The rest of her wasn’t like Eleni, though. She didn’t have Eleni’s delicate features or long, golden hair. No, this woman was determinedly plain, though she did have a rather lovely mouth, and her eyes were a startling light amber framed by long, thick, dark lashes. And, with her brown hair ruthlessly pulled back and coiled in a tight bun at her nape, the elegant shape of her neck and golden skin was revealed...
Not that those things mattered. It was her build that counted.
Xerxes studied her face, noting the minute tightening around her eyes and mouth, sure signs of disapproval. He was extremely good at reading people—something he’d used to his advantage in the army before his exile and afterwards as he’d tried to pick up the shreds of his life in Europe—and he knew when someone was unhappy with him. And this soldier was unhappy with him, no matter how well she tried to hide it.
Then again, he’d noticed her disapproval the minute she’d joined his personal guard detail a month ago.
It didn’t bother him. He didn’t let anything bother him, these days.
Besides, most of the army had been extremely disapproving of his reinstatement as Defender of the Throne and there wasn’t anything to be done about it. He couldn’t hide his past or conceal his reputation and so he’d done neither. What he had done was accept responsibility and let his actions speak for themselves.
It was annoying, but he did need the army on his side, because his role as Defender was important to Adonis, and anything that was important to Adonis was important to him. It was also a position for which his father had thought him unsuitable, which naturally meant he had not only to claim it, but to make it his own. Which he’d done. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d dragged a good proportion of the army over onto his side through a combination of honesty and pragmatism, not to mention healthy doses of charm. Some of the generals weren’t convinced, but he was confident they’d follow eventually. Certainly marriage would help that.
Perhaps it would help him with this particular soldier, though, given the way her gaze followed him, as if she couldn’t help herself, perhaps not. Because he knew that look. It was as familiar to him as breathing, and he frequently saw it on the faces of some of his female staff—and some of the male, too.
It didn’t bother him—he’d never laid a hand on anyone who worked directly with him—but sometimes it caused problems. He hoped it wouldn’t here, since she was the first female royal guard and her presence was a sign that Axios was making small inroads to progress. If there were difficulties with him, it would be a setback. He’d hate to have to dismiss her if it got out of hand. Especially as she was the daughter of Timon Kouros, the captain of the royal guard.
‘Excuse me, Your Highness?’ Her voice was very clear, with a sweet note that he should have found cloying but didn’t. ‘I didn’t quite catch what you said.’
‘No need to catch it.’ He turned towards his bedroom. ‘Follow me.’
The designer had left the gowns there in preparation for Eleni to try on, since everyone assumed he and Eleni were already sleeping together. They weren’t. He hadn’t touched her and he wouldn’t until after the wedding.
Not that he particularly wanted to, since they weren’t at all attracted to each other. A good thing in many ways, since it was less likely they’d get attached to each other.
How ironic that the one lesson of his father’s that he hadn’t rejected, the most painful lesson of all, had been the one on the dangers of caring too much. But he’d learned that lesson and he’d learned it well, so now he didn’t allow himself to care much about anything at all. Anything except his brother.
He strode down the long white hallway that led to his bedroom, not bothering to check if Calista was following him—he knew she would since obedience to authority was the core of every Axian soldier’s belief—and feeling slightly annoyed at said brother.
Adonis was obsessed with securing the succession—and fair enough, he was the king after all—but he could stand to be a little less rigid about it. Yes, he’d lost his queen a few years back, but, since the union had given him a daughter, he had his heir.
The real issue was that Adonis refused to marry again, which meant he wasn’t going to have any more children, thus all the pressure for more heirs fell on Xerxes.
Xerxes had no desire to marry either, but, since Adonis had given him no choice in the matter, he’d acquiesced. Adonis was the only person in the world Xerxes would obey, if not without question, then at least with a limited number of questions.
It would be an arranged marriage and, as Adonis had already had a bride in mind, Xerxes had let him make the match since he didn’t much care who his fiancée ended up being.
Eleni was a princess from a very progressive principality near France with a strong international political influence that Adonis had deemed useful for Axios. In return, Axios would provide access to the world-famous Axian army.
It was an extremely valuable alliance, and one that Xerxes essentially had no problems with, except for the fact that Eleni was turning out to be rather more difficult than he’d hoped. And now he was annoyed, which he did so hate to be.
Striding into the master bedroom, he found the designer fussing around with the gowns hanging on the rail near the bed. The woman kept glancing at him from underneath her lashes, which again was a look he was very familiar with. Sadly for her, he was no longer the playboy he’d once been, otherwise he might have given her a little taste of what she was missing out on.
Not that he had either the time or the inclination tonight. Not only was he irritated at Eleni for conveniently ‘forgetting’ about the dresses and making excuses about council meetings—she wasn’t any happier about this engagement than he was but she was prepared to do it in return for the army—but he was also annoyed at having to fuss around with the choosing of appropriate gowns.
However, as much as he didn’t care about gowns, appearances mattered to Adonis, and a beautiful woman in a charming gown it had to be.
The designer gave him a coy smile that only faltered when her gaze shifted to Calista standing behind him.
‘The Princess Eleni won’t be joining us tonight,’ he said casually. ‘My guard is about her height and build. She can try on the dresses instead and then you can make the adjustments to fit her.’
The designer inclined her head. ‘Yes, Your Highness.’
Xerxes glanced at Calista, just catching the look of shock on her face as she stared at the rail full of dresses, her expression smoothing as she realised he was watching her.
Interesting. Not the reaction most women would have at the prospect of trying on a lot of pretty gowns. At least, not the women he knew.
‘You have an issue, soldier?’ he asked.
The shocked look had gone, her chin lifting, her shoulders squaring. ‘Not at all, Your Highness,’ she said, her tone absolutely neutral.
Too late, though. He’d seen that expression on her face and the way she’d masked it. She didn’t want to put those dresses on, that was clear.
He should have left it alone, gone and finished dressing since Eleni’s call had dragged him out of the shower. But, as he didn’t have anything better to do and he’d always been insufferably curious, he strolled closer to her, watching with interest as her level gaze dipped a moment to his bare chest. She betrayed no emotion this time, her expression fixed, but a flush stained her cheeks.
So he’d been correct in his initial assumption. She found him attractive, which was completely understandable. He was fully aware of his looks and had spent a good few years of his adult life shamelessly using them to get what he wanted.
Once, he might have toyed with her, purely for his own amusement, but he was supposed to be above that now, the little sermon his brother had delivered when his exile had been revoked and his title reinstated still resounding in his ears even a couple of years later. It had been about the kin
d of behaviour expected of a prince, as if Xerxes didn’t know. As if Xerxes hadn’t sacrificed everything he was on the altar of princely expectation already.
Still, he’d given his brother a pass on that since Xerxes hadn’t exactly comported himself with dignity in Europe, and it had been a good reminder of all the things that had bound him before he’d been exiled. All the things that he’d been forced to give up when his father, King Xenophon, had disinherited him.
Things like honour and dignity and responsibility.
Things like self-respect.
Yes, Adonis had handed those things back to him when he’d returned to Axios, but they had come at a cost. And he wasn’t the same biddable boy he’d once been. The earnest, easily manipulated boy who’d only wanted to do his best and make his father proud.
No, he was a man now and he recognised the twin cages of title and name that the boy had been trapped in. It wasn’t a cage he would willingly enter again.
At least, not without a key.
He wandered closer to his very stiff-looking guard, studying her face, though what he was looking for he didn’t know. Perhaps for another glimpse of the person he thought he’d seen beneath the mask of the soldier.
Not just a person. A woman.
A small jolt went through him. Yes, she was a woman, and he even though he shouldn’t find that as interesting as he did—just what drove a woman to want to be a guard, for example?—he couldn’t un-notice it, as it were.
‘No need to look so horrified,’ he purred, coming to a stop in front of her. ‘It’s only a couple of gowns.’
She looked startled for a second, as if she hadn’t expected anyone to notice her slip. Then that too was quickly masked, her expression like granite. ‘I’m sorry, Your Highness.’
Curiouser and curiouser. She wasn’t a fresh-faced recruit, which meant she should have had more control over her reactions than that. His father would definitely not have approved.
‘No need to apologise. I’m just curious as to why a woman wouldn’t want the opportunity to try on a couple of pretty gowns.’
Something gleamed in her amber eyes and he thought it was probably temper. ‘Not all women like pretty gowns, Your Highness,’ she said coolly.
Something stirred inside him. Very definite interest.
If he wasn’t much mistaken—and he seldom was—there had been a slight note of challenge in her voice. Which wasn’t exactly wise in a soldier, especially when responding to a commander. Was she like this with all her superiors? Or just him?
The thing inside him stirred again, rousing. Oh, he hoped it was just him.
Careful. You’re supposed to be on your best behaviour.
He always was, though, wasn’t he? Ever since he’d returned he’d been nothing but good, giving his brother no cause for concern. But it had been a long three years. And, now he was getting married, those years would turn into a lifetime.
Surely a minute or two’s enjoyment with an interesting woman was allowed?
‘No, indeed,’ he said lazily. ‘What would you prefer? A good flak jacket? Some hard-wearing boots? A sturdy pair of trousers?’
‘Those are all very useful items,’ she agreed stonily, ‘but I assure you, I have no problem with gowns.’
‘Is that so? Your expression, soldier, would say otherwise.’
Her lips were pressed together, temper sparking in her eyes again, and the hungry beast inside him, the one he’d had to leash since coming back to Axios, pulled on its chain.
It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself female company and he missed it. Women had been his saving grace while he’d been exiled—and not just physically. He’d enjoyed their company, too. His childhood had been largely male dominated since his mother had died young. His father had never remarried, turning ever more rigid and austere as time had gone on, making the palace a cold place to grow up in.
As a child, he’d tried to make friends with the daughters of a couple of the palace staff, because he’d been lonely, but his father had put a stop to it soon enough. Those friendships had been innocent, but Xenophon hadn’t approved, teaching Xerxes his first and most painful lesson in the importance of detachment: that the personal needs of a prince were insignificant compared with his county and his duty. Those two things came before everything else.
This soldier wasn’t a girl, but she was still staff and she was employed by him, and if he wanted female company there were others who could fulfil his needs.
Still, he couldn’t deny he was intrigued by her show of spirit. It gave him a hint of the woman behind the military mask, and the contrast was...interesting to him.
Obedience was valued highly in the royal guard; questioning orders was not allowed and disdain for authority was not tolerated. Yet twice now she’d given herself away, both in her disapproval of him and her clear dislike at what he’d asked her to do.
Clearly there was some passion in her.
‘I’m sorry, Your Highness,’ she said with only the faintest trace of apology. ‘I’ll try not to be so obvious with my expressions in future.’
Just think how much fun it would be to get her to lose her cool.
Xerxes contemplated it for a split-second. Then his better self stepped in. No, he couldn’t afford to risk stepping out of line. Not only would his brother be highly irritated, but showing interest in one of his guards wouldn’t improve his standing with the army. Especially not with the first female guard.
But you’re going to be engaged soon and then you won’t be able to do this any more.
Ah yes. As if he needed that reminder.
‘I’d advise it,’ he murmured, letting an edge of warning creep into his voice. ‘I’d hate for your father to find out you were less than thrilled with your orders.’
Her gaze sparked, that temper igniting yet again. ‘I have no feelings about my orders, Highness. I haven’t refused an order before and I won’t now.’
The second part might be the truth, but the first was definitely a lie. She did have feelings about her orders.
He stared at her, realising with a sudden start that, actually, she was far from plain. He’d got that wrong. Her forehead was high, her cheekbones sharp, and her jaw was strong. Bold features. Not pretty, nothing so anodyne, but fierce.
Possibly even beautiful.
A current of heat moved through him, a heat that shouldn’t be there.
He liked to be surprised. He liked that more than anything. But an inexplicable attraction to one of his guards was not the kind of surprise he was looking for.
Xerxes turned sharply and gestured at the designer, who was waiting patiently beside the rail of clothes. ‘The blue, I think. Let’s try that one first.’
CHAPTER TWO
CALISTA’S HEART WAS beating uncomfortably fast and she wasn’t quite sure why.
The prince had turned from her, striding across the bedroom to where the designer stood with the rail of gowns, the play of lean muscle that moved beneath his taut amber skin making her breath catch.
She felt as if she’d been standing in the path of a blazing forest fire, preparing to be burned, only for the fire to turn abruptly at the last minute and blaze somewhere else.
What had happened? Because she was sure something had. The prince’s dark gaze had been focused so unerringly on her, so intense it had made her skin prickle and her uniform feel suddenly far too hot.
He saw your slip.
She gritted her teeth, forcing away the sudden rush of shame. She’d been certain her instinctive recoil at the sight of those gowns hadn’t shown. Certain, too, that her irritation at the Prince’s prodding wasn’t obvious. She’d never had a problem with her emotional reactions before, had always been the perfect soldier. Strong. Steady. Emotionless.
Surely a couple of gowns and one irritating prince hadn’t been able to get under
her skin so quickly?
Ah, but he’s not just any prince.
Xerxes had taken one of the dresses off the rail, luminous blue silk falling over his hand and contrasting beautifully with his olive skin. The designer was saying something to him, batting her eyelashes rather obviously, and he smiled. It was practised—Calista knew by now which of his smiles were natural and which were not—but nevertheless, it was one of the most beautiful smiles she’d ever seen.
A smile should not have the power to make her feel this hot. It shouldn’t. And maybe he wasn’t just any prince, but she wasn’t just any soldier.
She was the daughter of the captain of the guard, the first woman to be appointed to the royal guard, and she had a duty to uphold. A point to prove and a promotion to earn. And no prince, no matter how gorgeous he was, would be getting in her way.
There had been an incident once, back when she’d first signed up, where some male recruits had teased her and she’d let her temper get the better of her. She’d ended up weeping tears of rage like the stupid, weak little girl she’d thought she’d left behind the day her mother had walked out. That incident had given her a reputation for being overly emotional—always a bad thing in the army—which meant she had to try extra hard to be impervious.
She couldn’t have any more slips. Couldn’t let her disapproval show. Couldn’t let anything show. Her father had been very clear: good soldiers never let their emotions rule them and they always obeyed their commanding officer no matter what.
Clearly she needed to try harder.
The prince laid the blue silk gown over the black velvet quilt on his bed, and glanced at her. ‘This one first, if you please. Aimee and I will let you get changed—’
‘No need.’ Calista strode towards the bed, ignoring the fact that she’d just interrupted a prince. ‘I’ll get changed here.’
She didn’t wait for him to reply, lifting a hand to undo the buttons of her jacket and pulling it open. She had no hang-ups about her body. Military training had stripped away any self-consciousness she might have had about it. Her body was a machine that did her bidding, that required fuel to keep it running and exercise to keep it performing in top condition, but that was all.
Promoted to His Princess Page 2