His Majesty's Temporary Bride. Annie West
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soon enough. Her first eighteen years had been torment, defending herself and her mother’s reputation endlessly in public. Then at home, watching the man she’d had to call father grind her mother down.
‘I’m still not interested.’
‘Even though Lambis Evangelos recommended you?’
Lambis? He was the best in the business. His company ran the best in the business. They’d met in Chicago when she worked with Afra, the superstar singer. Cat had been pleased at his interest, his offer of an open door if ever she wanted work.
But to work in St Galla? She shuddered. ‘I suggest you find someone else.’
Shrewd eyes surveyed her. The next question would be why she wouldn’t return to her homeland. As if she’d share that with anyone. The only people who’d known the truth about her were dead. She wasn’t about to let anyone else in on her sordid secret.
‘There are plenty of other bodyguards.’ Though she prided herself that those who employed her asked for her again and again, particularly women who felt more comfortable with a female shadowing them.
His voice dropped. ‘We need your special...attributes. Mr Evangelos suggested you if we ever needed a body double for Princess Amelie.’
Cat sat back, pulse racing. ‘She’s in danger?’ Her voice was inexplicably husky. She’d never met the Princess yet still she felt a connection.
‘Not...danger. Though the situation is delicate.’
‘What situation?’
‘The Princess is...away.’ He paused as if choosing his words. ‘We’re not sure when she’ll return. Meantime it’s vital she appear at a small palace reception. This event must go ahead, for the nation and the Princess herself.’
Cat stared. ‘You want me to impersonate Princess Amelie? You can’t be serious!’ She’d grown up being compared with the Princess. The woman was charming, elegant, graceful, accomplished in ways Cat wasn’t. She wore jewels and formal gowns. Cat was allergic to high heels and had never worn a full-length dress in her life.
‘Deadly serious.’ His tone chilled her and again that shiver of preternatural connection, of anxiety, passed through her. ‘You wouldn’t have to face anyone who knows the Princess well. All you have to do is make an appearance, chat a little, then withdraw.’
‘It’s not possible.’
‘Not even for a very generous settlement?’ Monsieur Barthe named a sum that made her goggle.
‘You can’t be serious.’ Shock stretched her voice.
His mouth tightened. ‘Completely. Money is no object.’
Cat blinked. With that money she could achieve her dream. Bodyguard work had been good to her but she couldn’t do it for ever. Already she wondered how long her knee would hold up long-term. Last year she’d been injured saving Afra from a car driven by a crazed stalker. It had been a long slog to get back to something like her previous fitness.
Cat had no other qualifications, no career path. But working with kids, diverting their negative energy into physical endeavours and a positive outlook—that she could do. Developing a centre either in the wilderness or in a city gym devoted specifically to kids—she’d give so much to achieve that. For the kids and herself.
‘Half the money in advance and half on completion.’
She jerked her head up, meeting steely eyes that had read her momentary lapse.
Cat shook her head. ‘I might look superficially like her, but I’m no princess. Everyone would know.’
‘Not a problem. You’d stay at the palace in advance of the event to be tutored in everything you need to know.’ He paused, surveying her set features. ‘Look on it as your chance to see how the other half lives.’
Cat stared as the words insinuated themselves into her brain. How often in childhood had she wondered what it was like to be Amelie? To live the cosseted life of a rich, beloved child, adored by her father and the nation? It had been a fantasy she’d retreated to when reality grew unbearable. She’d put it behind her years ago, yet to her amazement shreds of that yearning still lingered.
‘I’ll double the fee.’
Cat goggled. The amount was ridiculously huge. What on earth was going on?
‘The Princess...is she safe?’ Again, that sixth sense niggle of concern.
‘I’m not in a position to say. But you’ll help her enormously by doing this.’
Cat didn’t need Princess Amelie’s gratitude. She could get by without the money, even though it represented more than she’d earn in the next several years. It shouldn’t matter if it brought her dream to reality.
Returning to the country of her birth would betray the vow she’d made at eighteen never to look back.
Yet something stopped her refusal. The possibility that Amelie genuinely needed her? Or that the bastard half-sister finally had a chance to discover what life would have been like if she’d been born legitimate? To experience the life she might have had?
No, it was far more than that. This wasn’t curiosity to see how the other half lived. It was a desire, deep down in her secret self, to connect with the family she’d never known. To find a way to meet her sibling. For years she’d told herself no good could come of connecting with her royal relations, yet still that yearning remained. To belong.
Cat cleared her throat, hating the tug of emotion turning her voice hoarse. Hating the neediness. She’d thought she’d conquered it years ago.
Maybe this is your chance to do that.
And still that snaking anxiety for the half-sister she’d never met. ‘Send me a contract to consider.’
His smile told her he knew he’d won. ‘You won’t regret it, Ms Dubois.’
She already did. But she had to do this and silence once and for all the voices of her murky past.
ALEX STRETCHED, STARING out over the azure depths of the Mediterranean.
He hadn’t wanted to come. If he’d been able to avoid the celebration in St Galla he’d have done it, especially as his mother had stitched up a half-baked proposal that Princess Amelie would make him the perfect bride.
He was only thirty-two, had only been King for three years. He had more important things to grapple with than marrying, no matter what his advisers thought.
Giving up a career he loved to rule Bengaria hadn’t been in his plans. Alex’s fists clenched as he leaned on the gleaming rail of the yacht.
It should have been his cousin, Stefan, on the throne. Except for the accident that had snuffed out his life and propelled Alex’s father into his place. His late and unlamented father. The man who’d almost bankrupted Bengaria in the years he’d been Stefan’s Regent and later the King. The man whose chicanery and double-dealing had milked the nation almost to a standstill, leaving Alex to haul an economic nightmare out of the red and into the black.
No wonder everyone wanted Alex to marry Amelie. St Galla was wealthy and could help Bengaria, even though he was hopeful his country was beginning to recover now.
He sighed and forked a hand through his hair. He’d only agreed to the visit because of his mother. She’d suffered long and hard through her marriage. Alex had at least escaped his father’s control by leaving Bengaria and pursuing a career as a pilot. She’d been stuck in a loveless marriage to a despicable man.
A familiar chill rippled down his spine at the thought of his father.
In the circumstances, meeting Amelie, the daughter