The Park's Empire: Handsome Strangers...: The Prince's Bride

“I can see I’ve shocked you.”

She pulled her fingers from beneath his, turning to pace away several steps before facing him again. “That’s an understatement.” She thrust her fingers through her hair, thoroughly unsettled. “It’s noble of you to want to move heaven and earth to make your father happy, but marriage seems like a drastic step.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, his face inscrutable. “The marriage can be annulled, after—” He stopped speaking.

Emily’s heart hurt at the unspoken acknowledgment that his father’s time with the family was limited. In the short week she’d been in Daniz and observed Lazhar with his father, she’d realized that the father-son bond between them was undeniably powerful. And even though her acquaintance with the king was of short duration, she, too, felt a deep affection for him.

“How long…” She paused as her voice wavered, tears clogging her throat. “How long do the doctors think he has?”

Lazhar’s answer shocked her.

Should she do this? Could she do this—marry a man for a few weeks in name only?

Emily had a quick mental image of King Abbar smiling at her as they played chess, heard again his words of praise and gentle pride in her when Lazhar told him about the child in the street, remembered the love on Caroline’s and Jenna’s faces when they spoke of him.

The slight headache she’d woke with that morning grew a little stronger and she rubbed her aching temples with her fingertips.

“Isn’t there someone else that can be your pretend-bride?” She gave up trying to ease the headache. “I’m sure I read somewhere that royal families pick out fiancées for their children the day they’re born. Don’t you have one of those?”

“No, I don’t.” He shook his head, a bemused smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Where did you read that?”

“Probably somewhere on the Internet,” Emily said, refusing to be distracted.

“And even if I did have a childhood fiancée,” Lazhar continued. “It wouldn’t change the fact that you’re the one my father wants. You’re the only person that can do this, Emily.”

“You’re sure? You’re absolutely positive that there’s no alternative solution?”

“I’m sure.”

“I’d have to talk to Jane about the schedule at the office.” She frowned at the swift satisfaction that flashed in his eyes and was just as quickly banked. “I’m not promising that I’ll do this,” she warned him. “But I want to help. I’ve grown attached to your father in the time I’ve been here and if it’s at all possible for me to be away from the office for a couple more weeks, I’ll go along with your scheme. But I can’t destroy my business in the process.”

“Understood.” He nodded. “And thank you, Emily, you won’t be sorry.”

She thrust her fingers through her hair again, ruffling it even more. “I hope not.” She wasn’t convinced, but was willing to try to work out a solution.

“Your firm won’t be hurt financially,” he assured her. “And it’s probable that the cachet of planning a royal wedding will enhance your business portfolio, so in the long run, Creative Weddings may be a stronger company.”

“True.” Emily agreed. She looked away from him, considering the possible complications her agreement to pose as his fiancée might cause. “What about the publicity factor?”

“What about it?”

“I’m assuming that the reporters will find out about our pretend engagement, whether you tell them or not. How will you explain a marriage that only lasts for a few weeks?”

“I’ll deal with that when the time comes. Since that won’t happen until my father is gone, I’ll have bigger issues to cope with and the gossip about my short marriage probably won’t seem that important.”

“No. I suppose it won’t.” Suddenly the details of how a pseudoengagement and marriage would work didn’t seem important to Emily, either. They were small indeed, compared to the loss of a man who was a beloved father, husband and ruler over a country whose residents adored him and would deeply mourn his passing. “All right,” she said with sudden decision. “I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.” The fine tension that held him dissipated, his voice filled with relief.

“We have to tell your mother and Jenna the truth.”

“No.” Lazhar was adamant. “My mother can’t keep a secret from my father. He’ll know she’s hiding something and when he asks, she’ll spill everything. And Jenna’s the same with my mother. Neither of them can lie to each other or to my father.”

“Which means that I have to lie to them.” Emily narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t lie.”

The corners of his mouth quirked, his eyes amused. “You never lie?”

“Not purposely.” She lifted an eyebrow at his patent disbelief. “Lies create only losing situations and they can destroy lives.”

“True.” He eyed her consideringly for a moment. “I agree with you, Emily, but in this instance, telling my mother or Jenna is tantamount to telling my father. And if he knows our marriage isn’t real, then none of this will work.”

She wasn’t happy. And when she wasn’t happy, her bottom lip plumped out in a very un-Emily-like—and sexy—pout. Lazhar badly wanted to haul her into his arms and kiss her senseless but he kept a tight rein on the urge. He’d been struggling to control the instinct to claim her ever since she’d agreed to their marriage and elation had roared through him.

He knew she was attracted to him. He also knew she was fighting it. She was skittish around him, holding him at arm’s length with polite conversation, but when they were body to body, his mouth on hers, she melted like hot wax.

He’d crossed his fingers inside his pockets when he’d told her that their marriage could be annulled. He was gambling that before they reached that point, she’d admit that the marriage worked. It was true he wanted her to marry him because his father had quickly become attached to her, but with each day that he spent with her, he increasingly wanted her for himself.

He didn’t just want her, he craved her.

And that had never happened with any other woman.

Lazhar refused to think about what that might mean beyond the fact that the sexual attraction between them was hotter, more compelling, than anything he’d ever felt before.

“There has to be a way to do this without lying to everybody,” she insisted.

“Not that I can think of.” He shook his head. “My father is still the king and the ruler of Daniz, despite his poor health. He has contacts and sources that even I’m unaware of—if we tell anyone that our engagement and wedding aren’t real, he’ll find out.”

Clearly unhappy, Emily frowned and gave in. “All right,” she said reluctantly. “But I still think it’s wrong.”

“So do I,” he agreed. “But I can’t come up with an alternative. We can’t tell anyone, and we have to go through the traditional courtship phases, otherwise, Father will never believe us.”

“Traditional courtship? What does that entail…exactly?”

Lazhar managed not to smile. Despite his casual words, she had immediately honed in on the courtship reference and she was eyeing him with suspicion. “Probably pretty much what makes up an American courtship—spending time together, meeting the parents, receiving an engagement ring, a presentation ball, instruction by the protocol officer as to the duties of a princess and future queen.” He shrugged. “Just the usual stuff.”

“Just the usual stuff,” she repeated. “Protocol lessons on how to act when the bride is a princess and future queen, and a presentation ball? Trust me, Lazhar, those are not part of an everyday, normal American courtship.”

“Perhaps not, but the rest is perfectly ordinary. Given your background as the daughter of wealthy parents and your business experience in navigating society weddings, you’re uniquely prepared to cope with the palace rules that govern my family’s public life.”

“I hope you’re right,” she muttered. “Okay.” She drew a deep breath. “We’ll tell them tonight?”

“Yes—unless you’d like to tell Jenna and Mother now. The sooner the better as far as I’m concerned, but the timing is up to you.”

Emily glanced down at herself, her lashes lowering and shielding her eyes from him. His gaze followed hers, skimming the curves beneath the simple rose-pink sundress she wore. Strappy leather sandals left her feet nearly bare, her toenails painted with a rose enamel that matched the dress.

“I’m not dressed for an important occasion—and telling your mother that I’m going to be your wife is very important.”

Lazhar thought she looked good enough to eat, but if she felt the need for a less casual outfit, he was amenable. “Then let’s go to the bazaar as we originally planned, and while we’re out, we’ll stop at a jeweler’s and pick out a ring.”