Convenient Bride for the King Page 9

  The hat came next. Then he offered her his aviator sunglasses. ‘We should take water,’ he said.

  ‘It’s a walk in the garden, not a mountain trek. Why are you being so...’

  ‘...attentive?’ he offered.

  ‘I was going to say weird. I’ve been in gardens with you a dozen times over. Never before have you offered me a hat.’

  ‘It wasn’t my place. Ask me how often I wanted to offer you a hat. You wore one once. It was bright green, floppy-brimmed and had a red band with purple polka dots. You had your hair in a long plait that went halfway down your back and your hair ribbon matched your hat band.’

  ‘I remember that hat,’ she said. ‘I don’t remember the day you speak of.’

  ‘Your brother dared you to fetch us some wine from the kitchens but you told him you already had two strikes against you and he’d have to get it himself because three strikes a day was your limit and you still had to get through your dance lesson.’

  ‘Do you remember what my strikes were?’

  ‘Apparently you’d chosen the wrong shoes for the right dress and embarrassed your mother in front of her friends. That was strike one. Strike two happened at lunch because you’d forgotten the name of someone’s pet spaniel.’

  ‘Oh.’ One of those days. ‘Good call when it came to me not stealing the wine, I guess.’ Moriana drew the scarf more tightly around her shoulders. Criticism had shaped her days as a child. It had been constructive criticism, of course. But it had also been relentless and demoralising, and she’d crawled into bed and cried herself to sleep more nights than she cared to remember, convinced she was an utter failure at life, the universe and everything. ‘I used to take criticism too much to heart. I still do.’

  ‘But you’re working on it. Moriana First, remember?’ His smile was warm and his eyes more blue than grey today. ‘I’d never seen you looking prettier, that day, mismatched shoes and all. Naturally I had to steal the wine myself and pull your hair when I returned. Heaven forbid you didn’t notice my reappearance.’

  ‘I remember now. You then proceeded to ignore me for the rest of your visit.’

  ‘I was fourteen. You were the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. Your hat made me want to sneak beneath it and kiss you and the wine made me almost brave enough to do it. But you were already spoken for and I was still a good boy back then. Kissing you would have sparked an international incident involving parents. My father would have handed me my ass. Naturally, I ignored you for the rest of my visit.’

  His words were sweet. His eyes were shielded by long, sweeping lashes several shades darker than his hair.

  ‘And why are you telling me this now?’

  ‘Because confession is good for the soul.’ He slid her a smile that held more than a hint of the boy he’d once been. ‘I still wish I’d done it.’

  And then he ducked his head beneath the brim of her hat and kissed her swiftly on the cheek.

  What was that for? She didn’t say the words but her eyes must have spoken for her.

  ‘You said you wanted romance,’ he said.

  ‘You can stop courting me now. You’re free and clear, remember?’

  ‘I know.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets and fixed his gaze on the horizon, giving her a clear view of his strongly hewn profile. ‘But maybe I want to court you anyway.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  LIESENDAACH WAS A treasure trove of loveliness, Moriana decided later that afternoon as she and Aury investigated the Queen’s wardrobe facilities more thoroughly. Theo had retreated to his office for the afternoon and exploration had beckoned in his absence. Theo’s mother’s clothes had been removed, but the three empty rooms devoted to clothes storage, hat and shoe space and a cupboard-sized jewellery safe spoke of a woman who’d loved to dress up and had spared no expense when it came to indulging that passion.

  ‘If I remember correctly, the late Queen of Liesendaach used to collect clothes,’ said Aury. ‘Period clothes. Centuries-old gowns once worn by the aristocracy. Venetian masks, Russian uniforms, everything. Want to go looking for them?’

  One of the two security guards standing just within her line of sight coughed and Aury rolled her eyes before turning to look at him.

  ‘You wanted to say something?’ Aury asked the guard.

  ‘Yes, ma’am. There’s a costume collection on the third floor, right above us.’

  ‘I didn’t know this place had a third floor,’ said Moriana.

  ‘Storage only. There are no windows, Your Highness. But that’s where you’ll find the costume collection. There’s a staircase up to it from the door on your far left. The one that looks like a regular cupboard door.’

  ‘I love secret staircases. Makes me feel right at home,’ said Aury, with a flirtatious glance in the guard’s direction. ‘What’s your name, soldier?’

  ‘Aury,’ Moriana chided, with a glance that spoke of not seducing Theo’s security force within five minutes of their arrival.

  ‘But everything’s so pretty here,’ Aury said with another coquettish glance in the direction of the unwary. Come to think of it, the poor man appeared quite aware and looked to be holding up just fine. And yes. He was very pretty—in a rugged, manly kind of way. Fair-haired and light-eyed, like so many of Liesendaach’s people, he was also large of frame and lean when it came to bodyweight.

  ‘What’s your name, soldier?’ Moriana repeated Aury’s question.

  ‘Henry, milady.’

  ‘Good sturdy name,’ Aury said. ‘We should keep him. He knows where things are.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Moriana opened the door he’d spoken of. Sure enough, a spiral staircase beckoned, up, up and up towards darkness.

  ‘I’ll need to call it in and go on ahead if you want to take a look.’ This from Henry again, all security-wise and conscientious.

  ‘Let’s do it.’

  Two minutes later Henry led the charge up the stairs. Aury let him get all of two steps ahead before she started ogling the man’s backside with a pleased little sigh. ‘After you,’ Moriana told her lady-in-waiting drily.

  ‘Thank you, milady.’

  ‘You’re incorrigible.’ But Aury’s obvious enjoyment of her surroundings fuelled her own. Nothing like a fairy tale castle to explore to pass the time.

  They eventually reached the third floor. Henry switched on lights as he went and when they reached the top of the stairs he crossed to a bank of old-fashioned switches and flicked them on, one after another. The place lit up, one tennis-court-sized section at a time, to reveal row upon row of gowns and costumes stretching into forever.

  ‘There’s a ledger,’ Henry said, pointing towards a long side table. ‘I believe the costumes are organised by period and then colour.’

  ‘Henry, what’s with the superior knowledge of the costumes?’ asked Aury.

  ‘My mother was seamstress to the late Queen,’ said handsome Henry. ‘I spent a lot of days up here as a child.’

  ‘Were you ever a centurion?’ Aury wanted to know. ‘A Knight Templar?’

  Henry smiled but neither denied nor confirmed his tendency towards dress-ups as a child.

  ‘What does your mother do now?’ Moriana asked.

  ‘She works as a palace chambermaid, Your Highness.’

  Handy. ‘I don’t suppose she’s working now and would like to join us up here?’

  ‘Imagine what we could do with these,’ said Aury.

  ‘Charity exhibitions, loans to museums...’ Moriana was thoroughly on board with investigating ways of making sure these costumes were seen.

  ‘Liesendaach’s little big book of heavenly dresses,’ said Aury. ‘For charity, of course.’

  Aury flipped open the ledger and started scanning the index. ‘Oh, my lord. Royal wedding gowns!’

  ‘We could be here a while.’ There wasn’t a lot that was going to compete with a collection of royal wedding gowns through the ages.

  ‘Henry, I’m forward. It’s a terrible flaw, I know,’ Moriana began,
and Aury snickered and handsome Henry blushed. ‘But I think it’s time we met your mother.’

  * * *

  Theo found them two hours later. He’d spent the afternoon on the phone to various medical specialists, including his uncle’s physician yet again. He’d organised transport. He’d spoken to Benedict. No way was he bringing his uncle home without Benedict accompanying the man and staying on until Constantine’s death.

  Benedict probably had whiplash from Theo’s change of heart, but he hadn’t said no. Instead, he’d offered subdued thanks, asked for the lower west wing to be placed at their disposal, and promised not to linger once his father passed on.

  Theo had a knot in his stomach at the prospect of all three of them being under the one roof again, and a burning need for Moriana’s company. Not to talk it out, the way he’d done earlier. This time he was looking solely for a distraction.

  She didn’t disappoint.

  There she sat, a tiny general in butter yellow, wholly surrounded by clothes in every colour imaginable, and attended by two chambermaids, her lady-in-waiting, his Head of Household Staff and two royal guards.

  ‘Theo!’ Moriana coloured prettily when she saw him. ‘How long have we been up here? We were just...er...planning an exhibition for your...er...’

  ‘Consideration,’ Sam murmured helpfully.

  ‘Yes, indeed. For your consideration.’ Moriana smiled.

  ‘And the benefit to me would be...?’

  ‘Immense,’ she said. ‘Think of the children.’

  ‘I’d like four,’ he said silkily, and watched her expression grow wary. ‘Walk with me. Please. There’s something I’d like to discuss.’

  ‘Of course,’ she murmured and, with a nod for those surrounding her, she followed him along the narrow walkway with costumes on either side.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked as they began their descent down the spiral steps towards the second floor.

  ‘The press know you’re here.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘How do they know anything? On the one hand, my reputation precedes me. On the other hand, you’re you, freshly jilted and vulnerable, and they know I was at your charity auction last night. They can smell a story and they’ve already been in contact with my press secretary for a statement. I’m willing to let them speculate as to what I’m doing with you. What are you willing to do?’

  ‘No comment?’ She nibbled on her lower lip and he was hard pressed not to bend his head and join her. ‘I think “no comment”. I’m through with thinking the press will treat me well any time soon, and you’ve never thought of them as allies.’

  Worked for him.

  ‘Do you really want four children?’ she asked.

  ‘Why not?’ The only number he didn’t want was two. The heir and the spare.

  He’d been the spare, forever in the shadow cast by his brother’s bright light, and he’d never liked the dynamic. ‘Do you want children?’ He remembered her reply to Augustus.

  ‘Would you still offer for me if I didn’t?’ She slid him a rueful glance. ‘Don’t answer that. Rhetorical question. I know full well you need heirs.’

  ‘But do you want children?’ he pressed.

  ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘And there’s no medical reason why I can’t have them. I’m still fertile.’

  ‘Do you remember that conversation? The one at your place when we were younger?’ All the children of neighbouring monarchs had been there. All the young crown princes—him, Augustus, Casimir and Valentine—along with Moriana and Valentine’s sister. Moriana had been subject to a fertility test in the days beforehand and had ranted long and loud about women’s rights and invasion of privacy. And then Valentine and his sister had revealed they too had been tested for fertility and a host of other genetic flaws. Casimir had then bleakly revealed he’d been subject to not one but two DNA paternity tests.

  There’d been a question on everyone’s lips after that, and it had nothing to do with fertility.

  It had been Valentine who’d finally caved and asked if Casimir was his father’s son.

  The answer had been a sullen, scowling, ‘Yes.’

  ‘I still remember that conversation,’ he murmured.

  ‘So do I,’ said Moriana. ‘Is it wrong for me to breathe a sigh of relief now that Casimir’s poisonous father is dead? Is it wrong for me to think that you’ll have less to worry about once your uncle has passed, and that I really like the shape of this new world order? Because I do like it. It makes me feel hopeful for the future—and the future of any children I might have.’

  ‘We might have.’

  ‘So you’re still courting me,’ she said. ‘I thought now your marriage problem has been solved we might go back to being adversaries.’

  ‘I still need a wife. Liesendaach still needs a Queen and an heir. And I’m doing my very best to be open and trusting with you and, believe me, it doesn’t come easy.’ Damn right he was still courting her. ‘I’m asking questions. I’m sharing my thoughts. I brought a personal problem to you earlier. Marriage may not be something I need quite so urgently, but it’s still something I want. See? This is me—sharing and caring.’

  ‘I...see,’ she said dubiously. ‘Well, then...good job.’

  ‘And there you go again. Lying to me,’ he said darkly. ‘What else can I improve on?’

  ‘I...’ She spread her hands somewhat helplessly. ‘Theo, I appreciate your efforts and the confidences you’ve shared with me today. Truly.’

  ‘But you’re still not taking my proposal seriously.’

  ‘I am now.’

  She looked at him uncertainly and he wished he could rid her of her insecurities.

  ‘I’d even throw in your favourite wedding gown from upstairs.’

  ‘They’re all quite exquisite.’

  But she didn’t say yes.

  ‘I wonder what Casimir’s going to do about his daughter,’ she said suddenly.

  ‘Where did that come from?’ Moriana was hard on his ego at times; he’d give her that. Moments ago he’d been offering up his innards for her perusal. Now she was talking about her former fiancé’s daughter.

  ‘I’m thinking about a king’s need for an heir—you started it. Then I thought of Casimir. He’ll claim his daughter—he told me as much—but she’s still illegitimate. She’ll never rule.’

  ‘Did he say he was going to marry the mother?’

  ‘No. He spoke of her only briefly, to say that everything was up in the air. But I get the feeling he cares for her more than he’s letting on. More than he let on to me, at any rate.’

  ‘You care for him.’ Theo had never liked that thought.

  ‘Yes, although perhaps never as romantically as I should have. I feel for Casimir. For over twenty years I thought I was to marry him. He has a six-year-old daughter he never knew he had. He may be considering taking a commoner—a foreigner—for a wife. He’s burying his father, who he had a difficult relationship with. And now he’s a king. I wouldn’t want to be him.’

  Moriana was well rid of him. ‘His transition to the throne is assured.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll have an easier time of taking up the reins than you did?’

  ‘He’s older, wiser, and there’s no other royal alternative waiting in the wings. The throne is his.’

  ‘Will you help him? Counsel him?’

  ‘If he asks for my counsel, yes.’

  ‘Why did you never ask for help when you first took the throne?’

  Always with the difficult questions. ‘Help from whom? Byzenmaach? Casimir’s father supported my uncle as Regent; there was no help for me there. Thallasia stayed neutral until Valentine took the throne. Only then could I look there for support and by then I was through the worst of it. Your father was the only one to ever offer the hand of friendship and even then I didn’t take it because I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust anyone.’

  ‘We know. It was one of those round-table conversations we had about you. My father thought yo
u a wastrel, initially. In his defence, you had gone out of your way to give that impression.’

  Theo smirked. ‘I was hiding in plain sight.’

  ‘But then you neutralised your uncle and began to undo the damage done and within six months my father was your biggest fan.’ She slanted him a glance. ‘Would it surprise you to know that another reason my brother took the throne early was so that you would have a regional ally you might trust?’ Theo stopped walking. Moriana continued her stroll along the corridor before finally looking over her shoulder. ‘Do keep up.’

  He had no words. His day had been full of too many surprises already. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Moriana of Arun, sister to a King, daughter to a King, and potentially your future Queen.’

  ‘I need a drink.’

  ‘I concur. How about you walk me to a bar?’

  He turned her around and walked her to his rooms instead. They were closer and there was a bar in there. It wasn’t fully stocked, but all his favourites were present and hers could be delivered.

  ‘Is now a good time to let you know that if we marry I’ll be wanting full access to Liesendaach’s education, healthcare and arts portfolios, and I wish to be kept apprised of the regional water resources plans?’ she asked.

  ‘Tomorrow would be a better time to hit me with that,’ he muttered. ‘I’m surprised Augustus is willing to let you go, what with all you do.’

  ‘Needs must.’ They’d reached his rooms and he stepped back to let Moriana enter before him. ‘Although, in the interest of full disclosure, there is the small matter of my overdrawn bank account,’ she said dulcetly. ‘He’s not particularly happy about that.’

  ‘What did you buy?’ Augustus had never mentioned his sister being a frivolous spender. He was more likely to gripe about her inability to stop buying and selling major artworks.

  ‘A tapestry. It was one of ours from long ago. My great-grandfather sold it and seven others like it. Together they told a story of love, war and an abandoned child who grew to be a great warrior and mistakenly fell in love with his mother, at which point he put a sword through her heart and then fell on his own. Sword, that is.’