Royal Heirs Required (The Sherdana 1)

“How did he get into the palace?” Christian snapped, eyes blazing.

Gabriel barely registered Christian’s words. “What could possibly be so important?”

“Did Captain Poulin give you a reason for granting this man entrance at such an inappropriate hour?”

“Can’t it wait until after the party?”

Stewart’s attention bounced between the two men as they fired questions at him. “He wouldn’t tell me what it’s about, Highness, only the name of his client.” Stewart’s tone was low and urgent. “I think you’d better speak to him.”

Unable to imagine what could have rattled his unflappable private secretary, Gabriel shared a glance with Christian. “Who is his client?”

“Marissa Somme.”

Hearing his former lover’s name aroused a hundred emotions Gabriel would have preferred not to feel. He was a little surprised that Marissa had waited so long to contact him. He’d expected her to pull a stunt five months ago when he’d announced his engagement. To say she had a flare for the dramatic was like describing the Himalayas as tall hills.

“What mischief is she up to?” Gabriel demanded.

Christian cursed beneath his breath. “Something newsworthy, no doubt.”

“I can’t afford anything to interfere with the wedding.” Sherdana’s future was riding on the deal he’d struck with Lord Darcy. A deal that wouldn’t be sealed until Olivia became a princess.

Gabriel glanced around to see if anyone had noticed their exchange and met Olivia’s level gaze. She was beautiful, his future wife. But he’d chosen her for more than her appearance. She had a purity of spirit he knew would charm the Sherdanian people and her efficient, calm way of handling problems would see her through the hectic days ahead.

Beside her his father was laughing at whatever story she was telling him, looking years younger. Recent economic difficulties had taken their toll on the king. Once vibrant and strong, he’d begun to tire faster in recent months. It was why Gabriel had taken on more and more of the day-to-day running of the country.

Although she returned her attention to the king, the slightest lift of her delicate eyebrows let Gabriel know her curiosity had been aroused by his exchange with Christian and Stewart. Awareness surged through him. It was the first time that they’d connected at a level deeper than politeness. Anticipation sparked. Perhaps they would be able to share something more than a bed.

“Please, Your Highness.”

Glancing toward Christian, he said, “Will you go entertain my fiancée while I discover what’s going on?”

“Don’t you mean distract?” Christian countered, his expression sour.

“Just make excuses for me until I can get back.”

And then he was slipping through the multitude attending the ball honoring Sherdana’s independence from France back in 1664, smiling and greeting the guests as if nothing in the world was wrong. All the while two words pounded in his head: Marissa Somme. What could this be about?

Since it first declared itself a principality, Sherdana had survived as an agrarian economy. But Gabriel wanted his country to do more than survive, he wanted it to thrive. Tucked between France and Italy on a verdant plane resplendent with grapevines and fertile fields, Sherdana needed an active technological culture to move the economy into the twenty-first century and beyond. Olivia’s father, Lord Edwin Darcy, held the match that would light the fuse. Nothing must interfere with that.

Entering the green salon, Gabriel strode over to greet the man who’d barged in unannounced. The lawyer wore his gray hair short, making no attempt to hide the bald patch that caught the light from the wall sconces behind him. His clear gray eyes had few lines at the corners. This was not a man who smiled often. Dressed in a navy suit and black overcoat, the only spark of color about him was a thin line of yellow in his striped tie.

“Good evening, Your Royal Highness,” the gentleman said, bowing respectfully. “Forgive me for interrupting, but I’m afraid the

matter is quite urgent.”

“What mischief is Marissa up to now?”

“Mischief?” The man looked dismayed at Gabriel’s harshness. “You misunderstand the reason I’m here.”

“Then enlighten me. I have guests waiting. If you have a message from Marissa, then deliver it.”

The man straightened his shoulders and tugged at his coat lapel. “It’s a little more complicated than a message.”

“My patience is wearing thin.”

“Marissa Somme is dead.”

Dead? Gabriel felt as if he’d been clobbered with a poker. For a second he couldn’t process the man’s words. Brilliant, beautiful, vivacious Marissa dead? His gut twisted.