Forbidden Lord

by Victoria Pinder

  “You’ve spent the five years I’ve known you doing whatever you can to get ahead,” said Coral. “But you’re not happy. If I get a vote, I say you fly off to meet this man. Find out if it’s possible you’ll get a life.”

  Miya typed in Avce in the job search engine.

  Maybe leaving New York was her fate, not that she quite knew how to apply for a work visa to Europe. She narrowed the search to Martina, Avce. Usually the title referred to a place or property, right? Her mind buzzed on that fact and she saw a “secretary wanted” advertisement.

  She’d be overqualified, she thought, as she asked Coral, “Yeah? You’d fly off just before Christmas to a place you’ve never been?”

  Coral laughed. “I get the chance to be some fancy lady like in a book or movie? Heck yeah. So what’s his name?”

  “Frederico Cerkev, Earl of Martina, in Avce. They offered to set up an introduction.” She clicked on the job as she spoke.

  This was for Cerkev. He needed a secretary.

  She jumped up and paced the floorboards.

  Maybe a new job was preferable. Her phone was on speaker, and she heard Coral’s voice she paced. She said, “So you’re going to fly to Avce and then go out on this blind date where you’ll both know that the matchmaker set you up?”

  Her stomach knotted at the image in her mind. She’d knock on the door and he’d slam it in her face the second she said “AvceLoveMatch.” Honestly, she’d do that if the situation was reversed. “That sounds horrible,” she agreed.

  But if she showed up, knocked on the door and said “job,” then maybe he’d let her into the office.

  Now, she’d not been a secretary, ever, but she could fake it. In advertising, she’d forced enthusiasm for products countless times. And answering calls and keeping a schedule were pretty tame for a short period.

  If she applied.

  If … The idea really hit her hard. It might be fun actually. She swallowed and said, “It’s not that bad. If it works out, it’s kind of sweet.”

  She stared at her screen again and said, “He’s hiring a secretary.”

  “So?” Coral asked. “You’re not a secretary.”

  Fair. Secretary wasn’t exactly what she was thinking of when she’d earned her degree, but a job is a job, and supposedly the boss might be her true love. Maybe she’d get that life she wanted, instead of eating Chinese take-out for dinner after a bad date. She opened up another window to delete her degrees from her resume.

  Overqualified candidates were usually tossed in the trash bin as they weren’t expected to stay in the organization long. Once her resume sounded more like a secretary, she clicked the Apply Now button. Then she sighed.

  It went to an online form and emailed a headhunter she knew with her actual resume.

  Of course. She should have guessed. She said, “So I’m applying for the job now, and then I’ll fly over to check out how the application is progressing.”

  She started typing into the boxes as Coral asked, “You want to be his secretary?”

  No. She wasn’t anyone’s secretary, but a job, a change of scene, and starting over were all good things.

  And she truly was fed up with American men who treated her like a commodity that could be replaced, instead of a cherished woman.

  Besides, just because a computer said “true love” and claimed accuracy, that didn’t make it real. Nothing was a guarantee in life. She said, “I want a chance to walk away without setting up too much of a fuss. Worst case this way is that he’s already hired someone, and then I head to Deerrun for the Christmas pageant, late but still welcome.”

  As she finished her applications, her heart raced. The words came out fast as she knew the truth. She jumped out of her chair and found her one suitcase while Coral said, “I don’t have vacation for a few more days, but I can join you in Avce after Christmas if you’re still there. I’ve always wanted to visit and now I have a reason.”

  She’d have a reason to drink wine near the Mediterranean and figure out exactly what she wanted.

  Miya sat back on the bed and hit Send on the application. “We’ll keep in touch. I don’t want to make plans only to cancel.”

  Her friend said, “Well, I hope you get what you want.”

  Want? Good thought. She wasn’t sure what that was, but she said, “You too, Coral. I’ll call you.”

  “You’d better,” said Coral.

  A second later, she heard her front door open. One of her practically invisible roommates—who never talked to her because their living situation was temporary until they found better jobs and left—must have arrived. This was another reason to start over. Her home wasn’t exactly easy to be in. She’d tried to talk to her roommates months ago, but none of the men and women here even remembered her name.

  So she bought a plane ticket, leaving tonight. It was cheaper than tomorrow’s flight, probably because Christmas travelers were online.

  It would be nice to get out of here and be warm.

  And honestly, it would be nice to look this man who was supposedly her perfect match in the eyes. Maybe her years of bad dates were because she was waiting for someone special, but she wasn’t a complete idiot.

  At best she was booking herself a European vacation, and that wasn’t a bad thing. She’d clear her head and then figure out exactly what she wanted next.

  Chapter 2

  For two years Frederico stopped paying attention to the world, except his daughter. Linsey had died and he’d become a single father when all he’d wanted was to die with her.

  Instead he’d taken their infant daughter home to the country estate deep in the mountains and raised their Christine all alone.

  Now she walked or, more like, ran everywhere, spoke far older than she should, and figured out how to get into everything.

  But as he sat at his office desk and stared at the stark winter scene without much snow yet that covered the dry lawn, he realized time was running short. He needed to marry, even if he’d never love again.

  And he was out of options. Everyone in the village remembered Linsey, and he hadn’t had the time or the desire to fly off and meet new women.

  And time was getting away from him.

  His computer beeped.

  Saved by the bell from musing, he said to himself, and he opened the screen to read the message.

  The agent he’d communicated with, the one he’d hired to find a mail-order bride, had sent him a bill.

  If he paid the agency fee, they’d provide him with a bride in days.

  For a lifetime commitment to a stranger, a woman he’d never met.

  Options were getting slimmer. He only had ten days left until his birthday and no woman was going to come walking in the door.

  But when he opened the top drawer of his desk, his wallet wasn’t there.

  His mind raced. Where had he left that?

  At the moment he had no idea. The past two days, since he’d started interviewing agencies to help find a bride, he’d been forgetful. Linsey had haunted him every time he’d said “marriage” or “wedding.”

  He opened the second drawer, determined to find his wallet, when there was a knock on the door. He sat straight as the butler, Pierre, who had to be in his seventies and remembered his own father, came in dressed in his formal gray uniform, “Lord Martina, are you expecting a visitor?”

  Pierre never called him Frederico, no matter how many times he’d asked him too. He sat back. “No. I’m looking for my credit card to pay for this agency fee and the visa for an online bride. I probably left it in my room.”

  Pierre gestured toward the front door as if there was something magical there. “The pretty young lady at the door says she is here to see you.”

  Probably someone here to sell him something. Maybe he should propose anyhow and marry whoever she was. What she did, or what she looked like, didn’t matter to him now. He asked, “Is she from Avce?”

  “American, I think.” Pierre said.

  He got
up from his desk and decided he’d find out for himself. Now, an American wasn’t exactly the type who married men like him. Americans were more known for following their hearts or passions in marriage than for accepting a deal. Either way, he headed toward the door of his office.

  “Even more peculiar,” he said. “Do me a favor. Find my credit card for me in my bedroom, and I’ll go meet this stranger.”

  As he headed toward the door, Pierre said, “Well, if you want my advice, whoever the young lady at the door is, I vote you marry her instead of some woman you’ve never met.”

  Whoever she was, she must be pretty for Pierre to say that. And the old man was good at noticing a wedding band, not that everyone wore one. He slowed down, lowered his head, and said, “The woman I loved died, but I won’t fail Christine and let her lose the only home she’s ever known.”

  And that was the truth. He knocked on the wooden frame and picked up his step.

  Marriage was just a business deal now. He’d never have a heart to give to another, and once he found his credit card and paid the agency, whoever they sent would be fine.

  He wasn’t picky.

  But then he headed into the library, where the windows were frosted but the dark leather seats were well broken-in and the most comfortable seats in the house. An attractive, raven-haired young woman with a sleek hairdo that framed her face sat waiting. She stood as he entered and held out her hand. “Are you Frederico Cerkev, the Earl of Martina?”

  He tucked in his half-out, blue and white button-down shirt and wished he was half as put together as her. She was seeing him at his worst, when she was clearly here with a purpose. He shook her hand and ignored the spark that raced up his arm and aimed right at his heart.

  “In the flesh,” he said. “And you are?”

  “Miya MacCloud,” she said, while she took her hand back and her cheeks blushed.

  He motioned for her to sit down again in the chairs nestled between the murder mysteries and the crime noir section and said, “Nice to meet you.”

  She ensured her black skirt was perfect as she sat and said, “I came about the job offer.”

  Offer? Had one agency sent him a bride to win his business? His eyebrow raised when he asked, “Job? You’re here to be my mail-order bride?”

  Her nose wrinkled like she was disgusted and said, “No, the secretary position.”

  His own cheeks felt hot. In another life he’d have thought a mail-order bride was a bad idea too, but he’d run out of options. And he’d figured he’d sort resumes for the secretary in the new year. He said, “That position was second on my list of hires. I figured I had some time there.”

  “Second?” Her brown eyes fluttered and she took his breath away.

  Heat rose within him and he pinched his temples to get himself together. Then he said, “I’ve only been talking to agencies these days about the first position I need to fill.”

  She sucked in her bottom lip that was lightly painted and he saw her stiffen, which meant he’d offended her. She said, “Ohh, I see. I’m sorry I bothered you then.”

  Hear her out for the opportunity, he told himself. She was clearly put together and dressed for business. Her beauty was undeniable and he was quite sure she had romantic options galore, wherever she came from. But he had no pride left.

  She stilled and she really did seem like a beautiful angel as she stared at him with those big eyes of hers and asked, “What was first on your list of jobs to fill, then?”

  In another life, he’d have been different. For now, he stared at her black flats and wished he could will the heat out of his face. He said, “A wife, actually.”

  As she glanced into his eyes, his face tingled as he wondered what it would be like to kiss her. She opened her lips and then said, “Tell me more.”

  “Not if you aren’t applying.”

  “Maybe I could.” She trembled a little, or maybe he imagined that.

  Miya was beautiful.

  The plan probably made no sense, but he needed to help Christine. He smoothed one of the wrinkles off his hopelessly rumpled pants and asked, “Maybe. Are you married?”

  She pressed her lips together and he swore she had a bit of a blush as she said, “No.”

  Perhaps she was waiting, like his Linsey had. He asked, “Engaged?”

  She brushed her hair back from her shoulders and said, “No.”

  Interesting. Maybe she dated a fool. “Have a boyfriend?”

  She shook her head, “No. That’s why I said ‘maybe.’”

  If she was free, maybe she’d hear him out and not slap him in the face. He folded his hands and said, “Since you’re here, you’re pretty, and you asked …”

  She leaned in, but her nose wrinkled as if she was slightly offended. “Thanks?”

  “Bad choice of words,” he said. She pushed back again, like she’d stand in a second, so he said quickly, “Please let me finish.” She resettled in her seat and he continued. “If you came for a job, then that means you need money. I was going to handle the secretary position in the new year, but if that’s the job you prefer after hearing me out, that’s totally fine. We’ll keep it professional.”

  “Please tell me.” Her brown eyes stared at him and made his skin dance with awareness, which was a first. He thought he’d be dead to feeling forever. She said, “I … I lost my last job, yes.”

  Okay. And hopefully she had some reason that would compel her to say yes to his completely selfish need. He asked, “And you have some hospital bill you must desperately pay?”

  Her eyes widened. “No.”

  In America—and from her accent it was clear she was American—he knew that young people were often struggling with debt. He scooted to the edge of the seat and hoped he’d found a reason for her to agree. “Student loans?”

  “No.” Her cheeks had a slight tremble as she glanced down. “Well, I mean yes, but it’s manageable …”

  So she had no poker face. Maybe the debt was more than she admitted. He pressed on, hoping to find some reason for her to say yes to a quick wedding. He asked, “Extremely high mortgage payment?”

  She shook her head. “I rent. And I have three roommates.”

  Three roommates meant the cost couldn’t be that horrible. Either way, the way she stared at him made him think that if he didn’t ask now, he’d never build up the nerve. So he reached out, took her hands in his and ignored the spark that shot through him again, as he said, “Well, how much would it take for you to marry a complete stranger—for a lifetime commitment—and help a little girl stay in her home?”

  Her brows crunched together as she stared at him like he was some alien. “I don’t understand.”

  Pride was a luxury to him now and he had no time for that anymore. Christine was more important. So he swallowed and explained, “The law in Avce is that I must marry before I turn thirty, and that’s in about ten days now. And I can’t be divorced.”

  Her eyes widened like she was in total shock as she asked, “Why did you wait this long?”

  Because no woman would ever replace Linsey. She’d been perfect and no one else ever would be. If it weren’t for Christine, he’d wander the world as a lost soul with no home or country rather than marry again.

  “I was … sad,” he said at last. “The woman I loved and intended to marry died. Now my daughter is two, running all around the place, and if I take her from here, then I steal the future her mother wanted for her. So I’m desperate.”

  She reached out for his hand and squeezed it like she cared, and the spark that rushed through his veins shocked him as she said, “I’m sorry.”

  His hair stood up like he was aware for the first time of a woman that wasn’t Linsey. He kept his voice low and ignored the sound of his own heart beating again as he said, “Thank you. But how much would it take for you to marry me, a complete stranger? Knowing we can’t divorce, although we can live apart after a time. Or we can just talk about the secretary position, if you prefer.”


  She swallowed and kept silent like she was thinking about this proposition that he had no right to make, but had.

  Maybe it was the goosebumps that rose on his arms when she’d taken his hand that made him bare his soul. The adrenaline rush inside him shocked him. He’d been dead for so long to any woman’s presence …

  And then finally she opened her lips and met his gaze as she asked, “Honestly?”

  “Yes.” Even his lips tingled like he wanted to kiss her.

  But he never would. Linsey was his one and only, as he’d sworn to her on her grave. But until right now, he’d never been tempted. It’s not like Miya had even offered anything. He simply needed her for a job. So he held still as she said, “Look, I need to start my life over.”

  His mind raced at that. What could tip the balance so she agreed? His gaze narrowed as he asked, “Jealous ex-boyfriend?”

  She shook her head, but her questioning gaze made him pause as she said, “No, just bad luck on the job front and no luck meeting quality men, to be honest.”

  Job. Right. She needed a job. And the wife position he needed to fill was just that, too. He nodded and said, “I can pay you. Name your price, since it’s forever.”

  Her cheeks turned slightly red as she sat back in her chair. He leaned a little closer to her so he didn’t need to let her hand go yet as she said, “We can work out numbers next. What I need to know first …”

  Awareness rushed through him. Numbers next meant she might say yes. His throat was parched as he asked, “Yes?”

  She lowered her head and her voice went softer as she asked, “Does the offer include housing?”

  His pulse quickened. Maybe she would solve his crisis, but he needed to navigate carefully.

  “Actually yes,” he said. “You’d have to live here for thirty days minimum, and then we can quietly separate. We only have to appear together at events. Otherwise you can live wherever you like, including here, or elsewhere if you prefer. And you’d get a monthly check once we settle on the price.”

  She sucked in her bottom lip as her gaze met his. Part of him was tempted to kiss her in that moment, but he stilled as she said, “And to clarify, you see a wife as a job opportunity, so no sex or anything?”