip’s hips as he opened the door. Other than that, all she was able to comprehend, to process, was the ridiculous amount of muscle she was seeing.

Wide, ripped shoulders and bulging biceps. Lean hips and toned, defined abs. And she could only imagine what was under the pajamas. In fact, she was imagining it.

She was so stunned silly by his perfect physique, it took a moment to register that he was speaking to her.

She peeled her eyes from his flawless pecks, located his face, and uttered a very eloquent, “Huh?”

Amusement danced in the depth of his eyes. “I said, is there something wrong?”

“Wrong?”

“Why are you here?”

Think, Hannah. Why did you come all the way down here? Then she remembered the jacket still hanging from her left hand. “No. Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to give this back to you.”

She held the jacket out to him, and he took it.

“Is that it?” he asked.

“Yes.” She shook her head. “No.”

He leaned in the door frame, arms folded across his chest, waiting patiently for her to elaborate. And, boy, were his biceps huge. So thick and strong looking, like he could probably bench-press a compact car and not break a sweat.

Did it suddenly get a lot hotter in here? Her cheeks were on fire and she was feeling just a little light-headed.

What was wrong with her? It wasn’t as if she had never seen a half-naked man before.

The biggest problem here wasn’t that she was wary of what she was seeing. Instead, she felt a very real and intense desire—no, not desire, need—to put her hands all over him.

She locked them together behind her back. Just to be safe.

“Are you all right?” he asked, though he looked more amused than concerned.

“Yes. I just…” She shook her head again. “No. I’m not.”

“Maybe you should come in.” He opened the door wider and stepped aside.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this, she told herself. Their wedding was still more than a week away. It was one thing to flirt and steal a kiss here and there, but going into his suite, at this late hour. In her pajamas. And Phillip almost naked.

She was really pushing it.

So you just won’t let anything happen, she decided. It’s not as though she was a slave to her libido.

She had waited this long. She could wait a little while longer.

But the question was, could Phillip? And if he took matters into his own hands, would she find the strength to stop him?

Bad idea or not, she followed him inside. His sitting room was much larger than her own, and closer to the size of the one they would be moving into after the wedding. And it was undeniably masculine. Dark polished wood and dark patterned fabric in rich hues. But not so dark that it was dreary or threatening. In contrast, the effect was warm and welcoming.

“This is nice,” she said, ideas popping into her head of how she might incorporate both his and her individual styles to create a decor they could both be comfortable in.

See, she told herself, coming here was a good thing.

“So, what’s up?” he asked.

She turned to him, with every intention of meeting his eyes, but her gaze kept snagging slightly lower.

“Hannah?”

She pried her eyes from his torso and met his gaze. He was grinning again.

“If it would help get the conversation rolling, I could put on a shirt.”

Though she knew he was only teasing, her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“No apology necessary. I’m flattered. But maybe you should tell me what’s wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“I asked if you were okay, and you said no.”

Had she? My goodness, he must have thought she was a total ditz. Now that she was here, she had no idea what to say to him. So she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “My mother called.”

He didn’t seem to get the significance. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, she just…” Her voice cracked, and she realized, with horror, that tears burned the corners of her eyes. What was wrong with her? She was not a crier. She was tougher than that. Besides, she wasn’t that upset. More angry than sad.

“She just what?” he asked.

“She’s—” A half hiccup, half sob, worked its way up her throat and she battled to swallow it back down. “She’s getting married.”

Despite her resolve, the instant the words left her lips, the tears welled up over the edges of her lids and rolled down her cheeks. Mortified, she covered her face with her hands.

What was wrong with her? She should be spitting mad, not blubbering like a baby.

Then she felt Phillip’s arms go around her, draw her against him, and something inside her seemed to snap. Every bit of tension and anger that had built inside her let go in a limb-weakening rush and she all but melted against him.

“You think it’s too soon?” he asked. “For your mother to remarry, I mean.”

Because she wasn’t sure her voice was steady enough for a verbal reply, she nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. Just knowing he was there for her if she needed him was enough right now.

He didn’t say anything else. He just held her and stroked her hair. She held on tight, her face pressed to his warm, bare skin, and concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths, until she felt the tears begin to work their way back down. Apparently, this was exactly what she’d needed. How did he always seem to know exactly what to do and say to make her feel better?

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For barging in on you like this. And getting all wishy-washy and emotional.”

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t usually do this. I’m not a crier. It…it’s just been a really stressful couple of days.”

“I can imagine.”

“Bringing the jacket back was just an excuse,” she admitted, and could swear she felt him smile.

“I know.”

She looked up at him. Of all the women in the world that he could have had, why did he pick her? “I guess I just… I guess I was lonely.”

He touched her cheek, brushing away the last remnants of the tears with his thumb.

“All day I have appointments and meetings, and sometimes I just can’t wait to be alone, to have a minute to myself. But then, when I’m finally alone, I feel so…isolated. Does that make sense?”

“Trust me, I know exactly what you mean. And you get used to it. I promise.”

Maybe she didn’t want to get used to it. She wanted them to be a regular family. She wanted it so bad she ached deep in her heart.

“I was going to wait until tomorrow to tell you this,” he said. “My sister invited us to dinner at her residence tomorrow evening.”

“Really?”

“I hope you don’t mind, but I told her we would be there.”

Mind? She was absolutely ecstatic. They would finally share a meal together. Like a real family. Not to mention that she had been eager to get to know her future sister-in-law. “I would love to.”

She was so happy, she nearly burst into tears again. Instead, she rose up on her toes and kissed him. Just a quick, sweet kind of kiss, so he would know how much it meant to her.

But it felt so nice, so…perfect, she kissed him again. This one lasting just a little longer than the first. She felt his arms tighten around her, the flex of his back where her hands rested.

And because the second one was even better than the first, she kissed him again.

And again.

And then she couldn’t stop.

Phillip had Hannah exactly where he wanted her. Her body pressed against him, her arms circling his neck, hands tangled in his hair. And her mouth—damn, what she could do with her mouth. He had never been with a woman who kissed so…earnestly.

He could have her tonight if he wanted, before the wedding, just as he’d planned. So, why did it feel wrong? As if he were somehow betraying her trust?

Since when did he care about anyone but himself?

He wouldn’t be having this problem, this case of an overactive conscience, if she wasn’t so damned honest all the time. If she didn’t walk around with her heart on her sleeve.

He’d told her, just this afternoon, that her honesty would get her into trouble, and she insisted that honesty was a good thing. Well, it was looking like maybe she was right.

Yet here he was, kissing her, touching her, when what he should be doing was telling her no. But, damn, she felt good.

Maybe she didn’t understand the consequences of her actions. Maybe if he pushed just a little further, tempted her just a little bit more, she would realize what she was doing and put on the brakes.

Maybe he could make her tell him no.

He let his hand slide down her back, slowly. Over the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip. Then he went lower, cupping the soft swell of her behind. She whimpered softly, but didn’t attempt to pull away. He took it one step further, pulling her against him, so she would feel exactly what all of this fooling around was doing to him. And, hell, she felt amazing. All soft and warm and sweet smelling. And rather than deter her, his actions seemed only to fuel her determination.

She drew her nails across his skin, arched and rubbed herself against him, and he couldn’t stop the husky sound of need that welled up from his chest.

She had given every indication that she was a virgin, but now he wasn’t so sure. And he didn’t know how he felt about that. He liked the idea that she would be his alone.

Her hands were on his shoulders, his chest, traveling slowly downward, in the direction of his waistband. A few more inches, and he wouldn’t be able to stop.