“The Princess Royal and the king are in the dining room.”
She started to nod, accepting that her mother wouldn’t wait even eight minutes for an expected guest, then froze when the import of his words registered. “The king?”
“His Majesty, Dante Romero, King of Ardena,” Edmond announced formally.
“But I thought…”
It didn’t matter what she’d thought. Certainly her mother’s butler wasn’t interested in hearing about her mistaken assumptions. Marissa drew in a deep breath as she tried to consider the implications of this revelation, but she could only think, I’m going to meet the king of Ardena—a thought that made her heart beat hard and fast.
With excitement? Or apprehension? She honestly didn’t know because she didn’t know a lot about him. Although Dante Romero had been a favorite subject of many tabloids for a lot of years, Marissa had never paid much attention to those reports. But when he’d assumed the throne in February—after health issues forced his father to step down—it had become all but impossible to open up a newspaper or turn on a television and not see a photo or a video clip. And she had to admit, it was never a hardship to look at his picture.
But while the tabloids had loved him because the escapades of a playboy prince always generated good headlines, the legitimate press had been much more critical. Especially since he’d transitioned from “the Crown Prince of Ardena” to “His Majesty the King.” They criticized his experience, challenged his knowledge of laws and customs, and questioned his ability to relate to his subjects. But he’d apparently put in a lot of long hours and made a concerted effort to alleviate the concerns of his detractors, and if he’d made a few mistakes along the way, Marissa thought those mistakes only proved that even a king was human.
That thought helped steady her erratically beating heart.
Still, she wished her mother had given her some warning. But the Princess Royal always liked to have the upper hand, and she obviously had it now since she’d somehow convinced the king to come to Tesoro del Mar to meet her daughter.
Elena had commented often enough that a princess’s options for a good marriage were limited, and Marissa didn’t doubt that she would have happily given her consent to any noble who requested her daughter’s hand. But if Marissa somehow managed to snag the interest of a king…
Unfortunately, she knew that the king wasn’t really interested in her. How could he be when he’d never even met her? Besides, she wasn’t a cover model or a famous opera singer or a Hollywood starlet—and yes, the king had dated each of those and a lot more famous and beautiful women—but she was of noble birth. No, the reason for the king’s presence in Tesoro del Mar had nothing to do with her personally and everything to do with politics.
“Are you all right, Your Highness?”
“Actually, I’m famished,” she responded to the butler’s question.
He smiled. “Cook has kept your plate warm. I’ll make sure it’s brought in right away.”
“Thank you, Edmond.” Marissa smiled back, then hurried to the dining room, now twelve minutes late.
Dante recognized her the moment she walked through the door.
Although they’d never met, she looked just like she did in the photos he’d uncovered—and very much a princess.
She wasn’t the type of woman who would ordinarily attract his attention, even in a crowd of one, but he reminded himself that he wasn’t just looking for a wife for himself but a queen for his country. And there was no doubt that Princess Marissa had all the grace and poise required of a woman in that position. She also had excellent bone structure, flawless skin and long, dark hair that he thought might be more flattering if it was left loose to frame her face rather than scraped back into a tight knot at the base of her neck.
And though he would never claim to be an expert on fashion, he felt her wardrobe could use some work, too. In every picture he’d seen of her, she was wearing some shade of beige. The dress she was wearing today was no different. It was stylish enough, he imagined, but the boxy cut gave no hint of any feminine curves and the beige-and-white combination was beyond bland, making him wonder if she had some kind of moral objection to color.
He tucked away the thought and pushed back his chair when she stepped into the room. The movement caught her attention, and her gaze shifted in his direction.
Their eyes locked, and Dante was surprised to realize that her eyes weren’t brown, as he’d believed, but the color of amber, fringed by long, dark lashes.
The second surprise was the tightening in his gut, raw and purely sexual, and an inexplicable sense of recognition.
“Your Majesty,” she said, dipping into an elegant curtsy. “I apologize if I’ve kept you waiting.”
He bowed. “No apology is necessary,” he assured her, though the disapproval in Elena’s gaze warned that she did not agree. “I’m just pleased that you are able to join us.”
The princess lowered herself into the chair that the butler held for her. As soon as she was seated, a server appeared with her plate.
“The king was telling me about the sights he’d like to see while he’s in Tesoro del Mar,” Elena said to her daughter.
Her intention might have been to simply make the princess aware of the topic of conversation, but the subtle edge in her voice gave Dante the impression that Elena was making a point about her daughter’s tardiness rather than the current discussion.
Marissa’s only response was to ask him, “Are you here on vacation, Your Majesty?”
“This trip is a combination of business and pleasure,” he told her. “Although I’m hoping it will be less of the former and more of the latter.”
“And are you enjoying yourself so far?” She picked up her knife and fork and sliced off the end of a crepe.
“Always,” he assured her. “It is a beautiful country—in many ways so much like my own, and in many ways different.”
“I’ve never been to Ardena,” the princess admitted.
“Then you should definitely visit,” he said. “And when you do, I’d be honored to have you stay at the palace as my guest.”
“That sounds like a marvelous idea,” the Princess Royal declared.
Marissa’s smile was much more tentative than her mother’s response.
“In the meantime,” Dante continued, “I was hoping you might have some time tomorrow afternoon to attend the hot-air-balloon festival at Falcon Ridge with me.”
“I appreciate the invitation,” the princess said graciously, “but I have plans with my niece tomorrow.”
Elena’s eyes were frigid when she looked across the table at her daughter. “King Dante has invited you to spend the day with him,” she admonished.
Marissa met her mother’s gaze evenly, suggesting to Dante that she might not be as docile and dutiful as the Princess Royal had implied—a possibility that intrigued him.
He’d never felt the need to surround himself with people who would agree with his every word and deed, and he’d never enjoyed being with a woman who couldn’t express her own thoughts and feelings. He was pleased by this evidence that the Princess Royal’s daughter would not be one of them.
“And I have a previous commitment,” Marissa pointed out to her mother.
“Which I wouldn’t expect you to break,” he assured her. “But maybe your niece would enjoy attending the festival with us.”
Marissa’s attention shifted back to him, revealing both surprise and suspicion. But when she spoke, her voice was carefully neutral. “That sounds like fun—if you’re sure you wouldn’t mind spending the afternoon with a five-year-old.”
“I’m sure it will be my pleasure,” he countered.
Apparently satisfied with the progress that had been made, the Princess Royal monopolized the rest of the conversation as they finished brunch. Marissa managed to eat a few bites of crepe and a couple of pieces of fruit, but her stomach was too tied up in knots to attempt any more than that. She didn’t doubt for a minut
e that her mother had been the one to set up this meeting with the sole purpose of putting Marissa on display in front of the king, but the fact that he was here, having brunch in Elena’s dining room, proved that he was at least considering the potential benefits of a union between their families.
And while the possibility of marrying the king of Ardena didn’t fill her with the same kind of panic she’d experienced at the thought of spending the rest of her life with the Duke of Bellemoro, it didn’t fill her with joy, either. Because whether she was compelled to marry the duke or the king or anyone else, it was the obligation aspect that made her uneasy. She wanted to fall in love and get married for all the right reasons, but she was a princess, and she understood her duty.
She was relieved when her mother stood up, signaling an end to the brunch. The king graciously thanked Elena for “the exquisite meal and delightful company” and formally bowed over her hand as an indication that he was taking his leave. He then turned to Marissa and bowed again as he raised her hand to brush his lips to the back of it.
Marissa held herself still, refusing to give any outward indication of the shocks and jolts that ricocheted through her body. She recognized the kiss for what it was—nothing more than an habitual gesture. She’d had her hand kissed before and the king had, no doubt, kissed countless women’s hands in a similar fashion. There was certainly nothing provocative or even flirtatious about the gesture, and yet the brief touch of his mouth on her skin made her feel all hot and tingly.
She’d had the same kind of visceral reaction only once before, and that had been as recently as last night. The realization made her uneasy. Was it possible that having sex once—well, actually, three times over the course of one night—could turn her into a wanton? She was ashamed to think it might be true, but what other explanation could there be for her immediate physical response to a man she didn’t even know?
Or maybe she was just shallow enough to be turned on by a handsome face. Because there was no denying that Dante Romero was far more handsome than any other man she’d ever met, and even more than she’d expected. He had a strong jaw, bedroom eyes and a sexy mouth—any one of those features alone would have snagged a woman’s attention, but put them all together and the effect was irresistible.
As if the gods hadn’t blessed him enough with that face, they’d also given him more than six feet in height and filled all of those inches with long, lean muscles. He was, without a doubt, the complete package—and judging from the glint in those dark eyes, the hint of a smile that played at the corners of those sexy lips, and too many headlines to count, he knew it.
“I’m already looking forward to tomorrow,” he told her.
And since he knew it, she didn’t see any need to cater to his undoubtedly oversize ego. She ensured that her response was polite but cool, giving no hint of the heat that was running through her veins. “As am I, Your Majesty.”
Elena waited until the king had exited the room before facing her. “What was that about?” she demanded.
For a minute, Marissa thought the Princess Royal had somehow been privy to the lustful desires pulsing in her blood. But when her mother spoke again, Marissa realized that she hadn’t picked up on any undercurrents between her daughter and the king.
“I went to great lengths to bring the king here to meet you—the least you could have done was show some genuine interest and appreciation.”
“If you wanted me to be gracious and charming, you might have given me some warning,” Marissa told her.
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up, in case the arrangements for his trip fell through.”
“That was thoughtful,” Marissa said, “but unnecessary, because I don’t have any hopes.”
“Don’t you even think about sabotaging this,” Elena warned in an icy tone.
“Why would I? If you don’t manage to finalize an agreement with the king, I’ll just become a pawn in your negotiations with someone else.”
“You should be flattered that the king of Ardena is interested.”
“And I would be, if his interest was based on anything more than strengthening ties between two countries.”
“Dante Romero is one of the most sought-after bachelors in the world.”
“Who probably has a mistress in every major city around the globe,” Marissa noted.
Elena shrugged as if the possibility was of no concern. “But he’ll only have one wife, and that wife could be you.”
“I’ve agreed to go to Falcon Ridge with him tomorrow and I will, but you’re deluding yourself if you think that there will be a proposal at the end of the day,” she warned her mother. “The king of Ardena has dated some of the most famous women in the world—models and movie stars and musicians. They’re not just beautiful and glamorous, but savvy and sophisticated. Women who can not only handle living in the spotlight, but seek it out. Women who are absolutely nothing like me.”
“Those are the women he dated,” her mother agreed. “And not a single one of them would make an appropriate queen. You, on the other hand, are exactly what the king is looking for in a bride.”
“He told you what he’s looking for?”
“The requirements of a royal bride in Ardena aren’t a matter of choice but of custom—and your blood is blue and your virtue unquestionable.”
Marissa didn’t dare correct her misconception. Instead, she only said, “It’s still possible that the king might decide we’re simply not compatible.”
“That’s his decision to make, of course.” Elena narrowed her gaze. “But I trust you will do everything you can to help him see that you are.”
“Why does this matter so much to you? Why do you care who I marry or even if I do?”
“I care because you’re my daughter, and because it would be nice if at least one of my children exceeded my expectations.”
Finally, Marissa got it. The Princess Royal had once envisioned grand futures for each of her sons. After Prince Julian was killed and his brother, Rowan, had taken the throne, Elena had attempted to undermine the prince regent and install Cameron in the palace. She’d been bitterly disappointed when her efforts failed. She’d been even more frustrated with Michael, because her oldest son had never shown any interest in following any path but his own. But all she’d ever expected of her daughter was that Marissa would marry well—as Elena’s own father had expected of her.
Of course, the Princess Royal had defied her father by running off to marry a farmer. Unfortunately, Marissa had no similar prospects. And, in any event, she figured giving her virginity away to a stranger was probably enough defiance for one week. Besides, she didn’t think there was any real danger of Ardena’s new king actually wanting to marry her, and if keeping him company while he was in Tesoro del Mar kept her mother off of her back, it was a price she was willing to pay.
“I’ll do my best to ensure the king has a wonderful time tomorrow,” she promised.
“It would be better if you could spend the day alone with him. The presence of a child is hardly conducive to romance.”
The “child” in question being Elena’s granddaughter and the firstborn child of Marissa’s brother Michael. And while there were many responses that sprang to mind, she reminded herself of the dangers of antagonizing her mother and only said, “The king didn’t seem to have any objections to including Riley.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“If he wants to see me again after tomorrow, I’ll make sure that I’m available,” she said, trusting the offer would placate her mother.
“Where are you going now?” Elena demanded as Marissa started for the door.
“Back to the hospital.”
“Weren’t you already there today? Isn’t that why you kept us waiting?”
“Yes,” she admitted, though she could have pointed out that no one had, in fact, waited for her. “And I’m truly sorry that I was late but Devon was in respiratory distress and I couldn’t leave until I knew that his condition
was stabilized.”
Of course, her mother didn’t know who Devon was, nor did she care enough to ask. She’d never understood Marissa’s commitment to Juno’s Touch and the babies who passed through its doors.
Her colleagues at the hospital liked to tease that Juno’s Touch was Marissa’s baby, and in many ways that was true. She’d nurtured the idea from start to finish—an endeavor that had taken a lot more than the nine months of most babies. But it had been, and continued to be, a labor of love.
Of course, she wanted real babies someday. She wanted to experience the awe of growing a child in her womb, the satisfaction of nourishing a baby from her own breast, the completion of knowing she had someone to love forever. But until that time came, she had Juno’s Touch, and she happily gave it her heart and soul.
“I’m not sure your continued involvement at the hospital is wise. You get far too attached to babies that aren’t even yours,” Elena admonished.
Unlike the Princess Royal, who hadn’t even tried to form an attachment with her own three children, Marissa thought, though she didn’t dare speak the words aloud.
“I can’t spend all of my time at spa appointments and social events,” she said lightly.
“Speaking of which, you might take some time to have your hair styled and get your nails done before tomorrow.”
Marissa touched her lips to her mother’s cheek. “I’ll see if I can fit that in,” she lied and made her escape.
Dante didn’t have any specific plans when he left the Princess Royal’s house. He only knew that he wasn’t ready to go back to the palace and the suite of rooms that haunted him with memories of the hours he’d spent making love with the mysterious Juno the night before. So he instructed the chauffeur to take a drive along the waterfront, and he let his mind wander as he enjoyed the view out of his window.
Tesoro del Mar really was a beautiful country, but as much as he always enjoyed visiting, he always looked forward to going home. This time, he was less eager. Even though he wasn’t scheduled to return to Ardena until the end of the following week, he knew that his parents would expect he would be ready to announce that he’d chosen a bride by then. And Dante’s reluctance to settle down was exceeded only by his determination not to disappoint them again.
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