Guarding His Royal Bride

Walking toward him, her body felt light; her feet floated on air. She was doing the right thing, allowing love and joy into her life. Iliana welcomed her future with open arms.

* * *

The reception following their intimate wedding ceremony brought several more important faces. Demetrius introduced her to generals in the Icarus army and navy and his political advisers. It seemed everyone who had a hand in running the country was celebrating with them in their home. Despite the last-minute plans and the late-night festivities, their guests were in high spirits.

A few times Demetrius seemed to be in a serious conversation with someone, but then he would find her face in the crowd and they’d share a private smile. He was the president of the country. He had work to do. But tonight was about them.

After a couple of hours, Demetrius swept Iliana into his arms. He addressed the room from the doorway. “Thank you all for coming tonight, but I bid you good night. My wife and I have plans.”

The crowd roared with laughter, and Demetrius’s military men banged their beer mugs against the wooden tables and cheered.

“Demetrius, everyone will know,” Iliana said as he carried her toward his bedroom. Their bedroom.

“That I’m having sex with my wife? So what?”

She wasn’t a prude, but some topics were private matters. “It’s so...intimate.”

Demetrius kissed her on the mouth. “Which is why I did not invite anyone else along.”

She laughed, threaded her fingers around the back of his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. He took the stairs with her in his arms.

“Thank you, Demetrius, for tonight. For making this special for me.”

“You’re my wife. There is nothing I would not do for you, and I expect the same in return.”

A shiver of concern coursed over her as doubts pressed at the edges of her emotions. She had given him her loyalty, her heart and her life. Though they had not explicitly discussed it, she would resign from her position as the queen’s personal secretary. She would live in Icarus with Demetrius. Wasn’t that a lot to give up for him? Did he expect more?

Demetrius entered his bedroom and kicked the doors shut behind them. The room was overflowing with flowers, lilies of all colors set in vases, petals strewn on the floor. Candles flickered in glass containers, illuminating the room.

Demetrius laid her on the bed. “I suppose you’ll be angry if I tear your new dress. You look so lovely in it, and that makes it much harder to be patient.”

She ran her hand over the soft, intricate lace. “You can’t tear it. I want to use it to make baptismal gowns for our children.”

He lifted his eyebrow. “Already we’re discussing children?” She could tell by his expression he liked the idea.

When they were alone, he made little effort to conceal his emotions. In public, he was stone-faced and cold. This warm, spirited side of him stirred her emotions. She felt connected to him, as if she alone got to enjoy this side of him.

“Will you help me remove my dress so I might make love to my husband?”

He loosened his tie around his neck. “Yes. Absolutely. I want you naked of everything except my rings. You must wear my rings.”

She touched the rings on her left hand. “And you must wear mine.”

He removed her dress carefully and laid it over a chair. When they rushed together, Iliana felt the supreme rightness of being in his arms.

* * *

Iliana awoke in Demetrius’s bed. Not Demetrius’s bed. Their bed. Demetrius was gone. She stretched beneath the sheets and then looked for a note. But she found nothing to indicate where he had gone. She ignored the twinge of disappointment. She had wanted to wake with him beside her on their first morning as husband and wife. Perhaps it was a good thing. She was sore. Demetrius was an energetic lover, and she didn’t think she could have sex with him again, which he would inevitably have wanted if she’d awoken in his arms.

She took a shower, pleased to see he had provided women’s shampoo and toiletries for her. That small gesture erased the lingering disappointment of waking without him.

She dressed in the clothes that Serena had brought for her and went in search of her husband. Just thinking of him in those terms made her shiver.

She found Demetrius on the main floor in his office. She entered without knocking. He was wearing a suit, as he often did, standing at the window and was on the phone, his headset clipped to his ear. She circled his desk and slipped her arms around him.

He was speaking French. She hadn’t heard him speak it before. She’d had some basic French lessons in her youth but didn’t remember enough to follow the conversation in any meaningful way.

When he disconnected a few minutes later, she kissed him. “How many languages do you speak?”

“Eight.” His voice was cold, and he removed her hands from around him. “I need to speak with you about a grave matter.”

He had to leave on a trip. Trouble in the Mediterranean. Concern whipped through her. “Are Serena and Casimir all right?”

“They are fine. I would have woken you if this matter involved them. This does involve your family, though.”

Since her parents had died in a tragic car accident years earlier, she hadn’t been able to shake the dread that someone else she loved would be taken from her abruptly. That sense of loss and fear gripped her now. “Please tell me quickly.”

“The king of Valencia is dying.”

Not what she was expecting to hear. “I’m sorry to hear that. I don’t mean to be callous, but how does that involve me?” She knew the king by name, but they hadn’t met. “Do you want me to prepare something to send to his wife and family?” Was this her duty as Demetrius’s wife? She could relate to what the king’s family may be going through, and if she had words of comfort to share to ease their pain, she would.

Demetrius sighed. “I do not want you to send anything. The king wants to see you.”

“Why?” Demetrius was being evasive. Where was the soft, warm and passionate man she had married the night before? It was as if she was with public Demetrius, and she didn’t like it.

He didn’t answer. Something dark and uneasy settled over her. “Demetrius, you need to tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me and acting cold.” It was on the tip of her tongue to mention slipping from their bed without saying good morning, but she didn’t want to fight with him over a trivial problem and she still didn’t understand what this was about.

“You are not the biological daughter of the man and woman who you know as your parents,” he said.

Iliana shook her head. She was. She had pictures from the day of her birth to prove it. “That’s not true.”

“You are the biological daughter of the king of Valencia and his late mistress, Persephone Paphiti. She died in childbirth, and the king asked your parents to adopt you. A blood test will confirm what I’m telling you, or I can provide you the DNA results I have already run.”

So many questions and so much hurt pummeled her at once. She struggled to make sense of it all. “You checked my DNA without telling me?”

“It was a simple matter to ensure I was correct about you and the king.”

Betrayal pulsed through her. “I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?” he asked, this time his voice a little softer.

She retreated a step, putting distance between them. Why was he breaking news of this magnitude in such a cold manner? “How long have you known?”

“For over a year.”

Her jaw slackened. As the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, they presented an ugly picture. She had ties to the royal family in Valencia. What did Demetrius want from those connections? She knew Demetrius’s reputation for doing everything with meaning and for a purpose. She had been naive to think he had married her without an agenda.

She had been desperate for a family and for someone to care for her, and she had bought into his ploy. Hard to believe that five hours ago, she had been curled in his arms, moaning his name and falling head over heels for him.

His face was impassive. “I realize that you are upset. I will help you come to terms with this.”

Anger coursed through her, hot and violent. “How do I come to terms with this? You just told me that the people I called Mom and Dad aren’t my parents. Have you thought about my feelings?”

“The people who raised you are your parents in every way that matters. Nothing will change that. All I bring to your attention is that your biological father is dying. If you have questions, answers will only be available as long as he has breath.”

Despite her rage, the words comforted her. Her parents, the people who had loved and raised her, would always be her parents. This curveball did nothing to change that, meant nothing next to their unconditional and unrelenting love for her. She had felt it every day in the way they spoke to her and cared for her.

“If you want to see the king, we need to go now. His condition has worsened, and his days are numbered.”

Though Iliana was furious with Demetrius and still reeling from the bomb he had dropped, she wanted to see the king. It may be her last chance.

* * *

Aboard Demetrius’s private jet, Iliana sat as far from Demetrius as possible. It bothered her that it didn’t seem to bother him. He was working on his laptop, taking calls. He didn’t glance in her direction once. They were traveling with a couple of his servicemen and some of his advisers. Five other men on the plane, not including the pilot and the copilot. So much testosterone.

Iliana glanced at her outfit. A pair of simple black pants and a green top, fitted but not revealing. She was meeting a king after all. She had intended the outfit to catch Demetrius’s eye. Getting his attention had been easy before, and it had pleased her how quickly he had turned his attention to her in any situation when they were together. Now that they were married, not even twelve hours after their wedding, he seemed indifferent to her and that stung.

Had it been an act? Iliana didn’t have great judgment when it came to men. This latest fiasco proved it. She had made an epically bad decision. Not just a bad date, not her sneaking out of a man’s bedroom in the early-morning hours with regrets. This was a whole other level of bad.

She had married the president of Icarus. He was using her as a tool, and she hated that. She still didn’t know exactly what he wanted, but when she figured it out, she would make sure he received the opposite from her.

Was she in love with Demetrius? She had thought so. She desired him. She cared for him. He occupied much of her time, and there was a warm feeling that accompanied thoughts of him—wasn’t that love? Iliana wasn’t sure she had ever been in love before. She loved her parents, her cousins, her family, but romantic love had eluded her. She’d confused lust and passion with love before, and it had ended badly every time.

Everything she felt for Demetrius was called into question. She had imagined their relationship to be a sweeping romance with grand gestures of affection. She’d had that from Demetrius for a short time. Now she had the awful sensation of being exploited and ignored.

Ignored like her biological father had ignored her, handing her off and pretending she didn’t exist. Iliana loved her parents, and while she couldn’t imagine being raised by anyone else, it hurt to know they had kept this secret from her. Perhaps they’d thought they were protecting her. With them gone, she would never have the answers.

Demetrius was telling her the truth about the king of Valencia and Persephone Paphiti. The information could be too easily verified for him to lie about it. Blood tests would be conclusive, and Demetrius didn’t make mistakes. Having eyes and ears everywhere, he knew too much. He was shrewd and he was spot-on in political matters in the Mediterranean.

Demetrius’s reputation preceded him. She had heard and read it all. He was cold and calculating. He killed without mercy. He rammed his agenda through by any means necessary. Iliana hadn’t believed those accusations. She had seen him in another light, and she had felt special because she’d believed herself privy to some secret side of Demetrius.

But that warmth and affection was completely overshadowed by what he had done. He had lied to her. He had manipulated her. He didn’t get the benefit of the doubt anymore.

She would make his life hard. She would make him rue the day he had decided to use her for political maneuvering.

Iliana stood and stretched, letting her shirt ride up a bit. She turned to give Demetrius a look at her profile. She wasn’t vain, but she worked out and she knew she looked good. Demetrius was attracted to her. No way had he faked that. In her peripheral vision, she saw that she had his attention. So she bent over at the waist, touching her toes and wiggling her hips.

If Demetrius wanted to play the “married” card, she would play it, too. Let him see what he could have and what he was missing. She’d deny any advances, and she wouldn’t stand for one moment of him cheating. But she knew he wouldn’t. Demetrius DeSante was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a cheater.

He did, however, move like a panther.

He was at her side in moments. “What are you doing?”

She smelled his cologne, or maybe it was the soap he used, light and spicy. It turned her on, but she tamped down her lust. That ridiculous emotion had ruled her the night before, and she was shutting it off from here on out. “Stretching. My schedule is off. I didn’t work out this morning, and my muscles feel tight.” She pretended to be unaware that he was hard beneath his pants. She tossed the question back at him. “What are you doing?”

He growled in the back of his throat. “Stop it.”

“Stop exercising? Why?”

“You know what you’re doing. Every man in this cabin is staring at you, and I won’t have it.”

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t command people to stop using their eyes.”

“I will remove the eyes of the next person who looks at my wife with lust.” His voice was loud and clear. Everyone looked away from them.

“You are being ridiculous.”

He walked to the entrance to the small bedroom aboard the plane. “A word. Alone, please.”

Iliana followed him into the bedroom. He closed the door behind him. She sensed he was grappling for control. Control of his anger or his lust? She waited.

“Are you trying to antagonize me?”

She smirked at him. “Yes.”

His eyes blazed. “At least you admit it.”

“I want you to apologize,” she said.

He loosened the tie around his neck and undid the first button of his shirt. Disheveled looked good on him. “If I say the words, will you stop being upset?”

“You have to say the words and mean them,” she said. “Then I’ll see how I feel.” She would still be angry, but she wanted him to twist a little for what he had done.

He looked her up and down. She felt as if he had touched her. “Iliana, I’ve never been more attracted to another woman than I am to you. What I know about the king of Valencia as it relates to you has nothing to do with that attraction.”

“But you married me because of it.”

He drew in a deep breath. “I would have married you one day. I moved up the timeline because of the king’s health problems.”

Surprising words, and she didn’t know if she could believe them. His admission wouldn’t slake her anger. “You could have been honest with me.”

“I told you about the king when the time was right.”

Right for his plans and for him. The encounter with the assassin the day before flashed to mind. “Do you think the man who tried to kill me was after me because of my connection to the king of Valencia?” She had thought the murder attempt had to do with Serena, or maybe even Demetrius.

“I suspect someone else knows who you are and they want you dead because of it.”

Iliana wished she hadn’t left Acacia. She could have stayed in the castle and dealt with Serena and Casimir’s lovey-dovey behavior for a few days. Anything was better than this. “Going to Valencia seems like a patently bad idea, then, if someone wants to kill me.”

“No one will kill my wife.”

Low self-esteem wasn’t his problem. “You’re not invincible, Demetrius.” She’d heard Casimir and Demetrius telling war stories, and she’d heard rumors of her husband’s prowess in battle. Despite implications to the contrary, he was human.

“I would sooner die than let someone harm you.”

He had spoken similar words before, and it accentuated how different their worlds were. She had never been in a physical confrontation. Acacia had never been to war. Demetrius had battle scars to prove that he had. “Let’s aim for no one dying.”

“We will stay together in Valencia. You will not sneak away. For your safety and the safety of anyone who may make the poor decision to harm you.”

Iliana blinked at him. “I know how to be safe.”

“Were you being safe in Elion last year?”

Of course he would bring that up. She had been nearly mugged, but Demetrius had rescued her. “I made a mistake. I’ve learned from it.”

“Do you want to have sex?” he asked.

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Had she misheard him? “Excuse me?”

“You’re sending me mixed signals.”

He looked devastatingly handsome. Black shirt and gray pants, pressed and stylish, his dark hair brushed back from his face. Sliding her fingers into it, letting the silky strands fall between her fingers, would feel good. This wasn’t the first time she had been angry with Demetrius, and the strange part was that she was perpetually attracted to him. She must have a thing for picking the wrong men, as she was clearly a lost cause where Demetrius was concerned. “I’m giving you one signal right now. I’m angry.”

“Some couples counter fights with sex.”

Tempting, but sleeping with Demetrius wouldn’t get it out of her system. She’d want him more. “Couples have sex after the fight is resolved. This is nowhere near resolved.”

“Tell me what I need to do to resolve the fight so I can go back to making love to my wife when she needs me to.”

Those words felt like a caress across her breasts and down her body. “I don’t need sex.” She’d had great sex with him in the early-morning hours. It should tide her over for at least a week. Given her recent dry spell, she could go six months without another man laying a hand on her.

“It would relax you, and you seem very tense right now.”

“We aren’t alone on the plane.”

“My staff won’t interrupt us in here.”

She felt her resolve cracking, but she shored up her defenses. “No sex. You’re still withholding information. I’m withholding sex. You have yet to tell me why you married me.”

“I married you because I wanted to. You can’t pretend that you don’t enjoy it when I touch you. Sex has nothing to do with this fight. Let’s keep the two separate.”

Reasoning that would only make sense to a man. She wouldn’t let him win. “No.”

“Then, let’s call a truce for at least the rest of the flight.”

“No.” If she argued with more than a simple word, he would find a way to negate it. She already felt herself giving in. “You left this morning before I woke up.” She had meant to let that go, but she wanted ammunition and it was sitting right there.

“I wake early. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I wanted to wake beside my husband. Don’t we even get a honeymoon?”

“In the future, I will wake you before I leave our bedroom. I will give you a honeymoon when there is time.”

“That was before. I’m mad now. I don’t want either from you.”

He looked exasperated. She exited the bedroom and returned to her seat.

Demetrius strode to his seat. To her surprise, he moved closer to her. Next to her. Unless she wanted to stand for the rest of the flight, occupy his previous seat next to his advisers and servicemen or return to the bedroom, she was trapped. Trapped in this plane and trapped in this loveless marriage.

Chapter 3

The king of Valencia had been battling brain cancer for two years. Numerous surgeries, chemotherapy and radiation had broken his eighty-year-old body but not the cancer. The king’s imminent death was the Valencian government’s worst-kept secret. Though no media outlets were reporting it, those closest to the king—and Demetrius, via his spies—knew that he had made his peace and was ready.

Emmanuel Floros the First was a man Demetrius respected. Though his personal life was a mess, the king was a fair and honorable man when it came to his politics and his decisions regarding Valencia.

As they drove from the airport to the palace, Demetrius conveyed to Iliana what he thought might be useful information about the king. He hoped to distract her and take off some of the pressure she surely felt from learning she was the king’s daughter and knowing this may be her only shot to get answers from him. She seemed nervous and had been strangely quiet—due in part to punishment for him, no doubt—but given the king’s condition, this visit needed to happen today. Every hour that passed, the window of opportunity closed further.

“The king has had three wives and five children. His first wife gave him three, the second two and his third wife is rumored to be barren. She has been running the country for the past several months. Though she claims she consults the king on matters of importance and relays the information, I suspect the king doesn’t govern much in his current state.”

“I have half siblings.” Iliana sounded mystified.

She wasn’t focused on the politics. She was focused on the heart of the matter. “Yes.”

“I always wanted a sister. I didn’t think I would have one. Are there others like me? Other illegitimate children?”

“None who the king claims,” Demetrius said. The king had slept around on his wives, but it seemed he had been more careful with other mistresses to ensure they did not become pregnant. “Your father and the king were boyhood friends. The king knew you would be safe with him, and, to ensure that, he cut ties with your father completely.”

Her eyes darkened with anger. “Safe from whom?”

“Your half brothers and sisters. The king’s wives. Any number of interested parties would want the king’s love child dead. The king has land and holdings to be divided among his wives and children. Though his first two wives were given large settlements after their divorces, they will receive small parcels of land as tradition dictates because they are the mothers of his children.”

Iliana stared out the window with a faraway look in her eyes. “I should get nothing. I have no claim.”

“The king has named you in his will.” Her eyes swerved to meet his, and he felt the heat and passion in them. He loved that she lived so vibrantly, so fervidly.

“How do you know so much about the king’s will?” she asked.

Demetrius heard the anger in her words. That he had expected, but he had not expected to care as much as he did about her feelings. He usually made decisions, and dissention was ignored. He found it harder to follow that policy with Iliana. “I have a friend in the court system who keeps me informed on these matters.” Since the king had mentioned his illegitimate daughter years earlier, in passing, during a drunken poker game, Demetrius had considered how he could leverage that information to help his brother. Demetrius’s friendship with the king had been precipitated by Demetrius needing influence in Valencia for Alexei.

Little by little, Demetrius had acquired the information about the king’s as yet publically unrecognized daughter until he had gathered enough details to locate Iliana.

“You knew about me before we met. That’s why you were so interested. All that attention you gave me, the time you spent with me and the words you said to me, it was all leading to this.”