Simon was half an hour early for his meeting with Danovar’s head of security, but that was okay, because he’d brought some reading material to keep him busy. A cloud of dust erupted when he set the stack of books—all of which were at least a hundred years old, and most of which hadn’t been cracked in nearly as long—on the table in front of him. Some people dealt with anxiety by turning to alcohol or drugs or junk food, but not Simon. The more nervous he was, the higher his stack of books got. At this point he could probably build a killer fort out of all the ancient tomes he’d borrowed from Escona’s royal library. He was lucky his flight back home had been on a private jet, otherwise he’d have had to pay a fortune in excess luggage fees.

He pulled down the book on top of the stack—Dynastes Laws of the Seventeenth Century—and flipped through to the section regarding the timeline for succession. The laws in here were the whole reason he and Pen had to get married in such a rush. The Advancing of Dynastes Law of 1645 stated that the Queen had to be married by age thirty, but couldn’t get married for a year after her coronation. With her birthday only a few months away, time was ticking.

Although he’d already read the entire text of the law twice already, he slipped his reading glasses on and carefully read it again. He wanted to be absolutely certain he understood all the legal and historical implications of what he was about to do before the reading of the royal banns and the engagement portraits later today. After that was done, the whole world would know about his commitment to marry Pen, and he always followed through on his commitments. Before reaching that point of no return he wanted to be as prepared as possible. This was possibly the biggest decision of his life, after all.

The door creaked open behind him. “Good old Simon, nose buried in the books again,” said a deep voice in a lilting Danovian accent. A head full of long blond hair poked into view: Phillip, moving a stack of books off a chair to sit at his cousin’s side. He looked good, Simon noted—easy smile, blue eyes bright, leaning back to put his feet up on the table like they belonged there. Matrimony apparently agreed with the King of Danovar.

“Just trying to make sure I understand all the relevant laws,” Simon answered, slipping his reading glasses off and glancing at the clock. He’d gotten so lost in the text that half an hour had already flew by, and it was nearly time for the meeting.

The door opened again and Drake, Phillip’s head of security, slipped in. “Your Majesty, Duke Stuart,” he greeted them, then held out a thick manila folder to Simon. “The information you requested. I’ll give you the full rundown of everything I could gather, but time was a bit tight—there were some rumors about Nathaniel I would’ve liked to chase down more fully before our meeting. They’re likely not relevant, though.”

Simon took the folder. “Thank you, Drake, this looks very thorough.”

Phillip raised his brow. “What’s this now?”

Drake answered for him, as Simon was already absorbed in his new reading material. “Penelope Alcott’s personal and public history and her royal legitimacy, along with information on every Esconian monarch from the last two decades,” the guard said.

Phillip turned back to his cousin. “You’re researching your fiancée?” Simon made a vague affirmative noise in response, trying not to lose his place. Phillip shook his head and pulled out his phone, swiping the screen up and opening a rugby app. “Good thing I’m just here for moral support,” he said as today’s big game started playing.

Simon divided his attention over the next twenty minutes between the game—he and Phillip tried to watch together whenever they could, which was why he’d invited his cousin to the meeting—the folder, and Drake’s dry but insightful presentation. When the head of security was done he saw himself out, and Phillip and Simon lapsed into silence as the game escalated.

Simon winced when a fist fight broke out between the players. “Oof, Laurence has got to learn to watch his back around that skinny flanker.” He turned a page in the folder and shook his head. “And speaking of people to watch out for, Pen’s uncle Nathaniel sure is a piece of work. Did you see some of these conspiracy theories he crafted into policy while he was King? It got pretty ridiculous. Her other uncle, Forbush, did a much better job when he was on the throne before that. Pity about the law that forced him to abdicate once he decided to marry his husband, though.” He glanced at his pile of books. “Although if I’m not mistaken, Parliament finally abolished that ridiculous bit of outdated legislation last year. Too late for Forbush, but future heirs will have more freedom, at least.” Future heirs. His and Penelope’s children. The thought felt too big, and he flipped deeper into the folder, trying to distract himself.

Phillip glanced up from the game with a frown. “Why do you even need to do that research? Checking into the line of inheritance seems a bit unnecessary—don’t you think Escona would’ve triple-checked that they were handing their crown to the right person before they told Penelope she was next up?”

Simon sighed. “I’m sure they did,” he admitted, “but I just want to make absolutely sure I’m as prepared as possible for everything about the coronation and marriage. This is a huge commitment.”

“But you’re making sure you’re as prepared as possible in every way, right?”

“What do you mean?” Simon squinted at the piles of books surrounding him, suddenly worried he’d missed something.

“I mean not everything can be solved by researching it to death. Instead of being worried Escona’s legions of lawyers missed something, maybe you should be wooing your future wife. All the laws in the kingdom won’t do you any good if she kicks you out on the first day.”

Simon stopped squinting at his books and looked up, startled.

Phillip sighed and pulled his feet off the table, folding his hands in his lap as he considered his words. “I know you’ve been searching for your place lately,” he said. “And I know Danovar hasn’t really provided you with a true home and security the way you’ve wanted. But might I suggest that the best way to attain all of that is to focus on making Penelope happy, rather than on the crown?”

Making Penelope happy. He knew some ways he’d like to make her happy, for sure. His gaze went unfocused as he remembered the way she’d looked when he’d walked into that sitting room last week—that mass of untamed dark curls tumbling over her burnished-bronze shoulders, those big, dark eyes, the way her unusual dress showed off those traditional Esconian features. He could still picture the way her crimson lips wrapped around his name. He’d wanted to kiss her right then and there, pick her up and press her against the wall and see those gorgeous lips part in ecstasy as she moaned for him. And soon, hopefully, they would both enjoy a night like that. But right now, doing this research was the best way to support her. He knew she lacked confidence in her ability to rule. He could bolster her by spending his time poring over her country’s laws and traditions and history, not by unnecessarily romancing her.

“Pen knows that’s a low priority right now,” Simon said, brushing off Phillip’s concern. “She needs me to be a strong king, and this research is how I get there.”

The on-screen fight broke up and the rugby players got back to the game. Phillip let the conversation drop as Simon went back to the folder, but even as he read, he couldn’t quite get his mind off the picture of Pen in that dress, and how Pen might look under the dress, and exactly what techniques he might employ to ascertain those details.

He shook himself out of the thought. Sexy daydreams—and hopefully, their fulfillment—were for later, after they were married and stable.

Still, though, he had the feeling that Penelope Alcott would be a hard woman to get off his mind.