Royal Order (Royals of Danovar 3)

But not with Simon. Somehow, he was different. She wanted this kiss to mean more, and her wanting made the stakes feel higher, which made her more nervous than ever.

She took a step forward to close the distance between them—and stumbled over her damn clogs yet again. Simon saved the day, his hands slipping around her waist to catch and lift her easily, his face tilting down to meet hers so it looked like a more-passionate-than-expected kiss rather than a stumble.

And then his lips met hers and she was no longer thinking about anything except the fact that she was kissing her new husband, and she never wanted to stop kissing her new husband. Her lips parted in surprise and delight as his mouth angled a bit deeper, sweeping gently over her lips, passionate and thorough. His light stubble felt rough and perfect against her cheek and she lifted a hand to brush her fingers against it. Up close, he smelled like cedar and old books. She took a deep breath, filling her senses with him, and her eyes slipped closed as his lips lingered on hers.

The audience erupted in applause—and, if she wasn’t hearing things, a wolf whistle or two. Pen pulled back, flushed and smiling stupidly. Simon blinked a few extra times himself, looking dazed for a second before setting her back on her feet.

Time to walk back down the aisle. She took a step and nearly tripped over her train again and, in a fit of vastly satisfying pettiness, kicked off her clogs. She would be a barefoot bride after all. She marched down the aisle, arm in arm with Simon, head held high as the members of the nobility smiled at the new couple.

She’d done it. She was officially married, and after the smaller ceremony later today, she’d be royalty too. And for the first time, with Simon at her side, everything about both those things felt completely right.

6

Simon had never been more grateful to sit down in his life than he was after his five-hour-long wedding. He’d long since had today’s schedule memorized, so he shouldn’t have been surprised, but there was a notable difference in reading about the hours they’d have to spend on Escona’s wedding traditions and actually living through them. This was the first time he and his new bride had been alone together all day, and also the first opportunity they’d had to sit for longer than a minute or two at a time.

&nbs

p; The kiss, though. That had made all the pomp and circumstance worth it. He’d been wondering all afternoon what exactly the etiquette was for wedding nights with arranged marriages, but if Pen felt the same way he had when their lips touched, it would be a night to remember. Just one last meeting—this one with the lawyer—and then they would be free to do as they wished. And the only thing Simon wished to do right now was Penelope.

He remembered the way she’d looked at him and only him as she was coming down the aisle, ignoring the huge audience, the cameras, the noble guests. It had made him feel invincible, amazing. She was amazing. He couldn’t wait to show her how he was starting to feel about her, preferably with both of them as naked as possible. He’d kiss that spot on her shoulder blade—he’d noticed her shiver a little whenever he touched her there—and then slowly unzip that white dress, let her step out of it, press her against the door and worship her.

She flopped down at his side with a groan, interrupting his delicious fantasies, then winced and rubbed at her ankle.

“You okay?” he asked, clearing his throat, shifting to hide the beginnings of a hard-on and trying to think about anything other than her nude body with his cock buried deep inside. They still had one more meeting before that train of thought could go anywhere.

“I put the clogs back on after the wedding ceremony, but I can see why they’re not worn on the regular anymore,” she said ruefully.

Simon gave her a sympathetic smile. “Hey, the right pair of shoes can change your life. Look at Cinderella.”

She shot him a look. “Those things are no glass slippers,” she muttered.

He laughed. “True. Here, give me your feet, I’ll rub them for you.” Grateful, she scooted sideways and lifted her legs. He didn’t miss the little shiver of delight or the look that practically dripped with want when he wrapped his fingers around her arch and set her foot in his lap. When she dropped her head back and moaned as he started kneading, he had to hold himself back from tearing off her dress and taking her good and hard right there on the couch.

He gritted his teeth and tore himself away from the thought by sheer force of will. One more meeting. One more. “Thank you for wearing the clogs,” he told her. “It means a lot that you were willing to take part in a Danovian tradition for me. I know they’re not very comfortable.”

“Of course,” she said, and her tone was perfectly polite—but she shifted her foot just a little to the left so that it rested against Simon’s half-hard cock. She didn’t look at him, still blissed out with her head tilted back against the arm of the couch and her eyes closed, but a secret smile played at the corners of her mouth. Damn woman. How was he supposed to keep his composure now? Well, two could play at her little game.

He kneaded a little higher on her foot, moving to her ankle, brushing the hem of her dress out of the way to run his fingers across her lower calf. She muffled another moan when he started kneading there, and he grinned, triumphant. He went a little higher, his thumbs circling on that lovely, soft bronze skin of hers. It practically glowed in the light of the sunset through the window. He lifted her foot and kissed her ankle and she lifted her head, her eyes smoky with need as she met his gaze.

A knock sounded on the door. “Fuck me,” Simon muttered.

“Love to,” Pen murmured back, and his cock—now hard as a rock and aching—twitched in response. He gave her a long, smoldering look as he pulled her dress back down over her feet and crossed his own legs to hide his state.

“Soon,” he promised her in a low voice.

The knock sounded again. Both of them ignored it for a moment longer, then finally Pen cleared her throat and called “Come in” in a voice that was a bit lower and huskier than normal.

The lawyer entered carrying a huge stack of paperwork. “Here’s the marriage contract and additional paperwork for Simon,” he said, separating the documents on the table in front of them as he spoke. The marriage contract was only a few pages, but Simon’s paperwork was a massive pile.

“What is all this?” he asked, astonished.

The lawyer frowned at him. “You’ll need to abdicate all your connections and titles from Danovar in order to move forward. Being a lawyer yourself, I thought you’d know that.”

Simon flopped back in his seat, stunned. He’d spent so much time researching Penelope’s part in all this that he’d forgotten to look very deep into his own. He’d have to give up his titles? His claims to his grandfather’s ancestral home? The security of his ties to Danovar itself? How could he give up things that had been such huge parts of his identity for his entire life?

“Right,” he managed, staring at the documents.

Pen reached over and laid a hand atop his, watching him in concern. He swallowed and smiled weakly at her, some of his courage returning. This was what he was giving up his old identity for. If he wanted to truly support her, truly give himself to her and Escona—and he was taking her name, after all, as a symbol of his commitment to doing just that—then this was something he needed to do. Still, his hands were trembling a bit as he picked up the pen and started signing.