Convenient Bride For The King. Kelly Hunter
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Know your exits. Know where your support is. Know where your loved ones are at any given moment. Theo wasn’t a loved one but he’d always been included in that equation for he’d been a treasured child of royalty too. The last of his line and therefore important.
Casimir, her former intended, had also been the last of his line and she’d always tracked his whereabouts too, whenever they’d been at functions together. She’d misplaced Casimir on occasion—no one was perfect. She’d misplaced him on several occasions.
Many occasions.
Moving on.
Theo didn’t look up from the display he was browsing as she made her way to his side. He didn’t look up even as he began to speak. ‘You’re good at this,’ he said.
‘Thank you.’ She wanted to believe he could pay her a genuine compliment, not that he ever had before. ‘I’ve been hosting this particular fundraiser for the past seven years and I have it down to a fine art, pardon the pun. Collecting the auction items, curating the guest list, knowing what people want and what they’ll pay to have it. Knowing who else they might want to see socially. People say I have a knack for fundraising, as if I simply fling things together at the last minute and hope for the best, but I don’t. I put a lot of work into making sure these evenings flow like water and do what they’re meant to do.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ he said, finally turning his gaze on her. ‘Hence the compliment.’ He tilted his head a fraction. ‘You’re an exceptional ambassador for your people and you’d have been an exceptional asset to Casimir as queen consort. It’s Byzenmaach’s loss.’
He wasn’t the first person to say that to her tonight and he probably wouldn’t be the last. ‘I doubt Casimir’s feeling any loss.’ She didn’t like how thready she sounded. As if she’d been stretched too thin for far too long.
‘He hurt you.’ Three simple words that cracked her wide open.
‘Don’t. Theo, please. Leave it alone. It’s done.’
She turned away, suddenly wanting to get away from the sedate auction room and the gossip and the expectations that came with being a Princess of Arun. Perfect composure, always. Unrivalled social graces. A memory trained to remember names and faces. She had a welcome speech to give in fifteen minutes. Who would give it if she walked out?
He stopped her before she’d taken a step. The subtle shift of his body and the force of his silent appraisal blocked her retreat. ‘You’re not coping,’ he said quietly. ‘Tell me what you need.’
She didn’t know why his softly spoken words hurt so much, but they did. ‘Damn you, Theo. Don’t do this to me. Don’t be attentive all of a sudden because you want something from me. Do what you usually do. Fight. Snarl. Be you. Give me something I know how to respond to.’
He stilled, his face a granite mask, and she had the sudden, inexplicable feeling she’d just dealt him a brutal blow. And then his gaze cut away from her face and he took a deep breath and when he looked at her again he wore a fierce and reckless smile she knew all too well. ‘I’ll fight you mentally, physically, whatever you need, until we both bleed,’ he promised, his voice a vicious caress. ‘Just as soon as you stop breaking in front of me. I know your family trained you to hide weakness better than this. It’s what you do. It’s all you do. So do it.’
Yes. This was what she needed from him, and to hell with why. No one said she was the most well-balanced princess in the universe.
Thread by thread she pulled herself together, drawing on the anger she sensed in him to bolster her own. Build a wall—any wall. Anger, righteous indignation, icy disdain, attention to duty, whatever it took to keep the volcano of feelings in check.
‘Have you seen the Vermeer?’ she asked finally, when she had herself mostly back under control. ‘I thought of you when it first came in. It would round out Liesendaach’s Dutch collection.’
He studied her for what felt like hours, before nodding, as if she’d do, and then held out his arm for her to claim. ‘All right, Princess. Persuade me.’
* * *
Moriana carved out the time to show Theo the most interesting pieces in the auction. She made her speech and the auction began. And by the end of the evening a great deal of money had been raised for the new children’s hospital wing and Theo had almost purchased the Vermeer for a truly staggering sum. In the end the painting had gone to a gallery and Moriana dearly hoped they needed a tax write-down soon because they clearly hadn’t done their sums. That or they really wanted to support the children’s hospital.
‘I thought you’d lost your mind,’ she said when only a handful of guests remained and he came to congratulate her on the evening’s success. ‘Not even you could justify that amount of money for a lesser Vermeer.’
‘But for you I tried.’
His smile reminded her of young boys and frog ponds and sultry, still evenings, back when Theo’s parents had still been alive. Augustus had always caught his frogs with quick efficiency and, once examined, had let them go. Theo, on the other hand, had revelled in the chase. He’d been far more interested in which way they jumped and where they might try to hide than in actually catching them. To this day, Moriana didn’t know what that said about either Theo or her brother.
‘Are you ready for that drink yet?’ he asked.
‘What drink?’
‘The one we’re going to have tonight, when you graciously reconsider my proposal.’
‘Oh, that drink. We’re not having that drink any time soon. You’re getting a form letter rejection in the post, remember?’
‘You wouldn’t.’
‘I did. You’ll receive it tomorrow, unless you’re still here. I assume Augustus has offered you palace hospitality?’
Theo inclined his head.
Of course. ‘Then perhaps you should find him. I’m about to retire for the evening.’
‘You said you’d give me five minutes of your time.’
‘I said nothing of the sort. And yet here I am. Giving you my time.’ If she’d worn a watch she’d have glanced at it.
‘I gave you a fight when you needed one earlier.’ Since when had his voice been able to lick at her like flames? ‘I didn’t want to, but I did. Here’s what I want in return. One kiss. Here or in private. Put your hands on me, just once. You have my permission. I’ll even keep mine to myself. And if you don’t like touching and kissing me I’ll withdraw my pursuit at once. Does that not sound fair and honest? Am I being unjust?’
Gone was the teasing menace of her childhood and the reckless philanderer of her youth. In their place stood a man in pursuit, confident and dangerous.
He’d been waiting for her when she’d finished her speech, approval in his eyes and a glass of champagne in hand that he handed to her. Faultlessly attentive. Silently supportive.
Tell me what you need.
A fight. A snarl. Barbed compliments. His attention. Something other than rejection to focus on.
‘One drink. One kiss,’ he murmured. ‘Do you need to collect a coat of some sort? Because I’m ready to leave.’
‘Why would I leave with you? Why would I indulge you in this?’
‘Because I have something you want. Several somethings.’
‘No, you don’t. If you had anything I wanted, I’d be giving your proposal all due consideration.’
‘Position.’ His eyes never left her face.
‘Yawn.’ She was Princess of Arun.
‘Passion. You’ve never felt it but you want it, nonetheless.’
‘Maybe.’