A Bride For The Playboy Prince: The perfect royal romance to celebrate Harry and Meghan’s wedding. Sandra Marton
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not only stupid, but self-sacrificing. Maybe she had misjudged the whole situation. She wanted the freedom to be able to return to England but she recognised that she needed Luc’s blessing in order to do so. Wouldn’t he be more amenable to reason if he was physically satisfied?
And wouldn’t she?
He had told her about the ball and he wanted her to wear some of the royal jewels. Couldn’t she embrace her new role as his princess and appear comfortable in it? Wouldn’t he be pleasantly pleased—maybe even proud of her—giving her the perfect opportunity to seduce him? And since Luc showed no sign of coming on to her, she was going to have to be proactive. If she wanted him, then she must show him how much...
She felt the baby stirring inside her, almost as if it were giving her the proverbial thumbs-up, and Lisa felt a sudden warmth creep through her veins. Fired up by a new resolve, she made her way back towards the palace, sunlight streaming onto her bare head. Going straight to her studio, she rang for Eleonora and the aide arrived almost immediately, a questioning look on her smooth face.
Lisa drew a deep breath. ‘Luc told me about the ball. He suggested I might wear some of the crown jewels for the occasion.’
Eleonora gave a bland smile. ‘Indeed. He has already mentioned it to me.’
Lisa didn’t miss a beat, squashing down her indignation. Didn’t matter that he confided in Eleonora, because soon he would be in her arms and confiding in her. ‘Could we go and take a look at them, please? Now? Because I think I’d like to design my outfit around the jewels.’
‘Of course.’
The collection was housed in a section of the palace not far from the art gallery, and Lisa was momentarily startled when she walked into the spotlighted room, where priceless gems sparkled against inky backdrops of black velvet. Her eyes widened at the sheer opulence of the pieces on display. There were glittering waterfalls of diamonds—white ones and pink ones and even citrusy yellow ones, some with matching drop earrings and bracelets. There were sapphires as blue as Luc’s eyes and mysterious milky opals, shot through with rainbows. Lisa was just about to choose a choker of square-cut emeralds when Eleonora indicated a set of drawers at the far end of the room.
‘How about these?’ Eleonora suggested softly, pulling open one of the drawers and beckoning for Lisa to take a closer look.
Lisa blinked. Inside was a flamboyant ruby necklace with glittering stones as big as gulls’ eggs—their claret colour highlighted by the white fire of surrounding diamonds.
‘Oh, my word,’ she breathed. ‘That is the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.’
‘Isn’t it just?’ agreed Eleonora softly as she carefully removed the necklace. ‘It hasn’t been worn for a long time and is probably the most valuable piece in our entire collection. Why not surprise your husband with it?’
The jewels spilled like rich wine over Lisa’s fingers as she took them from the aide, and she could picture exactly the kind of dress to wear with them.
It became a labour of love. Something to work towards. Making her dress for the ball became her secret and she decided it would be her gift to Luc. An olive branch handed to him to make him realise she was prepared to do things differently from now on. That the current situation was far from satisfactory and she’d like to change it. She wanted to be his lover as well as his wife.
‘You are looking very pleased with yourself of late,’ he observed one evening as they walked down the wide marble corridor towards the dining room.
‘Am I?’
‘Mmm.’ His gaze roved over her as a servant opened the doors for them. ‘Actually, you look...blooming.’
‘Thank you.’ She smiled at him. ‘I think that’s how pregnant women are supposed to look.’
Luc inclined his head in agreement, waiting until she’d sat down before taking his seat opposite and observing her remarkable transformation. When she’d first arrived she had looked strung out and her expression had been pinched—something which had not been improved by their unsatisfactory sleeping arrangements. He had briefly considered moving into his old bachelor rooms to give her the peace she so obviously needed. To make her realise that the only thing worse than sharing a bed with him was not sharing a bed with him.
But then some miraculous thaw had occurred. Suddenly, she seemed almost...contented. He heard her humming as she brushed her teeth before bed. He noticed that she’d started reading the Mardovian history book he had given her on the plane. Hungrily, he had watched the luscious thrust of her breasts as she walked into the bedroom with a silken nightdress clinging to every ripe curve of her body, and realised he had nobody but himself to blame for his frustration. He could feel himself growing hard beneath the sheets and had to quickly lie on his belly, willing his huge erection to go away, and he wondered if now was the time to make a move on her. Because his experience with women told him that she would welcome him with open arms...
‘You are excited about the ball?’ he questioned one evening when they were finishing dinner.
‘I’m...looking forward to it.’
His eyes flicked over her. ‘You have something to wear?’
‘You mean...’ on the opposite side of the table she smoothed her hand down over the curve of her belly ‘...something which will fit over my ever-expanding girth? It’s not very attractive, is it?’
‘If you really want to know, I find it very attractive,’ he said huskily.
She stilled, her hand remaining exactly where it was. ‘You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better.’
‘I never say anything I don’t mean.’ He touched the tip of his tongue to his lips to help ease their aching dryness and wished it were as simple to relieve the aching in his groin. ‘So why don’t you go and put on your dress? Show me what you’ll be wearing.’
She hesitated. ‘It’s a secret.’
For some reason her words jarred, or maybe it was his apparent misreading of the situation. The idea that she was softening towards him a little—only to be met with that same old brick wall of resistance.
‘So many secrets,’ he mocked.
At this her smile died.
‘That’s a bit rich, coming from the master of secrecy,’ she said. ‘There’s so much about yourself that you keep locked away, Luc. And, of course, there’s the biggest concealment of all. If you hadn’t kept your fiancée such a big secret, we wouldn’t have found ourselves in this situation, would we?’
‘And doubtless you would have preferred that?’
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