His Sword

by Holly Hart

  “But find it he did,” says Carlo. “And he returned it to me. I, in turn, have given it back to you.”

  There’s more to the story, but I guess Carlo’s not interested in discussing it with Isabella. I don’t blame him – I get the sense she can be a bit of a shrew under the right circumstances.

  “Well, I’m just glad to have it back,” she says, then turns to me. “I’ll return it to our own archives, unless you need it right away?”

  “Not until the prince’s birthday, ma’am. I just needed to know where I could find it.”

  “Very good.” She turns to Carlo. “Again, many thanks. You’ve eased an old woman’s worries, signore.”

  “I don’t know of whom you speak, Your Grace,” he says, bowing. “I see only beautiful young ladies in this room with me.”

  Isabella clucks her tongue and sighs as she heads for the door with the sword.

  “You’ve been hanging around Dante too long,” she says, but she’s smiling. “Amanda, it’s been a pleasure. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

  “Ma’am.”

  “And you,” she says to Carlo. “Take a day off once in awhile, will you?”

  He nods and Isabella leaves. As soon as she’s down the hall and back onto the main concourse, Carlo carefully closes and locks the door to his office.

  “I appreciate your discretion, Ms. Sparks,” he says.

  “Amanda.”

  “Of course. Amanda. I wasn’t eager for the duchess to be privy to how the sword came to return to Isola D’ora.”

  “I kind of got that vibe from you,” I say. “I was beginning to wonder if maybe Peter wasn’t supposed to have it in the first place, and that was what his big panic was about.”

  “I can assure you, Mr. Scott is deep in the Morovan court’s good graces for returning the sword here when he did. His timing was impeccable.”

  “Whew,” I say, wiping pretend sweat from my brow. “I was worried for a second.”

  Carlo props his butt on the edge of his enormous antique desk and folds his arms over his chest.

  “Tell me, Amanda, have you had the opportunity to spend any time with the prince?”

  My heart thuds paiinfully in my chest. Did Carlo see us? No, that’s stupid. Or maybe not – there could be cameras in the gardens!

  The easy smile on his face erases my worries. I’m just being paranoid. Better get over that real quick.

  “Yes,” I say. “In fact, we had some, uh, quality time in the gardens just a little while ago.”

  “I trust he’s cooperating with you?”

  He’s cooperating, all right.

  “Absolutely. He’s shown me only the best royal manners.”

  “Excellent. Then if you’ll excuse me, I have several matters that need attending. Thank you so much for stopping in to visit me.”

  “The pleasure was entirely mine,” I say.

  He drops a wink with one of those basset hound eyes.

  “You’re learning quickly,” he says with a grin.

  Yeah, I think. I’m learning a lot. And maybe a little too quickly.

  Chapter Thirteen

  13. DANTE

  “Why on earth do you need a registry of Morova’s convents?” Maria asks.

  She’s looking at me like a suspicious mother: arms crossed, head cocked to once side. I suppose I can’t blame her – it’s a strange request coming from any boss, let alone a monarch.

  “I’m not looking for a new challenge,” I sigh. “Well, not in the way you’re thinking, anyway.”

  “Then what are you looking for?”

  Should I tell her? I’m beginning to believe I don’t have a choice. Maria’s probably the smartest person I know, outside of Carlo, and Emilio certainly hasn’t been any help. He’s the reason I’m here now, making a hare-brained last-ditch effort to find a nun.

  Maria has been my rock since I lost Adriana, and she’s proved her loyalty to me countless times. And I trust her implicitly, ever since she had the nerve to rebuff my advances early in our relationship. She was probably the first person in my adult life, outside of Carlo and Isabella, to tell me no. And, unlike Carlo, she has no problem calling me by my first name.

  “Sit down,” I say.

  She glares at me. “This is my office, I tell you to sit down. So sit down and explain yourself.”

  We take seats on opposite sides of her desk. As my chief of staff, she has the best office in the palace, with one of the best views of Orta in the entire building.

  I’ve also got a view of her perfect legs as she crosses them. They send my mind immediately to my encounter with Amanda yesterday. I’m still trying to process it – I had to practically sprint to my chambers directly from the gardens and masturbate furiously. If I hadn’t, there would have been a tent under my slacks for the rest of the day.

  And I wouldn’t have been able to focus on my dilemma at all.

  “I need you to hear me out before you speak,” I say, trying to keep my mind on the here and now. “And I want you to keep in mind that none of this is my fault.”

  Maria rolls her eyes. “When you say something like that, I automatically think it’s your fault.”

  “Your not speaking lasted all of two seconds,” I grouse. “Shall we try again?”

  Her glare could stop a clock, but she stays quiet.

  I tell her what Carlo told me, and about Emilio’s boneheaded idea to find a virgin in a convent.

  When I’m finished, the only indication that she’s even heard my story is a single arched eyebrow. She stares at me, unblinking, for several long moments.

  “That’s utterly ridiculous,” she says finally.

  “The decree has been verified,” I sigh. “By four different experts.”

  “Not that. I’m talking about your plan to scour convents for a bride. That would be infinitely worse than not marrying anyone.”

  “Worse than losing the monarchy?” I ask. “How do you figure that?”

  “You’d be marrying someone you didn’t love, and you’d be taking a young woman away from her calling. I have no doubt you could do it; you’re the most eligible bachelor in the world, and you’re their prince. What woman, even a nun, is going to say no to you?”

  You did, I don’t say.

  “I’m no Catholic,” she continues. “But I do know it would be a grave sin to use an innocent, devout woman as a pawn just so you can keep your money.”

  My eyes turn to the floor as shame flows into my cheeks. She’s right. I was only looking at this situation from a public relations perspective: could I convince the people that we were actually in love? I never gave a thought to how such a deception would affect the poor girl.

  “You’re absolutely right,” I say, not meeting her gaze. “The only excuse I can offer is that I’m desperate.”

  Maria crosses to where I sit and lays a hand on my shoulder.

  “You’re forgiven,” she says. “Barely. You should have come to me sooner. There has to be a way out of this.”

  “Not that Carlo can see. We could challenge the decree in the courts, or we could ignore it, or we could simply defy it. All of those options come with huge potential risks.”

  “Having your fortune revert to the government wouldn’t be the end of the world, Dante. It’s not like you’d end up on the streets. And who’s to say that you would lose a referendum? Perhaps you need to trust more in your subjects.”

  I’ve been able to think of little else since Carlo first told me about the decree in the sword. Would it truly be so bad to lose the monarchy? To leave this palace and this island behind? To throw off the duties and the burden of being the prince? It would leave me free to pursue Amanda in the way that I so desperately want to.

  But it always comes back to the twins.

  “There’s something you’re not taking into account,” I say. “There’s a very real possibility that the Crown Council wouldn’t call for an end to the monarchy itself. They could call a referendum to depose me and hand the kingdo
m to Vito. That way, I’m out of the picture, the monarchy stands…”

  “And the government would become the unofficial regent,” Maria finishes for me, shaking her head. “The children would essentially be wards of the state.”

  “I’d be pushed out of their lives,” I say. “We’d be able to visit occasionally, but Chancellor Huber would almost certainly use my carefully crafted playboy image to show me as an unfit guardian. In the end, all my work to keep them out of the public eye would utterly backfire on me.”

  I look in Maria’s eyes with a nakedness that I can’t show to anyone else.

  “Losing the monarchy wouldn’t kill me,” I say. “But losing the children would. And I will not stand by and watch the weight of the monarchy crush Vito the way it almost crushed me. This I swear to any god that may be listening.”

  She takes my hand in hers and squeezes.

  “I understand,” she says softly. “And as bad as all that is, you’re not even touching on the worst part.”

  “The worst part? What the hell could be worse than that?”

  “I would lose my job.”

  I stare at her blankly for a full two seconds before the laughter starts. One of the many things I love about Maria is her ability to shine a light into the gloom, no matter how bad things get.

  “How selfish of me not to think of that,” I chuckle.

  “I had to do that,” she says with a grin. “You were starting to get morbid, so I had to lighten the mood. Especially since I think I may have an idea on how we might be able to solve this.”

  “Better than seducing a nun?” I say with mock surprise. “Well, let’s hear it.”

  “It’s crazy, I’ll admit, and I’m probably clutching at straws. But it just might work.”

  “Will you get to the damn point?” I growl.

  Maria gets up from her desk and crosses the office to the entrance. She closes the door and returns to sit next to me.

  “I happen to know a woman who is still a virgin,” she says, keeping her voice low. “And there’s a chance that she might be willing to help you in this.”

  My heart jumps. Any possibility, however slim, is welcome at this point.

  “Let’s say she agrees,” I whisper. “What would be in it for her?”

  “Whatever she wants. You’re a billionaire, Dante, you can make things happen.”

  That’s true.

  “But can I convince the Morovan citizens that it’s a real royal marriage? If Huber were to use the decree against me, our relationship would have to stand up to scrutiny.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that your friend would have to be attractive, and not just physically. She’d have to be someone the public would believe was my type, and who was suitable for a prince.”

  Maria’s widening grin fills me with hope I never would have believed possible even half an hour ago.

  “Your Highness,” she says. “I think I just may have found you a princess.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  14. AMANDA

  “I’m sorry, I thought you asked me if I would marry Prince Dante,” I say, giggling and shaking my head. “My dad always says I’ve got beans in my ears.”

  Maria isn’t smiling. Neither is Dante.

  What the hell is going on here?

  When Maria called me here to discuss the ceremonies, I was a little surprised to see Dante, especially since we hadn’t spoken a word since our… encounter in the gardens. Now he looks as confused as I feel.

  Maria takes my hand in hers and looks deep into my eyes.

  “I know that this is sudden and strange,” she soothes. “And I hope you can forgive us for that, because the last thing we want is for you to be feeling the way you’re probably feeling. But yes, that is exactly what we’re asking.”

  Thoughts are whirring through my head like a swarm of locusts. I turn to look at Dante. Did he tell Maria about us? Is there some obscure Morovan law that says if a prince’s penis touches your vagina, you have to marry him? Sure, I came like an animal in heat, but it didn’t even go all the way in!

  “You want me to marry you,” I say slowly and deliberately, trying to make sure I’m not on the receiving end of some colossal practical joke. “In less than two weeks. After knowing me for two days.”

  The look in Dante’s eyes is unreadable as we stare at each other for a long moment.

  “It would be a tremendous favor, not just to me, but to the monarchy itself,” he says finally.

  Maria takes hold of my arms and turns me to face her. I trust her, but I feel like I’m adrift in the middle of the ocean here. Is she my life raft, or is she some kind of anchor that’s trying to drag down my sanity?

  “This isn’t working,” she says, concern in her eyes. “We’ve driven the poor girl to the edge. I’m terribly sorry, Amanda, we approached this all wrong.”

  “Ya think?” I snap.

  I blink at her for a few moments, trying to gather as many of my chaotic thoughts as I can.

  “Please believe me,” she says. “There is a method to this madness. If you ‘ll hear me out, I think I can make sense of everything for you. Or at least as much sense as the situation possibly can make, anyway.”

  I shrug and nod; Dante looks away from me towards the window.

  “It starts with your friend Peter,” she says. “The reason he was in such a state after studying the Trentini sword is because he discovered something. He accidentally turned the pommel and discovered the handle is actually hollow.”

  I raise my eyebrows. That better not be it.

  “That’s obviously not the key to the story,” she says. “Inside the handle was a rolled copy of a decree written by Napoleon himself. Essentially, it says the monarch of Morova must be married by his 30th birthday, or the entire legal framework of the principality can be rendered null and void.”

  My brows knit as I process that for a moment. Principalities exist at the sufferance of their neighboring powers. Agreements like the one they’re talking about are basically what keep them from being invaded. For example, as long as Monaco keeps to itself and doesn’t make waves, France allows it to exist.

  Morova is similar, but different in that it’s also a bank with a web of connections throughout Europe and beyond. Its wealth is immense, and it’s one of the world’s top tax havens. But that could change if Italy or Switzerland ever decided to alter the deal. It’s not likely, but it’s definitely possible.

  “Do you really think anyone would take the decree seriously today?” I ask.

  Maria sighs. “There’s a web of political intrigue attached to all of this. First off, Morovans are mired in their traditions, as you know. They revere their history. And Dante is on thin ice with the two councils as it is. If Dante were to violate the decree, Chancellor Huber could easily use it as an excuse to call for a referendum, which could result in the end of the monarchy.”

  My head is spinning. How did I end up at the center of a political shit storm? I’m a cowgirl from Montana, for God’s sake! I’m nobody!

  “All right,” I say, holding up my hands in surrender. “I get it. Not totally, but enough to understand why you need to do this. But you haven’t answered the biggest question: why me? There has to be someone far better suited to the role. Even on such short notice.”

  Dante takes a deep breath, lets it out. I don’t understand where all this is coming from. Has he – has he actually fallen in love with me? Could that even be possible?

  Would marrying Dante really be so crazy? I’m already infatuated with him – could that somehow turn to true love, given enough time?

  “You have something special,” Maria says softly.

  I still can’t figure out why she’s here. Who gets someone to join them when they propose?

  “What?” I ask, truly baffled. “My red hair? Is that part of the deal, too?”

  Dante fidgets while his eyes dart around the room. Did he tell Maria about our encounter?

  Suddenly I want to
scream the way Dante did right before we met.

  “Will you get to the fucking point?!” I holler. Whoa. That felt good.

  To her credit, Maria doesn’t seem fazed by taking a double-lung scream directly to the face.

  “Dante has to marry a virgin,” she says matter-of-factly. “And, to be brutally frank, you’re the only one I know who isn’t underage.”

  Her words hit me with an impact that’s almost physical. Any thoughts I might have had of a royal romance suddenly dry up like water in the desert.

  I turn to Dante. He still won’t meet my eyes.

  “You need a virgin,” I say. My calmness surprises me.

  “I know how insane this all sounds,” says Maria. “And I honestly can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now –”

  “Is this why you seduced me in the gardens?” I ask Dante, ignoring her. “Because you needed a wife in two weeks? Maria told you I was a virgin and you figured ‘hey, how hard could it be to win over some country bumpkin girl?’”

  Dante finally looks me in the eye. His are wide with shock.

  “No!” he protests. “It didn’t happen like that at all!”

  Maria looks at the both of us.

  “Seduced in the gardens? What are you talking about?”

  “Never mind,” I say. Now that I know what this is all about, I’m filled with cold fury. How can I trust either of these two again?

  “Obviously we’re not asking you to do this out of the goodness of your heart,” says Maria. You’ll be compensated. Handsomely.”

  Compensated? A moment ago I was wondering if things could get any crazier. Well, there’s my answer.

  “You’re going to pay me to marry him?” I ask.

  “It would be a contract. Marry the prince, sleep with him once to fulfill the decree. Legally, marriages in Morova must last a full year to be considered binding, but you could easily lead separate lives; many royals do. After that, you’re released from your obligations and will receive your compensation.”

  “And what would my compensation be?” I ask. I can’t believe I’m actually thinking about doing this.