Tempting the Prince (Sexy Misadventures of Royals)

by Christi Barth

  Forbidden, since she 1) wasn’t blood nobility, and thus not eligible to be queen and 2) the thing she was trying so hard not to think about on a daily basis while she waited for the doctors to confirm that her near-brush with death had left her with fertility complications, and thus not eligible to be queen.

  Oh, and for the trifecta, 3) the whole weird-but-not-if-you-knew-all-the-facts due to the brother/sister/not-really-a-sister conundrum.

  Also? Their maid translated headlines and postings on social media that made it clear the country wasn’t, ah, thrilled with an American living in the palace. She’d enjoyed a brief respite after being shot where everyone hailed her as a hero, but apparently once she’d returned to rubbing elbows with the royal family? They’d gotten all nationalistic and snobby again about her.

  In a nutshell, this thing with Christian could go nowhere. And it could most certainly not happen again. So…what was the point of unpacking all that mess to Kelsey?

  After a brief knock, Elias entered.

  Actually, a discerning viewer could tell that he hovered in the doorway for a split second before entering. Because he’d spent his whole life waiting for royal approval before being allowed in a room. Sleeping with Kelsey gave him an official level of access shared by few, but the pause looked to be a hard habit to break.

  He beelined it to his girlfriend and greeted her with a kiss just tender enough that Mallory almost felt uncomfortable watching. She was certain that Sir Evan would’ve forfeited his day’s salary to not be there, either.

  Then Elias came to her and bowed with an elaborate flourish. “Lady Mallory.”

  “Cut it out,” she snapped back. No wonder this sort of attention had made Kelsey itchy when they first arrived in Moncriano.

  Putting a hand to the side of his mouth, he stage-whispered, “I’ve got the goods.” Then he patted his lapel. In pretty much the spot she figured one of his official bodyguard-issue guns must rest.

  Just the distraction they needed. “Really? Nobody objected?”

  One side of his generous mouth quirked up. Which, from the taciturn Elias, was the equivalent of anyone else blowing a raspberry so hard it’d leave spit on the gilt-edged mirror across the room. “You still don’t get it, do you? Nobody gets to object to a request from the royal family.”

  “What’s going on?” Kelsey asked, standing on tiptoe to prop her chin on his shoulder.

  “Remember when you said Elias could give me schematics to the palace so I wouldn’t get lost? It got me thinking about another way the Royal Protection Service could help us.” Mallory waited for Elias to produce a small case from his jacket pocket. “Earbuds.”

  “No, thanks. I’ve got the Bose earbuds you splurged on for me last Christmas. Nothing could be more comfortable.”

  “True.” Mallory relied on her own set to stream familiar music and podcasts all the time. Because while most people in the country spoke English, the radio and TV stations were, of course, in their native language. “No, these are the earbuds the RPS uses to stay in contact with each other. They’re for the ball. You’ll wear one, and Sir Evan and I will each have one, too. No matter who corners you, we’ll tell you their names and any pertinent info.”

  Sir Evan clapped. Which was more of a muffled thwack, since he wore uniform white gloves. “Well done, Lady Mallory. That is thinking…ah…outside of the container.”

  “The box,” Kelsey said with a giggle. “Outside the box.”

  “Princess.” Elias shook his head with an exaggerated scowl. “What did I say about not correcting people on their English until you learn our language?”

  “Right. Sorry, Sir Evan.” She reached around Elias’s wall of muscle to poke Mallory on the wrist. “Why’d I slave over these flash cards last night if you’re going to be my aural cheat sheet?”

  Her secretary rose to join them before she could respond. Or finish doing her internal happy dance at his praise. “Your Highness, we are merely your backup. You still must learn all of this. As soon as possible. In order to rule a country, you must know its people. Faces and names. Quirks and preferences. It is vital that you are seen as striving to integrate yourself into Moncriano, and not clinging to your previous country.”

  “Vital, huh? No pressure.” Kelsey rolled her violet eyes. “Thanks for that.”

  “When it comes to the House of Villani, perception is everything. Your people will love you, but they will also judge you. They want to know that they are first in your heart.”

  Mallory attempted to cut through the rehashed themes to the point buried amid the well-meaning pompousness. Pomposity? “This is about the vote, isn’t it? About Moncriano potentially joining the European Union?”

  Glancing to each side, as if checking for eavesdroppers, he nodded. “That is a piece of it, yes. The royal family must provide a united front of both neutrality on the issue and a rock-solid foundation of nationalism. So that the subjects are aware that even if we do join the EU, the heart of Moncriano will remain true and unchanged.”

  OMG. If he kept up like that, Kelsey wouldn’t be able to attend the ball because she’d be in a boredom coma. “Sir Evan, you don’t get paid by the word, do you? You can be…pithier…in your explanations. We’re not so much on the flowery formality. Blunt Americans, remember?”

  “Indeed. But I’m attempting to soften some of that, ah, delightful bluntness in the princess. Before the Persephone Ball.”

  Laughter burst out of Kelsey. Not restrained laughter. A full-on gut-buster of a laugh. “Good luck with that. Why not go ahead and try to turn me into an Olympic-class figure skater in the next two days, while you’re at it? Your odds are just as good.”

  “I doubt you objected to the floweriness of the king’s language when he elevated Lady Mallory to baroness status.”

  Elias took a step forward, hand raised to stop the older man. “The king was not in attendance. Prince Christian performed the ceremony in his stead.”

  “Ah. Oh. I see.” Sir Evan backed up with each word. The tips of his ears pinked up.

  “Flustered” didn’t begin to cover his speech or his poorly hidden expression of surprise. While he wasn’t as implacable as Christian’s secretary, the reaction was noteworthy. Mallory reached up to touch the pin the grand duchess had bestowed. “Does that mean I’m not legally a baroness?”

  “Not at all.”

  “It means it’s odd he didn’t show.” Kelsey’s pink-glossed lips twisted downward. “Again. I mean, I know I was technically ‘missing’ for twenty-four years, but it feels like he’s trying to top my record in a matter of months.”

  Smooth as ice on Lake Michigan in the deep freeze of January, Elias murmured, “His Royal Highness has a challenging schedule.”

  Geez, did that cover-up come with a trench coat, fedora, and dark glasses?

  Mallory was tired of tiptoeing around the subject. Not to mention how tired she was of watching Kelsey be disappointed every time the king didn’t join them for a meal. She wanted to build a relationship with her real father. Make up for lost time.

  Which was impossible to do when the man in question never left his rooms. And Mallory was over watching her sister’s heart break incrementally, day by day.

  “Gotta say, Elias, from what I’ve seen, your best friend is the one with the challenging schedule. Since Christian is doing all of his duties as well as covering for the king.”

  Silence fell over the room. It was an awkward mix of people who wanted to talk about the elephant in the room, and those who knew the conversation was officially above their station.

  Sir Evan took the earbud case from Elias. “I’ll just pop down to the RPS office and get up to speed on these handy gadgets. Your Highness, we’ll regroup this afternoon for the hair discussion.” Then he scurried out.

  Elias folded his arms across his wide chest. Pinned Mallory with what she assumed was a glare
that intimidated everyone who didn’t know what a cinnamon roll heart he had on the inside. “You know you can’t talk about the royal family in front of the staff.”

  “In general, sure. Most days, though? I feel like everyone but the royal family is talking about the king being AWOL. It’s the kingdom’s worst-kept secret.”

  They had a bit of a glare-off for some tense moments. Mallory wasn’t backing down. She knew this situation with the king had passed weird a few months ago and was deep into seriously messed-up territory.

  “He should’ve been there,” Kelsey declared. “No matter what. Mallory deserved the king.”

  Oh, she was more than content with just a prince, thank you very much.

  “Perhaps King Julian will attend the ball.” Elias pressed a kiss to the top of Kelsey’s blond hair.

  She perked up—both from the kiss and the opportunity to tease her sister. “You mean the ball where Mallory will wear her first tiara? I’m going to insist you dance with a hottie. Or three.”

  “Take it down a notch. I’m still not on board with borrowing a priceless tiara. And I’m absolutely not going to dance with nobility who’ve been doing the ball thing their whole life.” Mallory put a hand on her abdomen, near the still slightly tender bullet wound. That ought to be enough to stop Kelsey.

  “Nope. I’m on to you with that subtle callout to being shot. It doesn’t work anymore. Not when I’m in the gym with you every other day. The doctor cleared you. For exercise. Of all kinds,” she added, with a leer and an eyebrow waggle.

  No kidding. She’d used her abs quite a bit balanced on the edge of that desk while Christian thrust into her. And she’d been pain-free. Talk about passing the ultimate test with flying colors.

  Not that she’d share that win with Kelsey. Or Elias.

  “Life here is complex enough. I’m not ready to add dating into the mix.”

  “Who said anything about dating? You need to get your flirt on. And then a foreign fling. I highly recommend them.” Kelsey twisted around to lean her back against Elias’s chest, then wrapped his arms around her waist.

  They looked good together. Happy. Natural.

  All the things she’d felt with Christian the other night.

  “I don’t need a fling,” Mallory stated emphatically. Because she didn’t need one.

  Not anymore. On account of the super-hot fling with Christian.

  Now would be the perfect time to explain that, in detail, to Kelsey. It’d help her stop feeling so guilty about keeping this secret from her.

  This, though? It wasn’t hers alone to share. Christian’s involvement added a whole extra layer to the debate about telling/not telling.

  “You’re just out of practice. Tell you what. You can practice on Christian. He’s been so sweet about joining us for breakfast since you returned. I’ll bet he could school you in Moncriano-style flirting.”

  Mallory was quite sure she didn’t need to be schooled. That the prince had already given her top marks in that. But Kelsey’s offhand remark made her wonder.

  Why was Christian joining them for breakfast? Was it an attempt to make her feel like a part of the family?

  Or was the attraction she’d felt for him from the start actually a two-way street? If that was true? It, ah…complicated things even more.

  Mallory needed to learn the Moncriano word for complicated. Before the ball. Probably before tomorrow’s breakfast. She needed to have a prepared shield of that word in as many languages as possible in case Christian tossed her another one of those secret, knee-melting, panty-dropping looks. Or wicked winks.

  And to bolster her internal resolve every time she thought about how nice it would be if she did get to dance with a prince at her first ball…

  Chapter Five

  Christian wore ties most days. He’d had to wear them in school, too, so it was fair to say that he’d worn them since prepuberty hit. They never bothered him. The cinch at his neck was as easy to ignore as the French cuffs at his wrist.

  Until tonight.

  Tonight, his white bow tie wasn’t just tight. He was having trouble dragging in air through his constricted throat.

  Or maybe—just maybe—it was the thought of having to marry one of the women in this ballroom that choked him up.

  The Persephone Ball looked the same as it did every year. The crème de la crème of Moncriano nobility, business leaders, foreign dignitaries…and women who wanted to be his queen someday.

  It felt like a vast conspiracy by the females in the room.

  The single ones wanted a crown. The married ones wanted it for their sister or friend. The older ones wanted it for their daughter or niece. They all schemed. Simpered. Strategized. Looked at him like he was a prize to be fought for.

  Christian fucking hated it. Each year, he tried to ignore the heavy-handed hints, the forced flirting. Each year, everyone upped their game to be more obvious.

  This year, he couldn’t ignore it. Because he had exactly two jobs ahead of him: to rule the country, and to sire the next ruler. With his father being checked out of the first job, the urgency of marriage was being mentioned to Christian on a weekly basis. Daily, this week, with the ball looming.

  He wasn’t ready to rule the country.

  And he damn sure wasn’t ready to tie himself forever to a woman because her credentials looked good on paper. So he took the safest course of action. He threw back the shot of whisky in his hand, and then threaded his way through the wide gowns and shoulder-to-shoulder throng to greet his sisters.

  “Genevieve.” He kissed both of her cheeks, as he knew the assembled crowd would expect as much. “You look stunning.”

  An entire committee had decided that extra effort had to be made by the House of Villani tonight to distract from King Julian not attending. So Genny wore the big guns: a three-hundred-year-old necklace from the crown jewels. Intricate gold circles, each bigger than a peach pit, held alternating emeralds and pink sapphires. They matched the deeper swirls of color in her dress.

  It had to be heavy as fuck.

  So much for bitching about his tie.

  “I’ve got competition now, with Kelsey around. I had to up my game.” Six months ago, he knew that Genny would’ve been deadly serious with that comment. But his sisters had gotten past their initial oil and water dislike. Tonight, she said it with a sly smile and a teasing lilt in her voice. Because the three of them were now a tight team. Which just might be enough to get him through this night.

  Christian rubbed his palm over her bare shoulder. “You’re living dangerously. Looks like you bunched all the fabric from this side into that giant poof on your other shoulder. Very unexpectedly sexy.”

  The smile fell from her face. And it was replaced by a determined scowl. “Yes, the gown’s more revealing than what I’ve worn in the past. Because I feel pretty in it. Because I only need to live up to my standards of how a princess should dress, not how stuffy, tradition-bound stick-in-the-muds think I should dress.”

  “Wow.” Christian gave a slow clap. “I wish I had a drink in my hand to toast you. Any chance this change in attitude has to do with Lord Theo?”

  Genevieve used to be obsessed with protocol. Appearances. Convinced that every tiny misstep would irrevocably tarnish the reputation of their family that had managed to hold the throne for seven hundred years.

  Until her recent and very serious boyfriend came on the scene…

  “Theo gets fifty percent of the credit. He helped me to see that it’s okay to be me, Genevieve, not simply the two-dimensional image of a princess under the tiara. The rest of it is me, letting loose.” Looking over each shoulder quickly—as quickly as possible with a seven-pound diamond tiara atop her head—she grimaced. “Within reason, that is.”

  All three of them laughed. Hollowly. Because they knew that was the stricture that came with their gilded life.


  Christian hated that Genevieve had to defend wearing a slightly sexy dress when she was only twenty-seven and beautiful. He couldn’t be happier that Theo had urged her to stand up for herself as a person and not just a princess.

  He’d do everything in his power to make certain his sisters got to live their lives and be happy. Even though doing so meant living his life with a woman chosen/approved for him by government officials and family. He’d damn well make the sacrifice to keep anyone from forcing the two of them to do the same.

  Christian bowed deeply, then kissed Kelsey’s hand. “You’re definitely making up for skipping this ball for twenty-four years.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know we were finally allowed to joke about my being kidnapped in public. Terrific. One more thing I don’t have worry about letting slip since I’m so nervous.” She patted the explosion of pink tulle at her chest, just below the elaborate ruby-and-diamond necklace he remembered seeing on the portrait of their mother in the throne room.

  “No need to be nervous. You look amazing.”

  “I feel like a princess. And I don’t hate it!” Again, they all laughed, painfully aware of how much Kelsey had pushed back against what she labeled “princess perks” when first arriving back in Moncriano.

  Hanging with his sisters would have to wait for the inevitable post-party in the snooker room. Christian had sweet-talked Chef Rosalind into making a New York pizza recipe he’d found online just for Kelsey.

  Doing a quarter bow, hand across his starched white vest, he said, “Now that I’ve greeted each of you, I guarantee Sir Kai has a stopwatch running and is about to force me to move on to the main event.”

  Pulling her mouth down into an expression of supreme sympathy, Genevieve said, “Talking to every eligible woman in the room?”

  “Talking to them all, yes. Dancing with no less than half of them. I think he’s allowed me a hydration break every twenty minutes, but that’s it.”