has told me much the same sort of gossip.”
Sinking into a chair at the small round table, he put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. He hated this. If only Lorraine were still alive….
But she wasn’t, and he had to go on. Ruthlessly, he pushed the picture of her sweet face out of his mind. He didn’t have the time or the luxury to dwell on what might have been. He had a country to lead. Nabotavia needed a queen and needed King Mandrake’s help on their western border. Marrying Princess Iliana would give them both those things.
She certainly wasn’t his ideal. He couldn’t even conceive of living with her as husband and wife. But he didn’t imagine they would actually spend much time together, and he didn’t need any more children. The ones he had were being well brought up by their grandmother, Judith, Lorraine’s mother. A good stepmother for his children would have been nice, but one couldn’t have everything one wanted in life. Often, one barely got what one needed.
Did he really need this woman?
Not personally. He’d managed without female companionship for the last two years. He couldn’t claim that he’d done fine. He’d missed Lorraine every moment, ached for her. But in every other way, life had continued without much hassle. The children loved their grandmother. They still had the same nanny they had known since birth. As the crown prince, and soon as king, he had never been destined to be much of a hands-on father to them. That was something he regretted, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d spent a good part of the last year fighting to free Nabotavia, and he would spend the rest of his life fighting to maintain that freedom for his country. Whether or not he was married would make little difference there.
But his country needed a queen, and his alliance with Alovitia was supremely important. So yes, much as he hated to admit it, he needed this woman. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at Jordan, misery shining in his eyes.
“Why can’t my life be simple?” he asked him with a growl.
“Because you were born to a complex role, sir,” Jordan answered sensibly.
Marco nodded. “I’m afraid you’re right.” He grimaced and swore softly. “I know I can’t betray Mandrake after all he did to help me. If it hadn’t been for him, Nabotavia would not be free.”
“Quite true, sir.”
Marco frowned. He’d never given much thought to why King Mandrake might want so badly to have his daughter married to him. He’d always supposed it was to strengthen ties with Nabotavia. The bonds between the two countries were ancient and would always be there, but would be vastly strengthened by a marriage between the two ruling houses. But maybe there was more. After all, she was at least twenty-eight by now, though she looked younger. And still unmarried. Her father was probably having a hard time getting anyone suitable to take her.
“If I might make a suggestion, sir.”
He looked up hopefully. “Suggestions are welcomed, Jordan.”
“It is well said that King Mandrake does have a terrible temper.”
“A terrible temper. Yes indeed.” Marco laughed softly and ran his fingers through his hair. “You know, Jordan, I’m thinking of developing a terrible temper when I’m king. What do you think?”
“Such a thing can come in handy, sir. But about my thoughts on tonight’s subject.”
“Yes. Go ahead.”
“I believe I mentioned the king’s temper. If he hears that you threw aside his daughter after ten minutes on the dance floor, he is liable to take it as an affront.”
“Yes, I’m afraid you’re right on that one. I can’t do it, much as I may be tempted.” His sigh came from deep in his heart.
“If you were to spend a few hours with the young lady, it is just possible that you may come to understand her better and even like her.”
Marco coughed skeptically. “I get your drift, Jordan. And I know you are quite right.” His spirit revived a bit. After all, if Jordan thought there was hope, there just might be at least a glimmer. “So I’m afraid I’m going to have to give it another go.”
“If you feel it quite necessary, sir.”
He nodded solemnly. “I do, Jordan.” Turning toward the door, he squared his shoulders. “It is only fair to give the young woman another chance. Then, who knows?”
“Precisely, sir.”
The interesting thing was that Princess Iliana seemed to have much the same idea as Crown Prince Marco did and was waiting with her two attendants very near the dance floor. She had something of a reluctant look on her face, as though it had taken a lot of persuading to get her to come back and meet with him again, but he didn’t care. As long as she was available, he would do what he could to repair the damage of their earlier meeting, and hopefully, build a common relationship. If it was possible to make it a friendly collaboration, that would be best. But if he had to throw her over his shoulder and carry her down the aisle, he’d do it. Bottom line, he was going to marry her.
He studied her as he came closer. She really was beautiful, with a rare luminous quality, as though she were lit with a warm light from within. For just a moment, he felt a slight pang of regret. If only she’d been a different sort of woman, he was sure something could have been worked out. But as she was, he could only hope for miracles.
He bowed and smiled and murmured a few pleasantries. She nodded and gave him a tight smile back, and as she came to join him on the dance floor, she glanced back at her attendants with a look he couldn’t read. Rebellion? Desperation? Threats of revenge? He wasn’t sure. But it didn’t matter, just as long as she agreed to put in some time with him. For all he knew, she might be as determined as he was to make this work. That was to be hoped, of course. But if she was unwilling to commit to him voluntarily, she was going to have to be persuaded. The possibilities were endless.
Shannon accepted the prince’s arm as it came around her, leading her into the dance, and she felt her traitorous body begin to respond to him again. It just didn’t make any sense. She’d made up her mind that the man was abhorrent. Why couldn’t the rest of her system get the message?
Still, she’d promised Greta to do something to make amends, and she supposed it was only fair that she do so. After tonight she would never see the crown prince again, but Greta and Freddy—and most of all the real princess—would have to deal with him on a continuing basis. Time to smooth feathers.
She took a deep breath and raised her eyes to meet his. “I want to apologize for some of the things I said to you earlier. I’m afraid I got a little carried away.”
He nodded his head in acknowledgment. “That is very gracious of you, Princess,” he said.
She waited, holding his gaze with her own, trying not to notice the attractive deep grooves that had once housed dimples in his handsome face, and definitely ignoring the full lips.
“Well?” she said at last.
He looked into her face and it was obvious he knew she was waiting for him to reciprocate. Was that a spark of humor in his silver-blue eyes? Or a flicker of malice?
“Well what?” he asked innocently.
Her
