Claiming The Royal Innocent

The plaintive, haunting notes of the saxophone were beautiful. The champagne had kicked in full force now, leaving in its wake a heady buzzing feeling that instilled a confidence in her she hadn’t had before. It made the dangerous attraction she felt toward the man holding her even more powerful. Made her even more aware of the strong column of his thighs as they pressed against her, driving home how powerfully built he was. How the spicy scent of his cologne mixed with the heady male musk of him was doing crazy things to her insides...

The warmth of his hand splayed at her waist burned her skin like a brand through the thin silk of her dress. It made her wonder what it would be like to be touched by him. Truly touched by him.

Her champagne-clouded brain was floating in a sea of pheromones when the song came to an end. She moved to extract her fingers from his, but he tightened his hold. “One more.”

She should have ended it right there. But it was far too tempting to say yes. A glance over his shoulder revealed the king still deep in conversation. How harmful was one more dance?

He pulled her closer, their bodies perfectly aligning as they moved to the sultry notes of the song. It was an inappropriate hold, she knew, the heat of him moving through her like the most potent of caresses, his hand drifting lower to lie against the small of her back. But her sensible side seemed to have deserted her. He was the dark, mysterious hero of her favorite novels come to life, with a dangerous, presumptive twist that was impossible to resist.

A couple more minutes and she’d go.

She thought maybe a third song had come and gone when she finally pulled her head from where it was nestled under his chin and realized they had gradually worked their way from the couples dancing along the edge of the ballroom to the shadows of the small terrace that led off it.

She looked up into the mesmerizing heat of his black gaze, suddenly aware of exactly where this was going. “I told you I’m not interested in being a diversion,” she reminded him a little too breathlessly.

“No?” he said derisively, bending his head toward her. “Your signals are saying the contrary.” Sliding his fingers around her jaw, he captured her lips in a kiss unlike any she’d had before. Cajoling and demanding her acquiescence all at the same time, it was sensual, playful and masterful, enticing her to respond to his seductive expertise.

Her lips clung to his, helpless to resist his slow, intoxicating kisses. She swayed closer to him, her hand settling on his waist. He drew her into his warmth, the proximity of their bodies sending a shiver through her.

He lifted his lips from hers, their breath mingling. “Open your mouth, angel.”

She hadn’t been aware she was denying him anything. Obeying his command, she allowed his firm, beautiful mouth to part hers in a hot, languorous exploration she felt right down to her toes.

Her sigh split the air. He moved his hands down to her hips and shaped her buttocks, drawing her even closer to him until their bodies were molded together without a centimeter between them. She could feel the hard heat of him burning against the juncture of her thighs, as impressive as the rest of him. It made her knees weak.

“Aristos,” she gasped, pulling her mouth from his. “Stop.”

Satisfaction laced his gaze as she stared up at him, the supreme control she found there snapping her out of her haze. She put a palm against his chest to put some distance between them, but the hand he held at the small of her back kept her where she was. He slid it down over her buttock to wrap around her thigh.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, pushing harder against the rock-solid wall of his chest to no avail.

“Checking for weapons.”

“Weapons?” Her brain struggled to compute. “Why would I be carrying weapons?”

He ran his palm over her other buttock and down the back of her thigh in a leisurely exploration that brought a heated wave to her cheeks. “Maybe you should tell me, Kara.”

The edge to his voice made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. He knows. Had known all this time.

She pushed a hand against his chest and this time he released her, setting her away from him. She bit down into her lip. Hard. “You know I’m not Kara.”

He raked his gaze over her face. “Correct, angel. So maybe you’d care to tell me what you’re doing here. And why you impersonated Kara Nicholson to get in.”

A buzzing sound filled her ears. “How did you know?”

“Well, let’s see... Your accent, for starters. Second, Kara is from Houston, not Dallas. And finally, I happen to know Kara. Intimately. And you are not her.”

Thee mou. She closed her eyes, cheeks flaming. He and Kara Nicholson were lovers. How could she have ever thought she’d get away with this?

She opened her eyes. “You were behind me in line. Why didn’t you call me out then?”

“I wanted to see what your intentions were.”

“What did you think I was doing?”

“We have a country trying to draw us into a war, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Disbelief sank through her. “You think I’m a spy? An assassin?”

“I think when anyone enters an official royal engagement under false pretenses, it needs to be investigated.”

“So you thought you’d appoint yourself investigator? Maul me while you’re at it? Make a game of it?”

“I wouldn’t call it mauling. You were as into that as I was. And as for my interest in you, it’s my security team the palace is using tonight. A side business of mine, angel, along with my big, bad casinos. I wasn’t about to set you loose with the king in the room.”

She clenched her hands at her sides, her gaze fixed on his. “You are going to regret this.”

An amused glimmer filled his eyes. “Really? Do tell. My guess from the way you’ve been eyeing the king is that you’re an ex-lover. A jilted one, perhaps... You don’t seem—how should I put it?—off your rocker, so I’m assuming you’ve come with some misguided belief he’ll take a lover. I hate to break it to you, but he’s madly in love with his wife. It isn’t going to happen.”

A jilted lover? She gaped at him. “Are you out of your mind?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I’ve seen the women who throw themselves at the king. They crash parties to meet him. They go to ridiculous lengths to get his attention. So even though you,” he said, stripping the clothes from her with a look that singed her skin, “are undoubtedly every man’s type, this was a wasted escapade.”

Fury swelled up inside her. “I came tonight because I need to speak to the king about a personal matter. Just like I said earlier.”

“Why do it under false pretenses?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

“That’s my business.”

“I’m afraid it’s mine if you don’t want me to have you handcuffed and hauled out of here right now.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

Her heart surged painfully against her chest. Pressing her hands to her face, she paced to the other side of the terrace. “I can’t tell you why. I admit my methods for getting here were unconventional, but they were necessary given the security surrounding the king. I would never have gotten an audience.”

“That security is in place for a good reason.”

“Yes,” she said, turning around. “It is.” She took a deep breath. Fixed him with an imploring look. “I promise you it’s imperative I speak to the king. In fact, if you would just take me to him right now, I would highly appreciate it.”

“Not happening until you tell me who you are and what your business is.”

“I can’t.”

“Kala.” He spun on his heel and stalked toward the door.

“Aristos, stop.”

He turned around. “No one knows this,” she said. “You can’t say anything to anyone.”

“Spit it out,” he growled.

She lifted her chin. “My name is Aleksandra Dimitriou. The king is my half brother.”

CHAPTER TWO

ARISTOS’S MOUTH WENT SLACK. Nikandros’s half sister. He couldn’t have heard her correctly.

“Can you please,” he said deliberately, “repeat that?”

Aleksandra, if that was even her right name, rubbed a hand against her temple. “My mother, Melaina, was Queen Amara’s lady-in-waiting. She had an affair with King Gregorios during her tenure at the palace. The queen knew about her husband’s indiscretions, but when she discovered the affair with my mother, it was one step too far. She fired her. No one knew my mother was pregnant. She went home to her village and raised me by herself.”

He blinked. “Why keep it a secret? By Akathinian law, you would have been a royal.”

“My mother knew I would be taken away from her if anyone found out. She didn’t want that life for me. She told everyone, including me, that my father was an Akathinian businessman she’d met while she worked at the palace who was killed in a car accident before I was born. It wasn’t until the king had his heart attack that I learned the truth.”

Thee mou. His head spun. The queen’s lady-in-waiting. The ultimate betrayal.

It was well-known that King Gregorios had indulged in countless affairs. But a child kept secret this long? Born to the queen’s most trusted aide? If true, it was a scandal that would put all before it to shame.

He scrutinized the woman in front of him. Was she telling the truth? Her skin was pale beneath her olive-toned complexion, the vulnerability that emanated from her a quality he didn’t think could be manufactured. Nor did he think she was a threat to anyone. She was not a practiced liar, that was clear. But he had learned long ago never to trust first impressions. Particularly when it came to a woman—the most deceptive creature on the face of the earth. One who wanted an audience with the king.

It hit him then, that same feeling of familiarity he’d experienced from the first moment he’d seen her. Those eyes... That particular shade of blue belonged to only one bloodline he knew. They were Constantinides blue. It was like looking at Nikandros and Stella.

His blood ran cold. She was telling the truth.

Aleksandra pressed her lips together. “I told you you were going to regret doing that.”

He closed his eyes. For once in his life, he did. He and the king had just gotten their relationship on a solid footing after an adversarial start. This he didn’t need.

“Just because you have the Constantinides eyes, as rare as they are, doesn’t mean your story is true,” he said roughly. “It will need to be verified, as I’m sure you will appreciate. You can understand my suspicions.”

Her eyes flashed. “Your suspicions, yes, but not your tactics.”

“Like I said, it took two to make that kiss.”

That shut her up. He paced to the edge of the terrace, his brain working furiously. They were smack in the middle of a royal function with every paparazzo camera, gossip and royal watcher in the country in their midst. This could not get out before it was verified and the ramifications considered. But that was the king’s job—not his.

He closed the distance between them. “What were your intentions coming here tonight? What do you want from the king?”

“I want to see my father. Talk to him. That’s all.”

He studied her for a long moment. Cursed under his breath and pulled his mobile phone from the inside pocket of his jacket. A phone call to the man in charge of security brought a detail in a dark suit out to the terrace.

“This is how this is going to go,” he said to Aleksandra. “You are going to stay here with him. You do not move from here, you do not talk to anyone and if you do, he will restrain you. Understood?”

Her eyes widened, skin paling. “Yes.”

She looked as if a good gust of wind might blow her over. Intensely vulnerable. His heart contracted despite his effort to stay distanced from the explosive situation unfolding in front of him. It had taken an immense amount of courage for her to come here and do what she’d done. He could only imagine how terrified she felt.

Closing the gap between them, he slid his fingers under her chin and brought her gaze up to his. “The king is a good man. You have nothing to fear.”

He, on the other hand, did, if she spilled what had just happened to Nikandros.

* * *

Alex’s heart thudded painfully beneath her ribs as her rather ominous-looking security detail nodded at her to precede him into the room. She stepped inside the palace library, its elegant chandeliers and wall sconces illuminating shelf upon shelf of precious volumes.

With her voracious passion for literature, the shelves might have stolen her attention had it not been fixed on the man who stood at the far end of the room looking out the windows, hands buried in his pockets.

She stood there, fingers biting into her tiny silk clutch as the king turned around and studied her, his expression intent. His eyes widened imperceptively, then that perfectly controlled countenance that made him vastly intimidating resumed its tenure.

He turned to Aristos. “Efharisto.”

Aristos nodded and headed for the door. She fought the crazy urge to beg him to stay—he who had threatened to put her in handcuffs and have her tossed out—but after a long glance at her that seemed to say keep your head up, you can do this, he left, the door clicking quietly shut behind him.

The king nodded at the two leather chairs beside the window. “Please. Sit.”

She obeyed, her weak knees only too happy to find a resting place. The king sat down opposite her. All at once, she was struck by how much they looked alike. The bright blue eyes, high cheekbones, dark ebony hair her brother wore short and cropped.

“You are Melaina’s daughter.”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat as the response came out faint, raspy. “You knew her?”

“I was only eight when she left, but yes, I remember her. My mother and she were very close.”

Until my mother had an affair with your father and was thrown out of the palace.

“Aristos has filled me in on your conversation. On your claim that my father is your father.”

She lifted her chin. “It isn’t a claim. He is.”

“Forgive me,” he said bluntly, “if I cannot accept that as fact. For over two decades your mother has kept you a secret, but now when my father is nearly in his grave, she’s seen fit to speak out. Why?”

“She was afraid I would be taken from her. She didn’t want my life marked by her mistake. She thought I would be better off with her, rather than carry the stain of my illegitimacy. But your father’s heart attack hit her hard. I think she realized she had made a mistake in denying me my birthright.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “So you came here tonight to...”

“Know my father. To know you and Stella. I—” Her gaze held his vivid blue one. “I don’t have any siblings. I don’t want anything else. I have a life in Stygos that I love.”

He narrowed his gaze. “You can’t be so naive as to think everything will stay the same if it’s confirmed you are a Constantinides. You will be of royal blood. Third in line to the throne.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want any of that. I am not so naive as to think I would be welcomed into this family given the nature of my birth.”

The king’s eyes flickered. “There is a...complexity to the situation. But if you are telling the truth, the blood that runs through your veins cannot be denied. It must be dealt with. Acknowledged. But that is dependent upon us having the facts. A DNA test will need to be performed.”

She nodded. Had assumed as much would be required. Knew she couldn’t have expected more. So why did her insides sting so much?

The king stood up. “I must get back to my guests. You’ll understand, given the need for security at the moment, if I have you escorted to a suite where you will remain for the evening. In the morning, we will address this.”

“Of course.” She got to her feet.

* * *

The beautifully appointed suite she was shown to at the back of the palace overlooked the formal gardens. It was done in gold and a soft moss green, the shimmery, wispy fabrics of the sweeping brocade curtains and the romantic overlay of the big canopy bed like something straight out of one of the fairy tales she’d devoured as a child.

When a maid showed up minutes later with a beautiful silk nightgown and inquired if she needed anything else, Alex fought back the hot tears that gathered in her eyes. She’d accomplished what she’d come here to do. She would see her father. But what she wanted in this moment was for her brother to have believed her.

She assured the maid she had everything she needed. Unable to sleep, she wandered out onto the terrace. The band, whose lazy serenade had been drifting through the open windows of the ballroom, stopped playing. Then there was only the buzz of the cicadas as she contemplated row after row of perfectly tended, riotous blooms in the floodlit gardens.

A quiet knock reached her from inside the suite. Frowning, wondering who it could be at this late hour, she padded inside and inched the door open. Standing in the dimly lit corridor stood the princess, still clad in her silver gown.

“I had to come.”

Alex stared at her sister. The princess’s startling blue eyes were counterbalanced by a wide mouth and the high cheekbones that were a signature of her mother’s aristocratic haughtiness. Arresting rather than classically beautiful, Stella stared back at her, all of her earlier poise stripped away, her carefully applied dramatic makeup standing out in stark contrast against the pallor of her skin.

Her quick intake of breath was audible. “Thee mou, but you two look alike.”

“Who?”

“You and Nik.”

Alex swallowed hard, a tightness gripping her chest. Her legs felt unsteady, consumed by the emotion of the day, as if one more blow would fell them. She forced herself to move past it, stepping back to allow her sister in.

Stella slipped inside and shut the door. “The party just finished. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“I expect not.”

They regarded each other in silence, wariness and shock filling the air between them. She searched her sister’s gaze for the mistrust her brother had displayed, finding only bemusement and curiosity in return.

“The king told you I was here?”

“Of course not.” The princess’s lips curved in a wry smile. “At least not willingly. Nik is too protective for that. I overheard him and Aristos talking.”

Her lashes lowered. “He is suspicious of me.”

“My brother has to be cautious. He has a million grenades being lobbed at him every day with King Idas’s descent into lunacy.”

Alex bit her lip, chewing uncertainly on flesh she’d already made raw. “You don’t doubt my story?”

“When you look more like Nik’s sister than I do?” The princess shook her head. “My father’s affair with your mother was common knowledge. I think we’ve all lived with the possibility that something like this might result from his indiscretions. Although for it to happen now is a bit...startling.”

“I didn’t know. I only found out a few weeks ago.”

“Nik told me.” The princess regarded her silently. “I hope you are not disappointed. My father is an imperfect man. A great king, but an imperfect man. Manage your expectations. Do not expect him to be warm and fuzzy.”

“I thought my father was dead,” Alex said quietly. “I’m not sure what I’m expecting.”

The princess’s golden-tipped lashes fanned her cheeks. “I can’t imagine how you must feel. To find this out now.”

Alex exhaled an unsteady breath. “Confused. Bewildered. I’m angry my mother lied to me. I feel...betrayed. And yet I know she did it for the right reasons. She wanted to protect me. How can I be angry about that?”

“Easily.” Stella waved a hand around them. “She denied you this. Your birthright.”

“Is it?” A vision of her beautiful, serene village filled her head. “I love my life in Stygos.”

“You are a royal,” Stella countered. “A Constantinides. You could have had the world at your fingertips. Instead she took that away from you.”

Had she? Or had her mother given her the safe, loved existence she’d always known?

“Perhaps it’s about destiny,” Alex said. “Maybe mine was to live the life I have.”

“Perhaps.” A glimmer filled the princess’s eyes. “The life of a royal has its challenges. I will be the first to admit that.”

The reticence in her sister’s voice stirred her curiosity. “But the benefits outweigh the challenges?”

“I’m not sure that’s an analysis I can make.” Stella’s lips firmed. “Do I think it’s my destiny to be where I am? Yes. Would I have chosen it if given the choice? That is the million-dollar question.”

It certainly was. The cicadas buzzed their musical song as a silence stretched between them. Stella set a probing gaze on her. “I saw you dancing with Aristos.”

Heat rose to stain her cheeks. She had been hoping that part of the evening would go unnoticed. Her inappropriate behavior had been uncharacteristic for her, foolish, particularly damning in light of her mother’s scandalous reputation.

“It was a mistake,” she said quietly. “I was nervous. I’d had a couple of glasses of champagne...”

“Aristos has that effect on women.” The princess’s mouth twisted. “A word of warning. He takes what he wants until you are too blind to see the danger. Before you know it, you’re hooked. Then he turns you loose.”

She was clearly speaking from experience. Alex set her jaw resolutely. “It’s never happening again. After I talk to my father, I’m going home.”

The princess regarded her silently. “I just met my sister,” she said softly. “I find I quite like the idea of having one. It would be a shame to lose her so quickly.”

A throb consumed her chest. It grew with every breath, threatening to bubble over into an emotion too big to contain. Stella seemed to sense it, the thread that was close to breaking inside her. She stepped toward the door. “It’s late. We can talk in the morning. Better you get some sleep so you have a clear head as all of this unfolds.”

And then she was gone, her exotic perfume wafting through the air. Alex’s mouth trembled as she shut the door. She stood, leaning against it, every muscle, fiber, of her body shredded, spent.

As all of this unfolds. She was terribly afraid of the chain of events she had set into play tonight. A force she couldn’t retrieve. That in needing to know her father, by taking a risk that was so totally outside of her nature, she had not only stepped outside her safe little world in Stygos, but entered one that could consume her. A world her mother had done everything she could to protect her from.

CHAPTER THREE

TWO DAYS PASSED, and with them Alex’s premonition came true. As the blood test undertaken by the royal physician was rushed through the requisite channels, rumors of her presence spread through the palace in a flurry of gossip only a royal household could induce.

By the time the results of the test were delivered to the palace, confirming that Alex was indeed King Gregorios’s daughter, the gossip had spilled to the press, who were demanding confirmation.

Nikandros made it clear they could not wait long in issuing a statement from the press office confirming her as a Constantinides. The longer they waited, the more time the press had to speculate on the story, something the family didn’t need as the country fretted about a coming confrontation with its sister island.

It was with this daunting scenario in place that Alex met her father for the first time. Accompanied by Stella to his suite in the west wing of the palace where the king was convalescing, they were told Queen Amara was out for the day. Alex had the distinct impression she was avoiding her as the scandal she was.

Propped up against a pile of pillows, his leathery olive skin lined and craggy from almost four decades of rule, her father was pale beneath his swarthy complexion, his abundant shock of white hair looking out of place on a man who was clearly fighting what might be his last battle.