“The Dowager Princess’s guests have arrived, Your Majesty,” Ewan Courtland, his aide-de-camp announced, appearing from nowhere with his usual brisk efficiency.

“So I’ve gathered,” Angus answered dryly, without putting down the financial newspaper he was reading, or making any other move to respond. “I think I’ll take that second cup of coffee now, Ewan.”

He noticed the telltale tic of disapproval in the older man’s cheek even as he complied by pouring a stream of rich black liquid from the silver coffee jug into his cup.

If his mother was so concerned with finding a suitable princess for Lektenstaten to bring guests to his home—all of them, in London or in Lektenstaten—she could very well perform the meet-and-greets herself.

After something like half a dozen potential brides in ten days, Angus was over it. Besides, he had more important issues on his mind, like approving a contract which was waiting on his desk for his signature, or appointing the new Prime Minister, since after the general election, no political party won the majority of the seats. And to say he was not very inclined to appoint the leader of the party with the most seats was an understatement.

And then there was Siobhan. He had yet to have a chance to take her on a proper date and get to know her. She remained an erotic mystery. The night he’d spent with her might as well have been with a succubus. In all those hours together, they’d barely talked. But physically, they were totally in sync and spoke the same language.

Ewan hovered impatiently while Angus took a sip of the fragrant coffee.

“And your guests, Sir? Your mother is waiting.”

Angus took his time replacing the cup on its saucer before leaning back in his chair. “Isn’t it time we gave up this wife-hunting charade, Ewan? I don’t think I can bear to meet another pretty young thing and her ambitious stage mother.”

Angus had never been with a woman who didn’t want to profit from being with him in some way. Even as a teenager he had been the target of elaborate female stratagems designed to attract his interest and entrap him. He had learned at a young age that sex was invariably offered in the expectation that the act of sharing his bed would be rewarded with frequent bouts of financial generosity.

And then there were the women who didn’t primarily want his money, but who had their social ambitions squarely set on marrying him and using his ancient name and royal lineage to gain entry to the most exclusive and privileged stratum of Lektenstaten society.

But during each of his mother’s introductions to the presumable best Lektenstaten had to offer, all he could think of was Siobhan.

No way was he letting her walk away from him now. In the most basic terms and on a level that appealed to his every atavistic masculine fiber, she was his discovery and creation.

He ruffled through the invitations Ewan had put on his table that morning and found the one he was looking for—a small dinner to promote Lektenstaten tourism—handing it to his aide-de-camp.

“Tell the Dowager Princess I already left to London about one hour ago on business.”

“But, Sir! She knows what time your flight is.”

He shrugged. Being a sovereign has its perks. “Order the jet ready. I am leaving as soon as François packs my luggage.”

And he planned to surprise Siobhan by stopping by her place when the party ended. A night with her would be the perfect remedy for his tedious reality.

* * *

Siobhan was aware Lektenstaten was a tiny principality encroached somewhere in the mountains between Austria and Switzerland. But she never knew it was so lovely.

As she refilled crystal glasses with water, she surreptitiously watched a tourism video where a woman talked about the wonders of the place, against a shifting backdrop where what looked like a fairy-tale palace lit up against the night sky.

When the lights went on after the video ended, her attention was drawn straight to the tall, long-haired man at the main table. Angus!

He commanded the scene, sheathed in a superbly tailored black pinstripe suit, the very epitome of manly and powerful elegance—with a touch of rebellion from his overly long hair flowing around him.

And he had a beautiful blonde draped all over him.

In mute distress, Siobhan approached his table and poured water in his glass.

“Thank you,” Angus said, not even dignifying to look at whomever was serving him water.

She’d been walking around for days on clouds of happiness. Those clouds had poofed beneath her feet in that instant.

Shame at her own stupidity heated her face and she retreated from the room, too shocked to do otherwise.

Allen had said nothing about the main guest having a companion—he knew that discretion was the better part of business success—but with the way the woman was acting, it was clear that she was Angus’s new bed-warmer. And that’s all I was.

He had been nothing but cool to her since their one night together; she should have taken the hint. Had she been thinking rationally, she might have seen it sooner. But his essence in her mind left no room for rationality. He had crawled into her blood, driving her mad with his memory, with his absence.

She’d known she would never be more than a short-term distraction for him and she could live with that, but, dammit, she wasn’t prepared to let it end just yet, not when such a short time ago he hadn’t so much as asked her, but told her he would see her again.

Why would he want to be with a waitress like me, who lives in a forsaken place, when he clearly has his pick of society’s brightest and prettiest? Her stomach churned, the taste of bile bitter in her mouth as she put the tray on the kitchen counter. No wonder he changed his mind.

The sooner she was away from the house and the sooner there was no risk of her running into the man who’d so unceremoniously thrown her out of his life, then the sooner this damned queasiness would settle down.

What was I thinking? Siobhan yanked herself back from that thought with a mental slap to the head. What am I doing here?

Lektenstaten embassy was the last place on earth she wanted to be. Knowing she’d just served Angus and his latest love interest made it doubly so.

Without a second thought, she grabbed her bag and left.

* * *

Since the moment Angus had walked into the dinner party, Caroline Marine—or whatever was the name of the beautiful, annoying, and sticky blonde seated by his side—had thrown herself at him with an enthusiasm that any sex-starved male would have reveled in. A matrimonial torpedo, fired at him by his mother, no doubt.

Unhappily, Angus discovered his seething libido was stubbornly impervious to the woman’s attributes. His hull was impenetrable.

He still wanted Siobhan and it seemed no other woman would do.

He had no sympathy for these women, these carefully selected marriage prospects, who seemed so keen for the opportunity to parade in front of him like some choice cut of meat. All so they might secure marriage to a near perfect stranger and, through it, the title of princess.

So, his attention was focused one hundred percent on what the Lektenstaten Secretary of Tourism was saying, totally ignoring the blonde by his side.

He was so irritated with his mother, he decided that instead of visiting Siobhan as he had previously intended, he was going back to Lekten tonight, and stopping by his mother’s private rooms he was going to have a small chat with her. A chat where he did all of the talking, and she, the listening.

* * *

Catriona gave an exasperated sigh, her attention on a recently arrived invitation card. “We’ve been through this. Lektenstaten needs an heir. That is indisputable. How are you to achieve this without a wife? We are simply trying to expedite the process.”

“By turning my home into some kind of ghastly reality game show? My life into some kind of experiment?” He raked his hand through his hair. “I don’t think I can bear to meet another pretty young thing.”

“Lady Caroline Marine Bourbon D’Alburquerque,” she began, sounding suitably put out on the young woman’s behalf, “can hardly be written off as some pretty young thing. She has an impeccable background and her family have been nobles for centuries. She is eminently qualified for the role as Lektenstaten’s princess.”

“And what good is it for her to be eminently qualified if I don’t want her?”

“How do you know you don’t want her if you don’t give yourselves a chance to get better acquainted?”

Because I want Siobhan.

“Madam,” he said icily, raising a haughty brow. “Do you presume to know me better than I know myself?”

His tone caught her attention. She ripped her attention away from the invitation to narrow her eyes at him with a cold fury to match his own.

“Do you presume to be more complicated than other men?”

“How simple do you assume other men to be?”

She stood, pulling herself up to her full regal height, managing to stare down her nose at him in spite of her shorter stature.

“A warm body in the bed, a warm meal on the table, and a bit of work to distract the mind. What more do you need?”

I need that quick wit, those blazingly intelligent green eyes, and that mysterious aura of innocence… Angus shook his head, chasing Siobhan’s image from it. She had become an intense, grinding distraction, constantly hovering in the back of his mind. He needed to see her, and soon. First, though, to deal with the problem at hand.

“What I need, you cannot provide. Not you, and not your parade of grasping, vapid broodmares. I am finished with this charade, Mother. Leave your candidates where you found them, I will not see them.”

Her eyes darkened with fury; a fury she contained with icy formality. She recovered herself with practiced efficiency, her expression softening into a mimicry of sympathetic indulgence.

“We shall see,” she said nonchalantly. “We shall see.”