The Queen's Nine-Month Scandal

With a spurt of anger she wondered, Was nothing to be sacred, just for me? Ever? Once she married, her life would become even less private than it already was.

Analia turned back into the room feeling restless and a little wild. She saw a black strapless evening gown hanging up. It had been put out for a masquerade ball she’d been invited to that evening—until her chief advisors had decided that the event wouldn’t really be appropriate. Analia spied the gilt-edged invitation on a table and went over to pick it up.

You are cordially invited to indulge yourself and your senses in the company of Andreas Xenakis, in the spirit of the famous Venice Carnival.

The rest of the words blurred as something dark settled in Analia’s belly. Resolve. Andreas Xenakis was one of the world’s most renowned playboys and hoteliers, hence her advisors’ lack of enthusiasm that she attend. Earlier, she’d agreed not to go because a party had been the last thing she’d felt like...but now something was surging in her blood and making her feel reckless. Rebellious.

* * *

Daniel Sasha Petrovsky felt restless. His mouth thinned, this was nothing new, he’d been born restless. But for once, he found himself craving...peace. He’d thought that by leaving his career as a celebrated war photographer and reporter behind, he might have gained some. When an estranged Russian oligarch uncle had died leaving his vast fortune to Daniel, he’d taken the opportunity to do something more worthwhile, using his knowledge of where money was needed most in the world to become a philanthropist.

But no matter where he went, no matter how his wealth increased exponentially or how much of it he consequently gave away, it felt as if a void was growing inside him and there was nothing he could do to fill it.

And yet he knew he couldn’t go back into that chaotic world of war, carnage and destruction. He’d seen too much, had witnessed too much horror.

He shook his head as if that could shake off this very uncharacteristic introspection and took in his glittering surroundings: a centuries old palazzo, which showcased Venice’s crumbling splendour. It could have been medieval times. Candles flickered everywhere, dancing on acres of seductively bared female flesh. Daniel’s mouth twisted. Despite the skin on show, this was no debauched carnival party. This was at the top end of the scale, the most exclusive invite of the carnival.

Daniel gave thanks for his own mask and the beard which further disguised him. He wasn’t in the mood to be recognized tonight. The cloak of anonymity suited him and this strange mood he was in.

A movement to his right caught his peripheral vision and he turned to look as a woman stepped into the room just a few feet away. Instantly everything within him seemed to slow down to one long heartbeat. She was exquisite. Dark lustrous hair fell in loose waves behind her shoulders. Pale olive skin glowed like a pearl and looked as soft as silk.

The

curve of her jaw was graceful and delicate, hinting at the true beauty which lay hidden under a piece of black lace covering her face from forehead to nose. Her simple mask made the surrounding, more elaborate ones seem garish.

She had soft, voluptuous, infinitely kissable lips. She intrigued him and aroused him all at once, standing so alone. A simple diamond bracelet glinted at that moment from her wrist as she moved forward with a hesitation that made him frown slightly. Women in this milieu weren’t hesitant.

There was something about that hesitance and her isolation that instantly resonated within him, as if a chord of recognition had been struck. Welcoming the distraction from his inner tumult, and unable to stop himself, he moved towards her.

* * *

Analia was still giddy with the knowledge that she’d managed to escape the confines of her hotel suite, thanks to observing a maid use a staff entrance earlier in the day. For the first time in her life she wasn’t surrounded by staff and bodyguards.

The feeling of freedom was heady. Waiters were passing through the crowd dressed in costumes, their faces covered by masks. The guests looked beautiful and mysterious. Everyone was anonymous here. She could be anyone.

‘You look thirsty.’

It took a second for the deep voice at Analia’s side to register and she turned with a start to see a glass of champagne being held out towards her. She looked up, and up again, to see a broad-shouldered man who quite simply took her breath away. His face was almost entirely obscured on top by a black mask, and on the bottom by the dark growth of a beard that hugged his jaw.

Unlike the other men dressed in tuxedos, he was in a dark suit but with an open-necked shirt. Unruly dark wavy hair almost touched his collar and only added to his rakish appearance. The hint of rebelliousness resonated deep within her.

His lips quirked, firmly sculpted and so undeniably sensual that she felt a flutter of something hot, deep in her belly. And then he smiled, flashing strong white teeth, and Analia was dazzled. She also felt very strangely as if he was familiar to her, but in a way she couldn’t rationalize. A little shiver went down her spine.

She took the glass and murmured, ‘Thank you.’

‘I take it you’re not meeting anyone here?’

Analia took a gulp of the sparkling liquid and let the bubbles race down her throat before saying wryly, ‘Is it that obvious?’

The man shrugged minutely, ‘You looked a little lost when you came in.

Something pierced her at last and she asked him in turn, ‘And you? Are you alone too?’

He turned his face to cast a look over the crowd and Analia’s belly tightened to see how strong his jaw was. He was so intensely masculine.

‘I know our host, that’s about it.’ He turned to look back down at her. ‘With all these masks it’s hard to know about anyone else.’

‘I like it,’ Analia heard herself blurting out.