Guarding His Royal Bride

“I assume you wish to be married?” he asked, leaning close, his piercing navy eyes seeing into her soul.

She calmed her racing heart. Demetrius was intense and direct, and she couldn’t overreact. He’d see fits of hysteria or giggling as unattractive, and, inexplicably, it was important to her to be seen as desirable by him. “Yes. One day. To the right man.”

“Tell me—who exactly is the right man? What makes him worth waiting for?”

“Do you have to ask so many complex questions?” She was deflecting, but she didn’t want to talk about her future husband and the man she hoped he would be. Demetrius would see that he was wrong for her, and the relationship would be over before it began. She definitely had the sense something was starting now. A fling or a one-night stand maybe, and a hot, passionate and fun one at that.

“You are avoiding answering my question,” he said.

“Because the man I want to marry is not a checklist I’m looking to fulfill. It’s a feeling. I want to be swept away.”

She was grateful he had the decency not to laugh at her. Iliana had a fanciful side that had landed her in trouble with men before. She’d been inspired by her parents’ relationship. They had met on a blind date, had a whirlwind romance and had been inseparable until the day they’d died. Older and wiser now, Iliana knew not to project what she wanted onto a man. She had to have her eyes open to who he was and accept him, flaws and all. Who was the man in front of her? A violent dictator—ruthless, blunt and drop-dead sexy.

Demetrius’s home was another surprise. It was a large, rambling three-story house, not as ornate as she had expected. It looked well maintained but in need of softening. He had no flowers in the garden, no curtains in the windows, nothing to add contrast to the gray stone exterior.

The sedan circled to the back of the house. To her right was what might have been a beautiful, lush garden many years earlier. Some plants were overgrown; other patches of the garden were bare. A large stone wall surrounding the space was beginning to crumble. Didn’t that bother Demetrius? He was detail oriented and precise. Wasn’t he concerned about the state of his home? As president of Icarus, his residence should reflect his power and wealth.

They parked behind the house, and Demetrius opened the car door and climbed out. He took her hand and helped her out of the black sedan. Heat surged between them. Now that they were out of the public eye, could she step closer, rub against him, make it clear she was interested in moving their relationship forward, at least the physical aspects of it?

She lost her nerve. He placed her hand on his arm and led her into the house.

Much like the exterior, the inside was plain. Little furniture, white walls, clean, but it didn’t look occupied. “You live here?” she asked.

“Yes.”

This was his primary home? “It looks bare.” No knickknacks, no artwork and nothing on the table or sofa.

“I haven’t had time to decorate. I’d like my wife to do that.”

It wasn’t the first time he had commented about tasks he wanted a wife to perform. She was certain he didn’t mean to offend her, although it struck her as presumptive to assume a woman would have time or interest in remodeling a home. “What if your wife doesn’t want to decorate your house?”

He shrugged. “Then, she can hire someone to do it the way she likes. Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t view my wife as my servant or believe that her role is to please me. My intention in allowing her to decorate is for her to find our home comfortable and pleasing.”

It was all she could do to keep from swooning. Though she and Demetrius had trouble communicating, sometimes his words blew her away. Her parents had put her first in their lives, but since they had died, no one made her the top priority. No one went out of his or her way to please her.

“Show me your favorite room in the house,” Iliana said.

Demetrius’s lips twitched. She half expected him to deny her request. “Follow me.”

She followed Demetrius up two flights of stairs to the top floor. At the end of the hallway, he opened the double doors. This had to be his bedroom. His favorite room was his personal sanctuary, and she was inside it. A surge of happiness swept over her and she was genuinely pleased he had brought her here.

Unlike the plainness of the rest of the house, this room was beautiful. It was him. Dark wood furniture, blue bedding and geometric-patterned curtains worked together and made the room flow. It was charming and distinctly Demetrius.

She sat on the bed and gave it a few test bounces. “Harder than I like.”

“I’ll have it replaced,” he said.

He was nothing if not confident. “I don’t plan to sleep here,” she said.

“I don’t plan for you to sleep there, either, but I do intend to have you in my bed,” he said.

His words made her hot and excited. Her insides clutched with yearning. “Come here. Please.”

He strode to her and knelt on the floor in front of her. He took both her hands in his and kissed her palms. To have a powerful man like Demetrius acquiesce to her made her, in turn, feel powerful.

He watched her with such absolute focus that she felt like the only person in the world who mattered to him in that moment. Maybe she was. “I’ve fantasized about having you in my bedroom and about what I would do to you when I finally got you here.”

They had flirted, they’d had long conversations, but they hadn’t allowed their relationship to cross over into a physical one. Their attraction was the one part of their relationship that had been consistent. Consistent and persistently drawing her to him. She had daydreamed about him, about this moment, and now she couldn’t think about anything except him. “Then, do it to me. Show me.” He would be confident and talented in bed. She knew it.

His eyes blazed sex. Taking the relationship from zero to sixty was rash, but Iliana didn’t know how long this would last. She had kept his attention, and he had pursued her. They were alone together in his room. Why fight it? Iliana knew the difference between sex and intimacy, and while she preferred the latter, in this blistering moment, she wanted the former with Demetrius.

“When I’ve thought of you at night, when I’m alone, I’ve imagined you touching me and I know you will be very, very good,” she said.

He grinned. “You know right, but I will show you.”

She expected him to pounce on her, but instead he stood and drew her to her feet. He walked her to the large window overlooking the gardens.

He stood behind her and moved her hair to the side. He pressed his lips to her neck and ran his hands down her sides. Her stomach fluttered in anticipation. He had been restrained every other time they were alone, and it made her want him that much more.

When he reached her waist, he unsnapped her pants. She had a moment of panic. What underwear was she wearing? She couldn’t recall what she had slipped on that morning. She hadn’t been anticipating taking a lover that day.

“Relax. What are you worried about?” he asked.

“I think I’m wearing green underwear.”

Demetrius laughed and plucked the back of her pants. “Yes. It seems you are.”

She felt a flush over her cheeks. Normally sleeping with a man for the first time required careful preparation—manicure, a facial and some primping. No special arrangements had been made today. But she had the feeling with Demetrius, this could be now or never. He had said the word marriage to her, but Iliana couldn’t process that on any real level. Achy, needy desire swelled inside her. She couldn’t slow the build of lust and wanting in her body. “I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“There is nothing you could do now to disappoint me. Except maybe leave.” He slid her pants down her legs and let them fall to the floor around her feet. She stepped out of them. He tugged her shirt over her head.

Demetrius spun her around. He growled as he swept his eyes down her body. “You are glorious and perfectly feminine.” He touched the side of her face gently, tracing his thumb down her cheek.

Then he moved quickly and deliberately, bringing her against his body and kissing her. His lips seared her to the core. She moved against him, feeling his hardness through his pants, and had the intense urge to drop to her knees and take him in her mouth. The kisses turned carnal, tongues tasting, teeth clicking.

Demetrius reached between her legs and ran a finger across the V of her thighs. “Wet. Already. I like that.”

She was dripping. Hungry. His hands cupped her breasts, and he squeezed lightly.

He was wearing entirely too many clothes for this to be fair. She tugged his shirt from his pants, pulling at the buttons and grappling with his belt. When his shirt was unfastened, he shrugged it off, and it joined her clothes on the floor.

His pants came next, then his boxers, and she could see everything. Every bronzed, roped muscle, his impressive arousal, long and thick, the ripple of his abdominals and a collection of scars.

She set her hand over the circular scars, one near his heart, two at his sides, one on his thigh. “What happened?”

“Gunshot wounds.” He sounded indifferent.

“All of them?” He had been shot four times?

“Different occurrences. Do they bother you?” For the first time, he sounded unsure, and that warmed her. He was human. He was sweet. He had a soft side that she guessed he revealed to few people.

“Not at all. You are a warrior.” To prove it, she kissed each one, tracing them and the other scars that marred his body.

“Enough,” he said, and swept her into his arms. He carried her to the bed and laid her down. She let her legs fall open because she wanted him now and didn’t feel the need to be coy about it.

He removed her bra with the snap of his fingers and kissed each of her breasts, laving them with attention, making her feel loved and cherished. He reached for her feet, removing her shoes and letting them hit the floor.

“Demetrius, please hurry.” Her body ached for his, longed to feel his weight on top of her.

Other sexual encounters with boyfriends had been brief, a quick pounding, leaving her unsatisfied. Demetrius seemed in no hurry and intent on leaving her satisfied. She was so turned on, if she moved the right way against him, she might come from his touch.

He kissed a trail down her body and tugged her green—ugh—panties down her legs. “I’m throwing those out,” she said.

“Keep them. I’ll think of you like this every time I see them,” he said.

He brought his mouth between her legs, and she involuntarily bucked against him. He set his hand on her hip to settle her. Excitement and pleasure pulsed between her legs. He took his time, licking, sucking, caressing her until she was frantic with need. He knew what he was doing, and she tried to stay calm. Watching him in that intimate position, she felt affection and warmth flood over her.

“I need you inside me,” she said. “Please, Demetrius.”

He moved over her and reached into his bedside table. Donning a condom, he positioned himself at her opening. With almost no effort, he pushed inside her. She was hot and wet and so ready for this. The sensation of him filling her, of him reaching deep inside her, was utterly amazing.

He moved with hard, insistent thrusts, seeming to enjoy the thump of his body delving into hers. She ran her fingernails down his back, digging them into his buttocks, and lifted to meet him.

She felt pressure building between her legs. Everything inside her spun with pleasure and desire, pushing her higher and higher until she was plummeting over the edge of ecstasy. Their eyes locked, and she felt a shudder go through his body as he spilled his essence.

As her body relaxed beneath his, he collapsed on top of her. She welcomed the weight of him. She kissed his shoulder and rubbed his calf with her foot. The words I love you were on her tongue, but she refused to speak them, scared of what they could mean, fearful they were coming too soon or may be an excited utterance.

Most of all, she was scared they were true and she had fallen for a ruthless dictator who would hurt her all over again.

Chapter 2

Demetrius couldn’t give Iliana time to think. He was banking on her agreeing to marry him immediately. Sated by the passion and excitement of their encounter, she’d fallen asleep beneath him. He extracted himself from her. After cleaning himself up in the bathroom, he dressed.

He could read her. She wasn’t a poker player. She was falling for him. He reached into his bedside table and brought out the gray-and-black marble ring box. He’d had the ring commissioned earlier that week and sized to her finger. She’d left a ring on her desk once and he’d traced it onto a piece of paper when her back was turned. She wouldn’t want to be proposed to in bed. She’d want a story to tell her cousin and her friends.

He slipped the engagement ring into his pocket. This would happen today. By tomorrow, she would be his wife and he would have what he needed to complete his plan.

He picked up his dress shirt from the floor and carried it to the bed. Sweeping her red hair to the side, he kissed her cheek. “Iliana? I want to show you something.”

She mumbled into the pillow. Into his pillow. That pleased him enormously. He rarely allowed women into his bedroom. Come to think of it, Iliana was the first. The first and the last. She moved down into the blankets, her red hair spread across his sheets, the fabric showcasing the silhouette of her lithe body.

“This will only take a moment. It can’t wait.”

She sat up, pushing her hair back. “Why do I have to get up now?”

He slipped his shirt over her slim shoulders. For the sake of decency, he buttoned the middle buttons. She looked good. She would be a good wife—of that he was certain. “I have something to show you.”

“Interesting that you want to dress me,” she said.

“I don’t like the idea of my staff seeing you naked.”

Though his staff members would not utter a word about anything they saw in the house, especially in his private wing, he was protective of Iliana. He didn’t want to share her in any way.

She pulled on her underwear, the green pair, and her slacks. She left her feet bare.

Demetrius led her outside into the garden. It needed attention, but that task had fallen behind more pressing matters. His private garden was still tended to perfection. He unlocked the green wooden gate. He had refinished the gate himself, sanded it, painted it and rehung it. Though he could have asked someone on his staff to handle the matter, physical labor helped him clear his mind after hours of meetings. The high stone walls around the garden provided the privacy he craved.

He held the door for her, and she stepped inside and gasped.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“My garden. I work here in my spare time.” A source of pride and enjoyment for him.

He took pleasure in watching her walk up and down the paths. Solar lights illuminated the rows of plants and shrubbery. He walked behind her, not wanting to rush her. The timing had to be right. Much was riding on this proposal.

She had said she wanted to be swept away. He had to give her what she needed. Having her in his bed had been every bit the sublime experience he had imagined. She was responsive and active and made the most fantastic noises when she came.

“I wouldn’t have guessed you would spend time on a garden,” Iliana said.

A solitary activity that involved using his hands. In that way, it was ideal. “It’s a productive garden. I grow food here for myself and my staff.” Growing up poor, he, his brother and his mother had kept a garden, eating what they could, selling produce to neighbors. Their poverty had made Demetrius resourceful. He and his brother had often made sacrifices for each other and their mother.

She smiled. “I would expect nothing less.”

He didn’t want to talk about himself or his childhood. Iliana had been raised by perfectly warm and loving parents. His experiences had been different. “Looking at you takes my breath away.”

She lowered her head, but he saw the blush on her cheeks. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“We are alone here. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve made how I feel about you clear.”

She stepped closer, and his hands greedily reached for her.

“You fascinate me,” she said.

That he had captured Iliana’s interest for even this long felt like an accomplishment. Demetrius planned everything in his life. Everything. He did nothing without thinking, considering and weighing his options. But he didn’t know exactly what he would say to win her over or how he would say it. He went with what felt right.

He fell to his knee in front of this beautiful, captivating woman. He took her hands in his. He kissed her wrists and then held her left hand, threading their fingers.

Why did he feel emotional about this? This was a calculated, crucial part of his plan, yet he was caught up in it and in her. “Iliana, I have been enchanted with you from the moment we first spoke. I admire your fire and passion for life. You’ve come to mean so much to me.”

He removed the ring from his pocket and held it for her to see. She gasped and brought her hands to her mouth. He reached for her hands again, putting them in his where they belonged. “Iliana, will you be there for me in the ways that matter? Will you sleep in my bed and wake beside me in the morning? Will you be my friend and my lover and my confidante? Will you be my wife?”

Surprise registered on her face. “Why me? We don’t know each other.”

He shook his head. “I know everything I need to know about you. There won’t be another in my life who means to me what you do.”

She brought her hands to her mouth and then threw herself into his arms. He wrapped them around her. She kissed his cheek. “Yes, yes, I will marry you.” Tears ran down her face.

He slipped the ring on her finger. “Tonight. We marry tonight.”

Her smile faltered. “Tonight? Are you serious?”

“I cannot wait another day to have you as my wife.”

She stared at him. “You are serious.”

“Of course. I will not joke about our marriage.”

“But I have plans for my wedding. I want Serena to be there. And Casimir. I wanted to wear a special dress and carry lilies.”

If he gave her too much time to think about it, she could change her mind. The chess pieces could shift, rendering his position weaker. He had to marry her now, before she knew more about his plans and her future. “My Iliana, you will have everything you wish for your wedding. A few phone calls will make it so.” He had a country of wedding planners, florists and dressmakers at his disposal. He would do what was needed to get her to the altar. If she wanted the wedding of her dreams, so be it.

She nodded and seemed to be half convinced. “I need to call Serena, then.”

Demetrius remained calm. The queen could talk her cousin out of this arrangement. Had he convinced Serena that his intentions were good? Casimir was his brother on the battlefield, but Demetrius hadn’t shared with him the reasons why Iliana was critical or why he needed to marry her. Demetrius’s biological brother needed his help, and nothing would stop him from providing it. “Please do. I will contact our event planner and have her come to the house immediately.”

Pleased that this part of his plan had worked, he felt unsettled by the unfamiliar sensation of warmth that spread over him. Iliana would be his wife, and he would respect and honor her. But had he come to care for her? That had not been part of the plan.

* * *

Serena rushed to Iliana, hugging her close, a challenge with her ever-growing pregnant belly. Serena was expecting twins in five months. “Iliana, are you sure about this? This seems so sudden.”

“It seems that way for me, too. But it also feels right.” Demetrius had said the right things, he had treated her as if she was precious to him and he had given her carte blanche to plan the wedding, with the caveat that it had to be tonight. Many women would be envious of her position. She almost couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Demetrius was an honorable man and would be a good husband.

“Why so fast? Are you pregnant?” Serena asked, her lips quirked into a smile.

Iliana laughed. “Not pregnant. My mother and father were taken from me abruptly, and now Demetrius is giving me a new family as suddenly. Maybe that’s how my life works.” She wouldn’t kick a gift horse in the mouth.

“You’ve been tight-lipped about your relationship with Demetrius, but if this is what you want, I support you.”

The event planner, a powerhouse named Eleni, rushed into the room carrying a wedding gown in a light blue garment bag. “I had to pull every string to get this dress in your size, but it’s here. The seamstress is on her way to make adjustments.”

Eleni hung the garment on a dress hook and removed the light blue bag. It was a dress Iliana had seen months earlier when shopping for another friend’s wedding. It was simple and elegant, all flowing satin covered in lace. The top was fitted, and the skirt flared at the bottom.

Eleni and Serena helped her slip it on. Iliana was worried it wouldn’t be as beautiful as she had pictured when she saw it on the mannequin. When the final button was fastened, she turned and caught her reflection in the mirror. Breathtaking. It was what she had hoped for. Demetrius was making her wedding dreams come true. She was still reeling at how quickly it was moving, but why question good fortune?

Serena teared up beside her. “Oh, Iliana, you look so beautiful. Demetrius won’t be able to catch his breath.”

The next hour was a flurry of activity. The seamstress measured, pinned and sewed. Iliana’s hair was arranged, some gathered on her head, other pieces left over her shoulder, and light makeup was applied. Before she had time to think, Serena was leading her to the private garden where she would marry the president of Icarus.

“You know he isn’t the bad person that people say he is, right?” Iliana said quietly to her cousin. She needed her good friend to assure her that she was seeing Demetrius for who he was, as he was, and that this wasn’t a mistake.

Serena squeezed her hand. “Casimir tells me that Demetrius is a good man. I questioned him the entire flight here.”

“Demetrius is wonderful to me.” Despite rumors and media spin portraying Demetrius as a dictator and a tyrant, Iliana saw the real side of him, the warmth, the compassion and his absolute love for Icarus. Everything he did was for his country and, now it seemed, for her. They’d had misunderstandings in the past, butted heads politically, but this was different. Their relationship wasn’t professional anymore. It was on a whole other level.

Casmir came to the garden door and greeted them, kissing Serena’s cheek and patting her belly.

Iliana curtsied to the king of Rizari, out of habit more than a required formality. “I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I?”

Despite his royal status, he and Iliana had become close friends since he and Serena had married. “I can’t answer that question. You know if it feels right.”

She touched her stomach, which was fluttering with butterflies. “I feel nervous.” She was fully aware of the gravity of the step she was taking. “But happy.”

“Then, I think you answered your own question. He’s waiting for you. Are you ready?” Casimir asked.

Iliana nodded, and Casimir opened the door to the garden.

Iliana stepped across the threshold for the second time that night. Once inside, her worries and doubts melted away, and all she could see was Demetrius waiting for her at the end of the petal-strewn aisle.

He was incredibly handsome, refined yet rugged. She liked that about him. She could envision him swinging an ax as easily as she could imagine him planting seeds in his garden.