His Majesty's Temporary Bride
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Despite her shock and instinctive caution, delight quivered through her as she read that look. He’d watched her that way yesterday. As if she were a delicacy he wanted to bite into.
‘What are you doing here?’ Her voice was stretched and too high as she stalked across the room, for once ignoring the sensation she was walking on stilts. ‘How did you get in?’
‘Through the front entrance. The butler asked me to wait here.’ He smiled, a slow curl of the lips that fed a silly little shiver under her skin.
‘I mean, why are you here?’
He lifted a hand, holding out a paper bag.
Hesitantly Cat took it and peered inside. Within lay her old running shorts. She recognised them from the frayed hem, and her ancient T-shirt, not only folded but ironed, if she wasn’t mistaken. George had washed and ironed her gear. She couldn’t imagine Alex doing anything so mundanely domestic.
Her gaze shot to his as she put the package down on the grand piano a few steps away.
‘Thank you.’ She paused, wondering how to handle this. ‘That’s very thoughtful.’ Could she get rid of him quickly? She wasn’t ready to play the part of Princess Amelie and admitting her real identity was impossible.
But how had he known where to find her? She’d said nothing about staying at the royal palace. She’d been running through the private royal reserve but assumed he’d think she’d trespassed, like the boys in the canoe who’d ventured into the palace’s private zone.
Anxiety stirred. This scenario was wrong. There’d been no reason for Alex to look for her here.
‘You don’t look pleased to see me.’ His voice was easy, low enough to hum through her bones in a way that disturbed as much as it appealed.
Cat was no pushover when it came to men. It took more than a dark velvet voice and a hint of humour to win her over. Far more than a sexy, athletic body and stunning eyes. Yet there was something about Alex that broke through a lifetime’s reserve. She didn’t like it one bit.
‘I’m...surprised.’ She drew a quick breath. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again.’ If circumstances had been different she’d definitely have wanted to pursue their acquaintance. But not like this.
If anyone discovered who she was the fallout would be disastrous.
Something about the lazy speculation in his eyes told her Alex saw far too much.
‘I’m afraid the palace is closed to visitors at the moment.’
‘So I gathered. The butler seemed surprised when I arrived.’ Yet Alex made no move to leave. That speculative gaze was heavy as it took her in from head to toe.
Instinctively Cat drew herself up. She’d have to usher him out the door. ‘I think it best if—’
‘Why Cat?’ He spoke at the same time.
‘Sorry?’
‘Your name. Is it a nickname because of your eyes?’ When she didn’t immediately answer he went on. ‘I’ve never seen eyes quite that colour.’
‘Cat’s eyes?’ She blinked. She’d never thought of that. People told her she had beautiful eyes but she’d never been convinced. Probably because through her early years they’d been the bane of her life. Such a distinctive colour, always commented on. Royal St Gallan it was called here because every member of the royal family for generations had inherited eyes that colour. Yet it was extraordinarily rare in the rest of the population.
When her mother had given birth to a girl only seven months after her hasty marriage to a man she’d never shown a preference for, and when that baby had eyes of Royal St Gallan green, there had been talk. People commented on how suddenly she’d left her job at the palace, and how it was whispered that the King had a roving eye despite his gorgeous wife and obviously happy family life.
‘Cat?’ He’d moved closer. The fresh scent of citrus and warm flesh invaded her nostrils. It sent tendrils of feminine pleasure curling through her.
She stiffened. This was so not good.
‘It’s what my friends call me.’ That at least was true. She’d never been Catherine except to her stepfather, the man who’d treated her mother as a drudge and her as a disgusting burden despite the largesse he’d received for giving them his name.
‘An unusual choice, but it suits.’ His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. Even in heels she was no match for his rangy height. Cat found herself wondering why she even noticed. She worked with guys all the time, some even taller than Alex.
‘It was lovely of you to take so much trouble. Really.’ Her muscles stretched taut as she forced a smile. ‘But this isn’t really a good time.’ She stepped away, holding his gaze, inviting him to accompany her as she moved to the door.
‘I understand.’ Abruptly the hint of humour in his gaze disappeared. ‘I should have begun by saying how very sorry I am. It must have been a tough time for you.’
‘Sorry?’ Cat frowned. From the moment she’d crossed the threshold nothing had made sense. Not seeing Alex here, looking urbane and remarkably at home, nor his interest in her name, nor the trouble he’d taken to return her ratty old running gear. And now he was sorry...?
‘For your loss.’ His mouth flattened and he raked a hand back through his hair, which immediately fell back into place. ‘I’m not doing a very good job, am I? I should have offered my condolences when we met but you left so abruptly.’
The hair at Cat’s nape rose as she read the sympathy in his eyes, the sincerity in the grim expression bracketing that generous mouth.
Anxiety stirred and doom-laden foreboding.
A large hand captured hers, long fingers enfolding it, warm and reassuring. ‘You must be going through a hellish time, losing your brother and sister-in-law. You have my sympathy and my mother’s. If there’s anything I can do—’
He broke off when Cat stepped back, heart thundering, tugging her hand from his.
He thought she was Amelie.
The knowledge pressed down on her, stopping her breath, making her ears buzz and her head whirl as she stared up into that handsome, now sombre face.
Finally, hand to her sternum, she managed to gasp in air, sucking it deep and filling starved lungs.
Did he know Amelie? How well? How long before he realised Cat was an imposter?
And somewhere deep in her psyche, buried so deep she almost didn’t register it, was a part of her that wanted to reach out and grab his hand again, feel that rush of heat and fortifying strength, because, absurdly, she did feel grief for the half-brother she’d never known and would now never know. Even though she had no right to feel anything.
She’d always been an outsider. These people weren’t really her family, no matter the blood they shared.
‘I...’ She paused and forced a brittle smile. ‘Thank you. That’s very kind.’ Her lips felt stiff and the words sounded stilted.
She wished she’d never got herself into this tangle of deceit. It went against everything she’d made of herself. Forced to hide her true identity since childhood, there’d been freedom and a welcome dignity and strength in building a life for herself that had no taint of subterfuge. Where she was simply Cat Dubois, capable, professional and open.
‘I—’ Cat broke off as the door opened behind her. Swinging round, she saw Lady Enide, immaculate as ever in a navy suit and pearls, her silver hair a testament to good taste and a personal stylist. The other woman paused on the threshold, her features morphing into a mask that even for her looked pinched and full of concern.
She stepped into the room and, to Cat’s amazement, bent deep into a curtsey. The sort of curtsey she’d tried and failed to teach Cat.
‘Your Highness. Welcome to St Galla.’ Her eyes weren’t on Cat but on Alex. Cat felt once more that enervating sensation as if her stomach had disconnected and plummeted at speed towards her toes.
‘My apologies that you weren’t greeted appropriately. The palace has only a skeleton staff during this period of mourning and we weren’t expecting you yet.’
Colder and colder, Cat’s spine froze vertebra by vertebra till it felt as if her backbone and neck were clamped in an icy vice.
Slowly she turned back to see Alex smiling. ‘No need for apologies. As you can see, Princess Amelie has made me welcome.’
Eyes of rich blue met and held hers. She read curiosity and something that might have been satisfaction there. But she was too busy revisiting their conversation, wondering if she’d betrayed herself, to interpret his thoughts.
For the issue now wasn’t merely her identity, and whether she could maintain a royal masquerade.
Worse was the fact Enide had called him ‘Highness’. That the haughtiest, most proper woman she’d ever met had practically scraped the floor with her curtsey.
Which meant Alex wasn’t merely a layabout yachtie.
Cat’s brain galloped ahead to the guests expected for the St Gallan-Bengarian celebrations. Celebrations to commemorate an old alliance between the two nations, forged when St Galla fought annexation by both its mainland neighbours, France and Italy. Celebrations which the King of Bengaria would attend.
King Alexander.
Her breath stalled and for a horrifying moment she thought she’d crumple as her knees gave way.
Cat dropped her eyes from his bright, enquiring gaze and found herself staring at a pair of glossy hand-made shoes. She kept her eyes fixed on them, forcing down the surging rush of panic.
He was King Alexander of Bengaria.
And he believed her to be Amelie.
Could it get any worse?
Cat found herself sinking into a deep, perfectly executed curtsey. The sort of curtsey that had eluded her for days.
It was amazing what adrenaline and sheer panic could achieve.
‘Welcome, Your Majesty. It’s a pleasure to have you here.’
CHAPTER THREE
ALEX TWIRLED THE stem of his water glass, surveying his lunch companions. Lady Enide who, according to his mother, was warm-hearted despite her frosty demeanour, kept the conversation rolling. They’d skated over the tragic deaths of King Michel and Queen Irini to discuss Alex’s mother’s health, upcoming celebrations, trade talks, the economy, the weather and even his yachting holiday.
His query about young Prince Sébastien, now an orphan, was met with the news he was staying with family friends away from prying eyes. The news surprised Alex who’d assumed, like everyone else, that the boy was being cared for here by his aunt. All reports indicated the two were close, had been close even before the tragic accident that killed the boy’s parents.
Alex picked up tension in the room, camouflaged by the polite small talk. Tension because he was here, sooner than expected? Or because of something else?
The fact Princess Amelie... Cat clearly had no intention of mentioning they’d met already intrigued him. Why hide something so innocuous?
Unless the sudden blaze of attraction between them made her uncomfortable. Something did.
Beside Enide, Cat sat silently cutting her meal into ever smaller portions. It was only occasionally he managed to catch her eye.
What had happened to the confident, fascinating woman he’d met in the bay? She hadn’t been daunted by an emergency situation or the sudden lightning strike of desire hammering the air between them. Instead of shrinking away, she’d returned his regard with clear interest.
Now, on the rare occasions their eyes met, she inevitably looked away first. She seemed in some way diminished, despite how beautiful she looked in a pale green silk dress that rustled provocatively when she moved.
Those soft sounds as she shifted interfered with his concentration. Alex kept remembering her sleek curves in the black bikini, tempting him through the light cover of his shirt.
‘Do you swim often, Amelie?’ He forced himself to use her proper name, sensing she wouldn’t appreciate his use of her nickname here.
Her head jerked up and her eyes widened. Was that fear in those green depths? Again, she made it obvious she didn’t want Enide to know they’d met. Fascinating.
At twenty-nine Amelie was a capable woman, soon to be proclaimed Regent for Prince Sébastien till he came of age. Surely there was no reason to hide their unconventional meeting.
‘I enjoy swimming but I don’t get a lot of time for it.’
‘Perhaps while I’m here you could show me your favourite swimming place.’
She paused and Enide answered first. ‘The cove immediately below the palace has always been the royal family’s favourite.’ She turned to the younger woman and Alex read a hint of stiffness. ‘Hasn’t it, Amelie?’
Amelie nodded. ‘Yes, it’s beautiful there.’
What it was about the exchange that put him on alert, Alex didn’t know. Yet he knew something was wrong. There was a constraint about Cat... Amelie that hadn’t been there before.
‘And I see you have an extra-large swimming pool. Which do you prefer, the sea or the pool?’ He was talking idly, trying to fathom what was going on.
Did he imagine Cat’s flickering gaze towards their chaperone? For it had become clear Lady Enide was just that—keeping a watchful eye on them. Alex didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed.
Did the St Gallans think because they’d suggested a royal marriage, he’d take that as carte blanche to scoop Cat up and into his bed before the banns were read? He wasn’t that medieval.
Yet the idea was ridiculously tempting.
Despite not wanting a wife.
‘I usually do laps, but there’s a freedom about swimming in the sea, don’t you think?’ This time when her gaze met his there was the hint of a smile and response tugged deep in his belly. Whatever this was between them: lust, fascination, the temptation to cut loose after three long years with his nose to the grindstone, it fired his libido like flame to pure alcohol.
‘I couldn’t agree more. There’s nothing more invigorating than an early morning dip in the sea.’
Was it imagination or did something ignite in that clear gaze? Did she too remember how it had been between them—he naked and she as good as with her sopping clothes—as arousal roared into life?
Alex wanted that again. Wanted it more than he’d wanted anything for years.
Because he’d denied himself so many things since inheriting the throne? Because his responsibilities didn’t leave time for anything as selfish as uncomplicated sex with a beautiful woman?
Or because there’d been something about Cat that he’d connected with instantly?
How long since he’d bantered with a woman, flirted and enjoyed that frisson of sexual desire? He’d been too busy delving into the murky morass of his father’s financial affairs, the contracts given to friends and those offering backhanders. His father had run the country as if it were his personal piggy bank to be plundered. Alex had spent three years turning the tide, avoiding national bankruptcy by the skin of his teeth and slowly clawing back control of the national finances from his father’s grasping cronies.
Now, on vacation for the first time in years, he was ready for a little dalliance. The problem was he’d set his sights on the woman his mother and all his advisers had pegged for his wife.
No way would he make a move on Cat... Amelie. Not when it would be construed as a statement of marital intent.
An affair, on the other hand...
A mutually enjoyable short-term affair for the length of his stay...
Lust corkscrewed through his belly as their eyes met and that high-octane blast of awareness reverberated.
‘Perhaps we could swim together tomorrow?’ he suggested.
Cat opened her mouth but Lady Enide spoke swiftly, her tone cool. ‘Unfortunately the Princess will be busy tomorrow.’ Alex stared and, seeing his surprise, Enide hurried on. ‘It’s regrettable, Your Majesty. Unfortunately we weren’t expecting you quite so soon.’
There was more to it than that. But what? There was something more than officious about the way the older woman hovered over Cat. It reminded him of the anxious way his mother had watched his father when he was in one of his moods. As if preparing to deal with his freak tempers.
More and more intriguing.
Cat seemed anything but highly strung. She’d impressed with her calm competence in the water, her self-assurance and capability. Today, though subdued, she’d given no signs of the self-absorption and unsteady ego that had characterised his father.
‘Another day, then. I’m here for some time.’ Alex leaned back, watching the ripple of consternation on Enide’s face.
He sensed a mystery.
‘You’re not travelling on and then returning for the festivities?’ Cat spoke, her voice calm yet with a telling husky edge that sharpened his libido. Surprising how arousing it was to sit across a formal dining table from a woman dressed in silk and heels and imagine her in his bed, naked and eager.
Even the dragon guarding her was a challenge rather than a real obstruction. Alex might be out of practice, but he’d always been successful with women, even before it looked as if he might inherit a throne.
He just needed to discover if Cat felt the same undertow of desire.
‘I’m afraid any plans to sail on to Italy have been put on hold. The yacht has to go into dry dock for repair.’
George would be surprised, but Alex sensed dragon lady’s unwillingness to have him in the palace and he was determined to find out why. And give her no chance to deny him. The fact she was so obviously on edge at having their guest of honour arrive early set him on alert. Besides, George had talked about the need for work on the yacht one day.
‘In that case you must stay here.’ Lady Enide’s mouth curved in a smile as welcoming as hoarfrost.
Beside her, Cat swallowed. Did he imagine it or did her pupils widen?
‘Amelie?’ Despite his burning curiosity he wouldn’t thrust himself into her home, especially after her recent loss, if she objected.
‘I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable here than in the city. There’s plenty of room, after all.’ Her jaw angled infinitesimally higher, banishing the earlier hint of reserve. ‘I’ll ask the chef to make pancakes for breakfast while you’re here.’
A hint of a smile softened her mouth and understanding passed between them, the memory of him offering to cook her pancakes on the yacht.
‘Pancakes?’ Lady Enide looked perplexed.
‘I heard somewhere that His Highness is fond of pancakes.’
‘Alex, please.’ He relaxed back in his seat, pleased Cat was taking the lead. Her silence had puzzled him. ‘Yes, I’m fond of pancakes. I acquired a taste for them when I worked in the States.’
* * *
It wasn’t till the next day that he managed time alone with her. Time enough to wonder if he’d acted too rashly, inviting himself to the palace he’d originally planned to visit for only the shortest of official visits.
Yet it was too late for second thoughts.
He’d been installed in a guest suite with views on two sides to the manicured gardens and the sea beyond. He had everything he could wish for, except the company of his hostess.
It was only a couple of months since Cat had lost her brother. She had other priorities. Yet he was disappointed when a staff member showed him the palace. And when Lady Enide, with a posse of senior diplomats and the Prime Minister, met him for afternoon tea in one of the grand rooms. There was no sign of Cat, merely a murmured reference to a previous commitment she couldn’t break.
At dinner they sat with the full length of the long table between them. Afterwards his attempt to talk with her was stymied by the Prime Minister, inviting him to discuss trade opportunities Alex couldn’t afford to ignore.
Strange behaviour for a woman who’d consented to the idea of marriage, should he agree. It felt, bizarrely, as if she didn’t want to be alone with him.
Now, so early that dew clung to the grass and the sun’s rays sprayed apricot and amber across the sea, he intercepted Cat on her morning run. He’d woken early and dressed in jogging gear. He’d seen her don running shoes after swimming ashore from the yacht and guessed she was an early morning runner. Now he peeled away from his vantage point and joined her.
Startled, she looked over her shoulder. Her expression was unreadable as she nodded acknowledgement. Yet she didn’t break stride as she headed for a path descending into the forest reserve.
Alex followed, adapting to her pace. It wasn’t a jog but a long-legged run, quickly eating up the distance. He found himself needing to concentrate on his breathing even as he enjoyed the flash of her smooth golden legs and the sway of that long ponytail over her slim back.
She moved like an athlete, not a royal who spent her days glad-handing VIPs and hosting formal dinners.
Princess Amelie was a poster girl for modern royalty. Losing her mother early, she’d become her father’s official hostess, the pretty face of royalty in St Galla, often filling in for the King at openings, community events and charity occasions. She was a consummate diplomatic hostess and the media loved her for her warm heart and cool elegance, citing her as a modern-day Princess Grace.
Word had it she’d virtually raised her younger brother, Michel, and that she had a special fondness for children. It was this maternal side of her nature that had particularly appealed to his mother. As if he was ready to settle down with a brood of kids!
It wasn’t Cat’s assets as a mother that focused his attention as they ran the waterfront path through the forest. It was imagining that supple golden body wrapped around him, those soft lips on his, and that voice, throaty with desire, murmuring his name.
Even her hair made him want to tangle his fingers to draw her close. It pleased and intrigued him that it fell in abundant golden waves, so different to the photos he’d seen and the way she’d looked last night, hair tight and straight in a formal style. There was a hint of wildness about it now that suited her. Like the flash and sizzle he’d read in her the day they’d met.
Each time he saw her Alex was struck by how different the Princess was in the flesh, compared with her photos. In those she always looked refined and charming. But the real woman also had a vitality and undeniable sex appeal that drew him.
Drew him! It was a smack to his chest, stealing his air.
‘You run well.’ She’d stopped, hands on knees, drawing slow breaths, though he noticed she wasn’t panting. Her T-shirt clung to her breasts and abruptly he was aware not only of the trickle of sweat down his backbone but the heat stirring in his belly that had nothing to do with exertion.
Hands on hips, he hauled in oxygen, chest expanding hungrily. How long since he’d had a good run instead of a snatched gym workout after a long day?
Cat’s eyes dropped to his chest then roved up to his shoulders before cutting away to the glassy sea.
‘So do you.’ Alex tried and failed to divert his attention from her pert breasts and the pulse beating at the base of her neck where her skin glowed, damp and inviting.
Okay, maybe he didn’t try very hard.
He lifted his eyes and met her clear gaze.
His lungs constricted. What he read there was unequivocal. Interest. Attraction. Desire.
She didn’t hide it coyly. There were no slanting sidelong looks or fluttering eyelashes, just an appraisal that seared through his self-control and made him want to punch the air in victory.
So he hadn’t imagined it. Despite the distance she’d put between them yesterday, Cat’s direct gaze spoke of a need that answered his own.
A breeze stirred loose tendrils of her hair and he’d swear he tasted her fragrance on his tongue. Something crisp and sweet like ripe pears.
She swallowed, the tip of her tongue swiping her bottom lip, and his mouth dried.
He forced himself to keep his hands anchored at his waist, fingers digging into taut flesh.
Cat blinked and stepped away, turning to look across the bay where his yacht had been moored yesterday. She wrapped her arms around herself.