And wasn’t that just a shame? “The bottom line is that we can’t have stealthy sex.”
“Can we have no-holds-barred, unstealthy sex?”
“No. We can just keep kissing here, hidden in this alcove in the shadows.”
“Is that your final offer?”
“Yes.”
And so they did, until the last of the candles was little more than a pool of wax.
Chapter Nine
Even though he was drained, Christian’s footsteps clipped along quickly down the corridor of Alcarsa Palace. He wanted to fall facedown on his bed. Imagining that was the carrot that had gotten him through the endless dinner with Lord Pretentious Jackass, a.k.a. the finance minister to Luxembourg.
The king, who’d been scheduled to actually host the dinner, had been a no-show. Again. Christian had been roped into it with only half an hour to spare. Which was his own fault.
He’d told the social secretary, his own finance minister, and a slew of advisors that the king would absolutely, definitely 100 percent show up.
Because their weekend away had been great. Normal. Papa had talked and laughed and hiked. He’d beaten Genevieve at table tennis. He’d danced with Kelsey to some old records on an ancient gramophone they’d found in a closet.
King Julian was back to his regular self. No question about it.
Or so Christian had thought.
Stupidly.
Naively. He’d allowed himself to hope that prying his father out of his self-imposed exile in his rooms had done the trick. Which only made it all the more painful when that hope was dashed. When his father arrived back home, disappeared into his rooms, and hadn’t come out—or communicated with anyone, or done any kingly business whatsoever—all day.
Fuck.
Now Christian had to figure out what to do next. But that wouldn’t happen tonight. His brain had shut off about six boring monologues ago. With the last-minute covering for his father, he hadn’t been able to hit the gym.
He also hadn’t been able to steal time with Mallory, which was his new favorite pastime.
Indulgence.
Addiction.
Now it was too late to do anything but draw a curtain over this day and start to plan when to squeeze in Mallory tomorrow. As his bodyguard opened the door to his suite, Christian said, “’Night, Gregor.”
“Good night, Your Highness.”
Christian gave the door an unnecessary but satisfying hard kick to shut it behind him. The kick was in reaction to the night—and to Gregor’s polite response. Gregor was perfectly competent and mostly invisible. But he wasn’t Elias. Which was yet another change he hadn’t asked for, and wasn’t ready for.
Yes, it’d been unorthodox when his best friend became his protection officer. But they’d been together in school, and shared a cabin and all their duties in the navy. As soon as Elias qualified for Royal Protection duty, putting him on Christian had seemed obvious. It worked great.
Damn it, he missed him, he thought, yanking loose his tie in the dark room.
He didn’t have that automatic pseudo-partnership of Elias shadowing him all day anymore. Eli’s nights were taken up with Kelsey. Great for them and all that. Of course he wanted his best friend and his sister to be happy…as weird as it was to see his best friend and his sister together.
Which brought his thoughts back around to Mallory.
Thinking about her made him smile. It also banished his lame pity party. Christian shrugged out of his dinner jacket and tossed it in the general direction of a chair as he turned down the hallway to the bathroom.
There was a sliver of light under the door. Odd. The maids were never that careless. He opened the door to a room filled with steam—and a bathtub full of a naked woman.
“Oh good, you’re finally here.” The woman extended one leg. Yep, definitely naked. “Want to get wet? I already am…”
Christ. He did not need this.
A total stranger in his tub, of all things.
How was it even possible? How many damn layers of security had she evaded? Christian knew the protocol to follow. Knew Gregor would expect him to push the panic button in his pants pocket, to bring all manner of guards to defuse the situation.
But there weren’t any bubbles in the bath. It was easy to see that the woman wasn’t armed. Of course, that didn’t mean she wasn’t batshit crazy. Or trained in eight kinds of ways to kill him with her bare hands. So Christian stayed put in the doorway. But he didn’t press the panic button.
He wanted to know things. Not an official version printed up and presented in a portfolio on his desk in a week. He wanted to know right the fuck now what was going on.
“What’s your name?”
“Annaliese.” She stroked her long blonde hair into a rope and pulled it down her chest.
In the calmest voice he could muster, he said, “Annaliese. I’m Christian. Want to tell me why you’re in my bathroom?”
“I heard you’ve officially begun the search for a bride.”
“Not in my bathtub.”
She stuck out her lower lip in a pout at the immediate shutdown and then tossed her head. “Well, I also heard that you’re a very good time. So even if I don’t pass the audition, we’ll have a fun night.”
“In jail. You must know that’s where you’ll finish the night.” Or in the hospital, having her mental status evaluated. It took a special kind of idiocy to pull a stunt like this. Christian almost hoped she had the excuse of illness to explain it.
Sure, he had a reputation in the media as the Playboy Prince. He’d had no compunction about no-pressure, no-promises sex with perhaps more than his fair share of women.
But now, the only woman he wanted was Mallory.
So he sure as hell didn’t want to settle for a random stranger to warm his bed. Nor did he like the implication of an unhinged person creeping about the palace unchecked.
“Why?” She stretched a glistening, dripping arm overhead. The move lifted her breasts above the water. Christian wanted to shift his gaze to the opposite side of the room. On the other hand, he still hadn’t entirely ruled her out as a threat, so he had to keep a close watch on her. “Why can’t you join me in here now, and then we finish in that enormous bed of yours?”
“Because you can’t break into the palace.”
She splashed water at him over the rim. “I didn’t break in. I took my dad’s pass when he fell asleep.”
“Who’s your dad?”
“He’s an underbutler. Randalf Despard.”
Aha. Now the pieces were falling into place. It was a relief to be able to erase the possibility of a terrorist. Or a crazed nationalist like the one who’d shot Mallory. No, it appeared that Annaliese was just a horny girl. Woman? “How old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
So…more than old enough to know better. To know the laws of the land, let alone basic courtesy. He’d been willing to be kind if she was underage. Chalk it up to youthful stupidity and handle the whole matter in secret.
Twenty-two, however, was an entirely different matter. If she’d rubbed more than two brain cells together for more than two minutes, she probably knew, deep down, that this was a very big mistake.
Christian would not overlook it. He needed Genny and Kelsey and Mallory to feel completely safe in their home, not worrying about overeager wannabe princesses roaming the halls.
“Get. Out.”
“Get in,” she purred.
Wow. Really, really not smart, if she couldn’t hear the anger in his voice. Christian pulled a towel off the rack and stepped in enough to hold it out to her. “Annaliese, get out of the bathtub. Now.”
“Come here and make me.”
Oh, he would. And she wouldn’t like it. In two big steps he was at the edge of the tub. Christian slid an arm beneath her knees, one
behind her back, and deadlifted. She squealed.
Christian knew it was time to call for help. A handful of squirming woman prevented him from reaching the panic button. So, at the top of his lungs he bellowed, “Intruder.”
By the time he’d cleared the bathroom doorway, Gregor had burst into his suite, gun drawn, yelling into his earpiece for backup.
That’s when mayhem broke out.
Doors slammed up and down the hallway. He knew the guards for Genny, Kelsey and Mallory, who shared his wing of the palace, would’ve rushed into their rooms and gone on alert. Annaliese shrieked at the top of her lungs. She kicked over a bust of his great-great-grandfather with her flailing. Elias came in at a dead run, wearing his pants but no shirt.
At least he had his gun.
Christian thrust his armful at the third bodyguard who rushed in. “Get her out of here. Out of the palace. She doesn’t deserve to be interrogated under its roof.” He did, however, pick up his discarded jacket from the floor and cover her with it before they left.
The fourth bodyguard began a meticulous sweep of his sitting room, bedroom, and closet. One more and they could have an impromptu poker game when the red tape was out of the way. That might burn off the adrenaline still buzzing through his veins.
“Are you all right, Your Highness?” Gregor asked, patting him down, looking for wounds.
He knew it’d be useless to shrug him off. Gregor had procedures to follow. So Christian spread his arms and legs and waited for him to finish. “I’m fine. She didn’t touch me. No matter how much she wanted to.”
“We need to put the whole palace in lockdown.”
Holy hell, what a shit show that’d be. Impossible to keep under wraps.
The press would be all over how the royals couldn’t protect themselves. That would then lead to them asking how the royals could protect the country (even though that was Parliament’s job), and it’d affect the vote on joining the EU.
All because of one immature woman with hormones for brains.
“No. Do not. She didn’t break in. She stole Randalf Despard’s pass. He’s her dad. Probably picked up enough details of the palace layout from over the years to walk straight to my room.”
Gregor shook his head, clearly baffled at her actions. “What did she want?”
“Me.” Christian hid his embarrassment with sarcasm. “Haven’t you heard? I’m the Playboy Prince of Western Europe. My prowess between the sheets is legendary in at least five countries.”
Elias brought him a towel and his bathrobe. “You can’t be serious. No dick’s that magical. She risked jail for a hookup?”
He shucked off his sopping clothes. “One with the possibility of a tiara at the end, the way she saw it.”
“Your Highness, do you believe her?” His bodyguard’s frown—and the fact that he still hadn’t holstered his gun—showed his skepticism. “That she simply wanted an…assignation?”
Christian did not have the patience to wade through formality tonight. “What she wanted was an orgasm. You can say that in front of me, Gregor.”
Gregor looked to Elias for confirmation. Who rolled his eyes. “Yes, you can talk to your protectee like he’s a regular person when you’re in private. But if you ever get reassigned, make sure not to say ‘orgasm’ in front of the grand duchess.”
The noise level in the hallway dropped. The other guards retreated to wait for Gregor’s assessment. The show was over for the night.
Gregor finally tucked his gun out of sight. “You must understand, Your Highness, that we can’t simply take your word for it. As much as I respect your gut instinct, we’ll have to question her father, the rest of her family, as well as all known associates.”
Christian shrugged into his fleece-lined navy robe. “I’m guessing you can find those associates in a club, dancing and drunk.” Maybe if he were still twenty-two, without the weight of an entire kingdom resting on his shoulders, he’d be out with them.
“That isn’t even to mention that she could be affiliated with the man who shot Lady Mallory. Or whoever kidnapped Princess Kelsey.”
“Annaliese wasn’t even born then. That’s absurd to try and tie her to the kidnapping.” But the mention of Mallory’s shooting gave him pause. And made him stop pushing so hard. The RPS could chase down every blind alley possible if it kept the women under this roof safe.
“Nonetheless, we will check every avenue.” Gregor gave an abrupt nod. “I’m sorry for the disruption. I’ll leave you now, get started, and make sure you’re briefed in the morning.”
Once he left, Elias poured them both a hefty shot of Lagavulin and sat in the brown leather club chair by the fireplace. Christian eased into the opposite chair, grateful for the searing heat in his throat at the first sip.
Gregor’s words had struck a chord. A few years ago, Christian would’ve laughed this off. Maybe even bragged to his friends that he was such a legend women risked everything to sleep with him.
Not now.
Not now that he was the one responsible for his family.
If she’d encountered the grand duchess in the hallway…well, Gran would’ve roasted her alive. But Aunt Mathilde would’ve been flustered and frightened. Hell, Mallory had already been shot while under the protection of the House of Villani. She shouldn’t have to endure anything else, not even a scare by a ditzy moron.
“Shouldn’t you be getting back to reassure Kelsey?” He pointed at Elias’s bare chest. “Clearly you ran out on her at a delicate moment.”
Elias pushed his gun aside to prop his feet up on the table. “Her on-duty guard will have taken care of that. I can stay for a drink. Get the real details on what happened…and didn’t.”
He appreciated his friend hanging out while he settled down. Christian didn’t, however, appreciate the innuendo. “What do you mean? I told you everything.”
“Well, what title does it take to get a naked woman to surprise you in your tub? I get that it comes with the title of prince, but now that you knighted me, can I be expecting surprise bathtub visitors, too?”
Why had he bothered to miss having this pain in the ass at his elbow? “You’re a dick.”
“That’s Sir Dick, Your Highness.” Laughing uproariously, Elias continued. “Were you tempted to take her up on her offer? Before handing her over to the guard?”
“God, no. She’s either too stupid or too crazy for me. Glad to know you’re amused, though.”
“Highly.” After taking another sip, he waved the heavy crystal tumbler back and forth. “Since you’re okay, of course.”
“Besides, I’m…” Shit. How did he say it? How did he quantify something that wasn’t a formal relationship? That had no parameters? That was a secret from the whole rest of the world? That had to end in a matter of weeks so he could settle on a bride? “…I’m with someone.”
Gasping dramatically, Elias said, “And you didn’t ask me to carve her initials in your bedpost? Has Gregor taken over that duty, too?”
Yeah, he deserved the dig. Except that this thing with Mallory wasn’t a joking matter. At all. “Shut up. I’m serious, Eli.”
“Hardly. If this woman was serious, I’d know. The RPS would know.”
Technically true.
If it’d been any other woman finally making him think about more than just fun, he would’ve told Elias. Asked him how the hell to handle a real relationship. Freaked out together about it on a good gallop. And, yes, followed protocol to alert the protection service that their umbrella needed to widen over somebody with instant access to him.
But Christian hadn’t. Yet.
He’d been all up in his head over this ridiculous official bride search for him. Worrying about marrying a tolerable stranger instead of focusing on what was really damn great in his life right now.
Annaliese could’ve just as easily been a real terrorist. Ana
rchist. He could’ve been injured or killed, as could anyone in this wing of the palace.
Christian didn’t want to waste any more time sneaking around, waiting for a moment when everyone else’s backs were turned to be with Mallory.
She made him happy. Lifted the recent burdens that had been smothering him. Made him laugh. Made him feel like he could, actually, be the ruler of this kingdom and not fuck it up. Made him feel like a better, bigger, stronger version of himself than he saw in the mirror every day.
So what if she didn’t tick off the appropriate boxes for a royal bride? She ticked off the biggest box of all—she was right for him. Like a friend…with superior benefits…except so much more than a friend.
Christian needed a fiancee by Christmas.
He needed to be happy right now.
Wasn’t that the big new trend? Being in the moment as the key to happiness? He fucking well knew he didn’t get a future with Mallory. But he wanted every moment he could scrape of the now with her.
He set down his drink and sat up straighter. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. It is literally in my job description. Section five, paragraph three.” Elias leaned forward, elbows on knees. “It is a woman, isn’t it? You and me, we’re good either way. But I’m not sure how Parliament would handle you choosing to be with someone who didn’t have the necessary parts to pop out an heir.”
For a moment, Christian let himself imagine the uproar he’d cause by announcing he was gay. But it was a valid point. In the twenty-first century, succession to the throne shouldn’t depend on one’s ability to procreate. And yet…it did. His ultimate job description was as much about ruling as it was about basic biology.
“Yes, it’s a woman.” It’d be great to share this with Eli. But as his mouth opened, he remembered a crucial piece of info—that Mallory said she’d held back this secret from Kelsey. Christian knew enough about sisters to realize that the news could not come secondhand from her boyfriend. “You can’t even tell Kelsey. Not yet.”
After a moment, Elias nodded. “If it has to do with your security, then my lips are sealed. She knows those are the rules.”
Tempting the Prince (Sexy Misadventures of Royals) Page 12