The King's Convenient Bride / The Illegitimate Prince's Baby. Michelle Celmer

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      In the past, to keep things proper and by the book, on the rare occasions they visited each other, there had always been a chaperone present. Though Hannah’s experience with the queen had been limited to a few obligatory and brief meetings, she’d heard the rumors. She’d heard that the queen was cold, heartless and ruthlessly demanding.

      It was her way or the highway.

      But the queen was gone now, and right here, in this empty room, there was no one to stop them from…whatever.

      Suddenly she felt ultra aware of his presence. The clean, crisp scent of his aftershave. The weight of his gaze as he studied her. He was just so…there.

      And so close.

      It would take little more than a fraction of movement and she could touch his sleeve. With a lift of her hand she could brush her fingertip across his smooth cheek. And the idea of touching him made her legs feel all wobbly again.

      “If you keep chewing your lip that way, there’ll be nothing left for me,” he teased, and something playfully wicked flashed behind his eyes.

      Oh, boy.

      In all of the years she’d studied in preparation for this marriage, she had learned about things like etiquette and social graces, bloodlines and royal custom, but no one ever taught her about this kind of stuff. Sure, it had been drilled in her head that she would be expected to produce at least one heir, preferably more, but all advice stopped outside the bedroom door.

      And to say she was a novice was a gross understatement.

      Though her high school girlfriends and college sorority sisters often questioned her sanity, she had made the decision a long time ago, even before the arranged marriage, that she would save herself for her husband on their wedding night.

      She and Phillip had never kissed. Never so much as held hands. Not that she hadn’t wanted to. But it wouldn’t have been proper. Right now, here in this room, there wasn’t a single thing to stop them.

      The idea made her both excited and terrified at the same time. The truth of the matter was, she barely knew him, and that had never been more evident to her than at this very moment.

      He leaned forward a fraction and she just about jumped out of her skin. With an amused grin, he asked, “Do I make you nervous, Hannah?”

      She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to gnaw her lip. “You’re a king. It is a tad intimidating.”

      “I’m just a man.”

      Yeah, kind of like The Beatles were just a rock-and-roll band or the Mona Lisa is just a painting.

      “I’ve been anticipating this day for a really long time,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as wobbly to his ears as it did to her own.

      “Well then, I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.” His eyes searched her face and she wondered what he was looking for. What did he see when he looked at her? Did he know deep in his heart, just as she did, that they were perfectly suited? Was he as excited about the future as she was?

      Though her parents insisted she wait until she was eighteen before making the decision to marry Phillip, from the day she met him, she knew that she would someday be his wife. Had he felt it, too?

      With all of her dedication and careful planning, how could their life together not be storybook perfect?

      “You are beautiful.” He lifted one hand to her face, brushed the backs of his fingers across the curve of her jaw. Her skin warmed and tingled and a funny tickle rippled through her belly. “Does it strike you odd that we’ll be married in two weeks, and yet I’ve never even kissed you?”

      “It would have been difficult with the chaperone watching our every move. Of course, that was the point of the chaperone, I guess.”

      He leaned in the tiniest bit and her heart went berserk. “There’s no chaperone here.”

      “Well,” she said, with a confidence she’d dredged up from God only knew where. “I guess now is your big chance.”

      A grin curled his mouth. He slipped his fingers across her cheek, cupped her face with one large but gentle hand, and goose bumps broke out across her skin. “I guess it is.”

      Two

      Maybe it wasn’t proper, but as he leaned in she felt herself tipping forward to meet him halfway. Since she was sixteen years old, she had imagined kissing him, so sue her if she was more than a little enthusiastic.

      Her eyes slipped closed and she felt the whisper of his breath, then his lips brushed hers…

      Across the room the doors flew open and Hannah was so startled, she shot to her feet.

      Phillip sighed and sat back on his heels. Leave it to his sister, Sophie, to kill a moment.

      Sophie merely smiled.

      He rose to his feet to stand beside his fiancée. She was red-faced with embarrassment, or maybe arousal. Or perhaps a bit of both. “Hannah, you remember my sister, Princess Sophie?”

      “Of course,” Hannah said, executing a flawless curtsy. “It’s so nice to see you again, Your Highness.”

      “As I’m sure my brother will tell you, I don’t care much for titles.” She offered Hannah her hand for a firm, very unroyal shake. “From now on, it’s just plain old Sophie, okay?”

      Hannah nodded, her lip clamped between her teeth. A habit he found rather charming. If it weren’t for his sister and her most inconvenient timing, he might be the one chewing that plump, tender flesh.

      “I wanted to let you know that the receiving line has been moved to the foyer,” Sophie told him. And added with a wry grin, “If you’re ready, of course.”

      He turned to his bride-to-be. “Hannah?”

      “Is there a powder room I could use first? I have the feeling I gnawed off the last of my lipstick.”

      “Of course.” He gestured to the door. “Right through there.”

      “I’ll try to hurry.”

      “Take all the time you need.”

      He watched her cross the room, noting that in spite of her apprehension, she carried herself with the utmost grace and dignity. It was hard to believe it had been two years since their last meeting. And the fault was entirely his own. Since his father’s death he had been too busy to give his impending marriage much attention. There wasn’t even supposed to be a marriage for at least another year. Not that he would be any less opposed to the idea then, as he was now.

      If it were up to him, he would never tie the knot. The idea of being chained to a single woman for the rest of his life sounded so…claustrophobic. But he had a duty to his country. One that he did not take lightly.

      And unlike his father, from whom Phillip had inherited his restless nature, he intended to be faithful to his wife.

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