Claiming The Royal Innocent

“What if I did? Want that, I mean?”

His gaze narrowed. “You are a princess. Third in line to the throne, in case you’d forgotten. I’m supposed to be protecting you.”

“There’s no threat here,” she derided. “The only thing you’re protecting me from is you.”

“Damn right.”

She took a deep breath. Maybe the deepest she’d ever taken. Lifted her chin. “What you said last night…”

He gave her a suspicious look. “Which part would that be?”

“The incendiary part. I would…like that.”

His eyes widened. He set his glass down on the railing. “Are you trying to destroy my head?”

She shook her head. “I’m suggesting, as you said, that we do what we both want to do. Nobody needs to know.”

A long moment passed. “Just so we’re clear,” he ventured in a silky voice. “You’re suggesting we have an affair? Confined to this island?”

“Yes.”

Claiming the

Royal Innocent

Jennifer Hayward

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JENNIFER HAYWARD has been a fan of romance since filching her sister’s novels to escape her teenage angst. Her career in journalism and PR—including years of working alongside powerful, charismatic CEOs and travelling the world—has provided her with perfect fodder for the fast-paced, sexy stories she likes to write—always with a touch of humour. A native of Canada’s east coast, Jennifer lives in Toronto with her Viking husband and young Viking-in-training.

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This one is for my brother, Andrew, and his unfailing belief in me in following my dream. It’s true—dreams aren’t too expensive to keep! xx

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Kingdoms & Crowns

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“THE COUNT AND Countess of Agiero.”

A soldier in ceremonial uniform announced the exquisitely dressed couple queued in front of Aleksandra Dimitriou in the foyer of the Akathinian royal palace ballroom, his booming voice with its perfect elocution sending her heart plunging to the marble floor. She had hoped arriving late for Princess Stella’s twenty-fifth birthday party would mean the introductions would have been long concluded.

But then again, what did she know? She had never attended a high society party before, let alone an official royal function. The blue silk gown she wore was rented from one of those designer dress services that mailed the couture creation to you in exchange for an exorbitant amount of money, her shoes were those of her fashionable friend Kira, her jewelry unearthed in a knockoff boutique in the city. In fact, not even the invitation belonged to her. She had stolen it with the intent of slipping in unnoticed.

The furor in her head, gathering momentum by the minute, suggested her ploy was about to be revealed to the hundreds of people gathered to celebrate the princess’s birthday. Not to mention the dozens of paparazzi who stood poised like a flock of vultures behind the stanchioned-off red carpet waiting for a money shot.

Her palms went sweaty. A shot of her in handcuffs, a royal intruder caught red-handed during a time of high security for the country, would be great fodder for them. She could just see the residents of her small, sleepy coastal village waking up to her face splashed across the front page of the daily newspaper. Picture them doing a double take, their bemusement quickly turning to horror...

Her heart pounded madly against her ribs. There was no way she was going to pull this off. She should turn around and go back to Stygos and forget she’d ever had this stupid, foolish need to know a piece of herself. To right a wrong that had long since been undoable.

But it was too late to back out now. The palace official was reaching for her blue and gold-embossed invitation, an expectant smile on his face. She handed it to him with frozen fingers. He checked his list. Frowned. Ran his finger over the names again, then looked up at her. “Lypamai, despoinis, but your name doesn’t seem to be on the list.”

Alex swallowed hard. Summoned composure from a place deep inside her she hadn’t even known existed. “I originally had to decline the invitation,” she said smoothly. “When I found out I would be in the country, I sent another note accepting.”

He procured another list, scanned it, consulted someone by radio, then nodded. “Kala. It’s fine. You’re on the original list.” He passed the invitation to the soldier with the booming voice and nodded for her to proceed. “Enjoy your evening.”

She pinned a smile on her lips, picked up the hem of her gown and moved toward the entrance to the ballroom.

“Kara Nicholson,” the soldier announced, his deep baritone seeming to hang on the air forever. Alex’s step faltered, a thin layer of perspiration breaking out on her brow as she waited for someone to point out that she was not Kara Nicholson. That she was a fraud.

The din of the crowd remained unchanged. The soldier gave her a curious look. Exhaling the breath she’d been holding, she propelled herself forward on legs that shook so badly it was hard to put one foot in front of the other. The powder room was her first priority. There, she restored her outward composure with her makeup compact. Inner composure, however, was somewhat more elusive.

That she and Kara, the American heiress who’d stayed in her family’s tourist hotel a few weeks ago, were both slim with dark hair and blue eyes had just saved her from certain disaster. It was Kara’s discarded invitation she’d picked out of the trash can to gain admittance to the party. Kara’s identity she’d assumed. But resembling the beautiful socialite and being in any way prepared to do what she’d come here to do, to mingle with the exclusive crowd Kara frequented, were two entirely different things.

You just have to fake it long enough to get this done. Jaw set, shoulders back, she made her way into the elegantly clad crowd that filled the magnificent sweeping ballroom, champagne flutes in their hands. The upper echelons of Akathinian society were in attendance to celebrate the princess’s birthday—assorted celebrities and a smattering of royalty from across Europe. The kind of people she checked into her hotel for a quiet, idyllic week where they wouldn’t be bothered, the best view in all of Akathinia offered from their seaside window. Not those she socialized with.

She plucked a glass of champagne off a waiter’s tray and moved deeper into the thick crowd, searching for a spot to locate her target. Taking a long sip of the delicious, clearly outrageously expensive bubbly, she swallowed, the champagne fizzling its way down to her stomach, where it spread a slow warmth through her. Exactly what she needed.

Securing a quiet corner from which she could survey the room, she tucked herself against a pillar and drank in her spectacular surroundings. Lit in the same blue and gold tones as the invitation, the richly appointed ballroom was a feast for the eye. The Akathinian royal crest was projected onto black marble floors, which looked as if they were threaded through with real gold vein. Massive antique chandeliers glittered from the ceiling, serving as a brilliant counterpoint for the dark accents in the room, while precious, larger-than-life paintings adorned walls that soared to impressive thirty-foot heights.

Her head spun at the opulence of it all. None of it seemed real. But then again, nothing had seemed real since her mother, a former lady-in-waiting to the elder Queen Amara, had broken a twenty-five-year silence with a bombshell that had blown her life apart.

Her father had not been an Akathinian businessman who had died before her birth. He was King Gregorios, the former monarch of this country, with whom her mother had carried out an extended affair before the queen discovered her betrayal and fired her.

Her hand trembled as she downed another swallow of champagne. That her mother, whom she’d considered above reproach, whose strength and courage symbolized everything that was good in the world, had indulged in a dangerous, illicit affair with the king, a married man, then manufactured a series of elaborate stories to paint a rosy view of her childhood, for whatever altruistic reasons she cared to offer, seemed inconceivable. Unimaginable.

And yet it was the truth. She had a father she’d never known. The siblings she’d longed for as a child, all of whom would have been lost to her if her mother hadn’t broken down and told her the truth.

A bright burst of laughter drew her gaze. Princess Stella, her half sister, clad in a dazzling silver gown, held court in the center of the room, a handful of handsome men arranged around her, vying for her attention. She looked every inch the Grecian goddess with her slim figure and sleek blond hair caught up in an elaborate twist. Every inch a princess.

How different would her life have been had her mother told her the truth? Would she have become a princess, glittering alongside her sophisticated elder sister? Would she never have known her quiet, idyllic life in Stygos?

A fist tightened in her chest. How her half siblings would receive her was yet to be determined. Her priority, however, was her father’s ill health, which had made tonight’s subterfuge necessary. A heart attack had sent King Gregorios back to the hospital, his absence tonight marked. She needed to meet him before he died. It was the only thing that had been clear in the confusion of the past few months.

She scanned the room, locating the young, strikingly handsome King Nikandros mingling with a group of guests, his wife, Sofía, by his side. Her brother.

Nikandros had ascended to the throne after his father’s initial heart attack during a difficult time for Akathinia, with its aggressive sister island Carnelia threatening to annex Akathinia back into the Catharian island group to which it had once belonged. Many feared the seventy-year-old Carnelian King Idas might finally have lost his mind, his recent mobilization of the Carnelian military suggesting a war might be on its way.

Thus the reason she had chosen tonight as her avenue to speak to the king. Securing an audience with him under any other circumstances would have been nearly impossible given the security that surrounded him and the demands on his time.

So tonight it was. She set her flute down on a waiter’s tray with a determined clink of crystal. Took another. The expensive vintage was boosting her confidence by the minute, easing the tightness in her chest as it filled her with its insidious warmth. After this glass, she’d work up the courage to do what she needed to do. To rock the royal family with a scandal at a time when it needed it the least.

* * *

Aristos Nicolades leaned against a column in the packed ballroom, watching the stunning brunette in the sexy blue gown toss back her second glass of champagne with a speed that suggested she needed courage of some sort.

For what? he wondered idly, studying the play of shimmering light as it highlighted every dip and curve of her petite, shapely figure. Considering she’d lied about who she was to gain admittance to the party, he’d thought it best to keep an eye on her.

He’d been behind her in the lineup to the ballroom, his flight from the United States delayed, making him almost an hour late for the party. His every desire had been to skip the event, go home, take a long, hot shower and sleep after a grueling week abroad. But considering the king had finally granted him a license to build the jewel in his crown, a new casino on the sparkling, glitterati-strewn Mediterranean island of Akathinia, giving the occasion a miss had not been an option.

Bemused when the blue-gowned angel had swanned up to the doors of the ballroom and announced herself as Kara Nicholson, he thought he’d been hallucinating after almost thirty-six hours without sleep. The Kara Nicholson he’d divested of her clothes before he’d taken her in a long, hot encounter in Vegas six months ago, the Kara Nicholson known to travel in Stella’s circles, was not the brunette standing in front of him.

With her near-angelic look—all big blue eyes and long, satiny dark hair—she hardly seemed the type to be one of Carnelia’s spies or, God forbid, worse. But nothing could be discounted in this time of tension—spies had been pinpointed; separatist factions had emerged—and considering that a satellite company of his was in charge of security tonight, he wasn’t taking any chances.

He studied the nerves the beautiful brunette was clearly fighting despite her attempt at outward composure. She had come alone, hadn’t attempted to talk to anyone, clearly knew no one here. The only person she had shown an interest in, other than the fleeting glances she’d been sending his way as an immediate attraction had sparked between them, had been the king. She had been inordinately interested in his whereabouts ever since she’d arrived.

It was possible she was simply one of those women who couldn’t seem to accept that King Nikandros was happily married. There were enough of them around. Perhaps a jilted ex-lover? It would fit with the lost look she had at the moment...the inherent aura of vulnerability that surrounded her.

She sensed his perusal. Turned her chin to meet his gaze. The confusion, the anxiety in her beautiful blue eyes, stoked his curiosity higher. Confusion that quickly morphed into the unmistakable interest he’d seen there before. He held her gaze. Sustained the connection. Electricity arced between them, a rosy pink staining her cheeks.

Dipping her chin, she broke the contact first in one of those shy gestures that didn’t seem to fit with the sexy image. A plus B plus C wasn’t adding up.

His curiosity got the better of him. Downing his last swallow of scotch, he set the glass on a table and headed toward her. He’d played games he’d enjoyed far less than the one he was playing now. This could prove highly enjoyable.

* * *

Thee mou. He was headed over here.

Alex swallowed hard, wondering what on earth she was doing. She was here to talk to her father, to know him before he died, not flirt with the most strikingly good-looking male she’d ever seen, in a tuxedo or out of one. Yet he had been staring at her, making no effort to hide his interest. Difficult to ignore, particularly since every time she worked up the courage to speak to King Nikandros, he had moved on to another group.

Meanwhile, doubts were piling up about whether it had been an extremely bad idea to choose this party as the venue for her mission as the king glittered as an untouchable force. Would her father even want to see her? Would he even care she existed? Would he toss her out without acknowledging her?

Her ruminations were interrupted by the scent of expensive aftershave, followed by the man who wore it. He was tall, well over six feet, his height backed up by the lean, hard-packed muscle that covered every inch of him. With his dark-as-sin eyes and designer stubble, he made every other man in the room look effeminate in comparison.

Undeniably intimidating. Insanely attractive.

“I was standing over there wondering why a beautiful woman finds herself alone throwing back champagne like water.” The rich, velvety undertone to his voice stoked every nerve ending to full attention. “Rather than allow my imagination to conjure up all sorts of creative possibilities, I thought I would simply come over and ask.”

Her eyes slid to her empty glass. “It’s only my second.”

“In rapid succession.” He swept his dark gaze over her in a perusal that scorched her skin. “To provide courage perhaps?”

She tossed her hair over her shoulders. “Why would I need courage?”

His eyes glittered with amusement. “You tell me. You are here alone. Perhaps that makes you feel uncomfortable?”

Very. She lifted a shoulder in what she hoped was a nonchalant gesture. “I have business to attend to. It’s not so much a social occasion for me.”

“Business at a birthday party? How distasteful.”

“A personal matter.”

He inclined his head. “Perhaps you could combine your personal matter with a little...pleasure. I find myself at loose ends.”

She suspected this man hadn’t spent one second of his life at loose ends, but his sexy drawl had the intended effect, tangling her up inside.

“You look quite comfortable at loose ends.”

“I prefer to find a...diversion. And you,” he said, holding her gaze, “are the most beautiful woman in the room.”

Her stomach flip-flopped, a wave of betraying heat rising from her chest to fill her cheeks. “Hardly true. The princess is hosting, after all.”

“She has a layer of ice that surrounds her. You do not.”

Alex swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat, finding herself unable to pull her gaze away from his smoky, sexy one. “I’m afraid I’m not available as a diversion.”

“Because you are here for someone else?”

“Because I really must see who I need to see, then go.”

“One dance.” He held out a lean-fingered, bronzed hand. “Then you can get on with your business.”

He made it seem rude, impolite to refuse. Over his shoulder, she could see the king and queen still immersed in conversation. Perhaps it would be better to say yes to a dance rather than stand around at loose ends looking painfully out of place as she clearly had been.

“All right,” she said, placing her palm in his much larger one. “I would love to.”

He wrapped his fingers around hers. “Aristos,” he drawled. “And you are...?”

Her brain froze, her clear thinking not aided by the two glasses of champagne she’d consumed. “Kara,” she said after a pause. Better to continue the facade.

Not that it was easy to keep anything straight in her head with the energy that pulsed between them, moving from his fingers through her body until she was buzzing with the intensity of it.

His tall, impressive physique parted the crowds easily as he led her toward the dance floor, where a live band was playing a slow, sexy jazz number.

Aristos laced his fingers through hers, slid his arm around her waist and pulled her into a close hold that had her pulse racing. His smooth, skillful steps as he directed her around the packed space surprised her for such a solidly built male.

“So,” he said, leveling his gaze on her face, “how do you know the princess?”

Her stomach seized. A natural question, she told herself. Relax.

“We’re friends,” she said, repeating what Kara had told her. “We’re on a few of the same charitable boards.”

He inclined his head. “And what do you do when you aren’t tending to these...charitable endeavors?”

She blinked. Thought furiously. But a few scattered conversations with Kara hadn’t provided that depth of information. “Mostly that,” she murmured awkwardly. “My father has a large philanthropic portfolio. He needs the help.”

“And where is home?”

“Texas,” she said faintly, as if that would make up for her lack of a drawl.

“Funny, you don’t sound like a Southerner.”

Her mouth went even drier. Diavole, but this had been a bad idea. “I think I’ve lost my accent,” she prevaricated. “I travel so much I’ve become somewhat...international.”

His mouth twisted. “I get that one hundred percent. It’s the same with me.” His hand tightened around hers as he spun her in a smooth circle. “Texas is a big state. Which part?”

She had no idea. “Dallas,” she said, guessing.

“The home of J.R. Ewing...”

She smiled a tight smile. “The very same. And you?” she asked, attempting to regain control of the conversation. “How do you know Stella?”

“I’m a business partner of the king.”

Oh, no. Not good. Swallowing her panic, she lifted her gaze to his. “What business would that be?”

“Hotels and casinos. A bit of this, a bit of that.”

She thought that fit perfectly with his dark, edgy vibe. “That must be a very...interesting world.”

His mouth quirked. “You don’t sound so sure about that.”

She lifted a shoulder. “I’m not a gambler. It seems to me you prey on the vulnerable. Take unsuspecting people’s money.”

“Those who walk into a casino do so of their own volition.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “but do they always know their limits?”

“They should. I find there is an epidemic of late of people who have no sense of personal responsibility. We are all responsible for our own actions.”

Yes, she agreed silently, hysteria biting at the edges of her composure. That concept was top of mind at the moment.

“Perhaps true,” she conceded. “Although I’m not sure it’s a fair comparison. I’m an idealist. I think we all need to be looking out for the greater good.”

“A dying breed,” he said softly, his dark gaze resting on her face. “Idealists...”

He left it at that. She shut up before she said something she shouldn’t. She should have protested when he tugged her closer so his tall, muscular body brushed against hers, his chin resting atop her head. But when there was no talking involved, there was no danger in exposing herself.

She couldn’t resist allowing herself to melt into all that strength, just for a moment, of course, until the dance was over. It felt hedonistically good, frankly exciting to be in his arms, and when would she ever have another chance to meet a man like him? Stunning-looking members of the opposite sex were a precious commodity in Stygos. She’d known all of them since childhood.