To Marry a Prince

by A. C. Arthur

  Columns jutted from the floor to the ceiling, some wide, some slim, all giving an air of royalty as she moved through. What seemed like secret alcoves encased sculptures of pirates and ships. Closer to her rooms there were busts of people she was sure she had never heard of, but who nevertheless looked extremely important. The color scheme here was the barest hint of peach flanked in beige-and-gold textured wallpaper, highlighted again by the swirling marble floors. There were large floral arrangements on small round tables; the tropical plants added bursts of colors and scents as she moved through the area. Every few feet or so, the walls would break to an opening that displayed a gorgeous mermaid sculpture and fountain in its center. This one showcased a courtyard that had access to the outside so sun and sea-salted air filled the atmosphere.

  It was just around the corner from that courtyard that Landry’s rooms were located. Yes, she had a sitting room, also a private bathroom, bedroom and balcony. The space was elegantly decorated. She probably could have comfortably stayed here during the times she was not taking care of Malayka. The stern-faced lady had told her that she could simply pick up the phone on her nightstand and dial zero for assistance, which included having meals brought to her room. Free room service in a royal palace; for a second, Landry thought she could get used to living like royalty.

  That thought had her chuckling as she entered her suite, pushing the clothes rack to the much smaller walk-in closet she was using for some of the items she’d preselected for Malayka. There was a coat closet and another enclosure, which she figured was supposed to be a linen closet. But Landry had decided to store her own clothes here.

  She rushed into the bathroom to shower and slip into the dress she’d already chosen for herself. Being a college student and working two jobs, added to the two years she’d spent in New York when her internship had been extended, had taught Landry how to dress in a hurry. She lined her eyes, stroked on mascara and added a bit of color on her eyelids. The quick makeup routine stalled momentarily when she discovered she was getting low on her favorite lip gloss. It only took another second or so for her to browse through her makeup case and settle on a nude gloss instead. Swiping that on quickly, she found her earrings—silver buttons that matched the bangle she pulled onto her arm. Slipping into five-inch-heel sandals was next before standing again and grabbing a random bottle of perfume and spritzing herself generously. Her hair was already up in a messy bun and once she looked into the mirror, Landry decided it was the perfect accent to the otherwise neat and almost demure dress she wore.

  It was navy blue, with a layer of lace over the tight bodice and full asymmetrical skirt. There was also a slip to the dress, crinoline, the most despised fabric in Landry’s opinion. Still this dress needed that extra poof to the skirt. As she stood looking in the mirror, moving from side to side the way she’d seen Malayka doing, Landry thought she looked like the twenty-first-century Audrey Hepburn. She smiled because she liked it.

  Moments later she was leaving her room, only to come face-to-face with a man who looked nothing like the dour staff worker who had promised to escort her to the dining room. No, this was no older person. He was young and built and wore the white dinner jacket and black pants like a seasoned model. His face was breathtakingly handsome and when he smiled, Landry almost swooned.

  “Ms. Norris. I would be honored to escort you down to dinner,” he said with an extravagant bow.

  When he was once again upright, Landry touched the sides of her dress and curtsied—because something told her this guy was royal. He had to be. He was too beautiful to be just a mere human.

  He was reaching for her hand when she straightened.

  “I am Prince Roland DeSaunters, and it is my immense pleasure to meet you.”

  No, Landry thought as she let him take her hand in his and they began to walk down the hallway, the pleasure was definitely hers.

  * * *

  The table could easily seat somewhere around fifty or so people. It was huge and a glossed cherrywood. A pristine white runner stretched its entire length; gold candelabras held tall white candles with golden flames at their tips. Ornate brass chandeliers hung from the high ceilings while several matching sideboards filled the great space. Beneath the table was a plush rug decorated in deep reds, greens and of course gold. But the definite eye-catcher to this room was the enormous arched window situated perfectly behind the head seat of the table. The window had automatic shades that Landry suspected were room darkening as well as provided privacy when needed. The shades were raised tonight so that the last intense colors of sunset over the glistening water were visible.

  As if this room and its awe-inspiring view weren’t enough, the rest of the royal family was seated at the table and now staring expectantly at her.

  Landry already felt a bit lightheaded by the gorgeous man walking beside her and the scent of his intoxicating cologne. Prince Roland had talked the entire time they walked, commenting on the very statues she’d perused not long before. He laughed a lot which made her smile. He walked with a seasoned swagger that said he knew he was not only good-looking, but rich and powerful and none of that meant a thing. She liked him instantly.

  As for how she felt about the rest of the family, well, nervous or not, she was about to find out.

  “Heads up,” Roland said as he continued to guide her down the length of that table to where the others were seated. “Gang’s all here!”

  As they approached, Prince Kristian stood and so did his father. Seated next to Kristian was Malayka who looked at Landry with her brow raised in question once more. She was most likely wondering why Landry was arriving with Prince Roland. Landry was wondering that herself. The princess sat opposite of Malayka, her expression more amused than questioning.

  “Ms. Norris,” Prince Rafferty said as he stepped away from the table to stand in front of her as she approached. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Kristian has told me all about you.”

  Landry did another curtsy—she was getting really good at them now. The prince took her hand, kissing the back of it in a gallant and romantic gesture that stole her breath and made her smile.

  “The pleasure is all mine, Your Highness. Thank you for having me in your home. It is a beautiful palace,” she said then snapped her lips shut for fear of babbling.

  “You are welcome here for as long as Malayka requires your assistance.”

  His response was more formal than the slight lifting of his mouth as if he were contemplating a smile.

  “And this is my sister, the Princess Samantha DeSaunters,” Roland announced after turning her once again toward the table.

  His hand was lightly touching her shoulder. Landry looked at the princess. In Landry’s line of work, she was used to seeing beautiful people—whether it be natural or assisted via surgery, hair extensions, makeup, designer clothes, whatever it took. This woman was actually very pretty, the light makeup and lovely ivory-colored gown she wore only adding to her allure.

  Her complexion was a little lighter than her father’s, her dark hair curling to her shoulders. Her eyes were intelligent and assessing and the smile she gave Landry was, thankfully, genuine. So Landry mirrored it.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.”

  “Very nice to meet you, Landry. Kris also told me a lot about you.”

  Well, Landry thought with a tight smile as she gazed across the table to “Kris.” He had been talking about her a lot, hadn’t he.

  “And you’ve already met my older brother, Kris, next in line to rule this magnificent island,” Roland said as he began guiding Landry to the seat between the princess and another empty chair.

  Prince Rafferty had already taken his seat and Kristian was now watching her with an obvious frown as she sat in the high-backed cushioned chair Roland had offered.

  “There will be a bridal party meeting on Friday. Everyone
that I’ve selected will be flying in on Thursday. I’m thinking that a lovely breakfast on the north terrace would be nice because there’s not much sun on that side of the palace that early in the day,” Malayka began speaking, once everyone was seated and servers had arrived with plates of a colorful salad.

  “The Children’s Hospital brunch is Friday at eleven,” Samantha announced, her tone just shy of being frosty.

  “Oh,” Malayka said, her fork poised over the salad she was just about to dig into. “Well, the palace is enormous, I’m sure we can entertain two groups at the same time. Isn’t that right, Rafe?”

  “The royal family is expected to attend the brunch. The Children’s Hospital performs in a professional manner throughout the year and is the top medical facility for children in the Caribbean. This is our way of thanking them for a job well done.”

  Kristian spoke with an air of finality. There was no mistaking his authority, not in his tone, nor in the way his shoulders squared. He wore black. His suit jacket had satin lapels, and his shirt had a white silk tie at the neck. It was a decidedly Mafia look to Landry’s eye, but it worked exceptionally well with his buttery complexion. His hair was jet-black, just like the rest of the royal family, but cropped closer than Prince Rafferty’s and Roland’s. Where Roland’s low-cut beard gave him a rugged, handsome quality, Kristian’s clean-shaven face suited his dour expressions perfectly.

  “Well, I’ve already made the plans. Everyone is preparing to travel. It’s not possible to cancel at this late date,” Malayka implored.

  The look she was giving Prince Rafferty was almost comical, but Landry knew not to laugh. This was, after all, serious business for the soon-to-be princess. Malayka undoubtedly expected her husband-to-be to stand up to his children in front of her, to let them know that she was getting ready to be the one wielding all the control. Landry should have felt uncomfortable being privy to this private duel of sorts, especially considering she was only the staff. Malayka’s makeup lady and hair stylist weren’t at this dinner, which would explain why Malayka had been surprised that Landry had been invited. Landry wondered about that too, but the salad was delicious, so she really didn’t want to wonder too much.

  “We will work something out,” Prince Rafferty stated in his deep, booming tone. He also gave Kristian a look that said they would definitely work it out, later.

  Kristian showed no emotion at all. He proceeded to cut through his salad, lifting measured forkfuls to his mouth to be chewed.

  Roland picked that moment to chuckle. “Just let me know which event I’m required to attend. I’ll be flying out Friday evening.”

  “Really? I did not see that on the calendar,” Prince Rafferty said to his younger son. “When will you return?”

  Roland shrugged and forked a bright red tomato into his mouth. “Don’t know.”

  Prince Rafferty wiped his fingers on a napkin then placed the white cotton square down on the table slowly. “The engagement will be officially announced tomorrow. There will no doubt be press arriving on the island within hours of the news circulating around the world. We all need to be on hand for official photos and interviews.”

  Landry thought about that statement as she chewed the last bite of her salad. She did not recall seeing any interviews of Prince Rafferty in any of the American papers. Of course she hadn’t actually searched for any either.

  “You’re giving interviews?” Samantha asked. “You never give interviews.”

  Malayka reached a hand out to rub along Prince Rafferty’s arm. “This is the age of social media. We—the royal family—should be as transparent as possible at all times,” she told them.

  Kristian set his fork down slowly and looked directly at his father.

  “The exposure the wedding will elicit for the upcoming months will no doubt improve tourism on Grand Serenity. The more tourists that visit the island, the more money the shop owners in the village will earn. The more money they earn, the more jobs they can provide. It is a win-win situation for all of us,” Prince Rafferty stated.

  He’d looked around to each of his children, an effort to gain their support, Landry supposed. However, she wasn’t certain it was going to work. None of them seemed thrilled about this idea.

  “Sounds like you two have this all planned out,” Samantha replied.

  “Not all,” Prince Rafferty continued. “The press conference needs to be arranged for tomorrow morning at ten.”

  “We have a meeting at the bank tomorrow,” Kristian interjected. “It’s on the calendar.”

  Rafe nodded as the next course of their meal arrived. It looked like chicken and vegetables in a dark sauce and it smelled fabulous. Landry immediately picked up her knife and fork and began to cut into the boneless breast.

  “You handle the bank meeting and I will stand by my bride-to-be at the press conference. Roland, I want you there, dressed in full regalia and a smile on your face. Put that on your calendar and do not be late,” Rafferty said sternly.

  “Yes, sir,” Roland replied with a salute to his father and a nod to Malayka.

  “And you, my Sammy,” their father continued giving a much softer look and tone to his only daughter. “I don’t want you to feel as though you were left out of the loop on this. Malayka and I just talked about this last night. Furthermore, I would think that you, above everyone else, would be happy to see that Malayka is perfectly able to plan with our island’s best interests in mind. She’s going to make an excellent princess and I have no doubt she will continue to have this palace running like a well-oiled machine, just as you have.”

  Samantha did not look impressed. However, she did smile and nod to her father and then, to Landry’s surprise, to Malayka as well.

  “I look forward to the day when I can hand off a good portion of my duties to you, Malayka. I just hope you know what you’re getting into,” Samantha said as she lifted her glass of wine and did a solo toast toward the couple.

  Landry couldn’t help herself, she grinned at the sarcasm in that moment. Sure, it was cleverly masked, but there was no doubt in her mind that the princess was anything but happy about having soon-to-be Princess Malayka taking over anything in the palace.

  “We are amusing our guest,” Prince Rafferty said.

  Landry coughed immediately, embarrassment almost choking her.

  “Well, we aim to please here at Grand Serenity Island,” Roland added and lifted his glass, mirroring what Samantha had just done to Malayka.

  As for Kristian, the scowl that had graced his face from the moment Landry had walked into this room was still perfectly in place as his gaze settled on her.

  “I apologize,” she said when she was certain her words wouldn’t come out in a jumble. “I meant no disrespect. It’s just that this scene reminds me of my family. I thought I was going to miss them terribly but it was nice to have this little reminder.”

  It wasn’t a total lie, Landry told herself. She did come from a large family. Her parents had lived in the same house for the entire thirty years they’d been together. And as of ten years ago, her paternal grandparents had also lived in that house, along with Landry’s four brothers, sister and her two kids. So yes, she was used to hostile family dinners, just not on a royal scale.

  “Well, glad we can entertain you. But I suspect your stay here will also be educational as you watch a new leadership take the reins.”

  The prince was talking about Malayka, which, for reasons Landry could not actually put her finger on, she thought was hilarious. Malayka Sampson was going to be a princess. Just five short months ago when Landry had first met her, she was introduced simply as an entrepreneur. Seems like Malayka had found her next business venture. Or perhaps she’d actually fallen in love with a real-life prince. How coincidentally wonderful for her.

  “Yes, sir. I believe my time here will be interesting,” Land
ry found herself saying instead of what she was really thinking.

  “Interesting indeed. I mean, wouldn’t you be anxious to get the ball rolling if you were going to run a Caribbean island?” he asked her.

  Landry shook her head. “I’m not sure that would be something I’d be interested in doing, Your Highness.”

  “Really?” he asked as he sat back in his chair, wineglass in hand. “Are you saying you would turn down an invitation to become princess of this island?”

  In a heartbeat, Landry thought.

  “Yes, sir, I would. I’m not princess material.”

  Chapter 3

  What is she doing here?

  Kris asked himself this several times throughout the dinner. She’d walked in with Roland, arm-in-arm, both of them smiling, looking picture-perfect. He’d frowned.

  He had felt his forehead wrinkling, his teeth clenching. Beneath the table where his hands had been resting calmly on his thighs, his fingers had slowly curled into fists. Why did they look like they belonged together when they’d only just met? Or had they?

  Roland was his younger brother. He wasn’t the immediate heir and so he did not have the duties and responsibilities that Kris had, nor did he express any interest in them. Instead, Roland’s goal in life was to see just how much fun he could have before he dropped dead—at least that’s what he’d always told Kris. Lately, with all the traveling Roland had been doing, combined with all the gambling and sleeping around with the woman of the month, Kris had begun to believe his brother was more than serious about achieving his life’s goal.

  That only made seeing him with Landry more annoying.

  But it shouldn’t have. He didn’t know this woman, not well enough. Everything he’d read on paper about her schooling, where she lived in America, what she did for a living, had all been superficial. Kris had no idea who she really was on the inside and thus could not accurately pinpoint her motives in coming here. But there was a motive, he was sure. Everyone had a motive or a master plan.