In the Royal's Bed: Wanted: Royal Wife and Mother

‘There are shops,’ he said, eyeing her sweater with a certain amount of trepidation. ‘But there’ll be media meeting us off the plane. Do you have…a frock or something?’

‘A frock,’ she said, and her lips twitched at his obvious discomfort. ‘I don’t believe I do have a frock.’

‘You know what I mean. Something respectable.’

‘This is respectable.’

‘For bumming round the stables maybe. Not for meeting your people.’

‘Whose people?’

‘You’re a princess.’

‘In name only,’ she retorted. ‘I thought we agreed. You’re the centre of media attention. You wear your braid and your dress sword and I’ll wear my sweater and jeans.’

‘It’s not very pretty,’ Matty said, disapproving.

‘I don’t need to be pretty.’

‘No, but you are,’ Matty said, sounding upset. ‘And you’re my mama.’

Oh, great. She hadn’t thought this one through. It was all very well planning to be plain Jane, speaking when spoken to, staying in the background, keeping herself small.

But Matty was obviously disappointed.

‘You can’t do that to the kid,’ Rafael said and she swallowed her vague guilt and thought, what was she asking? That Matty cope with a mama who didn’t dress like…like Rafael’s partner.

‘You’re saying my wearing jeans might damage Matty for life?’

‘No, I…’

‘Good then. I’m fine,’ she muttered. ‘This is me. This is who I am. Matty, I’m sorry if you don’t like it but I don’t want to be a princess. I’m your mama and I hope you like me anyway but I’m not going to wear a tiara. Not for anything.’

‘How about a frock?’ Rafael growled and she glowered.

‘Nope. Matty, you and your Uncle Rafael are royalty,’ she said bluntly. ‘I get to stay in the background and watch.’

‘You’ll watch?’ Rafael demanded, incredulous.

‘Yes.’

‘You don’t think you might get bored?’ Rafael said.

‘No.’

‘What will you do, then?’ Matty asked while Rafael looked on with bemusement. He seemed to be having trouble figuring her out, which was fine as she was having trouble figuring him out. All she knew about him was that, in his own way, he was as dangerous to her peace of mind as Kass had been. He was a de Boutaine and he’d kissed her. That was enough for her to stay in sackcloth and ashes every time she was near him for the next hundred years. To do anything else…that was the crazy route.

‘I’ve thought about it,’ she said seriously, having in fact done little over the last three days but think about how she could sustain the life they were asking her to lead. ‘I’m intending to write books.’

‘Books,’ Rafael said blankly.

‘That’s the plan,’ she said happily. ‘Matty, I’m a historian and your castle is steeped in history. I can find myself a nice quiet attic and research to my heart’s content. But I’ll be there for you whenever you need me, Matty—if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll be perfectly happy writing my book.’

‘You can’t,’ Rafael said blankly.

‘Why not?’

‘I was hoping…’

‘Don’t hope,’ she said bluntly. ‘Alp de Ciel is your principality, not mine. Stop hoping for anything from me, other than loving Matty. For that’s all I’m going to do.’

* * *

They let her be.

They travelled first class on the aircraft—of course—which meant the seats were in pairs, cocoons that turned into beds. Rafael and Matty shared one pair. A Japanese businessman shared Kelly’s. She was courteously given the window seat, which meant that she was buffered from the pair across the aisle.

She hardly talked to them.

Rafael and Matty slept. She stared straight ahead, feeling sick.

Finally they landed. There were photographers, reporters, politicians, all waiting. They were stunned to see Matty.

Kelly hung back, trying to blend in as part of the luggage. She was afraid that Rafael would haul her forward and introduce her but he did no such thing. At the last minute, as the limousine was about to leave, he motioned for her to join them and she slid into the car before the photographers could register who she might be.

Now she was doing the defensive bit again, huddled in the far corner of the car, staring out at the countryside.

Remembering how she’d fallen in love with this country the first time she’d seen it.

She’d forgotten how breathtaking it was.

She’d forgotten how she’d fallen in love.

The four Alp countries had been severed from their larger neighbours centuries ago to form principalities for warring brothers, and each one of them was a magical place in its own right.

Alp de Ciel…Alps towering to the skies.

Even though it was late spring there was still snow on the highest peaks. The lowlands stretching from the coast to the mountains consisted of magnificent undulating pastures, rich and fertile. There were quaint villages, houses hewn from the local rock hugging the coastline, some of the houses seemingly carved from the cliffs themselves. There were harbours with fishing fleets that looked straight off picture postcards. Too small to involve itself in the world wars, too insignificant to be fought over, Alp de Ciel had remained almost unchanged for centuries.

The first time Kelly had seen it she’d been speechless with delight and it affected her just as deeply now. She stared out of the car window as they left the port city, then followed the river road to the foothills of the mountains, through Zunderfied, the small village which had served the castle for generations and then further to where the palace of Alp de Ciel lay in all its glory.

It was no wonder she’d fallen for Kass, an older and wiser Kelly thought sadly. This place breathed romance. She’d been lonely and awed and in love with this country—Kass must have found her more than ripe for the picking.

She couldn’t let herself be swayed by beauty this time. Nor by words.

Nor by a de Boutaine…

‘It’s not all as beautiful as it looks,’ Rafael told her as she sat with her nose squashed against the window, and she cast him a look that was almost scared.