Saved by the Monarch. Dana Marton

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refused to consider, and for a split second he wondered if he could afford to let that whole issue drop. He hadn’t really wanted a bride. He wanted a reluctant bride even less.

      And she was nothing like the duty-bound daughters of the Valtrian aristocracy. Whoever he married wouldn’t simply be his wife—she would be a princess of the country. She would have endless duties and responsibilities. And she would be expected to fulfill every last one of them. She would be expected to make sacrifices for the people.

      If he were the only other person involved, he would have been willing to respect her explicitly worded wishes in the matter. But their union went beyond him; it involved the whole country. And despite some misgivings on his part, he couldn’t give up his hopes for their grand peacemaking alliance. The country needed that.

      “I’m truly sorry that your introduction to Valtria is like this. It’s a wonderful country. I wish your arrival could have been different.”

      “You and me both,” she groused, then asked, “Why do the people want the crown prince dead?”

      “Not the people. Some people. Three businessmen in particular.” The three men who led the so-called Freedom Council. “We have three major ethnic groups in the country: Italian, Hungarian and Austrian. There are some businessmen who would like to destroy the monarchy, divide the country along those ethnic lines and make their own republics.” How little she knew about the country was truly disappointing.

      “Which would be led by these powerful men?”

      At least she was catching on quickly. “Right. Each would have a small republic. They could then rewrite the laws to suit their best interests, anything.”

      “Why?”

      “More power. More money. When Arpad takes over, he’s changing the country to a constitutional monarchy. Already, preparations are being made. The next step after that is joining the European Union. That will change everything. Not all EU regulations will be favorable for all current Valtrian business practices.

      “The bottom line is, for the Freedom Council the time is now or never. It’s easier to take out the royal family now and gain control of the country than try to take out a whole parliament once constitutional monarchy gets here.”

      “Don’t the people understand that they’re being manipulated?”

      “There’s a lot of propaganda out there right now to create tension along ethnic lines. That’s all people see.” He felt such regret over that, and wondered if, not having grown up in Valtria, Judi could understand.

      “For as long as I can remember, we were simply Valtrian,” he explained. “Now everyone is seeing themselves as Italian or Hungarian or Austrian, and centuryold grievances are being dredged up.”

      “The whole divide-and-conquer thing. And political instability brings economic instability, of course,” she added.

      So she did get it. He went on, encouraged. “The economy is suffering already. And the Freedom Council is doing its best to convince the people that it’s because the upkeep of monarchy is too expensive.”

      “You’ve said Freedom Council more than once. What is it?”

      “That’s what the rebel leaders are calling themselves. Pretty ironic, actually. Under their mercenary government, the people would be anything but free.”

      She remained silent for minutes. “I wish I knew more about Valtria.”

      “How much were you told of our history?”

      “My father used to talk to me about it. But he died and—I was too young to remember.”

      “And your aunt Viola?”

      “For the most part, she just tried to convince me to move back here. Gently,” she added. “She doesn’t like to say things she knows I don’t want to hear.”

      He rolled his eyes beneath the blindfold.

      Then he turned his head toward the door when he heard it open.

      Something clanged to the floor.

      The door closed again.

      “What do you think that was?” she asked.

      “Food.” He hoped.

      And got a sudden idea just as she asked, “What are we going to do?”

      “Escape,” he answered. “But we’ll have to get the blindfolds off first.” He moved toward her. “Keep talking so I can figure out where exactly you are. Just say something. Anything.”

      “For my thirtieth birthday I decided to visit the country of my ancestors and discover my heritage. At the airport I was kidnapped by a deranged prince—”

      “Greeted by an eager groom,” he corrected as his head bumped into hers.

      “Then I was kidnapped by other deranged men,” she finished.

      “What, that wasn’t in the brochure?” He made an attempt to lighten the mood between them. “People pay extra for extreme vacations like that.”

      Then his lips were on her cheeks, her skin silky soft. And they both fell silent.

      He ignored the heat that flashed through him and zipped straight to his groin. He moved his mouth up to the blindfold, grabbed the material with his teeth, breathing in her exotic flower scent. She held herself ramrod straight.

      “Relax. I’m not trying to seduce you.” And just for the hell of it, he added, “Yet.”

      But he could envision it in crystal-clear detail all of a sudden. Her tangled up in his sheets. Naked. Under him.

      “I don’t want you to confuse me with those women who throw themselves at the feet of handsome princes.”

      Disappointingly, her voice held no trace of passion. Instead, he got the distinct impression that she was mocking him.

      “You’re in no danger of that.” He pulled the blindfold off all the way at last. “Your turn,” he said, waiting impatiently to see again.

      A moment passed before he could feel her velvety lips on his left cheek, an inch or two above his mouth, next to the blindfold. Her firm breasts pressed against his shoulder as she leaned into him. She moved her mouth. The blindfold moved next, a scant centimeter only before it slipped from her teeth. She had to fit her lips to his skin again.

      He didn’t mind the delay.

      Then the blindfold was off at last, around his neck. She looked up, and they were nose to nose, her lavender eyes staring into his, her soft breath fanning his face.

      “At least you think me handsome. That’s a start, I suppose.” Utterly ridiculous how pleased those words she’d let slip made him feel. A foothold, that was what they were. Something he could stand on while he fought to gain more ground. Courting a woman couldn’t have been that much different from conducting a military campaign.

      She blushed a brilliant red, right to the tip of her ears. The response

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