by Caroline Lee
Confident in Maarten’s ability to protect the queen, Toni turned her full attention on Alek and the large room below. Using the technique she’d learned from the older man, she mentally divided the room into quadrants, and studied each one in between watching the prince. With her and the rest of her team watching Alek, and Maarten and Hawkins and the rest of the queen’s bodyguards spread throughout the room, the royal family was well-protected.
Of course, the rest of the bodyguards were well-armed. Someone had decided a few years ago that the royal bodyguards should blend in and look like guests. That meant Maarten and the rest wore suits with plenty of handy places to hide holsters…while Toni was stuck in this ball gown. Granted, it was nice and simple—black and sleek with a racerback which made her feel kinda badass—but it wasn’t her uniform. And these slippers sure weren’t her boots.
Her lack of sidearm was the reason she’d stationed herself up here, in the shadows. Palace security were stationed by each of the exits—they got to carry their rifles slung across their chests, their berets marking them as Aegiria’s elite guard. But Rogers and the others were able to mingle down there among the guests and protect the prince if need be…while Toni figured up here she could at least see the whole picture.
Of course, from up here, she could see whoever had set up the dessert table had done it backwards. Not that it was obvious, especially not to the people on the floor…but from up here, she could tell the flow of the room—and the convenience to the bar and the water station—would’ve worked better if the plates had been on that end…
Organizing the shit out of things again, huh, Dryden? She sighed. Sometimes it was hard to turn off that part of her brain, but it was why she’d gone into this business in the first place.
After her career in the Army, she’s gone into private security instead of another field which could utilize her organization skills, but discovered that bodyguarding had its own unique challenges, and she was good at them. She’d worked for and with some of the top bodyguards in America, protecting everyone from the mayor of Chicago to Fuchsia, the current pop-star heartthrob. That gig had been the worst; Toni had never actually met the star, but the self-important agent, stylists, musicians, and publicists who traveled with her were enough to make Toni want to punch something—or someone.
In comparison, guarding the crown prince of Aegiria was a piece of cake, and she was grateful she’d been given the opportunity. Even if it meant she occasionally had to wear a formal gown and stand in the shadows of royal balls, pretending to be a guest.
Especially while standing beside the queen herself.
Viktoria still stood at the balcony with Toni, one gloved hand resting lightly on the wood. She held herself with dignity, just watching. It hadn’t been awkward, to stand beside her like that, just sort of…comfortable. Like they were each lost in their own thoughts, and didn’t mind that from the other.
Kinda weird to think Toni could be comfortable standing with the queen of a country, but she’d been doing her job—watching the prince. And, let’s be honest; watching Alek was no hardship, even if he had been dancing with the same woman for the last fifteen minutes.
Beside her, the queen made a little scoffing noise.
Surprised, Toni shot her a sidelong glance. “Your Majesty?”
“Oh, I was just thinking.” The queen sighed softly. “They look good together.”
Toni knew exactly what the older woman meant—she’d been watching them all night, and had thought the same thing more than once. Now, though, she made a non-committal noise.
Yeah, Prince Alek and his basically-but-not-quite-fiancée, the lady Marcia, did look good together. They flowed around the dance floor like they were born for it—which they were—perfectly matched. He looked stunning in his perfectly tailored black tuxedo and the gold-and-diamond coronet he only wore on formal occasions, and she…well, Lady Marcia wore her strawberry blonde hair down around her shoulders in thick curls, and looked stunning in that white strapless ball gown with all those delicate little seed pearls sewn throughout.
She looked like a princess should look, and he was the most handsome prince Toni could’ve imagined.
So yeah, they did look good together. But she didn’t want to admit that out loud. Why not? Jealousy? That seemed petty. But after the moment they’d shared in Alek’s study the other day—feeling his muscles under her palms—she didn’t like the idea of him sharing that with anyone else either.
Dammit, she was in trouble.
She shifted slightly so she could see Viktoria’s expression, while keeping the prince in her line of sight. The older woman’s gaze was locked on her oldest son and Lady Marcia…and she was frowning. A woman who was known for her poise and careful public image, frowning at the crown prince and his choice of bride? What was going on?
“Your Majesty?” she prompted, not quite expecting an answer.
But Viktoria responded, nonetheless. “I’m just surprised more people don’t see the truth. Alek and Marcia look good together, but it’s a sham.”
Toni peered closer at the couple waltzing across the polished wooden floor. What did the queen see? Was it the fact that Alek was holding his fiancée at the proper distance, rather than pulling her close to feel her body against his? Or the fact that both of them wore carefully bored expressions on their faces, and they didn’t seem faked?
The truth slammed into Toni. “You believe in marrying for love, don’t you?” she blurted in a whisper, then winced. She really shouldn’t be having conversations with the queen like they were some kind of equals, but she hadn’t been able to help herself.
To her surprise—or maybe not, knowing the queen didn’t mind challenging convention—Viktoria responded.
“My first husband and I were well-matched. He was the son of a powerful man, and had served our country well. We eventually grew to care for one another, but it wasn’t our choice to marry, you understand.” She sighed softly, but never lost her poise, or her slight smile. “Now that my husband is gone, and my sons are grown men—considering their own marriages, perhaps—I would like a chance to do it properly. To marry for love. And I would like my sons to follow that example.”
Toni considered the queens words. “But Alek…he’s following your first example, marrying someone who will be good for the country—”
The queen shifted to face Toni fully, and interrupted. “Marrying someone just because you look good together dancing isn’t the recipe for a happy life. Lady Marcia is neither the right choice for Alek, nor Aegiria. He needs to marry someone strong, someone confident and capable. Someone who can stand beside him to rule the country, not behind him.” Viktoria looked Toni up and down, her slight smile growing. “Someone sure of herself and sure of him.”
Toni held the queen’s gaze, her heart hammering in her chest. It was impossible, but it sounded like—felt like—Viktoria meant her. But why in the world would the queen approve of some ex-cowgirl bodyguard as a match for her son? The future king?
She shook herself, and dropped the older woman’s gaze, using the excuse of needing to keep an eye on Alek to turn back to the ballroom. But she couldn’t stop the flush which climbed her cheeks. Imagine, her and Alek!
Well, I mean, obviously I’ve imagined it before…
It was damn near impossible not to imagine what it would be like to be able to touch him openly in public—hold his hand or kiss him. He was a gorgeous man, and the longer she’d known him, the longer she’d worked for him, the more she admired him. What she’d originally seen as arrogance, now she saw as confidence. What she’d originally seen as boring work habits, now she saw as devotion and loyalty.
He was a good man, and would make a good king.
And he deserved the right woman by his side. He thought that meant a woman who’d been raised since birth to be comfortable among the wealthy Aegirian elite. His mother thought that meant a woman with strength and confidence.
It’s too bad Viktoria didn’t have any
sway over Alek’s choices, because part of his confidence meant being sure he’d made the correct choice in Marcia. It was only a matter of time before they made the official announcement—although maybe now that was on hold, with the queen’s upcoming news?—and the world would know his choice.
The queen startled Toni by shifting her gloved hand slightly to touch the back of Toni’s where it rested on the balcony. It was only a brief touch, but Toni glanced up to meet stormy grey eyes, so much like Alek’s.
“I am confident in my son’s ability to make the correct choice.” She smiled softly before stepping away. “He’ll change his mind soon, I know.”
With those mysterious words, the queen stepped away, Maarten following with a wink.
Toni swallowed her sigh as she went back to watching her employer dance with his fiancée. No matter what the queen hoped—no matter how that memory of being pinned under him haunted Toni in the most delicious way—Alek’s decision had been made.
He’d marry Marcia.
He’d taken his first dance lesson when he’d been…nine, was it? Ten? Somewhere in there. It hadn’t been at the top of his list of things he’d wanted to do, not with five younger brothers to play with, but even at that age, Alek had understood duty. His mother had explained—in one of her rare daytime visits to the nursery—that a prince must know how to comport himself at royal functions, and Alek had been nothing if not devoted to her image of an ideal prince.
So he’d been sweeping women around the dance floor for almost as long as he could remember, and it had become second nature. He could sweep and turn and step by rote now, without having to engage much of his brain.
Dancing with his almost-fiancée was no different. No different than dancing with his childhood instructor, really, and why was that?
Marcia Lindqvist was beautiful, poised, and accomplished. And the tabloids all touted her as Aegiria’s most eligible bachelorette since her sister’s death, with her father being an Earl and her philanthropic organizations. They were a perfect match, and she’d make a perfect princess.
So how come he was holding her at such a respectable distance as they twirled around? Oh, he knew all about being respectable, but surely he’d want to hold his fiancée more intimately? Surely he’d want to pull such a gorgeous woman closer to him? Surely he’d want to press her against the floor after a sparring match, feel her body under his—
Cut it out. And when did you start observing yourself from a distance like this?
What do you mean?
You’re doing it right now. You’re avoiding thinking about Marcia by arguing with yourself.
Alek smothered a wince. Maybe he was going crazy.
Lord knows he’d been going crazy the last few days, remembering the way Toni had touched his head—the way she’d opened up to him about her past. He liked that their friendship was growing…but didn’t like that it was making things confusing for him.
“You seem distracted.”
Marcia’s quiet comment cut into Alek’s thoughts, and he glanced down at her. She had lovely light green eyes, but they tended to be lowered demurely, as they were now. That, and her soft-spoken voice, made him think she’d be a perfect future queen of Aegiria, when he’d suggested they marry several months ago.
Now though, he couldn’t help compare her to Toni. And to Mother. Would Mother have spoken to Father with downcast eyes and a gentle voice? Would she have been able to lead the country so well for so long, if she hadn’t been forthright and forceful?
Damn, but his crown—the simple coronet the eldest prince wore before he assumed the throne—felt heavy tonight. Heavier than usual, at least, according to the headache growing behind his eyes. I wonder if Toni would rub my head again…
He realized Marcia was still waiting on an answer—without prodding him, oh no.
“I was thinking about the crowd here tonight.”
She hummed encouragingly, and he smothered a sigh. Was it odd that all of a sudden, he wanted his fiancée to start actually conversing with him? To share part of herself and her personality? Or, God forbid, even nag him?
Still, he elaborated as they twirled throughout the room for everyone to see. “I’m pleased so many people were able to attend tonight. There should be some good articles in the papers tomorrow.” He recognized a few of the more prominent journalists, and the official court photographer was even now shooting photos of Mother and her ministers. “It’s important the royal family appears—” He cut himself off. What had he been about to say? Proper? To counter all of the wild carousing going on this minute down in the city? Or… “Elegant.”
“Elegance is important, Your Highness.”
A flash of irritation zipped through him at her words. She’s just going to parrot me now? He forced a light tone when he said, “Don’t you think you could call me Alek, now that we’re going to be married?” He spun her through another turn while he waited for her response.
“Oh, no, Your Highness, it wouldn’t be proper. You will be king someday,” she said softly to his collar.
“My eyes are up here, Marcia.” He gently tugged her off the dance floor and spun to a stop without dropping her hands.
Slowly, she lifted her eyes from his shoulder, and he swore he saw worry in them. Not only that, but her hand was trembling slightly under his. What was wrong?
“We’re going to be married, Marcia,” he reminded her. “I think you’re allowed to call me by my given name.” He’d given Toni that courtesy months ago, after all. Of course, he and Toni were together for eight hours at a time, six times a week, more if they needed to double-up on duties. He and Marcia had been together…well, counting the afternoon he’d suggested marriage, a total of nine times.
His fiancée somehow managed to turn even paler, and her green eyes lowered once more, focusing on his chin. He did sigh this time, knowing she wasn’t going to call him “Alek” anytime soon.
“When do you want to announce our engagement?” he asked abruptly, dropping her hand and offering her his arm for a stroll around the room.
She took it quickly, as if glad for the excuse. To touch him, or to not have to look at him? She didn’t answer for a long moment, but Alek watched her from the corner of his eye, as they each politely greeted guests with smiles and nods.
Finally, she said hesitantly, “When…when do you want to announce it?”
He wanted to announce it immediately, to counter the bomb his mother was about to drop on the Council. But he also didn’t have any desire to actually be married to this woman, this delicate little flower of perfection who couldn’t look him in the eye or touch him without trembling.
I wonder how long an engagement I could get away with?
Instead, what he found himself saying was, “I’m not sure.”
And damned if something very like relief didn’t flash over her expression for a moment, there and gone in a blink of an eye. Did she not want to be engaged to him? Did she also want to put it off as long as possible?
Suddenly, Alek didn’t feel quite so conflicted. If she didn’t want to marry him, maybe he didn’t need to be here, spinning in circles, when there was real work to be done.
“Well, if we’re not going to make it official anytime soon, then I probably shouldn't monopolize you tonight.” He dropped her arm, and put a little distance between them. Perhaps it wasn't gentlemanly, but he couldn't help but feel it warranted.
Interestingly, she made no move to reach for him. Instead, she clasped her hands in front of the beautiful pearl-and-crystal concoction she wore, and lowered her eyes. Of course.
“Are you heading back to your study?”
Her quiet question surprised him, but he tried not to let it show. “What do you mean?”
“Only that you don't appear to enjoy these functions as much as your brothers do.” She gave a demure shrug. “I assumed if you had fulfilled your obligation and purpose for being here tonight, you would be leaving soon.”
Her insight stunned him
, and Alek stood blinking at her for a moment. He had only thought to come tonight so he could be seen dancing with her, so the tabloids would have something else to speculate about once Mother embarrassed them all. Even without a formal engagement announcement, the Crown Prince seen dancing with an Earl's daughter four waltzes in a row would be sure to be published in tomorrow's paper.
Of course, he couldn't tell her that truth. It wouldn't be proper and it could hurt her. The realization that he cared made his lips twitch just the tiniest amount. Never in his life had it occurred to him to wonder if his mother could take hearing the truth or worry about hurting her feelings. Maybe I should have. The more time he spent with Lady Marcia the more he realized she was nothing like the strong ruler his mother was.
Well, dammit. Now I’m second guessing everything. He did not need that right now, not when his mother was about to shock the whole damn country.
Resisting the urge to scowl down at Marcia, Alek merely said, “I believe I will head to my study.” He forced a smile. “If I can’t dance with you, I see no more need to be here.”
Her smile was faint, but knowing somehow. Like she’d seen through his polite fiction. “Thank you for the dances, Your Highness,” she murmured.
“Would you like me to escort you to your father?”
The man was on the other side of the room, making conversation with his wife and another minister. Had this been Toni, he wouldn’t have asked her if she needed an escort, because he knew she’d be perfectly fine on her own. But if this were Toni beside him, he probably wouldn’t be running away, his tail between his legs, either…
But to his surprise, Marcia glanced towards her father, and took a half-step towards Alek. “No, thank you,” she whispered, managing to sound both conspiratorial and meek all at once. “I have my Kindle in my purse, and I think I’ll sneak away to the retiring room for a few minutes.”
He blinked. A book? She’d brought a book to a royal event, and now was going to hide away and read it? I really don’t know much about her, do I? The real her, not the girl I picked because she’d look good in official photographs…