A Christmas Vow Of Seduction

“No,” he said, “I’m not a prisoner. Just a prince. That means there are certain expectations I’m obligated to fulfill. Make no mistake, I’ve spent the past decade and a half steeped in debauchery and generally ignoring all of my responsibilities. We all have to face a reckoning, eventually. You are mine.”

Arrogant. That was what he was. To sit there and call her his reckoning when she’d been dragged here against her will. To speak of his duty as such a burden when her father had lost his life upholding the crown in Tirimia, fighting for what was right.

What did this man do with his position? Nothing, from the looks of things.

“You speak of being a prince with such disdain. I am a princess, forced into hiding because of the title. My parents were killed because they were royalty, and yet you stand here, perfectly whole, complaining of being forced into marriage by your brother. How terribly sorry I am for you that your life of extended pleasure is being interrupted by duty. My parents died for duty.”

“Am I supposed to regret that that isn’t an option for me? Should I go offer my neck to the guillotine rather than my hand in marriage?”

“My parents are dead,” she hissed.

“And I am sorry. But I am not sorry that I don’t face the same peril. This is not the same country, nor am I in the same position.”

“You have your life and your opportunities and still you speak with such disrespect of the position.”

“And still, you will be my wife.”

“Never,” she hissed, knowing that now, with hair tousled and her posture mirroring that of an angry cat, she was looking every inch the feral creature he clearly thought she was.

“What are your options, agape?” he asked, the endearment strange to her ears. “You said yourself you cannot return home. Where will you go if you don’t stay here with me?”

Words churned through her mind, but when one would rise to the surface, it would slip back beneath just as quickly, before she could grab hold of it.

“Nowhere,” he said, answering for her. “You can speak of life and death all you want, as though it is all that matters, but here in this position you see that. There are many shades of gray within living and death, and unhappiness through a forced marriage is most certainly one of them. But you’re like me. You’ve hit a wall. You have no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” she said, not sure where the words came from, but certain, even as she spoke them, that they were true. “I live because of that truth. Because rather than giving up, my mother’s maid chose to save me. Because rather than sending me back, the clan chose to care for me. We always have choices.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, his dark gaze far too assessing. “Then this is my choice, and I’m making it. I owe my brother a debt, beyond the typical royal duty. I’m in no position to refuse his demands. And I choose to obey them.”

“What of my choices?”

“They are somewhat crippled in this situation. I won’t lie.”

“Crippled? They are completely incapacitated.”

He shrugged as though he were pushing her protests off his shoulders. “Perhaps. But this is the reality. Whether you want to or not, you, Princess Zara Stoica, will be my wife by Christmas.”

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_4af3bf9b-86d3-5937-9720-078f055e3538)

“PRINCE ANDRES.”

Andres looked up, at the servant who was standing in the doorway of his brother’s study, the other man’s expression concerned. Andres and Kairos had spent the evening playing cards and drinking Scotch. Possibly both avoiding the women in their lives.

Andres still had a hard time believing he had a woman in his life in any capacity other than his bed. In addition to the fact that she was his fiancée and not simply a lover, he did not want her in his bed. Not now.

He could no more imagine bedding that creature than he could imagine willingly sticking his hand into a badger den. Just another reason he’d tasked his brother’s staff with placing her in a different wing of the palace.

He had spent the earlier part of the night discussing the marriage with Kairos. And Kairos’s expectations. Of course, they would be figureheads for the nation. Actively involved in political and social events. A counterpart to himself and Tabitha, particularly important since it could potentially be up to them to produce heirs.

That meant they had to be at least half as respectable as Kairos and Tabitha, a feat Andres couldn’t imagine either of them managing.

A concern only deepened by the very worried look on the servant’s face. “Princess Zara refuses to be moved.”

Andres dropped his cards onto the table in front of him. “What do you mean she refuses?”

The man cleared his throat. “She was quite...adamant. She says she is comfortable.”

Kairos made a dismissive noise. “Unsurprising. She is already unwilling to leave your bed.” Kairos sounded...envious. Kairos had it very, very wrong.

“That is not it,” Andres said darkly.

Kairos raised an eyebrow, and Andres recognized his own features looking back at him. It was rare that he saw the similarities between himself and his brother, but he saw them now. “My wife quite happily has her own room.”

“Mine most certainly will,” Andres said, his voice a growl. “Perhaps a gilded cage is in order. One with a very firm lock.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t know how you expect me to make a princess of her.”

“She is a princess,” Kairos said, his tone bland.

“You know what I mean.”

“I thought, perhaps, it might cost you so much energy to tame her that you might tame yourself in the process.”

Andres glared at his brother, anger roaring through him. If only Kairos weren’t so far from the truth. It was the very idea of managing to tame both of them that made it seem so impossible. He said nothing else. He stormed toward the door, and the servant stepped out of his way.

“If you cannot remove her,” Andres tossed back as he walked down the hall, “I will do it myself.”

He walked to the staircase, taking the marble steps two at a time before striding down the hall toward his chambers. He pushed the doors open and was met with an empty room.

His future bride was nowhere to be seen. He stalked through the room and approached the bathroom, flinging the doors open wide.

He heard a squeak, then a splash. He looked toward the bath where he saw a very wet, indignant woman.

“What are you doing in here?” she demanded, as though she were the royalty in the room.

He supposed, in all fairness, she was one part of the royalty in the room. However, the only thing she had ever ruled over was a campfire, if the information he had received on her background was correct.

“This, Princess,” he said, his tone hard, “is my bathroom, in my bedroom. You were asked to move. It was brought to my attention that you refused.”

“I am comfortable here,” she said, sinking farther beneath the water, her expression stormy, her actions proving her words to be a lie. She was anything but comfortable, at least at the moment.

“What a terrible coincidence. I find that I am also comfortable here. As it is my room, with all of my things.”

“I was brought here against my will,” she said. “I am out of my element. I am frightened.”

Anger fired through him. He wasn’t sure why his reaction was so out of proportion with what was happening. It would cost him nothing to sleep in another room, and yet he found he couldn’t let this go. Probably because Kairos was already maneuvering him as though he were a marionette. He had no choice but to allow that, as Kairos was the king here in Petras. However, he did not have to let this little creature maneuver him too. And he would not. If she was to marry him, then she would need to understand that he was not to be trifled with.

He had a reputation as a playboy in the media, as the more laid-back half of the two Demetriou brothers. But that only held as long as he went untested. As he was a prince, very few people had attempted to test him. But Zara seemed intent on doing so, and he could not allow it.

“I do not believe you are frightened,” he said, moving nearer to the bathtub.