No one has noticed that before. His mouth parted in brief startlement, which he instantly concealed behind an easy grin. “I’ll explain my coffee indulgence when you explain why you’re so set against marrying me.”
She instantly went close-mouthed, and returned prompt attention to her book. Something about this man—and she knew it went way beyond the fact that he was stunningly, shockingly handsome and male—went straight through her sexual reserve and struck at the very core of her and she wasn’t ready to analyze—or discuss—it yet.
His intrigue redoubled. Had she been any other woman, he’d have accused her of playing coy in a bid to earn his attentions.
Yet, in the past few days, Siobhan Faulkner had shown far more interest in reading—or rather, devouring—the romances in his library than she had in him—or any of the luxuries he had ordered for her.
It was torture to want her, and to know she also wanted him, but was denying themselves the pleasure, just for the sake of making a point.
And the only reason that irked him was because he took pride in the image of wealth and success he’d cultivated. Yes, that’s the only reason.
He rose from his place at the head of the table and walked to her side.
She glanced up briefly, following his movements with quizzical eyes.
“May I take this seat?” he asked quietly.
“Given they’re all your seats, I imagine you could take them apart and use them for firewood if you so desire.”
He snorted. “I’m fairly certain that would qualify as an offense punishable by abdication.”
She laughed.
The sound was clear and bell-like, innocent—wholly unlike the women he kept company with—and infectious, causing him to join in.
Footsteps sounded at the doorway, and they both looked up.
At the door, Jumani announced, “The helicopter is ready, Your Majesty.”
Siobhan looked at him and asked, “Are you going somewhere?”
“We are.” Angus grinned. “We are going shopping.”
Siobhan stifled a groan. “I don’t need anything.”
“You need glasses, new clothes, shoes, and…and all that stuff women need.” Ignoring her lack of enthusiasm, he turned to Jumani and said, “Please tell MacMillian we’ll be there in a moment.”
She resigned herself to the shopping trip. It did no good to argue. Although she had felt the heat of her anger and hurt cooling somewhat over the last few days, it left a poignant regret. Angus had been mostly avoiding her after their breakfasts together, except for the occasional times he seemed to be trying to sweeten and weaken her resolve for not giving in to his masterful seduction.
But the temptation to fall grew harder to resist every day.
To make matters worse she was battling morning sickness and overwhelming fatigue. It disgusted her how much she needed to sleep in order to feel human.
If only she were home in her cocoon of solitude. Safe again…and lonely.
Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t be a fool, Siobhan. But she couldn’t shake the discomfort she’d felt each time she’d forced herself to say something mean to him. Perhaps he didn’t deserve it.
Before they boarded the helicopter, she studied Angus in the act of turning his handsome face up in welcome to the sun. Dressed in a well-cut navy suit and overcoat, with a dashing scarf around his neck, with his white gold signet gleaming in the soft winter morning light, he looked immaculate in appearance. Everything about him was perfect, and infuriatingly handsome and supremely confident in himself, he was the dreamy royal every girl and grown woman would dream of.
Will I ever feel that way? In contrast, her dress was very casual, in no way impressive. It was old, she had bought it in a second-hand shop, and it showed, even though Esmeralda had washed and pressed it yesterday with some secret recipe of hers, which had given it a new shine.
He needed someone to be confident in their position as his wife, but Siobhan had yet to find a comfortable spot in her new life.
Angus picked her up in his arms and put her inside the helicopter.
Siobhan looked around impressed. She was expecting a luxurious helicopter but it was a flying palace. The cabin was spacious and could sit six passengers in big, cream leather seats with ample room for long legs such as Angus’s. And it could probably fit a dozen passengers more if not for the lounge with a bar and small kitchen, a lavatory, storage room, and who knows what else!
Once inside, he made sure she got the belt strapped and sat on the seat next to the other window, lowering the back of the seat between them which proved to double as a table.
“This looks like the Palace of Versailles.”
He smiled at her. “Hopefully, we won’t run into any Jacobins at fourteen thousand feet.”
“Don’t we need those helmets with headsets?” she asked when the co-pilot closed the door.
He smiled at her. “Not in these kinds of choppers.”
The helicopter lifted off the ground and she grabbed his arm as her stomach fought to catch up. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.
She took several deep breaths to fight the wave of nausea, giving him a weak smile in return. “Just—well, not a good thing to do while pregnant.”
He pushed up the table between them and moved to the seat next to hers. His arm wrapped around her and he pulled her against his warmth. “Forgive me. I did not think of your condition.”
This close, there was no avoiding his substantial physicality. The arm that brushed against hers was impressively muscled, and the body next to hers was big and hard—and warm as a coal fire.
She shook her head, his warmth helping calm her rattled body. “I’ll be fine in a moment.”
Even without being pregnant, she doubted she would ever get used to something like this. The helicopter flew out of the sun, yet Siobhan kept her eyes on Angus, who made for much more fetching scenery then the snow-peaked mountains and forests they flew over. And looking at him made the nausea recede, as if he was a rock in the pure silence, and he could transform the unsettling flight into nothing more than magically floating over the clouds.
His hand delved into his suit pocket and took out a tiny silver box. Opening it, he offered it to her with a sheepish smile.
She took a wafer candy, popping it into her mouth. “Thanks.”
Then he offered her the box itself. “I heard it’s worth keeping in your pocket to fight off the pregnancy cravings.”
She looked up, laughing. “For me or you?”
He touched her cheek, the warmth traveling to his eyes. “Both, perhaps.”
His thoughtfulness touched her and Siobhan sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. There were times she wished he had just been a normal bloke so their two worlds didn’t feel as if they collided all the time.
After a while, her dis-ease at being in the air began to subside and her mood lightened. Suddenly, she sat up and fumbled around in her bag for her cell, punching in Jaxon’s number. He would be so jealous of what she was doing at the moment.
“Hello?”
“Jax,” she breathed. “Guess what I am doing?”
“Bathing in a sea of diamonds,” he laughed. “God only knows now. What?”
“I’m flying in a helo,” she answered. “And it’s fabulous.”
“Bitch,” he muttered. “I want one for my birthday, alright? Tell your fancy boyfriend that.”
“I love you, too,” she laughed, hanging up the phone. Her conversations with Jaxon, though brief, kept her grounded, reminding her of the person she used to be before Angus.
Angus felt Siobhan’s sadness before she could put the phone back in her purse. The excitement in her voice as she talked to her friend was something he was rarely witness to, something he craved from Siobhan.
“Jaxon wishes to have a helo for his birthday.”
Angus chuckled and squeezed her shoulders. “A helo. That’s a tall order.” She didn’t respond and though he knew she had more on her mi
nd than simply missing her friend, at least that was something he could easily remedy. “Perhaps he can come and visit for a few weeks instead.”
She looked up and he was drawn into the depths of her eyes, the hopefulness on her face nearly taking his breath away. “Really?”
“Of course,” he said tightly. “Any friend of yours is a friend of mine.” And he would do his damnedest not to be jealous the entire time. He knew he had no more to fear from Jaxon than he did from her cat. But he was a man, after all, and Angus had trouble believing any man could fail to be attracted to her, foster-brother or not.
“Thank you,” she said softly, snuggling against him once more.
“My pleasure,” he hoped he could continue to please her, and not make her regret ever choosing him.
18
Switzerland, Zürich
10:45 a.m.
The flight was surprisingly short, and Angus had a limousine with a driver—and his team of bodyguards—waiting for them on the helipad.
Widely regarded as one of the most exclusive shopping destinations in the world, Bahnhofstrasse rivaled London’s Regent Street and Paris’s Avenue des Champs-Élysées.
After they left the optician, where Angus made her chose not only one, but two pairs of glasses and a pair of sunglasses from Cartier gold eyewear, and where they had met with Javert Romani, whom Angus introduced to Siobhan as the best jeweler in Lektenstaten, and had requested a set of pearls and diamonds for her—without asking the price or seeing the jewels—they drove further down from Hauptbahnhof towards Lake Zürich, where the high-street chain stores were replaced by luxury international brand shops. Siobhan glued her nose to the tinted window watching the high concentration of designer labels at the southern end of the street: Chanel, Burberry, Dior, Hermès, and other luxury concept stores.
She tried not to think about the money they—he—would spend buying clothes for her as the limousine stopped in front of a slim black tinted glass building, one of the concept stores, and the driver and a bodyguard left the car to open the doors for them.
A few of the saleswomen turned their noses up at Siobhan’s scuffed boots, and the mix of her own old clothes with some of the new pieces Angus had acquired for her.
Angus followed a few steps behind, and watched as she’d donned an indifferent expression, but he could tell she was embarrassed, and that made his hackles rise.
“Your Majesty.” The shop owner rushed to attend him, bypassing Siobhan with a quick good morning, and bowing solicitously. “In what way may I assist you?”
He walked over to Siobhan, passed an arm over her shoulder, and bent to place a kiss on her head.
“You can get my fiancée anything she could possibly need,” Angus told the woman. “Her baggage was stolen, so she’ll be needing everything. And we’ll need it all delivered to us today.”
At the word fiancée, the woman looked at Siobhan’s hand.
How dare she? “I want you and your employees to understand nothing is too good, or too costly, for the soon-to-be Princess of Lektenstaten,” Angus stressed to the designer, adding, “Her wardrobe should reflect that. And so, should their attitude,” he gestured to the sales girls, “or this will be the last royal visit this store is ever graced with.”
The woman nodded enthusiastically, congratulating him and Siobhan for their engagement. A sharp clap of her hands sent assistants rushing in a flurry.
He watched Siobhan admiring the clothes, caressing silks and velvets, and he began to grow hard. He was astonished at how easily she aroused him.
Soon, they were shown to a private floor and offered champagne, to which Angus immediately answered by saying Siobhan would prefer some fruit juice or chamomile tea.
“Angus,” she urgently whispered, grabbing his arm and steering him aside. “An entire wardrobe? That will cost a fortune!”
He looked at her as if she had sprouted horns. He couldn’t believe a woman might not take the fullest possible advantage of his unlimited black American Express. He could admit she had surprised him—in fact, she continued to with her unusual behavior. “That’s not a problem.”
“I’m pregnant,” she told him, frustrated, waving her hand over her body. “In a few weeks nothing normal sized will fit me and I’ll have to buy maternity stuff.”
“Is that so?” When she nodded, he shrugged. “Then, when you need new clothes, you can buy more.”
She rolled her eyes to the ceiling as she accepted a steamy cup of tea. “It’s a waste of money, Angus. You don’t need to do this.”
Angus narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps instead of proposing, I should have offered you a position as my mistress. This way you would spend without pity.”
She swallowed, weakening whatever resolve she’d erected between them. Just because they could not see eye to eye on the majority of things, it didn’t mean the flame had died between them.
There were nights when she lay alone, wishing he would come into her bedroom and make the flame burn brighter, stoking the fire until she nearly combusted under his touch.
But he hadn’t and she was becoming more frustrated by the day.
Pausing with the teacup near her lips, Siobhan said, “I wouldn’t have accepted and, of course, if I accept any position in your life, I would rather marry you. It would probably be an adventure.”
Somewhat mollified, Angus sat in the armchair closer to her. “I wouldn’t count on much adventuring if I were you. I’m going to look after you and keep you safe.”
She glanced at him over the rim of the cup, her eyes smiling. “What I meant was, you are the adventure.”
Angus felt his heartbeat tumbling like a row of tin soldiers.
He had always enjoyed women casually, sampling their favors with relaxed ease. Not one of them had ever caused this aching craving Siobhan seemed to have unlocked from the center of his soul. God help him, he could never let her find out the power she had over him, or he would be completely at her mercy.
By the end of two hours, she had tons of everything she could think of and some she had never dreamt she needed. From delicate and expensive lingerie to even more expensive suits, dresses, coats, and purses, bags, carry-ons, shoes and stilettos—and only God knows what—with the total in the absurd and ridiculous hundreds of thousands. There were so many items on the counter when she finally told the excited saleswomen she was tired, Angus immediately intervened.
Siobhan threw herself in an armchair beside him and whistled under her breath. “God, I lost track of the items I selected.” She wasn’t even sure she would live long enough to use everything.
“If you need more, they can send someone with more clothes for you to select others.”
“Angus, you don’t seem to understand.” She worried her lip with her teeth before leaning toward him and whispering, “This is going to be a fortune. I have no idea why I need,” she raised her hand and ticked off on her fingers, “a walking dress, a horse race dress, a reception dress, and an evening dress, plus a black brocaded silk costume. They fostered matching hats on me, which they call fasci…erm…oh! Fasci-something!”
He smiled, delighted by her normalcy. “Fascinators.”
“That.” Siobhan rolled her eyes at him. “And that croco bag that cost fifty thousand …whatever-currency they use in Switzerland. Should I put back a few pieces?”
“It’s Swiss Francs and somehow they forgot a ball gown.” He winked at her. “Don’t worry about it.”
Angus, sitting lazily in an armchair, knew he had just won the first battle, and it could be a very pleasant game, instead of a war.
Not for a moment did he think he was being unfair, that he was using his tremendous wealth and powerful appeal to sneak under her skin and break down her defenses. Indeed, he thought he was doing her a favor in not sitting her down and discussing with her, rationally and thoughtfully, the pros and cons of a marriage of convenience as a business transaction. If that isn’t respect for her values, then what is?
It would w
ork much better to let her see all the benefits she could reap from being his wife without having him say it. “Don’t worry about the total.”
“But—”
“Siobhan, I can win that amount—or lose it—with the blink of an eye in one of my equity funds.” And that made her even more worried. “It really gives me pleasure to gift it to you.”
“So, we are taking it all?”
“Yes, we are.” He snapped his fingers and the sales assistants scurried to pack everything and the owner came forward with the credit machine.
He extended his Black American Express to the owner of the shop and in less than one minute it was all settled.
The thought of spending half-a-million Swiss Francs in clothes, in less than two hours a few weeks ago would have been completely unreal to her. Now, she was learning it was nothing.
“Everything will be sent to your house in an hour.” The owner handed the machine and slip to an assistant and continued to babble solicitously, “I’ll accompany you. It was a pleasure to receive you and, milady, if you need anything…”
They were almost at the door when several cameras went off and Siobhan shrank in dismay against Angus.
“Keep your head up and don’t stop walking,” he whispered, with a steady arm around her waist. “They are not going to bite you.”
She looked up into his eyes. “I’m not ready for this.”
“Oh, milady, if you want to exit by the back—”
A hard stare from Angus cut off the shop owner’s suggestion.
Returning his attention to Siobhan, he gave her a reassuring smile. “You are a beautiful woman and that is all they want. All you have to do is smile. My security team will hold them back and if questions are asked, let me do the talking.”
He offered Siobhan his arm and motioned for the owner of the shop to open the door and with firm strides crossed the threshold to a sea of microphones and cameras which parted just to surround them in an avalanche of questions.
“Your Majesty. When is the wedding?” from one reporter was followed by “Where did you meet? What is your fiancée’s name?” from another while a third tried to get his microphone past Angus’s bodyguards’ arms and not succeeding, shouted, “How does it feel to be marrying a real king, miss? Is this a fairy tale? The prince, or rather, the king and Cinderella?”
Royal Love Page 15