IT WAS THE headline the next morning. That Prince Felipe Carrión de la Viña Cortez was engaged to the long-lost Princess of Verloren. He assumed it was not the best way for the king and queen to discover that he had found their daughter, but he was going to send them an invitation to the engagement party so they could hardly be too upset.
Though he didn’t think they would come. No, they would assume that it was some kind of trap, of course. It would take time. It would take time for anybody to trust that he wasn’t as conniving as his father.
Starting with the kidnapping of a princess was perhaps not the best opening move, all things considered. But that was one thing that he and Briar were going to have to discuss.
He flung the doors to her bedchamber open, unfazed by the gasp and eruption of movement that resulted. He saw nothing but a flash of curl and a blur of brown skin as she dashed behind a changing screen.
“I’m not dressed!”
“And I’m your fiancé,” he said. “Which is exactly what I came to speak to you about. You cannot behave this way in my presence. I cannot have the world thinking that I forced you into this.”
She poked her head out from the side of the divider. “But you did.”
“Sure. But we’re not going to advertise that, are we? It undermines my aim for building bridges between nations.”
“Well, God forbid you could build an actual bridge,” she said, disappearing behind the divider again. He heard the rustle of clothes.
“Don’t dress on my account.”
She made an exasperated sound then appeared a moment later wearing a black pencil skirt and a bright green crop top. She was stunning. She had been from the beginning, but the new wardrobe, the makeover, provided to her by his staff, had truly brought out the uncommonness of her beauty. It had elevated her from mere beauty to someone who would turn heads everywhere she went.
Exactly what he wanted in a queen.
He enjoyed her ability to stand up to him, as well. Had she no spine at all he would have kept her, certainly, but it would have been a much greater trial. It would have made him think too much of his mother.
And he knew where that ended.
“I’m not going to stand in front of you in my underwear.”
“You will eventually.”
She paled slightly. “Well. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“The bridge you just accused me of not building?”
“It’s a different bridge, obviously.”
“Just clarifying. I wish to give you a tour of the castle.”
She looked startled by that. “Why?”
“Because you live here. And you will live here for the foreseeable future. Don’t you want a tour of your home?”
“I guess it’s practical. But I don’t know why you’re giving it to me.”
“I am going to be your husband. And we are going to be required to make a great many public appearances together. You will have to learn to act as though my presence doesn’t disgust you.”
“I was never a very good liar,” she said, looking at him with those fathomless dark eyes, her expression almost comically serene.
“Well, get better at it.” He extended his arm. “Shall we?”
She accepted the offered arm slowly, curving her fingers around him as though she thought he was a poisonous serpent. Something about that light, tentative touch sent a shock of heat through his body.
That electricity that had been there from the moment he had seen her pulsed through him with renewed strength. She had been quite pitiful after her accident, and that—along with the logistics of convincing her to marry him—had pushed some of that attraction onto the back burner. But he was reminded now. With ferocity. He was also reminded that it had been a very long time since he’d had a woman in his bed. He had been too focused on getting all the pieces in play to see to the typical pleasures he filled his time with.
“You’ve seen the dining room already,” he said, indicating the room to their left. “My chambers are that way. My father is kept in another wing entirely, and you have no reason to ever set foot in that part of the palace.” The old man might be incapacitated, but he still didn’t want Briar anywhere near his father.
The shock of protectiveness that slammed into his chest surprised him. Briar—as far as he was concerned—was a means to an end. He did not have particularly strong feelings about her. But he did have particularly strong feelings about his father and the sort of influence he wielded over women. He didn’t want that old man to put one drop of poison into Briar’s ear. Not when he knew full well that it was the sort of poison that could be fatal.
“I don’t think I want to, all things considered.” She hesitated for a moment. “He’s really dying?”
“Any day now, truly. His body has been failing him for quite some time. There is no hope left. Nothing to be done. Just waiting for him to choke on his spite and bile.”
“You don’t sound...sad at all.”
“I’m not. I thought I had made that perfectly clear. I hate my father. I’m not simply ambivalent toward him. I loathe him. My legacy shall be upending his.”
She said nothing to that, though she shifted to the side of him, the soft swell of her breast brushing up against his biceps. A simple touch, one that would have barely registered had it been any other woman. At any other moment. But he was going to marry this woman.
For the first time, that part of the plan truly settled in his mind. She would be the mother of his children. And he would need her to be...happy. That had not been part of the plan when he had first conceived it. He had not considered her happiness—her feelings of any sort—when he had decided that he needed to bring her here and make her his. Why would he? Considering that would run counter to his objective. He didn’t like anything getting in the way of his objective.
And considering it now had nothing to do with the goodness of his heart. If he possessed a heart he very much doubted it had any goodness in it. But she would give birth to his children, and she would need to be there for them. He knew too well the alternative.
Suddenly, the promise of art programs was much more than simple bribery. “I meant what I said,” he said. “About the art collection. About the programs. You will be in charge of those. You can appoint an entire team to help you with teaching, with organization. I will give you a very generous budget. The country has fallen on difficult financial times under my father’s rule, but I have made billions on my own. And I have kept it all out of the country, tightly under my control so my father couldn’t get his hands on any of it. But that will change once he’s gone.”
She stopped walking, looking at him, her expression full of confusion. “Why are you giving me this? It’s for your country, right? It isn’t for me.”
“My aim is not for you to be miserable.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I know what it’s like to exist beneath the rule of a totalitarian regime. My father was a dictator to the country, but he was even worse to those who lived under his roof. It will not be so, not in my house. I will not subject my wife or my children to such things.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Children.”
“Of course we will have children. The single most important act for a ruler is to produce an heir, is it not?”
“I... I suppose. I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“Of course you haven’t. You were raised as a commoner. But it is a requirement. I have to carry on my line.”
She frowned. “But I... But we...”
“Do you not want children?”
She frowned. “I... I do. I... Things are different now, because I’m going to meet my parents. My biological parents. But I always wanted someone in my life that I shared a genetic bond with. Which is silly. It doesn’t matter. Blood doesn’t matter. All that matters is that somebody loves you. And my parents—the ones that raised me—they love me. But still.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he said. “I’m a man entirely driven by the need for vengeance. I’m hardly going to call your motives into question.”
“Yes, I want children. But I didn’t anticipate having them... Now. Or with...” She was blushing. Her cheeks turning a dusky rose.
“With me?” He finished for her.
“Well. Yes. You’re a stranger.”
“I won’t be. By that point.” They wandered down the long hall, and all the way to a pair of blue, gilded double doors that were firmly closed. “This is where we will hold the ball where we celebrate our upcoming nuptials.” He flung them open then reached out for her this time. “Come with me, Princess.”
She took his hand reluctantly, but eventually curved her delicate fingers around his. He smiled. He knew full well how to put people at ease, but he hadn’t done the best job with her since that first day. Since that first moment.
He would do well to charm her. She would certainly be happier. And he knew how to charm women. He had been told a great many times that he was very good at it. And, if the notches on his bedpost were any indicator, it was the truth. It would not cost him to turn on that part of himself for this woman.
Now that he had her, now the she had agreed...
“Do you know how to dance?”
She laughed. “Of course I do. I had an entire...coming out.”
“A debutante?”
“Yes.”
“You really are excellent. And your parents did a wonderful job raising you. Because they knew that this would ultimately be where you’d land.”
She frowned. “Well. If what you say is true, then they hoped I would end up back in my country and not in yours at all.”
“Perhaps.” He shifted their positions, keeping hold of her hand, then he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her up against him. “Would you care to practice?”
Her dark eyes widened, her full lips falling open. “I don’t need to practice.”
“The world will be watching when we take our first dance as a couple. It is not enough to simply know how to dance. You have to know how to move with me.” And with that, with no music playing and no sound in the room but their feet moving over the glossy marble, he swept her into the first step of a waltz.
She followed beautifully, her movements graceful, but her expression spoke far too readily of her feelings.
He leaned in slightly. “You must work at looking as though my touch doesn’t disgust you.”
As he spoke the words, he realized that he must work at making sure his touch didn’t disgust her. Yes, the relationship had started with force, but there was no reason it could not be mutually satisfying. Oh, there would never be any love, nothing like that. He didn’t believe in the emotion. Even if he did, he wasn’t capable of feeling it. But they could have a reasonable amount of companionship.
They could certainly have more than violence and death. Than aching loss. Yes, they could have more than that.
He moved his hand slowly down the curve of her waist, settling it more firmly on her hip. She looked up at him, her dark gaze meeting his, the confusion there evident. He knew why she was confused. She didn’t find his touch repellent at all. And she couldn’t figure out why.
“Don’t feel bad,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “I’m very experienced at this. I promise you I could take you from shouting at me in anger to screaming my name in pleasure in only a few moments.”
Color suffused her cheeks and she tried to pull away from him. He held her firmly. Didn’t let her leave. Kept on dancing. “You’re ashamed of that. Of the fact that you enjoy me touching you.” He was fascinated by that. That somebody would waste one moment being ashamed of something that brought them pleasure. He’d had very little of it in his childhood, and he could admit that he had possibly gone overboard with it once he had gotten out from beneath his father’s roof. Once he had discovered women. Once he had discovered that, as profoundly terrible as his father could make him feel, a woman’s hands on his skin, a soft touch, could make him feel that much better.
But whether or not it had been too much, he didn’t regret it. No. He never let himself regret feeling good.
“I don’t understand,” she said, her voice flat, not bothering to deny the accusation.
“There’s very little to understand with chemistry, querida. And there is very little point in fighting ours. We are to be married, after all.” Her flush deepened and she looked away from him. “Did you imagine that you would be a martyr in my bed? I promise you, you could start out as serene and filled with sacrifices as Joan of Arc, but in the end, when I made you burn, it would not be in the way you’re thinking.”
“You’re so arrogant,” she said, her voice vibrating with some strong emotion he couldn’t place. “Assuming that I’m not comfortable with this because I feel shame. It didn’t occur to you that maybe—just maybe—I’m not feeling exactly what you think?”
“Sorry,” he said, knowing he didn’t sound apologetic in the least. “But you’re a little too late in your denial. And even if your words haven’t already betrayed you, your body betrays you, Princess. Your eyes...” He lifted his hand, tracing a line just beneath her left eye. “They’ve gotten darker looking at me, your pupils expanding. This speaks of arousal, did you know?”
She swallowed visibly. “My eyes are dark. I sincerely doubt you noticed anything of the kind.”
“All right. Then let’s move on. There is color in your cheeks. You’re blushing.”
“Perhaps I’m angry. Maybe that’s why.”
“I suspect you’re angry, as well. More at yourself than at me.” He moved his thumb down the curve of her cheek, to her lower lip, sliding it slowly over that soft, lush skin. “You’re trembling here. And your breathing... It has grown very shallow. Quick.”
“And that,” she said, her voice unsteady now, “could be fear.”
“Yes. But you don’t strike me as the kind of woman who scares easily.”
“I don’t suppose being hit by a taxi and kidnapped, then taken half a world away, scaring me, would qualify as scaring easily.”
He laughed. “No. I don’t suppose it would. Still...” He moved his thumb even slower across her lower lip. “I don’t think you’re afraid of me. I think you’re afraid of what you might do.” He moved in slowly and she sucked in a sharp breath, drawing backward. “Yes. You’re afraid of what you might want. That’s the scary thing, isn’t it? Knowing that I’m not Prince Charming. Knowing that I am the monster. And wanting me anyway. That does make you unique. Most women only know the surface. Most of them have not had the pleasure of being kidnapped by me. They want the facade. You know what’s underneath and you want me still. I wonder...”
A strange sense of disquiet filled his chest and he did his best to ignore it. He couldn’t afford to be growing a conscience now. Couldn’t afford to be concerned with her or her feelings. He needed to seduce her. She was supposed to be his wife, after all. He was hardly going to live in a sexless marriage. Then again, he wasn’t entirely sure he was going to remain faithful during the course of their marriage. That would depend. On a great many factors. Namely what would keep the peace in the palace. It was entirely possible that she would not want all of his attentions focused on her.
But as he had realized only a few minutes ago, her happiness was going to have to come into consideration. Something new, and strange. Needing to care about the emotions of another person. If only to keep her from... Well. He had no desire to repeat the sins of his father. That was as far as he would go with that line of thinking today.
“What do you wonder?” she asked. It was strange that she seemed to be asking the question genuinely. That she did not seem to be teasing or testing him. He had a very limited amount of experience with people who were genuine in any fashion. But Briar seemed genuine. She was sharp, and she possessed a rather whip-smart wit. But even so, there was something...well, something untested about her. Young. Innocent. In his circle, in his world, there were very few innocent people. Everyone was guilty of something.
He supposed eventually he would find out what she was guilty of. Because there was no way she was everything she seemed on the surface. Nobody was.
Still. The way she asked the question...
“I wonder if it would be the same for anyone,” he said, his voice hard. “Perhaps you’re not unique. Perhaps any woman, faced with the possibility of marrying a prince who was set to become a king, given the chance to be a queen, would overlook the fact that I’m a bit...beastly.”
“I’m not looking anything over,” she pointed out. “You’re holding quite a few things hostage—including me—in order to get me to agree to the marriage.”
He found himself oddly relieved by that, and he didn’t know why. “That is true.”
He was still touching her lower lip, and the color in her cheeks was only growing more intense. “You can stop that now,” she said.
“I’m not sure that I want to.”
“Well, I want you to.”
He dropped his hand down to his side. And he was gratified when she let out a long, slow breath that he was certain spoke of disappointment. She wished that he would push harder. She did. Whether she admitted it or not, she did.
“It must be nice,” he said, releasing his hold on her and stepping back from her. “Releasing all responsibility in a situation.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m a kidnapper. A kidnapper, a blackmailer... Well, it’s not a long list, but it is a fairly damning one. You, on the other hand... What are you? Victimized, I suppose. You have no other option but to marry me. And certainly, it benefits you in a great many ways, but you’re able to claim that you’re not actually swayed by the title, by the money...when in fact, you might be.”
“Stop it,” she said. “You’re twisting the situation. It’s bad enough without you adding gaslight.”
He drew back, feeling as though she had slapped him. He was manipulating the situation, and he found that it was something of an impulse on his end. Which ran counter to the fact that he had just realized he needed to do something to make her happy. But he didn’t know how to...have a real conversation. He didn’t know how to do anything other than poke and prod, and attempt to make himself come out with the advantage.
He didn’t know how to connect.
She seemed to. She had asked a question. And it had been genuine. Part of his answer had been, as well.
“Very well,” he said, moving away from her. “We can finish for the day.”
“What else am I supposed to do with my time?”
“Anything you like. Except for returning to New York. But I have informed my staff of the position that you will be filling after our marriage, and it’s possible that you can begin organizing the art collection right away.”
She looked shocked. “I can?”
He waved a hand. “Yes. Why would I prevent you from doing that? It was one of the things I used to bribe you with.”
She blinked. “I suppose so.”
“I don’t want you to be miserable. Sure, the foundation for the marriage might be kidnapping and blackmail, but I don’t see why you can’t enjoy yourself.”
“You know I think that might be the most honest thing you said since we met.”
“What?”
“That you don’t understand why I can’t enjoy myself even though I’ve been blackmailed and kidnapped.”
“The situation is what it is. Make of it what you will. I suppose I will see you again for our engagement party.”
She looked relieved. Relieved that she wouldn’t be seeing him for a while. Well, that was going to have to pass. But there was time.
He turned and walked away from his fiancée, the woman who was wearing his ring, who didn’t even want to be in the same room with him. And he ignored the tightening in his gut and below his belt as he did. She was beautiful, but she wasn’t special.
No woman was. No one person was. He wasn’t sentimental; he didn’t believe in that sort of thing.
But as he walked down the corridor toward his office he had to make a concerted effort to banish the image in his mind of that wide-eyed, genuine look that had been written on her face when she had asked him what he wondered. With nothing but curiosity. Nothing but honesty.
And as he sat down at his desk he did his best to banish the grim thought that her honesty wouldn’t last long. Not with him. That kind of openness, the little bit of innocence that she possessed, would be snuffed out by the darkness inside him.
It was as inevitable as her becoming his queen. And as necessary, as well.
There was nothing that could be done. And he would waste no time feeling guilty about it.
Guilt was for men who could afford to have consciences. He was not one of those men.