The Reluctant Wife: Chapter 39

‘I assume this makes you happy?’ I turn on Arthur.

We’re in Arthur’s study with the family in tow.

Arthur’s seated in another armchair, this time, in the one closest to the living room fire. In addition, the heating has been turned on. The room is like a furnace. I wipe the bead of sweat from my brow, then loosen the tie around my neck. You’d think, after years in the Marines, I’d be comfortable with a formal suit, but ties are the bane of my existence. They make me feel claustrophobic. Which I take as a weakness, but which I’m told is normal for many who’ve seen action.

Arthur’s Great Dane, Tiny, lolls on the floor next to the fire. His tongue hangs out, and he watches us with curiosity.

‘If you mean, you marrying the princess, I’m proud of you for coming up with the idea.’ Arthur raises a glass of water to his mouth.

His hand trembles. For the first time, I notice the dark circles under his eyes. He’s also hunched a little, tiredness writ in the angles of his face. Despite his diagnosis, the treatment Arthur has been undergoing has kept the disease in check. It also hasn’t impacted his lifestyle, which makes it easy to forget he’s not completely well. In comparison, his girlfriend Imelda, who’s standing behind him, looks a picture of health. The firelight plays off her slightly plump features and highlights the pink streaks in her short hair. She’s wearing her usual outfit of cargo pants and shit-kickers.

No dressing up for Imelda; not even for royalty. Her only concession is the pink blouse she’s teamed with the cargo pants. The entire outfit should look incongruous, but she manages to pull it off. When Arthur raises his other hand, she grips it.

He seems to draw strength from her, and his face brightens. ‘I couldn’t have done better myself,’ he murmurs.

“Not sure if I take that as a compliment,” I retort.

Tyler snorts from his on-guard position near the door.

Brody and Connor, who’re standing on either side of me, look between us with interest. We’re crowded around Arthur and Imelda.

Nathan and Knox are standing behind a Chesterfield which holds both of their wives. The king and Fred are deep in discussion on the other side of the room. Their voices are muted.

Quentin’s out, ensuring the security team has the place sewn up tight, to prevent any repetition of what happened earlier. It’s one of the reasons I feel a little more at ease.

Sinclair is sprawled in a recliner near the Chesterfield. All of them are following our discussion with avid curiosity.

‘You’re losing your touch, Gramps,” Connor declares. “I’d have thought it would be you instead of Ryot coming up with the idea of marrying the princess in return for investing in Verenza.”

‘The last thing I want is to become predictable, especially since the lot of you seem to be able to see through machinations,’ Arthur says in a mild voice. “I’d rather you boys emulate the kinds of tactics which have kept The Davenports going for more than three quarters of a century. My father—rest his soul—was Machiavellian when it came to the survival of the company. And while I hated his efforts, when I grew older, I realized he’d done the right thing. I don’t apologize for what I do to keep my bloodline intact. And I’m even more proud that you boys are following my example.”

Brody and Connor watch me carefully.

“I’m nothing like you,” I growl.

“Oh?” Arthur inclines his head.

“I’m marrying her because it’s the only way to stay close to her without arousing suspicions. It’s the only way to keep her safe.”

And to get you off my back about getting hitched.

Outwardly, I say, “Besides, The Davenport Group is always looking for places to invest. Given the economic condition of Verenza, there are bargains to be had. It’s a strategically sound decision.”

“That it is,” Arthur says slowly.

‘But it’s not the only reason you suggested the match.’ Tyler smirks.

And I thought he was on my side. I flick a dirty glance in his direction. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?”

‘Figure it out yourself,’ Brody murmurs.

‘If you want a clue, he’s talking about the fact that you’re giving another shot at that ol’ four-letter word, beginning with ‘L,” Connor quips.

‘Jesus. Fuck.’

‘Language,’ chastises Arthur.

I spare him a look before digging my fingers in my hair and tugging. ‘Have you guys turned into avid Hallmark movie watchers? Is that where this is coming from?’

Connor chuckles. ‘If it doesn’t apply to you, why are you so upset? Unless—’ He pretends to study me closely. ‘Unless…there’s a measure of truth in what I said?’

‘What? Of course, not,’ I snap, then notice the sly look in my youngest brother’s eyes. Trust Connor to pull your leg when you least expect it.

‘Asshole,’ I growl.

He chuckles, then slaps at my shoulder. ‘It had to happen at some point, given the sparks between you and the princess.”

‘What do you know about that? You haven’t seen us together.’

‘Didn’t need to.’ He nods in Tyler’s direction.

I whip my head toward him to find a sheepish expression on his features. ‘You told him?’

‘And me,’ Brody pipes up.

‘Et moi.’ Imelda smirks.

‘Didn’t have anything else more exciting to gossip about? And seriously, Imelda, I wouldn’t have expected you to indulge in such trash.’

‘But I’m a gossipy old woman at heart.’ She flutters her eyelashes at me.

And I’m going to marry a princess.

‘I think he needs another drink,” Connor says as he peers into my features. “Do you think he needs a drink?’ he asks no one in particular.

‘He looks pale, he might need a drink,’ Brody agrees.

Tyler walks over to the bar, pours a finger into a tumbler and brings it over. ‘A wee dram for some liquid courage?’ He holds it out.

I glare at him. Then think better of turning it down. I need all the help I can get. I snatch the glass from him and throw back the liquid before tossing it back to him.

He snatches it from the air. ‘Feeling better?’

I hold my finger up at him. The sound of the door opening reaches me. The hair on the back of my neck rises, and I know it’s her. I draw in a breath, then another. Then turn and meet her gaze. She stands inside the doorway, head held high, her spine erect.

She combed her hair back, and not a strand is out of place. She refreshed her makeup, and her lipstick is immaculate. Nothing remains of the flushed woman whose swollen lips indicated she’d allowed me to use her mouth in a way that does not befit a princess. She’s, once again, the regal royal, who supports charities and graces events with her presence to drive up their newsworthiness. Damn. It makes me want to go over and muss her up again.

The rest of my family rise to their feet. Everyone bows, including Tyler. When Arthur begins to rise as well, she shakes her head. “Please, stay seated.” Then she turns her gaze on me. I haven’t followed my family’s example. She scowls at me. Does she expect me to bow to her?

And when I slowly rise to my feet, a look of wariness comes into her eyes. I stalk toward her, aware that every gaze in the room is following us, and not giving a damn.

When I come to a stop in front of her, she tips up her chin and fixes me with a haughty gaze.

I lean close and say softly, ‘No can do, Empress. Don’t expect to treat me like one of your subjects and get away with it.”

I cup her cheek and, before she can pull away, I kiss her soundly. Her lips are stiff, and for a few seconds, she stays unyielding. Then her mouth opens. And when I sweep my tongue inside, she melts into me. I hold the back of her head to keep her in place and kiss her thoroughly. When I straighten, her cheeks are flushed, her breathing erratic. Her eyes are glazed with need, and she stares at me with a confused look. There; much better.

I stay there for a few seconds, until her eyes clear. ‘What was that for?’ she says breathlessly.

‘Can’t I kiss my, wife-to-be?”

She flushes. The pulse at the base of her throat speeds up. But her gaze is confused. She’s still coming to terms with our upcoming nuptials.

Then she tightens her lips. ‘They’re waiting,” she says in a voice which trembles a little. Good. I’d have been disappointed if she found her composure so soon after that kiss.

I hook her arm through mine, then lead her into the room.

The king approaches us. He kisses her on each cheek, then eases back on his heels. “Do you definitely want to go ahead with this wedding? You are under no obligation to do so. I will find another way of paying off the country’s debts, cara mia.”

The princess takes in his features. His eyes are haunted. There are hollows under his cheekbones. He seems to have aged in the last few hours. If the Davenports’ investment isn’t forthcoming, it’ll put him in a very difficult situation.

I know Aura cares for him too much to put him through that.

And I care for her enough that I want to tell her father that he should stop her from marrying me and giving up her choice for the sake of her country. At the same time, I’m selfish enough to be glad that it’s me she’s marrying.

And when she says softly, “This is what I want papa,” warmth squeezes my chest.

I’m going to keep her safe. I’m going to ensure she gets what is most important for her—securing the future of her country.

I content myself with tucking her into my side and walking her to where Arthur is waiting for us. He looks between us, and a smile flickers across his features. I can swear there’s a glimmer of moisture in his eyes. Is the old coot getting sentimental? His chin quivers, and he seems incapable of speech. Huh. I eye him warily.

He seems to have transitioned from the role of the hard-nosed businessman and conniving meddler in his grandson’s lives to that of fond grandfather way too quickly for my comfort.

Imelda takes in the emotion on his face, and steps toward us. She curtsies to the princess. ‘Your Highness.’

‘Please, call me Aura,’ the princess murmurs.

‘Aura.’ Imelda smiles widely. ‘Congratulations. I hope you’ll forgive Ryot for not being able to speak what’s really on his mind. Afraid we women must give the male of the species the benefit of the doubt at times, but especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”

I gape at Imelda, then turn to find the princess staring at her, flummoxed. Then she chuckles. ‘A straight-talking woman. Do you realize how rare someone like you is?’

Imelda blushes, and that’s something, because the woman’s hard-nosed and takes life by its balls, and there’s no demure bone in her body. ‘Aw, shucks.’ She dips her head. ‘You’re being too kind.’

‘I don’t think so. I hope Arthur realizes how lucky he is.’ She shoots him a glance.

Arthur’s watching Imelda with a look of open adoration. The old man’s truly in love. Another reason he wants to see the rest of us singletons paired off, no doubt.

Then Tiny woofs.

‘Ooh, who’re you?’ Aura looks at the dog with interest. He ambles to his feet, lumbers over to us, and butts the princess’ waist with his big head. She stumbles, and I tighten my hold on her.

‘What’s your name, little puppy?’ Aura coos as she extends a hand for him to sniff.

And now, I’m jealous of the mutt.

‘Tiny,’ I murmur.

‘No, it’s not.’ She narrows her eyes.

‘It definitely is.’ I snicker. ‘His name. Is Tiny.’

She laughs before moving her hand under his chin so she can better see his face. ‘Hey, Tiny. You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?’

Tiny makes a purring sound at the back of his throat. He moves his big head so that her hand is next to his ear. She obliges by scratching around each of his ears. His eyes roll back in his head, and he groans. Then he slobbers all over her hand.

‘Sorry about that, Princess. He can be expressive in his affections,’ Imelda explains. ‘C’mere, Tiny.’ She slaps her thigh, and he immediately walks toward her. Then he flops down on the floor next to Arthur with a sigh.

I pull out my handkerchief, take her hand, and wipe off Tiny’s drool before folding it and pocketing it.

‘Have you set a date?’ Brody asks.

‘A date?’ We both look at him.

‘For the wedding,’ Tyler clarifies. ‘It will be good to know so we can get the security arrangements in place for it.’

I feel myself pale. This is getting all too real.

‘Don’t take too long. The more notice you give us, the better.’ Tyler’s all business now. Somehow, in the last few hours he’s become my right-hand man, in terms of protection detail.

The king walks over and sinks into the armchair next to Arthur. ‘The ceremony will have to be in Verenza.’

‘I don’t suppose it could be restricted to close family and for the rest of the country to watch it when it’s televised?’ I widen my stance. ‘That would make things easier from a security standpoint.’

Not to mention, I have no desire to be part of a circus that a royal wedding could become.

Her father shakes her head. ‘A royal wedding is a key reason for people from around the world to travel to Verenza. And tourism is what drives our economy.’

‘What about your daughter’s safety?’ Anger squeezes my guts. I don’t care that he’s the king and the man who’s paying the massive security bill my agency has run up. Keeping my woman protected is far more important. You’d think he’d feel the same way too.

His expression takes on a haunted expression. ‘Her wellbeing is important, but a royal wedding will generate billions of dollars’ worth of PR coverage and make Verenza a household name.’

‘I’d think Aura’s welfare takes precedence over any money, and—’ She squeezes my arm. I glance down to find her looking at me with shining eyes. There’s tenderness, and something else. Something I don’t want to examine closely or put a name to; that could complicate this situation a lot more.

‘It’s okay,’ she murmurs.

‘It’s not okay. I’m a little tired of seeing you constantly put yourself at risk for the sake of your country.’

She angles her head. ‘Didn’t you do the same?’

I open my mouth, then shut it. Damn. She has me there.

‘What you described is the job description of being a princess,’ she reminds me. ‘Just like it was in your job description when you were a Royal Marine.’

‘Damn, you always know how to go toe-to-toe with me, don’t you?’ I mumble, then half smile.

She chuckles. ‘It’s what makes the dynamics between us interesting.’

We continue to smile at each other, until someone clears their throat.

She flushes and is the first to look away. ‘So yes, the wedding will be in Verenza, and I’d love for all of you to attend.’