Royal Holiday Bride

Chapter Three

Marissa slapped a hand on her alarm to silence the incessant buzzing. She wasn’t ready to get out of bed. Her reluctance had nothing to do with the fact that she’d crawled between the sheets less than four hours earlier and everything to do with the incredible sensual dreams from which she never wanted to awaken.

Dreams of a mouthwateringly sexy god with fathomless dark eyes behind a gold mask, a strong jaw with just a hint of shadow and a mouth that was both elegantly shaped and infinitely talented. She could almost taste his kiss, dark and potent and thoroughly intoxicating.

She snuggled deeper under the covers, certain she could feel the heat of his skin beneath her palms as she explored the planes and angles of all those glorious muscles. Broad shoulders, strong pecs, rippling abs and a very impressive—

She slapped at the alarm again.

Then, with a sigh that was equal parts resignation and regret, she hit the off button and eased herself into sitting position.

Pushing back the covers, she swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. She winced a little as she made her way to the bathroom, feeling the tug of strained muscles in her thighs, the ache in her shoulders and an unfamiliar tenderness in her breasts.

Not a dream, after all, she realized, smiling as she turned on the shower and stripped away the silk boxers and cami that she slept in. Memories of the previous night played through her mind as she stepped beneath the spray.

A fantasy come true, but definitely not a dream.

As she’d donned her costume in preparation of the ball the previous evening, she’d worried that she might regret embarking on her course of action, but she’d been more worried about what her future might hold if she chose a course of inaction.

She’d taken control of her life and her future—as much as she could, anyway. Because according to the outdated but still valid laws of the principality, Marissa could be forced to marry the duke, but at least she wouldn’t go to his bed a virgin on her wedding night.

She’d evaluated her options and she’d made a choice, and she didn’t regret it now. How could she regret what had been the most incredible experience of her entire life?

If she felt any disappointment, it was only because she might never again know the kind of pleasure Jupiter had given to her. He’d been an incredibly attentive lover. He’d not just touched but tantalized every inch of her body with his hands and his lips and his tongue—

She turned her face into the spray and nudged the temperature dial downward to help cool her heated skin and resolved to stop fantasizing about what was past.

After she’d stepped out of the shower and toweled off, she opened her closet in search of an appropriate outfit for brunch with her mother. In the midst of various shades of ivory and cream and beige, the stunningly vibrant dress she’d worn the night before shone like a beacon. Instinctively her hand reached out, her fingers caressing the shimmery fabric, and she made a mental note to send a heartfelt thank-you card to her dressmaker.

Then she purposely moved Juno’s dress to the back of the closet because she was no longer a Roman goddess. She was just an ordinary princess again and she had to look the part for her meeting with the Princess Royal.

She selected a simple beige-and-white sheath-style dress, slipped her feet into a pair of matching kitten heels, then brushed her hair away from her face and secured it in a knot at the back of her head. She added simple gold hoop earrings and a couple of gold bangles on her wrist and decided the overall look was stylish if rather bland—and perfectly suited to Princess Marissa.

You’re even more beautiful than I anticipated.

The echo of Jupiter’s reverent whisper made her heart sigh. He’d made her feel beautiful. Desirable. Desired. But there was no hint of that woman in the reflection that looked back at her now.

She turned away from the mirror, refusing to admit that she longed to feel that way again. She knew that she could be beautiful. Elena had been—and still was—a stunning woman, and many people had remarked upon the similarities between mother and daughter. But while the Princess Royal always took care to highlight her best features, Marissa chose to downplay her own. Beautiful women did not go unnoticed, and she preferred the freedom to live her life as she chose rather than under a microscope.

Of course, she was a princess, so a certain amount of media attention was unavoidable. She even courted that attention when it served her purposes. But most of the time, she was happy to let the paparazzi chase after those who were much more bold and beautiful.

A knock at the door jolted her out of her reverie. She set down the cup of coffee she’d just poured and went to answer the summons.

There were few people who could gain access to the private elevator leading to her tenth-floor condo, so she wasn’t surprised to open the door and find both of her sisters-in-law on the other side. She was disappointed that they didn’t have her nieces with them, as she absolutely doted on Michael’s five-year-old Riley and Cameron’s eleven-month-old Jaedyn.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, because she knew they didn’t have any plans to get together this morning.

Michael’s wife, Hannah, was the first to respond. “We were worried about you.”

Marissa led the way to the kitchen, where she filled another mug with coffee and a third with only milk. “Why would you be worried?”

“Because you had a migraine severe enough to keep you at home last night. It’s not like you to miss an event benefiting the Children’s Hospital,” Gabriella—Cameron’s very expectant wife—explained, accepting the milk with more resignation than enthusiasm.

She’d forgotten the excuse she’d made to both of them to explain her supposed absence from the event the night before. Though she didn’t lie easily or well, the fib had been necessary to ensure that they weren’t looking for her in the crowd.

Hannah stirred a spoonful of sugar into her coffee. “I called last night to see if you needed anything, but when there was no answer, I figured you turned off the ringer because of the headache.”

Gabby’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. “But when Hannah told me that she’d called and didn’t get an answer, I began to suspect that maybe you didn’t miss the ball at all.”

She sipped her coffee. “You’re right. I was there,” Marissa admitted. “But I left early.”

“With the sexy guy in the purple toga?”

Marissa didn’t bother to deny it. She’d already proven that she couldn’t lie to them—at least not very well—and she didn’t want to, anyway. They weren’t just her sisters-in-law, they were her best friends, and she desperately needed friends to confide in right now.

“With Jupiter,” she confirmed.

Gabby grinned. “Good for you.”

Hannah’s head swiveled toward her. “Are you kidding? It’s not good—it’s crazy.”

“Was it good?” Gabby asked, not the least bit chastened by Hannah’s outrage.

Marissa couldn’t help but smile. “It was … fabulous.”

“Details,” Gabby immediately demanded.

Hannah only sighed.

“I’m sorry if you’re disappointed in me,” Marissa said to Michael’s wife, and meant it.

“I’m not disappointed in you, just surprised,” Hannah told her. “I’ve never known you to be reckless or impulsive, and leaving the ball with a stranger—”

“Was necessary,” she interjected.

Even Gabriella seemed surprised by that revelation. “Why?”

Marissa lifted her chin. “Because I’d decided it was finally time to lose my virginity.”

Her brothers’ wives exchanged another look. Obviously neither of them had been aware of her lack of sexual experience, and why would they be?

“Okay, back up a minute and put this in context for us,” Hannah suggested. “Why, having made it to this point in your life without losing your virginity, was it suddenly so urgent to do so?”

“Because there are rumors floating around that the Duke of Bellemoro is in the market for his second wife and, based on several appointments that he’s had with the Princess Royal over the past few weeks, I figured out that Elena was preparing to offer me as a virgin sacrifice.”

“There aren’t a lot of suitable marriage prospects for a bona fide princess,” Hannah noted. “So I can see why your mother might consider a match with someone holding such a high hereditary title to be a coup.”

“But the Duke of Bellemoro?” Gabby winced sympathetically. She, too, had obviously heard the rumors of the duke’s sexual proclivities. And despite his appreciation for women with a multitude of experience in his bedroom, he’d let it be known that he was seeking a more innocent type for his bride.

“Which is why I decided that I wasn’t going to be manipulated,” Marissa said firmly. “Not anymore.”

“So don’t be,” Gabby said. “It’s not as if Elena can force you to marry against your will.”

“Actually, she can,” Hannah interjected, sounding almost apologetic. “Archaic as it may be, the laws of this country still allow the parents of a princess to enter into a legal contract of marriage on her behalf.”

“But not the parents of a prince?” Gabriella was as incensed by the inequality of its application as the law itself.

“I said it was archaic,” Hannah reminded her.

“It’s an old and acceptable tradition,” Marissa said. “And my mother knows that I would honor such a contract because it’s my duty as a member of the royal family to respect our history and uphold our customs.”

“Because you’d never do anything that might create a scandal,” Gabby noted.

“Losing your virginity to a stranger seems pretty scandalous to me,” Hannah said.

“If the Princess Royal’s daughter lost her virginity to a stranger, it would be scandalous,” Marissa acknowledged, which was why she’d been so worried about the possibility that someone might recognize her. And during one turn around the dance floor, she’d spotted her sisters-in-law on the perimeter and had felt the weight of Gabriella’s gaze on her. But her brother’s wife had shown no hint of recognition, which reassured Marissa that her true identity would not be discovered. “Which is why I made sure that no one would know that I was Juno.”

“Gabby recognized you,” Hannah pointed out.

“I suspected,” she clarified. “And I should say now that you looked absolutely stunning.”

Before Marissa could respond, Hannah forged ahead again.

“It was still a crazy idea. No, not just crazy but dangerous,” she said. “Do you have any idea how many things could have gone wrong?”

“Nothing went wrong,” Marissa told her.

“Nothing except that you slept with a man you don’t even know,” Hannah countered.

“Actually, I didn’t sleep at all until I got home around three this morning.”

Gabby grinned. “You’re actually bragging.”

Marissa lifted her chin. Maybe she was bragging, and she wasn’t going to apologize for it. If a wedding to the Duke of Bellemoro was in her future, at least she would have the memories of one fabulous night to help get her through it.

Hannah looked at her, the furrow in her brow easing. “It really was good?”

“It really was fabulous,” she said again.

“Well, I guess that’s something,” she relented. “But you should have at least asked his name.”

“I couldn’t,” Marissa said. “Because I had no intention of telling him mine. I wanted to be anonymous so that, for the first time in my life, I could feel confident that a man was interested in me and not my title or political connections.”

“Still, I would think you’d at least be curious about his true identity,” Gabriella mused.

“Of course I am. But the whole point of putting my plan into action last night was to ensure that no one would know who I was—it would hardly be fair if I changed the rules now.”

“It would be easy enough to track him down,” Hannah told her. “All you’d have to do is contact the palace’s master of the household and find out who was staying in … whatever room he was staying in.”

“It was the corner suite,” Marissa answered automatically, “but I’m not going to do it.”

“Why not?” Gabby demanded, clearly disappointed.

“Because he obviously had his own reasons for wanting to remain anonymous.”

“Which only makes me more curious.”

“Maybe he’s married,” Hannah suggested.

“He’s not,” Marissa assured her. “I did ask about that.”

“Glad to know you did exercise some moral judgment before you gave your virginity to a stranger,” Hannah noted, tongue-in-cheek.

“Thank you,” Marissa said. “Now, if you two are finished with your interrogation, I’m going to kick you out so that I can stop at the hospital before I have to meet my mother and potential suitor for brunch.”

Gabriella paused in the act of pushing back her chair. “Why did you say ‘potential suitor’?”

“Just repeating Elena’s words,” Marissa explained. “You know my mother thrives on mystery and drama.”

“So she never actually said it was the Duke of Bellemoro?” Hannah asked.

“No,” she admitted, still not following the direction of their parallel thinking.

“What if it’s not the duke?” Gabby pressed.

Marissa dismissed the possibility with a shake of her head.

“Who else could it be?”

Dante had first met the Princess Royal about half a dozen years earlier when he’d accompanied his father on an official visit to Tesoro del Mar. His initial impression had been of a woman whose beauty was surpassed only by her ambition—an impression that was confirmed when, a few weeks after he’d taken the throne, she contacted him with a proposal to strengthen the bond between their respective countries.

At the time, he’d had more pressing issues to contend with, and she’d graciously agreed to defer the matter to another time. But when the invitation to the Mythos Ball arrived in the mail, he’d accepted that this meeting was one that could be put off no longer.

Since assuming his new role, Dante had been the recipient of more marriage proposals than he wanted to count. The majority of them were personal entreaties sent by hopeful future queens, though some were sent on behalf of the potential brides-to-be by a mother or sister or grandmother. Dante had delegated the task of responding to these offers to the palace’s junior secretaries.

Elena’s letter had been the exception. He was all too aware that Ardena’s relationship with Tesoro del Mar—her closest neighbor, naval ally and trading partner—had become strained in recent years. Just as he was aware that it was his responsibility to do whatever he could to rectify the situation. A marriage between Ardena’s king and a Tesorian princess would go a long way toward doing that.

When he arrived at Elena’s estate, Dante was prepared for the Princess Royal to do or say almost anything to convince him that he should marry her daughter, and he was willing to let himself be convinced. As his father had pointed out to him, there weren’t a lot of single women of appropriate genealogy—and even fewer still with whom he didn’t already have some kind of history.

“Your Majesty.” The Princess Royal curtsied. “I’m so pleased you were able to take this time to meet with me while you’re visiting Tesoro del Mar.”

He bowed to her in turn. “The pleasure is mine, Your Highness.”

“I trust you had a good time at the ball last evening,” she said when they were seated in the parlor.

“I did,” he agreed, though the remark caused his mind to flash back not to the charity event but to the pleasures he’d enjoyed after leaving the ballroom.

“Marissa will be pleased to hear it.” Elena passed him a delicate gold-rimmed cup. “Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to be there last night, but she tries to ensure that the annual ball isn’t just successful but also enjoyable.”

“I’ve heard that she’s very committed to her work at the hospital.” He sipped his coffee.

“She has experience with numerous charitable endeavors—an essential attribute for the wife of a king.”

Dante had always found it easier to negotiate with people who were forthright about their demands rather than those who tiptoed around them. It was clear that the Princess Royal didn’t believe in tiptoeing.

“I don’t disagree,” he told her. “But there are many other factors to consider.”

“You won’t find another candidate more suitable than Princess Marissa,” Elena promised. “She has lived her whole life with the demands and duties of royal life, she is educated, well mannered, kindhearted and still innocent.”

Definitely no tiptoeing going on here.

Dante set down his cup and cleared his throat. “I do think that the criteria for suitability have changed somewhat with the times.”

“But your country’s Marriage Act still enumerates some very specific criteria,” Elena pointed out. “Including that the bride of a king must be of noble birth and pure virtue.”

Technically, she was correct. But since a king was entitled to privacy on his wedding night, he wasn’t concerned about the latter stipulation. “I’m not sure that’s a realistic expectation in this day and age,” he acknowledged, refusing to think about his mysterious virgin lover of the previous evening. “I’m more concerned that my future bride is untouched by scandal.”

“I assure you that my daughter is untouched in every way that matters.”

He forced a smile, though the calculation in her eyes made him uneasy. It was obvious that the Princess Royal wanted a union between their families and would do everything in her power to make it happen, and he couldn’t help but feel a tug of sympathy for the princess whose mother so clearly viewed her as a commodity to be bartered.

“You don’t think she would be reluctant to leave her friends and family here to live in another country?”

“Ardena is not so far,” Elena said dismissively. “And a marriage between its king and a Tesorian princess would only strengthen the historically close ties between our two countries. It might even help our people forget the unnecessary stir created by your father on his last visit.”

“Whether the stir was or was not necessary is a matter of perspective,” Dante retorted, not even attempting to disguise the edge in his tone. “And he had reason to be concerned about your son’s relationship with my sister.”

“Well, that’s past history, anyway,” she said, conveniently forgetting that she’d been the one to bring up the subject. “What matters now is the future.”

“Agreed,” he said, only because he knew that the relationship between Prince Cameron and Princess Leticia alleged in the newspaper headlines had been predicated on nothing more than one dance in a nightclub.

Of course, the relationship Elena was advocating for her daughter would be based on even less, and Dante couldn’t help wondering if the princess in question might not want more than a marriage founded solely on politics. And he was both baffled and infuriated that her mother didn’t seem to want more for her.

Or maybe he was angry that he wasn’t allowed to want more for himself. His parents’ marriage had been “suggested” rather than arranged, and they’d been lucky enough to fall in love so that they wanted to honor the wishes of their respective families. When Dante had protested that he should be given the opportunity to find love, too, his parents had bluntly pointed out that he’d managed to find enough lovers without worrying about emotional attachments, and now it was time for him to accept that he had a responsibility to his country and its people. And that responsibility took precedence over all else.

“How does Princess Marissa feel about a potential wedding to the king of Ardena?”

“You don’t need to worry about her feelings,” she assured him. “She understands very well that duty must come before desire.”

“You seem certain of that,” he noted.

“Marissa understands the demands and responsibilities of your position. She will stand by your side when you need her there and remain in the background when you don’t.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted a wife who would be so docile and unassuming. He’d always admired women who had their own thoughts and ambitions, who challenged him to consider different ideas and perspectives, who were intelligent and strong and passionate. He wanted passion.

He wanted Juno.

He pushed the haunting memories of the previous night from his mind. He’d acted impulsively and recklessly, and he knew it couldn’t ever happen again. He was the king of Ardena now, and he needed to find a wife.

He, too, knew that duty must come before desire, and he accepted that there could be no more stolen moments with sexy strangers. So he directed his attention back to his hostess.

“When can I meet your daughter?” he asked.

The Princess Royal’s smile was smug. “She will join us for brunch.”

Chapter Four

When her mother scheduled brunch for one o’clock, Marissa knew that the meal would be on the table at one o’clock—the Princess Royal was absolutely unyielding when it came to maintaining her schedule. Marissa also knew that Elena would not be pleased by her daughter’s arrival at 1:08.

It wouldn’t matter that she had called as she was leaving the hospital to advise that she was running late. The Princess Royal was as intolerant of excuses as she was of tardiness.

Marissa realized her lateness wouldn’t score any points with the duke, either, but she was less concerned about him. Or maybe she was hoping that Anthony Volpini would be so annoyed by her delay that he would abandon all thoughts of marrying her. Buoyed by this thought, she practically skipped up the steps to her mother’s front door.

Edmond, her mother’s butler, had obviously been watching for her, because he opened the door before Marissa even had a chance to ring the bell.

“The Princess Royal and the king are in the dining room.”

She started to nod, accepting that her mother wouldn’t wait even eight minutes for an expected guest, then froze when the import of his words registered. “The king?”

“His Majesty, Dante Romero, King of Ardena,” Edmond announced formally.

“But I thought …”