name had this ever seemed like a good idea—to either of them?
‘I’ve felt better,’ she admitted, crossing the room to perch on the edge of the bed.
Up close, she decided that it really wasn’t fair that he looked like this. His hair was artfully mussed by the pillows, his shirt was rumpled, and his tiny hint of eyeliner had smudged, but the whole look was so unforgivably sexy she almost forgot that whatever had happened the night before had been a huge mistake.
But sexy wasn’t why she’d married him. Or maybe it was. When she went into reckless self-destruction mode, who was to say why she did anything?
Even in this oasis in the middle of the desert, she hadn’t been able to escape the baggage that came with being a member of the royal family. The media obsession with royal women marrying and reproducing. Someone had raised a toast when they had seen her, to her impending marriage, asked her if she was up the duff and handed her a bottle of champagne. She’d been tempted to down the whole thing without taking a breath, determined to silence the voices in her head.
‘So,’ she said. ‘I guess we’re in trouble.’
* * *
Trouble? She was right about that. Everything about this woman said trouble. He had known it the minute that he had set eyes on her, all attitude and eyeliner. He had known it for sure when they’d started dancing, her body moving in time with his. So at what point last night had trouble seemed like such a good idea?
When they’d left the dance floor, in that last club, their bodies hot and sticky. When she’d been trying to talk business but he’d been distracted by the humming of his skin and the sparks that leapt from his body to hers whenever she was near. When Ricky, the drummer in his band, had joked that he needed to show some real rock-star behaviour if they were going to sell the new album, and Joe had dropped to one knee and proposed.
He hadn’t thought for a second that she would go along with it.
But Charlie had stopped for a moment as their eyes had met, and as everyone had laughed around them he had been able to see that she wasn’t laughing, and neither was he. The club had stilled and quietened, or maybe it was just his mind that had, but suddenly there had been just the two of them, connected through something bigger than either of their bodies could contain. Something he couldn’t pretend to comprehend, but that he knew meant that they understood each other.
And then she had nodded, thrown back her head and laughed along with everyone else, and they had been carried on a wave of adrenaline, bonhomie and contagious intoxication into a cab and up the steps of the courthouse. Somehow, still high from their performance and bewitched by the Princess, he hadn’t stepped out of their fantasy and broken the spell.
They’d been cocooned in that buzz, carrying them straight through the ceremony. Such a laugh as they’d toppled out of the chapel. Right up until that kiss. Then it had all felt very real.
Did she remember that feeling as they had kissed for the first time? He knew in his bones that he could never forget it, as they were pronounced husband and wife.
‘Are you going to hide in there all morning?’ he asked.
In the daylight, she didn’t look like a princess any more than she had the night before. Maybe that was how he’d found himself here. He’d expected to be on edge around her, but as soon as he had met her... Not that he was relaxed—no, there was too much going on, too much churning and yearning and desire to call it relaxed. But he’d been... He wasn’t sure of the word. Her boss had sent her out here to convince him that their label was a good fit—and he’d been right. They had... Maybe fit was the right world. They’d just understood each other. She understood the music. Understood him. And when they had started dancing, there had been no question in his mind that this was important. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew that he wanted more.
And marrying her—it had been a good move for the band. You couldn’t buy publicity like that. He must have been thinking about that, must have calculated this as a business move. It was the only thing that made sense.
But was she expecting a marriage?
Because she came with a hell of a lot of baggage. Oh, he knew which fork to use, and how to spot the nasty ones in a room of over-privileged Henrys. He’d learned that much at his exclusive public school, where his music scholarship had taken him fee-free. But the most important part of his education had been the invaluable lesson he’d got in his last year—everyone was out to get something, so you’d better work out what you wanted in return.
The only place he felt relaxed these days was on the road, with his band. They moved from city to city, sometimes settling for a few weeks if they could hire some studio space, otherwise going from gig to gig, and woman to woman, without looking back. Everyone knowing exactly what they wanted, and taking what was on offer with no strings attached.
‘Come on,’ he said, reaching for her hand. As his fingertips touched hers he had another flash of that feeling from last night. The electric current that had joined them together as they had danced; that had woven such a spell around them that even a visit to a courthouse hadn’t broken it.
‘I can’t believe we got married. This was your fault. Your idea.’
Was she for real? He shrugged and reminded her of the details. ‘No one forced you. You seemed to think it was a great idea last night.’
So why was she looking at her ring as if it were burning her?
‘Wh...?’
He waited to see which question was burning uppermost in her mind.
‘Why? Why in God’s name did I think it was a great idea?’
‘How am I supposed to know if you don’t? Maybe you were thinking it would be good publicity for the album.’
He looked at her carefully. Yes, that was why they had done it. But also...no. There was more to it. He couldn’t believe that she was such a stranger this morning. When they’d laughed about this last night, it hadn’t just been a publicity stunt—that sounded too cold. It had been a joke, a deal, between friends. A publicity stunt was business, but last night, as they’d laughed together on the way to the courthouse, it had been more than that.
And maybe that was where he had gone wrong, because he knew how this worked. He knew that all relationships were deals, with each partner out to get what they wanted. He had no reason to be offended that she was acting like that this morning.
‘I’m not sure why you’re mad at me. You thought it was a great idea last night.’
‘I hadn’t slept for thirty-six hours, Joe. I think we can say that I wasn’t doing my best reasoning. We have to undo this. What are my parents going to say?’
Her parents, the Queen of Afland and her husband. He groaned inwardly.
‘Last night you said, and I quote, “They’re going to go mental.” As far as I could work out, that was a point in the plan’s favour.’
In the cold light of morning—not such a good idea. Bad, in fact. Very bad.
He had married a princess—an actual blue-blooded, heir-to-the-throne, her-mother’s-a-queen princess.
He was royally screwed.
