Grace sat in the glider, her baby at her breast. The calming hormones that surged through her bloodstream as her milk let down were a balm to her battered soul.

She was a married woman. It was ridiculous and unbelievable, and the numbness that had kept her feelings at bay throughout the ceremony slunk to the floor like a shadow.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the otherwise empty room. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. Hell, she wasn’t even sure who she was apologizing to.

Her child?

Her lover?

Herself?

Her hold tightened on the baby in her arms. “I’m not sorry for you. I could never be sorry for you.” In that moment, she ached for her lover with a physical pain.

She wished he were here, but hadn’t she wished that very thing every moment of every day since he disappeared? There must’ve been some mistake, some misunderstanding, some horribly important reason he’d needed to go. They loved each other.

Of this, she was certain.

But her confidence had been battered by the months that followed, in the moments he had missed, the birth of their baby, and the embarrassment of coming home without him.

Her father’s words rang out in her head. A bastard. That’s what everyone else is going to call him.

And what of her lover? What if he was alive and planned to come to her, only to discover she’d married another man just weeks after his child was born? She looked at her sweet son at her breast and touched his soft hair lightly with her finger. “He would have loved you.”

Without Mason in her life, everything else ceased to be important. It didn’t matter that she was married to a stranger. The only thing that mattered now was that she had her son and she had done her duty to keep her country safe.

Now she could hunker down and hide inside these walls that had once felt like a prison. Lick her wounds and pray for the healing she feared would never come.

A knock at the door made her sigh, and she reached for a small blanket to cover herself. Her intense desire to be alone would not be so easily satisfied. “Come in.”

Matteo stood in the doorway and she took her first good look at him. He was tall, far taller than she, with wide shoulders tapering to slim hips and a white smile that glowed against his caramel-colored skin. She wondered about his heritage. Maybe Latino, maybe something else.

“I’m sorry, do you want some privacy?” he asked.

She bit her lip. “It’s okay. Come on in.” She gestured toward a chair comically far to her right and held her breath, relieved when he crossed to it and sat down. “What’s up?”

“Your father wanted me to let you know there’s going to be a reception for us this evening.”

“What?” The last thing on earth she felt like doing was showing off her new husband. She couldn’t even remember his last name, but her father expected her to introduce him around? To put a smile on her face and pretend for a formal audience?

She was suddenly so tired she couldn’t even imagine doing what was being asked of her.

“I’m sorry, Grace. Personally, I would have put it off a few days, but no one asked me for my opinion.”

The numbness was back, spreading over her body and brain. She narrowed her eyes. “This charade is so surreal. You could ask me to pretend to be a talking dinosaur and I might find it easier than this.”

“Don’t make it more complicated than it has to be. We just need to be friends. Couldn’t you use a friend?”

She blew out air. “I don’t need a friend; I need a savior.”

“Why?”

She shook her head. “Never mind.” Cold air on her wet nipple made her peek beneath the blanket. The baby was fast asleep, his mouth lightly open and a perfect cupid’s bow. But her other breast was hard and full of milk, and she needed him to keep nursing before her engorgement became painful.

Dammit.

She should have been paying attention.

Made him switch sides before he became full. Her breasts were making too much milk, and she had specific instructions on how she needed to feed her baby.

You can’t even do that right.

There was another knock at the door.

She cursed under her breath. “Come in.”

A woman in a maid’s uniform opened the door, her eyes going sheepishly to Matteo. “I’m Trudy, Miss Grace’s maid. I understand you two were married in Switzerland. You have my congratulations. I’m so excited for your reception this evening.”

Grace felt her heart sink. It had been a long day, perhaps one of the longest in her memory, and the very last thing she felt like doing was being the center of attention in a crowd of people.

And she would have to pretend to care about this man, as if just breathing in and out were not difficult enough today.

“Maybe you could recommend a dress for me to wear,” suggested Grace.

The girl’s eyes lit. “Oh, I’d love that! Maybe the cream organza, or the aquamarine satin from France.”

“Whatever you think is best. Something forgiving, please. My body isn’t yet my own.”

“Of course, Miss.”

The door closed and Grace stared at it. “What are we going to do?” she asked, the idea of the evening ahead weighing on her like a boulder on her back.

“We try to look happy.”

Grace picked up the sleeping baby and gently put him in his crib. “And if I’m not up to the task?”

“Then I’ll help you.”

He sounded sincere and she was grateful this stranger-turned-husband might actually make this situation easier.

She bit her lip as an image popped into her mind. Wedding guests clinking silverware on glasses to get the couple to kiss. She felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. “What if they expect us to kiss? They do that at wedding receptions.”

“They do.”

“We don’t even know each other. No offense, but I wasn’t planning on kissing you.”

“No offense taken. I wasn’t planning on kissing you either.”

She ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know what my father was thinking. People are going to take one look at us together and know we’re completely full of shit.”

And then what would happen? She needed her country to believe this was real. Anything that threw her marriage into question could hurt her father’s chances of winning the election. With the recent terrorist attacks, he needed every point in the polls he could get.

“Then we’ll have to do better,” he said.

“What do you suggest?”

“You do want people to believe us, right? Because right now you’re acting like you’d rather give up.”

“It’s important for this country that my father is elected. I’ll do what I have to do to make sure that happens.”

He moved toward her. “Then you’re going to have to try harder to act like you like me. Your body language around me is all wrong. If we were really married, you’d want to stand close to me. Hold my hand. Stuff like that.”

The back of her neck was getting hot. “I’m not sure what you’re suggesting.”

He moved again so he was standing directly in front of her, and her heart began to skip with anxiety.

“I think we should practice,” he said.

“What?”

“Being more intimate. We could practice kissing if you’re comfortable with that.”

She didn’t like the sound of that at all. Given that there was zero affection between them, she’d rather kiss a post. “I don’t kiss strangers.”

He took a step toward her. “What about strangers who just happen to be your husband? Technically speaking, of course.”

His eyes were dark, his stare intense, and it made her shake inside. “Especially those.”

He held his hands up. “It will make it less awkward when we go downstairs. But if you don’t want to, that’s fine with me. I don’t care either way.”

Now she felt stupid. He was right. They would look more like a couple if they acted like one. She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let’s just kiss and get it over with.”

“Well, now I feel vulnerable and a little taken for granted.”

He was making fun of her. She felt the corners of her mouth curl into a smile despite her desire to stop them. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m a little funny.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I could be a world-renowned comedian and you wouldn’t even know it.”

“Will you just kiss me already?”

He cocked his head to the side. “I don’t usually kiss women on the first date.”

She hit him in the chest with a backhanded slap. “Just kiss me, Matteo!”