The Royal Consort

by Jeana E. Mann

  “As you wish.” At the door, he bows and disappears into the conference room adjoining the sitting area.

  5

  Henry

  Upon my entrance into the conference room, everyone stands. No one speaks as I shut the door behind me. I’ve known most of them for years, some of them since childhood. They are my most trusted advisors.

  “Shasta, you start.” The chair scrapes across the polished tile floor as I find my seat at the head of the table.

  “I ran the background check on Ms. McElroy, like you requested.” She frowns at her tablet, forehead puckering.

  “Go on.”

  “Well, she’s absolutely clean. No arrests, no financial problems, no legal issues. Apart from yesterday’s incident with her father, she’s been very philanthropic, and she already has media training.” Shasta removes her glasses and rubs the space between her eyes.

  On paper, Everly makes an excellent choice. I can’t believe that fuck Nicky let her slide through his fingers. His loss, however, is my gain. “Excellent.” I ignore Shasta’s disapproving glare and move on to my second assistant. “Richard, did you find a same-day marriage state?”

  “Um, yes, Your Highness. Connecticut. There’s a reliable, discreet Justice of the Peace who can take you in tomorrow afternoon.” The overhead lights glare off his balding head.

  “Wonderful. Make it happen.” A dozen pairs of eyes stare at me in shock. I stare back at them. Five pairs of eyes drop to the table. No one has the balls to question my announcement—no one but Shasta. Her gaze remains locked on my face.

  “With all due respect, Your Highness, are you certain this is the path you’d like to take?” Her hands shake a little as she sets her tablet on the table.

  "Yes." Patience has never been one of my virtues. I need her to get on board with my plan ASAP. Time isn't on my side.

  “And what about Lady Clayton, sir?” Shasta speaks quietly. The calmness in her voice contrasts with the panic in her eyes.

  “What about her?”

  “She’s anticipating your proposal.” Shasta’s reluctance wears on my need to set the wheels of progress in motion, but I know it comes from a place of genuine concern for my welfare.

  “I never said I would marry her. My mother made the suggestion at one of her stupid dinner parties when I was fifteen.” No one ever asked me what I wanted. That’s how it had been my entire life.

  “Speaking of your mother—she isn’t going to like this.” Shasta exhales. My mother’s temper scares the bejeezus out of the entire palace staff with good reason. “There are—certain expectations on both sides.”

  “Then let her marry Lady Clayton.” Mother will no doubt blow her perfectly coiffed top when she hears the news, an added bonus. Nothing amuses me more than making her lose control. I dismiss Shasta’s objections with a wave of my hand. “Janet, take care of the wedding band. Something understated, tasteful, and elegant. Ms. McElroy can choose something from the royal vaults when we return. Harriet, I want a full media blitz following the ceremony. Once the word is out to the public, it will be more difficult for Mother to object.”

  Harriet bobs her head. “Certainly. I’ll call in a few paparazzi to leak the photos. And, if I may suggest, it would be best if this appears to be a longstanding secret romance. We can say that Ms. McElroy’s affair with Nicky Tarnovsky was a ploy to hide your relationship from the press.”

  “I like it.” I tap the table. Although Harriet’s the newest addition to my entourage, she brings a decade of experience with a Hollywood movie studio to court. She’s been a genius at hiding my numerous indiscretions from the tabloids or leaking them when beneficial.

  “Are you sure it’s wise to link your name with the former Vice President’s scandal?” Shasta dabs at a bead of perspiration on her forehead with a tissue.

  “Good gracious, you look like you’re about to faint, Shasta.” The color has drained from her fair complexion. “Get her a glass of water, would you, Janet?”

  Harriet leaps into the conversation, a sly smile on her face. “Not the way I’ll spin it. To the press, Prince Heinrich will be the knight in shining armor, swooping in to rescue a damsel in distress. It’s all a matter of perspective.”

  “Harriet, you’re a genius.” My praise brings a smile to her face, showing the faint crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. I slap a hand on the table. “All right then, it’s settled. Now, I just need to persuade Ms. McElroy to join our team.”

  “That might not be as easy as you wish, sir,” Shasta says between sips of water.

  “I’ve thought about that. She’s practical. I’ll appeal to her common sense. She’ll come around.” Everly’s refusal isn’t a viable option. I’m going to need every bit of my charm to persuade her to be my wife.

  6

  Everly

  I fill the tub to the top with steaming water, fragrant lavender bath salts and bubbles from the hotel spa, and slide beneath the surface up to my chin. My limbs float weightlessly. The sensation is delicious and seductive. I focus on my breathing, letting the tension ease from my neck and back. A nice bath has been a part of my evening ritual since I was a teenager, but lately, I’ve been too busy. Now I realize how much I’ve missed the quiet slosh of the water and the scent of herbs.

  When the bath cools, I pull the drain before adding more hot water. I do this several times, partly because it's heavenly and partly because I have no idea what to do with myself once I'm done. The question is answered for me when Henry knocks on the bathroom door. "Everly, are you okay?”

  His deep voice startles me. I sit up, splashing foam over the side. “Yes. I’m fine.”

  “Are you decent? Can I come in?” My nipples tighten into stiff nubs at the idea of being naked in front of His Royal Highness.

  “Um, yes, okay.” I slid beneath the surface, arranging the bubbles to hide my nudity.

  The door opens a few inches. His gaze slides from my knees peeking above the surface to the drops of water glistening on my shoulders. A pulse of desire hits me between the legs, sharp enough to make me sink the edges of my teeth into my lower lip. When his eyes reach mine, they’re dark and hooded. “You’ve been in here a long time. I was concerned.”

  “Have I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is your meeting finished?” The way his attention lingers on my mouth brings a second flutter between my legs.

  “About fifteen minutes ago.” The tip of his tongue drags along his lips. The gesture is seductive and primal, like he’s dying for a taste of me. “I’d like to discuss a few things with you before dinner.”

  “Sure. Can you hand me that robe?”

  “Of course.” He takes the plush velour from its hook and places it in my outstretched hand. His gaze remains locked with mine, never dipping to the water. Although his tone is casual, tension outlines the sharp angle of his jaw. “I’ll see you in the sitting room.”

  Stress creeps back into my muscles. What if something’s wrong? What if he’s changed his mind? I have no Plan B to fall back on. I take my time getting dressed, lingering over the damp strands of my hair, twisting them into a loose braid at the back of my neck. When I return to the sitting room, Henry is standing next to the fireplace, eyebrows drawn together. The sun has dropped in the sky, casting long shadows over the city.

  “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

  “It was worth it.” His gaze slides over my breasts and hips. I chose a sapphire blue wrap dress that compliments my curves. There’s nothing revealing about the V-neckline or the mid-length hemline, but the heat in his blue-green eyes cuts through the filmy fabric.

  “Thank you.” With each passing moment, I’m more and more convinced that he’s going to expect sex in exchange for his protection, a price I’m willing to pay. He’s virile, cocky, and oozing sexuality. I’d be insane to pass up a chance to sleep with him.

  “Have a seat.” He gestures to the chair in front of him.

  “Do you mind if I have a drink whil
e we talk?” The crystal decanter of liquor on the bar draws my attention. I’ve never been a serious drinker, but alcohol might fill the emptiness in my chest for a little while.

  “Yes, I mind.”

  I draw back, startled by his direct refusal. He takes my hand and leads me to the chair. “Sit. I need you sober and in complete possession of your faculties for this conversation.”

  Panic sucks the moisture from my mouth. Something’s wrong. Maybe he’s going to rescind his offer. Shit. I should have come up with a better plan than nothing. I muster a smile before balancing on the edge of the chair. “Sure.”

  He’s changed from his suit into a black sweater. The clingy knit outlines the swells and dips of a taut abdomen and bulging pectoral muscles. I clear my throat and try not to stare. His movements are slow and deliberate as he relaxes into the cushions of his chair. “I have a proposition for you, Everly. It might sound a bit unorthodox, but it’s a serious offer, and I’d like you to consider it as such.”

  "Alright. I'm listening." Defensive hackles lift on my neck. He's been a perfect gentleman all day. Then again, my judgment of character has always been weak. At this moment, I miss Rourke more than ever. She's always been a voice of reason in the darkest of times.

  “My father has been ill for some time. The doctors say he has only a few days left. I’ve been summoned to court to await his passing.”

  “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?” Even as I speak the words, I realize how useless the gesture is. I’m in no position to help anyone.

  “Thank you. I appreciate your offer, and yes, there is something you can do.” He slides forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, leaning toward me. A shiver runs down my back, one filled with heat. “As you know, I’ll be the next King of Androvia. Once my father dies, the coronation will happen quickly, usually within forty-eight hours.”

  Now I understand. He’ll be consumed with royal duties and won’t have time to entertain a troublesome woman. “You don’t need to worry about me. You’ve been more than kind. I can—”

  He stops my words with a touch to my knee. My skin sizzles under the light caress of his fingertips. “No. You misunderstand. Let me explain.” His intense gaze draws me in. My body angles toward him. “There are a lot of antiquated laws in Androvia. I plan to abolish those edicts when I’m in power. Until then, I have to comply. The law clearly states that to claim the throne, I must be married.”

  “Oh, I see.” Once again, I’ve misread his signals. He’s not attracted to me; he’s being kind. “You have a fiancée, and I'm in the way." How awkward. To my surprise, I'm more than a little disappointed. Of course, he's got someone. He's too yummy.

  “No, I don’t.” He strokes his goatee, expression pensive. “I thought I’d have more time—to find someone suitable. Now, I’m down to the wire.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure how I can help?”

  “Listen to me, Everly.” He takes my hands in his. “You’re smart, philanthropic, and well-educated. You speak five languages—”

  “Six,” I interject.

  “I stand corrected. Six languages. You understand diplomatic protocol, and you’re not intimidated by powerful people.”

  I can't stop staring at his thumb as it strokes the back of my hand. The roughness of his palms contradicts with the shine of his well-manicured nails. I can’t help imagining how his hands might feel on the insides of my thighs or cupping my breasts. His touch distracts me from the agenda behind his words. “You know a lot about me.”

  “Enough.” The fabric of his slacks whispers over the velvet sofa cushions as he slides closer His knees bracket mine. “Marry me, Everly.”

  “Are you crazy?” I press a hand on my sternum to calm the erratic rhythm of my heart.

  “My staff certainly thinks so.” He squeezes my hands enough to focus my attention.

  “We don’t know each other. We aren’t in love.”

  “That’s what makes the situation ideal. This is a business arrangement. I need someone who can handle herself without all the mess of emotions. You’re more than qualified. In fact, you’re perfect.” His words buzz around my head. “I know this is unconventional, but think about it. You have nothing holding you here. You can come to Androvia and start over as my queen. I’m offering you wealth and power beyond your wildest dreams. As a royal consort, you’ll be able to champion the charities of your choice. You can change laws. You can make a difference.” The low, hypnotic cadence of his voice seduces me in ways I’ve never imagined. “We can make a difference.”

  “I—I don’t know what to say.”

  “I’d intended to wine and dine you, shower you with gifts, to court you properly, but time has run out.” The earnestness in his eyes plummets to the pit of my stomach. “Be my wife.” My head swims with his intoxicating proposal. “No one will ever disrespect you again. You can flip a big, fat middle finger at your father. Think about it, Everly. All you have to do is say yes.”

  7

  Everly

  My mind races with a thousand reasons to refuse his offer, but another part of me—the reckless, heartbroken, angry part—rushes to accept. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. With his status as a platform, I could start a new philanthropic organization to help the disadvantaged. Charity has always been a massive part of my life. At the age of fifteen, I started a foundation for homeless horses and progressed to helping the victims of sex trafficking by the age of nineteen. Although my mother claims the Wings of Freedom Foundation as her own, the idea was mine. Years of hard work have made the charity successful. I hate to toss my efforts aside, but there’s no way in hell I’ll partner with her again, even for such a worthy cause.

  “I see the wheels of your brain are turning.” One corner of his mouth curls in a smirk. “What are your dreams, Everly? Tell me, and I’ll do everything in my power to turn them into reality.”

  The color of his irises morphs from dancing blue-green to soft azure. I stare into their depths, desperate to read his thoughts. If he’s sincere, I’d be a fool to turn away his help. “I want to help those less fortunate than me.”

  “Done.” The warmth of his hands heats my palms, travels up my forearms, and settles in my chest. He inches closer. The smooth fabric of his slacks tickles against my bare knees. “I’ll make a start-up contribution. Say, one-hundred thousand?”

  I’ve been around business people long enough to know we’ve passed the offer stage and progressed into bargaining. “I’ll need a million.”

  “Five hundred thousand.”

  “Seven-fifty.” His answer comes back immediately, like he’d been prepared for my counteroffer.

  “I want a salary.” If things go wrong, the extra money will help. My hands shake with increasing ferocity until he draws them to his thighs. The muscles beneath my palms are hard and sculpted.

  “You’ll have access to an account with unlimited funds for your personal needs. Of course, our children will each have a sizable inheritance, and the firstborn son will inherit the throne.”

  “Children?” The word is a faint echo in the large hotel suite. My heart does a ridiculous dance at the thought.

  “Yes, Everly. We’ll need to have sex. It’s a requirement.” His gaze dips to my mouth before flitting back to my eyes. “One I’ll enjoy very much.”

  Lord have mercy. An unexpected flutter hits me between the legs. I dig the edges of my teeth into the left side of my cheek to stop a gasp. The prospect of having his large body on top of mine sends heat rushing to the tips of my toes. It takes every ounce of my waning self-control to focus on something other than the curl of his blond hair above his collar or the sensual way he licks his lips. "What if I don’t enjoy it?” It’s a stupid question. Everything about him, from the sensual curve of his mouth to the aura of sin in his eyes, reeks of sexual prowess.

  He edges forward, moving with predatory slowness, like he doesn’t want to scare me. One of his hands slips to the back of my head. He wraps the le
ngth of my braid around his wrist then digs his fingers into my nape. A startled gasp pops from my lips. He's so close now. The heat of his breath puffs against my face. My ragged breathing breaks the silence in the room. I swallow, fighting to maintain control of my senses.

  “You’ll enjoy it.” His lips press against the left corner of my mouth; soft and teasing. “I won’t have it any other way.” A second kiss lands on the opposite corner. Shivers of delight skitter along my spine. The tip of his tongue flits over the center of my lips. My nipples tighten until they sting.

  “You’re very sure of yourself.” I close my eyes to savor the tug of his teeth on my earlobe, the tickle of his breath in my ear.

  “Bedding you will be the best part of this arrangement—for both of us—I guarantee it.”

  Unable to resist any longer, I turn my head, seeking his lips. Our mouths meet in a hot, wet kiss. I groan at the glide of his tongue over mine. His fingers tighten in my hair. He uses his grip as leverage to angle my head, deepening the kiss, taking more than I want to give. My hands find the tops of his thighs and clutch the smooth fabric of his trousers. I had planned to hold a part of myself back from him, but his eager lips and tongue make it impossible. Too soon, he pulls away, leaving me panting. The color of his eyes deepens, hinting at dangerous darkness in their depths.

  “You taste even sweeter than I imagined,” he says, staring at my mouth.

  “Have you thought about kissing me?” A blush heats my face.

  “Every damn day since I first saw you.” The confession startles both of us. He releases my hair and shoves back in his chair. “Does that answer your question about our sexual chemistry?”