Dare Me

by Tara Wylde

  Tessa's eyes narrow. She pokes my sternum. "I see that blush. As soon as there's time, I want to hear all about it."

  'There's not much to tell," I mutter.

  "I doubt that, but there's not time to argue. C'mon. I promised that bossy, stick woman. Elsie ... Emily ... Erlene ..."

  "Eileen," I supply.

  "Whatever –," Tessa has clearly already labeled her as non-important. "I told her I'd have you where you need to be in-" she looks at her watch, "about a minute and a half."

  Tessa leads me out of the room and into a narrow hallway.

  "Focus on Lucas. Not only are you married to him, but this situation is his making, and he knows how to navigate these particular waters better than you can possibly hope to at this point."

  We reach a small, curtained off area. Through a human sized gap in the curtains I see all of Lucas family sitting quietly while Eileen stands behind a microphone, talking to the crowd.

  Butterflies dance in my stomach. I take a step backwards, teetering on my unfamiliar high heels.

  "I can't do this."

  Lucas

  “I can’t do this.”

  From my position, just a few feet back from Alexis and Tessa, I hear every word they’ve said. I’ve also heard every word they’ve exchanged since Tessa first walked into the dressing room Alexis has been occupying for the past few hours.

  I should feel bad about eavesdropping. My parents would say they raised me better than that, but I don’t. I’ve learned so much about my new wife from the short exchange between her and Tessa. I know now that Alexis is much closer to snapping under the pressure than I’d realized – and that I have at least one person on my side.

  Listening to them talk, I realized that I wanted Alexis to trust me enough to accept my help, something I’ve never wanted from another woman.

  I also realized that knowing just how stressed she feels right now makes me proud of her for doing her very best to keep things together.

  Somehow I’ve managed to marry a very strong and fascinating woman. I can’t say I’m disappointed. Just surprised. I never saw my life heading in this direction. But disappointed? No, not one little bit.

  I lengthen my stride and reach Alexis’s side before she has time to turn and bolt. I wrap my arm around her waist and propel her out from curtained off section and into the view of every reporter who is in attendance. Which is every reporter.

  Besides the British Royal family, of course, mine is just about the most photographed, filmed and reported on in the world.

  And the family in question – mine – is seated behind a long table. Each one has a microphone in front of them. Nothing we’re not used to. Press conferences are a regular part of life.

  The side garden my family always uses to host press conferences whenever the weather is nice is packed to capacity. Eileen explains what this particular press conference is about and how my family will only be addressing the topic of my sudden marriage, nothing else.

  I know that I’m the heir to the throne and therefore a source of fascination, but I can’t quite believe that so many professional reporters have nothing better to do than focus on me. There must be more important things to cover.

  Apparently not.

  I help Alexis into a seat and take mine. At my signal, Eileen wraps up her spiel and takes a step back.

  A reporter with ginger hair and a lanky build leaps to his feet. My friend from the hotel last night. This should be fun.

  “Prince Lucas, isn’t it true that the whole reason you decided to get married was because you wanted to win a bet?”

  Every eye in the place bores into me.

  I take a moment to think about my answer. “Yes … and no. But mostly no.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Yes, my cousin and I did have a marriage bet, but I can assure you it had nothing to do with why I’m a married man today.”

  The ginger reporter isn’t about to give up. “So why did I hear your … bride, discussing the bet last night. She seemed very concerned about it.”

  “Since so many people knew about the bet – it was kind of a family joke, I felt it was only fair to make sure Alexis new about its existence before we were wed. It seemed the fairest way to handle the situation.”

  I take a deep breath, hoping beyond all hope that I’ve can’t the situation. But no such luck.

  “According to immigration records, Alexis Thane only entered the country two days ago and that she was here on official business. What was that business?” An older reporter who’d been covering my family’s affairs for years asks.

  To my surprise, Alexis pipes up. “I’m an antiques dealer. Queen Lynette retained me to look at some furniture and older knickknacks.”

  She doesn’t sound exactly confident, but at least her voice doesn’t shake. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tessa give her friend a wide smile and thumbs up.

  “Yesterday morning I went to the castle in order to view and start evaluating the pieces,” Alexis continues.

  My mother leaps on this opportunity to explain how we’re currently in the early stages of creating a new, national museum which Alexis and her business partner will head up. Polite pause.

  “Prince Lucas, Princess Alexis,” a black reporter with an Irish accent speaks up. “Did you know one another beforehand?”

  This was where things were going to get tricky.

  I start concocting an elaborate lie about how I’d met Alexis before and convinced my mother to hire her services in an effort to lure Alexis to the country so I could convince her to marry me.

  Unfortunately, I don’t get to tell it.

  “I’d never met Lucas before yesterday,” Alexis says before I can finish the thought process.

  Crap, this isn't good.

  “I was fascinated from the first moment I saw her.” Not exactly a lie. I’d been fascinated and furious.

  “So, it was love at first sight?” A pretty, plumb reporter with dark eyes and a halo of wild, curly dark hair stares up at me. It’s an underarm throw. And I hit it out of the park.

  I meet her eyes. “From the moment I met her, I couldn’t stop thinking about Alexis.”

  “So, it was love at first sight,” the reporter presses. She wants the words, not just the hint.

  I lean closer to the microphone. “Yes.”

  The funny thing is, I know I’m lying, yet as the word slips out of my mouth, I realize it’s not as ridiculous as it sounds.

  While it was more irritation at first sight than love, I’ve always been told that there’s a fine line between the two. And there’s no getting around the fact that I’ve been obsessed with Alexis since that moment and now that I’ve gotten to know her better, I find her fascinating.

  I slide a sideways glance at my bride. She’d be so easy to fall in love with.

  I jolt at the thought.

  No, I remind myself. Love isn’t for me. I tried it once, it was horrible. It not only messed with my heart but also my head and caused me to blow the most important competition of my life.

  Never again.

  The reporter doesn’t buy my explanation. She studies Alexis and me with narrowed eyes. With her expression, she dares me to prove myself.

  I didn't walk away from the dare to get married, so there’s no way I’m going to back down from this silent challenge. I’ll show her to question the validity of my words, even if I am lying through my teeth.

  I lean sideways and slide a finger beneath Alexis’s jaw, coaxing her head around to face me.

  One kiss, I think.

  My heartbeat kicks up a notch. Other than a brief brush of closed lips against closed lips after last night’s impromptu wedding ceremony, we’d yet to lock lips, despite a couple of petting sessions that hadn’t had a chance to get as out of hand as I’d have liked.

  One simple, chaste kiss to show the reporter that my wife and I are in love – or at the very least in a very deep state of like.

  My hand glides lower, cupping the
side of her neck as I urge her to meet me half way.

  Her eyes widen for a split second before drifting closed.

  Rather than claiming her mouth, I trace the outline of her lips with the tip of my tongue, testing the fullness of her lower lip, marveling in its silky texture.

  Her hands slide up my arms until her fingers tangle in the short hair at the nape of my neck.

  Beneath my palm her pulse quickens, its tempo mirroring my own.

  I draw a lazy line across the seam of her lips, causing them to part. I capture her lower lip between my teeth, and nip and tug at until I pull a moan from somewhere deep within her.

  The sound of her pleasure ignites my own. Blood roars in my ears before pooling in my groin. I release her lips, and our tongues tangle in a sensual battle that’s as old as time.

  I should have known she’d manage to taste both sweet and spicy, a combination I’m fast becoming addicted to. My free hand reaches out and snakes around her waist, ready to pull her onto my lap where I can enjoy better access to her mouth and everything else, her sweet, tight body has to offer.

  Just as I start sliding her delectable bottom across the chair, the sound of loud applause shatters the air, startling both of us.

  We break apart and spin towards the crowd. Most of the reporters have leapt to their feet are giving us a standing ovation. I fooled them.

  Or did you just fool yourself?

  Ordinarily, I’d be pleased with the results, I got exactly what I wanted when I first sat down at this little press conference. The entire group is back on my side. Tomorrow, every single paper and blog around my little country will carry headlines about the red-hot romance between Prince Lucas and his new bride.

  My parent’s certainly look pleased with the outcome, but I’m not.

  I’m sick of this.

  I don’t want to be here anymore. The only thing I want to do right now is find somewhere private where no one can interrupt me while I gain a little carnal knowledge about my new wife.

  I glower at the crowd of reporters and wonder how much more of this press conference I need to sit through.

  I glance at Alexis. She’s looking at the crowd, but I don’t think she’s really seeing them. She looks shell shocked and … well, aroused.

  Screw this. I’m the Prince of Moravia. The next in line for the throne. I can do whatever I fucking want.

  “I’m out of here,” I say into the microphone. I stand up. “I’ve answered all of your questions. So now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to spend time with my wife.”

  I bend down and scoop Alexis into my arms, cuddling her against my chest. Camera’s flash as I stride towards the curtained off area that lets me entire the castle without being seen by the press.

  “Call the airport and tell my pilot to get my plane ready.” I tell Eileen as I pass her. “We’re getting the Hell out of here.”

  Alexis

  “Oh,” I lean forward and practically press my face to the windshield of the cute little silver Mercedes that was at the airport waiting for us when Prince Lucas’s private airplane arrived at the French airport. “Is this the place?”

  Lucas nods and downshifts. “It is.”

  “It’s gorgeous.”

  After carrying me away from the press conference, Lucas was quiet. He’d barked a few orders at servants I hadn’t even noticed until he said something and by the time we reached the front of the castle, a car was in the drive. Lucas deposited me in the back seat, climbed in beside me, and we’d sped to the airport.

  The private plane was a true delight. I’d spent the better part of the flight exploring all the different features which included a bathroom that was double the size of the one in my Boston apartment, an entertainment center, the most comfortable couch I’d ever sat on, and more.

  I could happily spend the rest of my life living in the plane.

  Lucas didn’t break his silence until we were starting our descent into the French airport. He explained how he had a lovely little villa and that by marrying me, I’d prevented it from landing in the hands of Roderick and Tim.

  Since I was responsible for helping him maintain ownership of the villa, he felt it only appropriate that we spend some time there while we waited for the press to cool down.

  Romantic, right? Still – I’m happy to get used to this kind of life…

  When he’d said French villa, I’d conjured up a picture of a modern design that seems to be nothing but plaster and glass, but this … it’s a work of art.

  When we pull up in the car, the early twentieth century style villa rises gracefully from the land. It’s impossible to tell from this angle, but Lucas told me that one of the reasons he purchased the property was that it provided an outstanding view of the French Rivera. Expertly tended rose gardens surround the building.

  As Lucas parks the car in front of the house, I spot an old barn on the eastern side of the property.

  “It’s beautiful,” I tell Lucas. “I understand why you were so desperate to keep it.”

  Lucas slides out of the low-slung car and jogs around the front and opens my door for me. I’m charmed by the act.

  I follow him into the house.

  It takes over an hour for Lucas to give me a tour of the entire house. We need every minute. After all, it consists of a reception hall, a gallery, five different lounges, and 9 bedrooms, plus a terrace that’s even bigger than the one at his family’s castle.

  And don’t even get me started on the basements.

  Plural.

  Lucas leads me to one of the two rooms he hasn’t already shown me.

  “It’s getting late,” he says with an apologetic glance back, “so I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone the tour of the grounds until tomorrow.”

  I nod and decide to address the one thing that has been bothering me. “Where are all the sevens?”

  I hadn’t seen one.

  “I purchased this villa with the idea that it would turn into my – I guess you could call it a sanctuary. I retain the services of a few villagers who not only keep the grounds and the house in good repair, but who can also have it ready for me whenever I decide I need a break for my home life. Otherwise, I’m alone while I’m here.”

  Lucas raises a brow. “Is that a problem? If you prefer, I can make arrangements to-”

  “Really, it’s fine,” I insist, a grin stretching across my face as I think of all the things I want to do to Lucas – in private. “Not all of us were born with a silver spoon, after all. I can take care of myself.”

  “Of course.” Lucas hesitates and appears to want to say something, but after a moment’s indecision he pushes the door open and leads me into the largest, most beautiful bedroom I’ve ever seen.

  “Wow!” I move into the middle of the room and turn a slow circle, marveling at how much space a single bedroom can occupy. Not only is the room stunning and beautifully appointed, but despite the gathering darkness, I can tell that it provides the promised view of the Riviera.

  “This is where you’ll be staying.”

  “I still have some concerns, but right here, right now, marrying you seems like one of the smartest things I’ve ever done.” I make another circle. “This is the swankiest place I’ve ever stayed in. Everything’s just wonderful.”

  My eyes land on the bed.

  Like everything else in the room is ridiculously oversized, at least it looks that way, but I bet that with Lucas in there with me, it’ll be quite cozy.

  The thought makes me blush. We haven’t discussed sleeping arrangements. Or in fact, any of the other terms of the relationship. If that’s what this is.

  Maybe I should call it a contract?

  And now I’m thinking about it, I’m not sure how to bring my concerns up. The problem is – based on the make out session last night in the limo, and again this morning, and the way he kissed me during the press conference, I don’t imagine Lucas is expecting a chaste marriage.

  As much as it embarrasses me to admit it,
I’m curious – and more than a little afraid – of what the conjugal aspects of our marriage hold in store.

  “I arranged for the woman who tends the house to pick up some clothing for you and gave her your measurements,” Lucas says. “You should find them in the dresser and the closet.”

  “Thank you.”

  If I was someone else, the thought of having someone buying clothes for, especially when they didn’t have any idea who I am, would upset me. But since I would rather have my left arm amputated than go clothes shopping, I’m thrilled to have that particular chore handled for me.

  "I'm assuming you're both hungry and tired. The kitchen is kept fully stocked with basic things for making sandwiches," Lucas says.

  "If you'd like something fancier, there are menus in the drawer next to fridge for all the local take-out restaurants in town."

  I nod. "What are you in the mood for?" Our first dinner together, it seemed only fair that I let him choose what to eat, especially since he'd been the one to whisk me to this amazing place."

  "I'm not hungry. I'm going to spend a few hours in the barn. Working out."

  "Oh," I try, but don't quite manage to hide the hurt in my voice. I'd spent the past few hours having a lovely assortment of fantasies about him, and he didn't want to spend any more time in my company than necessary.

  I should probably have seen it coming.

  Lucas stands by the door, one hand resting on the frame, hesitating.

  "You can go," I tell him. "I'll be fine on my own."

  Still, he doesn't move.

  "How much do you remember about last night," he finally asks.

  "Bits and pieces. Why?"

  Lucas reaches into his pants pocket and withdraws a folded piece of paper and hands it to me. I have a funny feeling that whatever it is, it’s the reason he’s acting so strangely.

  I don't know what the paper is, but my instincts tell me I'm not going to like it. It takes all my resolve to not throw it at Lucas. "What's this?"