Convenient Bride For The King

‘I thought you’d lost your mind,’ she said when only a handful of guests remained and he came to congratulate her on the evening’s success. ‘Not even you could justify that amount of money for a lesser Vermeer.’

‘But for you I tried.’

His smile reminded her of young boys and frog ponds and sultry, still evenings, back when Theo’s parents had still been alive. Augustus had always caught his frogs with quick efficiency and, once examined, had let them go. Theo, on the other hand, had revelled in the chase. He’d been far more interested in which way they jumped and where they might try to hide than in actually catching them. To this day, Moriana didn’t know what that said about either Theo or her brother.

‘Are you ready for that drink yet?’ he asked.

‘What drink?’

‘The one we’re going to have tonight, when you graciously reconsider my proposal.’

‘Oh, that drink. We’re not having that drink any time soon. You’re getting a form letter rejection in the post, remember?’

‘You wouldn’t.’

‘I did. You’ll receive it tomorrow, unless you’re still here. I assume Augustus has offered you palace hospitality?’

Theo inclined his head.

Of course. ‘Then perhaps you should find him. I’m about to retire for the evening.’

‘You said you’d give me five minutes of your time.’

‘I said nothing of the sort. And yet here I am. Giving you my time.’ If she’d worn a watch she’d have glanced at it.

‘I gave you a fight when you needed one earlier.’ Since when had his voice been able to lick at her like flames? ‘I didn’t want to, but I did. Here’s what I want in return. One kiss. Here or in private. Put your hands on me, just once. You have my permission. I’ll even keep mine to myself. And if you don’t like touching and kissing me I’ll withdraw my pursuit at once. Does that not sound fair and honest? Am I being unjust?’

Gone was the teasing menace of her childhood and the reckless philanderer of her youth. In their place stood a man in pursuit, confident and dangerous.

He’d been waiting for her when she’d finished her speech, approval in his eyes and a glass of champagne in hand that he handed to her. Faultlessly attentive. Silently supportive.

Tell me what you need.

A fight. A snarl. Barbed compliments. His attention. Something other than rejection to focus on.

‘One drink. One kiss,’ he murmured. ‘Do you need to collect a coat of some sort? Because I’m ready to leave.’

‘Why would I leave with you? Why would I indulge you in this?’

‘Because I have something you want. Several somethings.’

‘No, you don’t. If you had anything I wanted, I’d be giving your proposal all due consideration.’

‘Position.’ His eyes never left her face.

‘Yawn.’ She was Princess of Arun.

‘Passion. You’ve never felt it but you want it, nonetheless.’

‘Maybe.’ She was honest enough to concede his point. ‘But you’re not the only man to inspire passion in a woman. Plenty do. I can find passion without you.’

His eyes flashed silver.

‘Temper, temper,’ she said.

‘Commitment,’ he offered next.

‘We all exercise that. I’m already committed to various causes, not to mention my country and my family. Some would say I’m blindly overcommitted to many things and receive little in return, and they’re probably right. Commitment is overrated.’

His eyes never left her face. ‘Commitment to you.’

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