Counterfeit Princess. Raye Morgan
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hesitated as a thread of guilt began to slither through her. She knew that Greta and Freddy were both scared to death of their employer, the king of Alovitia. She wasn’t sure if they were just afraid for their jobs and position in the royal scheme of things, or if they actually feared for their own physical safety. And she was afraid that her own performance tonight wasn’t going to help things where they were concerned.
“You know, we had a dreadful fight,” she told the poor woman. “I said some things I probably shouldn’t have said.” She gave her a look of regret. “He may want to call the marriage off, I don’t know.”
Greta’s eyes widened and she grabbed Shannon’s arm. “What did you do? The king will have my head for this!”
Shannon swallowed hard and blinked back some misery of her own. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
“You must go back and make up with him.” Greta thrust her hand toward the door, bracelets jangling. “Now. Hurry!”
Shannon shook her head. “Oh no, Greta. I can’t do that. If you’d seen the way he looked at me….”
“Looks? You think that looks can hurt you?” She slapped the flat of her hand down on the table, her eyes almost wild. “The king will have more than looks waiting for me, I can tell you that. Why do you think he sent us here? We were to make sure his daughter bent to his will. This wedding must come about. It is King Mandrake’s command that it be so.” She put her hands together as though in prayer. “Please. Shannon. You must go back and make it up. You don’t understand how important this is.”
Shannon sighed. “You don’t understand how hard it would be,” she said softly. But she glanced into the mirror and caught a wayward strand of hair, already preparing for what she knew she had to do.
Crown Prince Marco paced the thick carpets of his hotel room, fuming as he went back over the conversation with the princess in his mind. “I don’t know if we can believe those rumors, Jordan. Even gangsters have standards.”
“Sir?”
He stopped to look at his valet in exasperation. “She’s exactly the sort of woman I never could stand. Has to make a smart remark about everything you say.” He threw up a hand. “Of course, maybe a gangster is the only type who likes that sort of thing.”
“Indeed, sir.”
Turning away and then quickly turning back again, he looked his valet in the eye. “Tell me, really, where did you hear those things about her?”
Jordan shrugged. “One hears things, Your Royal Highness. The other servants talk.”
He nodded. “Well, I can’t say I hadn’t heard the rumors before myself. Lady Judith has told me much the same sort of gossip.”
Sinking into a chair at the small round table, he put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. He hated this. If only Lorraine were still alive….
But she wasn’t, and he had to go on. Ruthlessly, he pushed the picture of her sweet face out of his mind. He didn’t have the time or the luxury to dwell on what might have been. He had a country to lead. Nabotavia needed a queen and needed King Mandrake’s help on their western border. Marrying Princess Iliana would give them both those things.
She certainly wasn’t his ideal. He couldn’t even conceive of living with her as husband and wife. But he didn’t imagine they would actually spend much time together, and he didn’t need any more children. The ones he had were being well brought up by their grandmother, Judith, Lorraine’s mother. A good stepmother for his children would have been nice, but one couldn’t have everything one wanted in life. Often, one barely got what one needed.
Did he really need this woman?
Not personally. He’d managed without female companionship for the last two years. He couldn’t claim that he’d done fine. He’d missed Lorraine every moment, ached for her. But in every other way, life had continued without much hassle. The children loved their grandmother. They still had the same nanny they had known since birth. As the crown prince, and soon as king, he had never been destined to be much of a hands-on father to them. That was something he regretted, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d spent a good part of the last year fighting to free Nabotavia, and he would spend the rest of his life fighting to maintain that freedom for his country. Whether or not he was married would make little difference there.
But his country needed a queen, and his alliance with Alovitia was supremely important. So yes, much as he hated to admit it, he needed this woman. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at Jordan, misery shining in his eyes.
“Why can’t my life be simple?” he asked him with a growl.
“Because you were born to a complex role, sir,” Jordan answered sensibly.
Marco nodded. “I’m afraid you’re right.” He grimaced and swore softly. “I know I can’t betray Mandrake after all he did to help me. If it hadn’t been for him, Nabotavia would not be free.”
“Quite true, sir.”
Marco frowned. He’d never given much thought to why King Mandrake might want so badly to have his daughter married to him. He’d always supposed it was to strengthen ties with Nabotavia. The bonds between the two countries were ancient and would always be there, but would be vastly strengthened by a marriage between the two ruling houses. But maybe there was more. After all, she was at least twenty-eight by now, though she looked younger. And still unmarried. Her father was probably having a hard time getting anyone suitable to take her.
“If I might make a suggestion, sir.”
He looked up hopefully. “Suggestions are welcomed, Jordan.”
“It is well said that King Mandrake does have a terrible temper.”
“A terrible temper. Yes indeed.” Marco laughed softly and ran his fingers through his hair. “You know, Jordan, I’m thinking of developing a terrible temper when I’m king. What do you think?”
“Such a thing can come in handy, sir. But about my thoughts on tonight’s subject.”
“Yes. Go ahead.”
“I believe I mentioned the king’s temper. If he hears that you threw aside his daughter after ten minutes on the dance floor, he is liable to take it as an affront.”
“Yes, I’m afraid you’re right on that one. I can’t do it, much as I may be tempted.” His sigh came from deep in his heart.
“If you were to spend a few hours with the young lady, it is just possible that you may come to understand her better and even like her.”
Marco coughed skeptically. “I get your drift, Jordan. And I know you are quite right.” His spirit revived a bit. After all, if Jordan thought there was hope, there just might be at least a glimmer. “So I’m afraid I’m going to have to give it another go.”
“If you feel it quite necessary, sir.”
He nodded solemnly. “I do, Jordan.” Turning toward the door, he squared his shoulders. “It is only fair to give the young woman another chance. Then, who knows?”
“Precisely, sir.”
The interesting thing was that Princess Iliana seemed to have much the same idea as Crown Prince Marco did and was waiting with her two attendants very near the dance floor. She had something of a reluctant look on her face, as though it had taken a lot of persuading to get her to come back and meet with him again, but he didn’t care. As long as she was available, he would do what he could to repair the damage of their earlier meeting, and hopefully, build a common relationship. If it was possible to make it a friendly collaboration, that would be best. But if he had to throw her over his shoulder and carry her down the aisle, he’d do it. Bottom line, he was going to marry her.
He studied her as he came closer. She really was beautiful, with a rare luminous quality, as though she were