Playing the Royal Game

And she was wrong—Alex had no intention of waiting for the people to change their minds. He had spent today thinking, weighing up the problems and as always coming to rapid solutions. Soon, she would be a more suitable bride. Elocution and grooming lessons would start with haste, and there was another very unexpected advantage to having Allegra as his fiancée: he had never been attracted to Anna—she felt more like a cousin or a sister than his betrothed—but with Allegra... He pulled her a little more towards him, buried his face in her hair and found the subtle tang of citrus. Yes, there was much solace to be had, for their attraction was undoubtedly wild. He thought of her as she had been this morning, of how very close he had been to finding release with her. Soon he would be back there—except, of course, more prepared this time. She really was delicious, and it would be so easy to lose his head.

‘Allegra.’ She heard the slight plea in his voice and then the feel of his lips on her shoulder, felt his hand snake a little further around. She frowned as he kissed her shoulder deeper. ‘Tomorrow you must see the palace doctor.’ What a modern prince he was, Alex thought as he broached the subject. ‘We must get you on the pill.’ She turned to him so rapidly he was almost on top of her.

‘Huh?’ Audacity was such a pale word for him, because he had it in spades. She could feel his erection against her thigh, and then the crush of his mouth before she could speak, before her mind could catch up with what he had just implied.

Her mouth gaped open and he took advantage. She tasted him, fresh on her tongue, his hand moving unbidden to her thighs; she could feel his urgency, and only this morning it would have consumed her. But so much had changed since then. She moved her face to the side. ‘Don’t you dare!’

‘I don’t want to play your games.’

‘Oh, this is no game, Alex.’ She wriggled out from underneath him. ‘There’s absolutely no need for me to go on the pill. Do you really think that I’d sleep with you after today?’ She was stunned.

‘Allegra, for God’s sake—we’re going to be sharing a bed. To say that nothing is going to happen is bordering on preposterous. You know how we are when we kiss, you know how we are....’

‘How we were,’ Allegra answered, ‘before you called me ordinary.’ It stung, it burned, just as much to say it as it had to hear it. ‘For now your family wants me as your bride and you want me to go along with it. They also want me to be more groomed and polished.’ She waited till he nodded. ‘Well, they can dictate many things about my life, and I’ve been left with no choice but to comply, given our arrangement. But they will not dictate my sex life! There, at least, I make the rules.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

THERE were many reasons he had enjoyed London, but a significant one had been that Alex did not like to sleep alone. Here in Santina he had been betrothed to Anna, which meant his visits home had been rare and brief.

But now it was worse. He did not sleep alone, but instead shared a bed with a woman he found incredibly attractive, and who turned her back each night. Yet most nights they found themselves entangled; only in sleep did her body reach for him.

It had this morning.

As the sun had risen so, too, had Alex, Allegra’s body coiling into him, her breath on his chest. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to detach her, rather than face the alternative of her recoiling in horror as rather too often she did.

It was unsustainable, Alex decided later as he headed poolside for coffee and to speak as requested with the queen, only to find Allegra doing her laps.

It was completely unsustainable that he should go weeks—no, months—without reward.

He was a man after all.

More than that, he was a prince.

* * *

Allegra stroked through the water as she did each morning.

The king and queen generally did not surface till later, and his various siblings were either away or getting on with their duties. This was the best part of her day, gliding through the water, sometimes swimming faster when another wave of anger struck.

She’d remembered her sunblock. She’d been told to wear it even at 8:00 a.m.—her skin should be pale for the wedding. Every part of her had been analyzed and criticised: her laugh was too loud, her fringe too severe, her walk too heavy. Allegra stroked the water faster, touched the side and did a tumble turn, anger surging her away from the pool wall as she recalled the humiliation of her first language lesson.