“Yes. She’s a princess,” her mother said. “She needs to learn how to rule the country. You would need to know how, too.”
“Would I be a…king?” He rubbed his temples. “Or a prince?”
“Neither. You’d be a royal consort,” the ambassador said.
He stared at the computer with a wrinkled brow. “What does that even mean?”
“It means you need to run. Run fast,” Isabelle said.
He was actually thinking about doing this. Actually debating marrying her. Her heart lurched at the thought of him as her husband.
What would that be like? How would it feel?
“That’s a complicated question. I’ll give you the simple, yet wide-reaching answer,” her father said. “You’d be expected to attend functions. Help with court hearings and hold a seat on the house—”
“Stop it.” Isabelle fisted the skirt of her dress. “He’s not marrying me, and I’m not marrying him. I refuse. You hear me? I. Refuse.”
“Enough, Belle.” Gordon stood up, his face stony and hard. He reached for her, but she leaped back. “It’s over. We got caught, and now we have to look at our choices before—”
“No.” She backed toward the door, shaking her head as she went. “I will not be a part of this.” Tearing her eyes off Gordon, she glowered at the computer. “And I will not marry him.”
Princesses don’t run away—but this one was.
Whirling on her heel, she left the room and slammed the door shut behind her. She only made it two steps before she saw the two royal guards blocking the hallway on either side. She stopped mid-step. “What are you doing?”
“Keeping you here.” The man to her left bowed. “Sorry, Princess. We’re under the order of the King.”
Looking back and forth between the two men, she swallowed hard. “Seriously?”
“Yes, Princess,” the other man said.
She collapsed against the door, her hands fisted at her sides. Closing her eyes, she counted to three in her head. This was all going to go away. It was all a big nightmare come to haunt her. As soon as she opened her eyes, she’d wake up in bed alone.
Gordon wouldn’t be forced into marriage—and actually considering it—and she would still be dreading having to marry a man she didn’t know.
It would all have been a dream. A big, horrible, stupid dream.
Except when she opened her eyes…she was still in the hallway with two royal guards babysitting her. And it was all real. Very, very real. “Right.”
“Princess?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “I’ll just stand—oof.”
The door opened behind her, and she collapsed backward. Strong arms closed around her, catching her before her butt hit the floor, and she knew without looking who caught her. Gordon—her future husband, if everyone else had their way.
“Jesus, Belle. Are you okay?”
Gripping his forearms, she nodded. “I’m fine.”
“I’m not.” He set her on her feet, then glanced at the two men staring at them. “Leave us. Now.”
“I can’t.” The man to the left swallowed hard, his gaze drifting over Gordon with apprehension. “I’ve been ordered to—”
Gordon opened the door. “Lose the detail, or I’m out.”
“Hans? Christopher?” The ambassador peeked out. “Inside, please. Mr. Waybrook will see to it that the princess stays safe. He’s a decorated military officer, you know.”
The man on the left looked at him with new respect. That was something everyone in her whole country agreed upon—soldiers of any sort were to be treated with the upmost respect. “Sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Gordon stared at him. “Uh. Thanks.”
“An honor.” The other man bowed. “Sir.”
“Nice to meet you,” Gordon said impatiently. “Privacy, please?”
The men cleared out of the hallway, and the door shut behind them. Isabelle watched him with new eyes. He already had the authority thing down pat with the royal guard, and he wasn’t even married to her. “Did you get rid of them so you could run? Because you should.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No. I’m not running…yet. I got rid of them so we could talk without a bunch of people listening to us.”
“That’s what your life will be like from now on, if you agree to this crazy idea. People always watching. Judging. Ripping apart everything you do.” She crossed her arms. “How does that make you feel?”
“Like I still don’t give a damn about who watches or judges me.”
“Then you won’t make a good royal,” she said quickly. “We have to care. It’s what we do. Who we are.”
“Not me.” He caught her hands and squeezed them gently. “All I care about is what you think. Are you upset that you might have to marry me? Because of who I am? What I do?”
“How can you ask me that?” She wasn’t upset because she might have to marry him. She was upset because he might have to marry her. “This just isn’t right.”
Dropping her hands, he paced back and forth. “What isn’t right?”
“Everything.” She covered her face. “Think of the way you felt about arranged marriages when we talked about it before.”
He swallowed. “Yeah, but that was different.”
“How?” she asked, confused. “How could this possibly be different?”
“Because I don’t consider marrying you an arranged marriage.” He hesitated, avoiding her eyes. “I like you, Belle. And you’re not a stranger.”
She swallowed hard, her heart picking up speed. “I like you, too, which is why I don’t want you to get stuck marrying me.”
“Yes, because it’s so awful to have to marry a princess.” He snorted. “I totally could have scored a queen instead. Exactly how happily married are your parents?”
A laugh escaped her, and she smacked his arm. “Gordon.”
“What? I’m not allowed to make you laugh?” He rubbed his chest. “Man, this being married to a princess shit is hard.”
“We’re not married. We’re not even engaged.”
His eyes sobered, the amber sparkle dying down. “We could be. If this is what needs to be done to protect you, then I could do it, if you want. I told you I’d do anything to help you, and I meant it. But not if you don’t want me to.”
Some small—okay, huge—part of her wanted to say yes. Wanted to selfishly ask him to marry her, because she had a feeling being married to him would be pretty amazing. But it wasn’t fair to him, so no matter how much she wanted to…
She couldn’t do it.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to.” She took a deep breath. “But you don’t have to. I’ll be fine.”
“Fine isn’t exactly good.” He leveled a look on her, his brown eyes pulling her in with their magnetism. “What if we could be more than fine? What if we could be happy?”
Her heart twisted. If he didn’t stop trying to convince her they would make a team…she might stop fighting it. And he didn’t want that. Not really. He was just doing what he thought was right. Being an honorable gentleman.
And she wouldn’t punish him for that.
Forcing a smile, she crossed her arms. “I’m sure we could be. Honestly. But not like this. Don’t listen to them. Listen to me. The people of Maldeva will get over this, and so will all the ‘princes’ of the world. If Harry can party in Vegas nude and be forgiven for it, then I can have sex in a car.”
“Were you there, too?” he asked, all wide eyes. “Who would have guessed that underneath that prim little exterior, you were a—”
“Gordon.”
“Fine.” He held his hands up. “I’ll focus.”
“How can you be so calm right now?”
“I don’t know.” He lifted a shoulder. “I just am. The idea of marrying you doesn’t scare me, and that has to mean something. Right?”
She bit down on her lip. “You can’t possibly want to marry me.”
“Was that a questi
on or a statement?”
“A question!”
“Well…” He scratched his ear and scrunched his nose. “I could certainly do worse. I mean, you are a princess.”
“Well, that’s a ringing endorsement, right there. ‘I could do worse.’” She rolled her eyes. “Please, marry me before I die in the romance of the moment.”
He laughed and leaned a shoulder against the wallpapered wall. “It’s true. Again, you’re not a queen, and I feel I could have scored one, but…”
She threw her hands up. “I’m done here. You need to leave. Run. Fast. Don’t look back. Don’t pass Go. Don’t collect two hundred dollars. Send a different guard to watch over me, if your boss insists. But whatever you do? Don’t come back here.”
“They have Monopoly in your country?” He rubbed his jaw. “This might not be so bad after all. I’m surprisingly good at that game, you know. One time, I—”
“Gordon.”
He pushed off the wall. “Fine. I’ll go home. My shift is over, anyway.”
Something told her he was leaving…but he wasn’t really leaving. She hadn’t won this argument. He looked way too pleased with himself to have lost. “You’re going to refuse them, right?”
He cupped her cheek, his finger brushing over her cheekbone gently. Leaning in, he kissed her so lightly that if her eyes had been closed, she probably would have missed it. “Rest easy, Belle, everything is going to be all right.”
She dug her fingers into her palms. “That didn’t answer my question.”
“Didn’t it?” He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked down the hallway. “Till we meet again.”
She took a step after him but stopped. Princesses don’t chase men down halls. But this one wanted to…
“Good-bye, Gordon.”
Chapter Twelve
The next night, Gordon walked down the small, old-fashioned hallway, his chest tight and the small spot where his shoulders met even tighter. This was insanity. Pure, unaltered, unexplainable insanity. He should be locked up in a padded room for even considering this at all.
But he was doing it anyway.
Life was full of the safe choices that kept you whole, and the risky choices that would probably lead you to heartache and ruin. For a long time now, he’d only been making safe choices. As soon as Belle came in his life…that had changed. He didn’t want to play it safe anymore. He wanted to fucking live.
Even if it might screw him over in the end.
Patting his chest pocket, he smoothed his jacket, took a deep breath, nodded at the two royal guards that stood in the hallway, and knocked. Like always, the hotel smelled like an odd combination of expensive perfume and cleaner. The door cracked open, and a bright green eye peeked at him through the crack. Once she saw who stood there, she closed the door in his face. For a second, he thought she was refusing to talk to him…and that would make things a little bit harder.
But then she opened the door.
“Gordon? I told you not to come back here. What are you—?”
“Why aren’t you dressed and ready to go?” He pushed inside her room and closed the door behind him. She wore the same robe as the other night, but she hadn’t taken her makeup off yet. “We have to leave in ten minutes.”
“What?” She blinked at him. “I don’t have any engagements this evening.”
“Sure you do.” He tugged on his shirtsleeves. “We’re due at the opera at eight.”
She rolled her eyes. “I highly doubt that George is still taking me to the opera.”
“I didn’t say anything about Prince George.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “I said we are due at the opera. You. Me. High singing and loud music.”
“You want to take me to the opera?” She canted her head. “Why?”
He took a step toward her. “Why not?”
“Because it’ll give people the wrong idea.” She stepped back. “It’ll make people think we’re playing along, when we’re not. We said goodbye yesterday. It’s over.”
He had a feeling she was going to bring that up. He’d let her believe she won, but the truth was? He’d only left because he’d had some shopping to do.
Not because he’d given up on her.
“No. I said ‘till we meet again.’” He grinned. “Well, we’ve met again.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it tight. “Gordon…”
“Hold that thought. You’ve now got eight minutes to be ready.” He sat on the couch and crossed his ankle over his left knee. “You’d best go get dressed, and when you’re finished, you can lecture me all you want.”
“Someone could see us. This will only make it harder when I go home alone.”
“They already know about us,” he said, tapping his foot. “They will just assume it was part of our time together. No one will think twice about it.”
“But—”
“Seven minutes. I wouldn’t want to make me late. There would be severe punishments later on.” He raised a brow. “Tick, tock, Princess.”
She made an agitated sound, but her eyes sparkled with excitement. She loved it when he bossed her around…despite what she said. “Fine. But if this comes back to bite me in the butt, there will be severe punishments for you.”
“I like my odds. That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” Grinning, he spread his arms out on the top of the couch. “Don’t be late.”
After one last look his way, she went into the bedroom and shut the door behind her. He sat there, trying to ignore his racing heart, and waited. He couldn’t believe he was going to do this. Take this leap. Was he fucking insane?
Yeah, he was. He was crazy about her.
And it was time he did something about it.
He’d never been one to be scared of commitment. He’d always known that someday, somewhere, he would settle down. Get married. Have a few kids. He’d been waiting to meet the woman that would make him want to…
But he hadn’t expected her to be a fucking princess.
Exactly six minutes and thirteen seconds later, the door opened, and she came out. The elegant black dress she wore hugged every curve, managing to look both sexy and classy all in one fell swoop. A diamond necklace circled her throat, and she wore a matching bracelet on her left wrist. She looked stunning. Every inch the princess.
And she could be his. Actually be his.
He couldn’t wrap his mind around that.
Up until now, he hadn’t let himself want more—not until those pompous assholes had told him he could actually have more. Helping Belle was the right thing to do, but more than that? He wanted to do it. Wanted to move to her country with her. He wasn’t sure exactly why that was such an appealing idea, but he didn’t exactly have anyone here. Didn’t have family left.
There was no reason he couldn’t be her hero.
No reason he couldn’t marry her.
“You look fucking perfect,” he said, his voice coming out hushed and awe-like without him even realizing it. But it made sense. She constantly took his breath away with her beauty. “So beautiful.”
Her cheeks pinkened. “Thank you. You look lovely as well.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said, standing and offering her his arm. “But with you on my arm, it sure helps matters.”
Shaking her head, she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, holding on tight. “Wow, you’re really turning on the charm. You feeling excited about slipping out of the matrimonial knot with me?”
“Maybe.” He opened the door for her. “But then again, maybe not.”
An hour later, he took a deep breath, juggled the two glasses of red wine in his hands, and slid into the box that he and Belle had to themselves. He’d gotten help from her people in procuring the private box, so they could have some alone time. To give him a chance to take a huge leap of faith…
And hopefully not regret it in the morning.
“Hey, I’m back.”
She lowered her binoculars and glanced over her shoulder at him. �
�I see that.”
“Whatcha watching?” he asked, settling into his seat next to her. He offered her a glass of wine, and she took it, her fingers touching his. “Anything good?”
“I saw a bunch of stagehands doing the final touches.” She leaned in and handed him the eyepiece. “Oh and see there, over to the left, next to the stage? The redhead in green?”
He held the metal object to his eyes. “Yeah.”
“She kissed some other bloke when her companion left.”
“Seriously?” he eyed the woman. She looked prim and proper and straight-laced. Not the type to kiss and hide it. As he watched, her companion came back in, kissed her, and sat down beside her, looking all too happy to be there. “I don’t understand why people do that. If you’re not happy, just leave. Cheating ruins families. Destroys lives. That’s something I would never do to anyone.” He gripped the binoculars tight. “Ever.”
“Me, either,” she said, softly.
He could feel her eyes on him, but he kept watching the pair. The woman kissed him and smiled into his eyes, putting on quite the act. He set the binoculars down. If he kept watching the couple, he might do something stupid like march down there and tell the man what kind of woman he was with—right in front of her.
If he was seriously considering latching himself to her, maybe he needed to let her get to know the real him. “My dad…he cheated on my mother, like I told you the other day. He left us when I was a kid. She was from a normal family, but he came from money. Once he left, he didn’t send her a penny. Told her to go back to struggling on a teacher’s salary. I haven’t seen him since. I told your parents he was dead, but I honestly have no idea if he is or not. I’m assuming he is, since I never hear from him anymore.”
“I’m so sorry.” She rubbed his back, her mouth pressed tight. “People can be such idiots when it comes to sex. Do anything, no matter what the costs, to have an exploding orgasm.”
His lips twitched. “Explosive.”
“Whatever. You know what I mean.” Her hand paused. “Not that I have much room to talk, I guess. Look at us. I destroyed my nation’s chances at a union that would have been good for it, all so I could have some fun with you.”
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