Royal Holiday Bride. Brenda Harlen

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СКАЧАТЬ and she used the belt from it to tie the heavy length of hair up off of her neck. She didn’t dare take off the wig or her mask. Though she kept a fairly low profile, there was always the possibility that she might be recognized, and that was a chance she couldn’t take. Not tonight.

      Pushing the worry aside, she stepped into the tub, sighing as she sank into the warm, scented water. She hadn’t realized she was tense until she felt the stiffness seep out of her muscles. But while her body relaxed, her mind raced.

      She’d lucked out tonight, she realized that. In retrospect, she could appreciate that her plan to go to bed with a stranger had been not just desperate but reckless. And she had absolutely no regrets. Maybe she did wish that she knew something about the man who had been such an attentive and considerate lover, but there was no point in getting to know a man whose presence in her life couldn’t be anything more than temporary.

      Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she rose from the tub and briskly rubbed a thick towel over her body. Then she released the tie that was holding her hair, tucked it through the loops of the robe she’d wrapped around herself and stepped back into the bedroom.

      He’d lit more candles in here, too, she realized, and folded back the covers on the bed. An antique serving cart had been rolled into the room, on top of which sat an assortment of bowls and platters offering fresh fruits and an assortment of crackers and meats and cheeses. There was also a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket filled with ice beside two crystal flutes waiting to be filled.

      “I thought we might have that champagne now,” he said.

      She was as surprised as she was flattered that he’d gone to so much trouble, but the wild pounding of her heart made her wary. Was she a complete sucker for romantic gestures? Or was it somehow possible that she could be falling in love with a man she didn’t even know—a man that she wouldn’t ever see again after this night?

      She wasn’t sure she could answer those questions, or that she wanted to, so she responded to his suggestion instead.

      “Champagne sounds wonderful.” Then she went to him and linked her hands behind his neck, urging his head down so that she could meet his lips with her own. “Later.”

      Her heart gave another sigh when he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. She had never dreamed that such romance could be found anywhere outside of the pages of a Victorian novel, and knowing that she was unlikely to experience anything like it again, she savored every moment.

      She promised herself that she would remember each stroke of his hands, every touch of his lips, and she knew that she would treasure the memories forever. Whatever happened tomorrow, whatever trials and tribulations she might face in the future, she would always have her recollection of this incredible night. No one could ever take that from her.

      He lowered her gently onto the mattress and sank down beside her. He’d shown her pleasure already—so much more than she’d expected. But now, with every brush of his fingertips, there was even more. With every caress, he showed her that she wasn’t just desired but revered. With every kiss, he proved that she wasn’t just wanted but cherished. And when he finally joined his body with hers again, she felt not just connected but complete.

      It was hours later before Marissa finally slipped from his bed.

      She hadn’t intended to stay so long. Truthfully, her plan for the evening had been remarkably sparse on details beyond finding a willing lover. She knew that she’d been fortunate to find one not just willing but eager to please, and she’d been reluctant to leave the warm comfort of his arms. But she did so, anyway, understanding that she had no other choice.

      If anyone was to see her leaving his room—well, she didn’t even want to imagine what kind of scandal that would cause. Definitely enough of a scandal that Anthony Volpini would have to accept she would never be his virgin bride. That thought made her smile, and for a brief moment she actually considered stomping her feet as she made her way down the hall so that she would be discovered.

      But aside from an arranged marriage to the Duke of Bellemoro, there was nothing Marissa dreaded more than the possibility of finding herself at the center of a media circus. So instead of stomping, she carried her sandals in her hand to ensure a quiet escape as she slipped away from Jupiter’s room.

      Although she’d stayed longer than she’d intended, it was still early enough that Marissa didn’t expect to encounter any servants moving through the halls just yet. So she didn’t notice the shadow behind the curtains across the hall or hear the barely audible click of the shutter as her clandestine departure was captured by the camera’s lens.

      She was gone when Dante awoke. The only proof he had that she’d even been there was a lingering trace of her scent on his pillow and a broken peacock feather that he picked up off of the carpet near the bed.

      He sat on the edge of the mattress with the feather in his hand and thought about the woman he knew only as Juno. They’d shared intimacies but not names, and while he didn’t regret a minute of the time they’d spent together, he did regret that she’d disappeared from his bed and his life without even saying goodbye.

      It wasn’t impossible to imagine that their paths might someday cross again, but the possibility did nothing to ease the unexpected emptiness inside of him. Because he knew that, in the unlikely event that they did meet again, he wouldn’t recognize her. If he really wanted to ascertain her identity, he could probably finagle a copy of the guest list from one of the palace staff. But then what?

      Was he really prepared to track down every female guest until he found a green-eyed redhead with a sexy little mole on her right hip? Of course not, because even if he had the time or the energy for such an endeavor, the discovery of Juno’s true identity would change nothing. He’d known when he invited her back to his room that they could never be anything more than strangers in the night.

      So why was he wishing for something different now? Why was he fantasizing about an impossible reunion with a woman he didn’t even know?

      His future was already laid out for him and last night had been only a temporary and forbidden deviation from the path that had been set for him at birth. It was time to set himself back on that path and be the king his country needed.

      It was time to meet his bride.

       Chapter Three

      Marissa slapped a hand on her alarm to silence the incessant buzzing. She wasn’t ready to get out of bed. Her reluctance had nothing to do with the fact that she’d crawled between the sheets less than four hours earlier and everything to do with the incredible sensual dreams from which she never wanted to awaken.

      Dreams of a mouthwateringly sexy god with fathomless dark eyes behind a gold mask, a strong jaw with just a hint of shadow and a mouth that was both elegantly shaped and infinitely talented. She could almost taste his kiss, dark and potent and thoroughly intoxicating.

      She snuggled deeper under the covers, certain she could feel the heat of his skin beneath her palms as she explored the planes and angles of all those glorious muscles. Broad shoulders, strong pecs, rippling abs and a very impressive—

      She slapped at the alarm again.

      Then, with a sigh that was equal parts resignation and regret, she hit the off button and eased herself into sitting position.

      Pushing back the covers, she swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. She winced a little as СКАЧАТЬ