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  “I have a feeling it’s connected with the amethyst supply drying up. I can’t help wondering if something’s happened with the mines.”

  Lander shook his head. “Why would he keep a problem with the mines a secret?”

  Merrick considered the various possibilities. “I’m not sure. For political leverage? If it became common knowledge that the mines were tapped out and he hadn’t given the country adequate warning, there’d be hell to pay come the election.” He slipped the CD into its slot and pulled up the menu. “Okay. Let’s see if we can figure the best way for me to get into the palace, nab Alyssa’s mother and get out again with our skins intact.”

  Lander traced his finger along an underground passageway that ran between the interior courtyard of the palace and the chapel. “What about taking this route? You could slip in through the woods near the chapel, take the passageway to the palace and be right on top of them before they knew what hit them.”

  “Assuming he hasn’t blocked it off.”

  “Hmm. If he has, you’ll have to approach from this side.” Lander gestured toward the south entrance. “Trickier.”

  Merrick began jotting down notes, sketching out the bare bones of a plan. “I’ll send one of my men in tonight to see which is the most viable choice.”

  Lander straightened. “So, when’s the wedding?”

  “What? Oh. Tomorrow.”

  “We could just…make her disappear for a few months. You don’t have to go to the extreme of marrying her.”

  Merrick tossed aside his pen and stood. “Too risky. She could escape. Von Folke could find her. The variables are endless. Marriage is the only way to make certain he doesn’t get his hands on her and finish what he started.”

  Lander shot his brother a hard look. “Does she know the marriage will have to be consummated in order for it to be legal in Verdonia?”

  “It hasn’t come up,” Merrick answered shortly.

  “You’re not going to tell her, are you?”

  “It won’t be an issue.”

  Lander stared in disbelief. “Are you sleeping with her already?”

  Merrick bristled. “That’s none of your business.”

  “I think it is. Damn it! You don’t need me to tell you how inappropriate that is. Do you have feelings for this woman? You can’t be thinking of turning this into a real marriage.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Merrick snapped. “My concern—my only concern—is for Verdonia. Marrying Alyssa is a means to an end, nothing more.”

  Lander’s eyes narrowed. “That had to be the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard. You can stand there and tell me you don’t care about this woman, but I’m your brother. I know when you’re lying, even when it’s to yourself.”

  Anger swept through Merrick, possibly because Lander’s comment hit a little too close to home. “There’s more than a relationship at stake. More than even an election. With Alyssa’s brother, Erik, abdicating, the principality is in desperate need of its princess. If Alyssa doesn’t stay, it means the end of Celestia. I intend to keep that from happening.”

  “Or maybe you want a justifiable excuse for taking her to bed,” Lander suggested dryly.

  Merrick didn’t have an answer to that. As much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn’t. Not totally. Lander was right. In order for their marriage to be considered legal, it had to be consummated. If von Folke suspected there was a loophole somewhere, he could still cause trouble. But the marriage also gave Merrick the excuse he needed to make love to Alyssa. Once they were husband and wife, he wouldn’t have any other choice if he wanted the ceremony to be legally binding. Nor would she. Still, he hoped she’d choose to remain in Verdonia and accept her rightful position. Celestia needed her. It wouldn’t survive without her.

  The real question was…was he making the decision to marry her for the better good of Verdonia? Or was his true motivation something far less honorable?

  Seven

  The morning of Alyssa’s wedding dawned clear and warm, filled with the scent of springtime yielding to summer. The marriage had been planned for early evening when the church would be closed to parishioners and Alyssa couldn’t help but remember preparing for a far different ceremony just two short weeks ago. On that occasion she’d been terrified and alone. She’d also feared her bridegroom, been sick with worry about her mother and unsuccessful at discovering a way out of her predicament.

  This time she felt far differently, a fact that left her uncertain and confused. She should hate Merrick for twisting her arm to get her to the altar. After all, he was no better than Prince Brandt, right? But no matter how hard she tried to convince herself of that fact, it didn’t quite work. Merrick wasn’t Brandt and never would be. Although his motives weren’t pure, they were noble.

  From the moment he’d announced his plan to marry her, events had screamed by at breakneck speed. He’d chosen the venue and had a gown, veil and shoes delivered by one of his men. Even a set of wedding bands had shown up. She didn’t bother contesting any of his plans. How could she? It would have been like attempting to derail a runaway train with a toothpick.

  As the afternoon deepened, she dressed in the gown he’d selected, a simple three-quarter length ivory silk with a wide, sweeping skirt and fitted bodice. A hip-length mantilla veil looked stunning with it, which she chose to carry, rather than wear and risk damaging on the drive.

  The chapel Merrick had chosen was glorious—small, intimate, reverent. The floors were flagstone, worn smooth from years of faithful usage. Stained glass lit the interior with a rainbow of glowing light. The pews and altar were lovingly polished to a high sheen, and the faintest hint of beeswax and lemon complimented the scent of the flowers and candles.

  Once again Alyssa was struck with how differently she reacted to everything in comparison to last time. Nervousness gripped her, an excited fluttering deep in the pit of her stomach. Not fear. She remembered that sensation all too clearly. Could it be…anticipation?

  She shook her head. No. That wasn’t possible. She didn’t want to marry Merrick. She’d agreed for one reason and one reason only—to save her mother. She’d made a bargain, one she’d honor no matter what. But it wasn’t a bargain she anticipated with any degree of excitement. It couldn’t be.

  “This is for you.” One of the staff members at the church handed Alyssa a hand-tied bridal bouquet, a medley of herbs, ivy and curling sticks and twigs. “It’s a traditional bouquet. The herbs are to ward off evil spirits and endow the bride with fertility. The birch twigs are for protection and wisdom, the holly branches represent holiness. And the ivy is to ensure fidelity.”

  Alyssa ran a finger along the sprigs of lavender. “And this?”

  “The national flower. It promises a marriage filled with luck and love.”

  It was a sweet gesture, if a pointless one. Or so she thought until she joined Merrick in front of the altar. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him look more handsome and the sight of him stirred emotions she shouldn’t be experiencing. The final glorious rays of sunlight warmed the chapel, filling it with a rainbow of color as soft as a prayer.

  Taking both her hands in his, Merrick bent and kissed her. “It’ll all work out,” he whispered. “I swear it.”

  His words affected her more deeply than she cared to let on, filling her with a desperate yearning. What would have happened if they’d met under different circumstances? If she’d grown up here and met him as part of her royal duties? Would she have fallen in love with him? Would they have been celebrating a real wedding instead of this charade? Or would they have settled for a brief, intense affair before going their separate ways? The fact that she couldn’t answer any of those questions left her nerves jangling.

  Afterward, she didn’t recall much of the ceremony. From the instant Merrick touched her and their eyes connected, time slowed. She didn’t remember looking away, not once, but allowed herself to be held by his fierce golden stare, empowered by it. The one moment that burned itself
into her memory was when he repeated his vows, his voice strong and sure, and slipped the wedding ring onto her finger.

  She caught her breath at the beauty of the platinum band he’d chosen, a circlet studded with alternating diamonds, Verdonia Royals and Celestia Blushes. Before she could say a word, he bent and took her mouth in an endless kiss. It was in that timeless moment that she realized her feelings for Merrick had undergone a radical change.

  And that she was in serious trouble.

  Alyssa had no idea what happened immediately after the ceremony. A part of her retreated, stunned by the realization she’d made when Merrick kissed her. She’d allowed feelings for him to slip beneath her guard. She cared about him.

  She didn’t know when or why it had happened. She didn’t even know how it was possible after all they’d been through. She simply felt…harmony. A rightness. A belonging. A wild passion that went deeper than anything she’d ever felt for any other man. She burned with it, bled from it. Was consumed by it. And, ultimately, she turned from it, refusing to deal with the consequences of those emotions.

  They returned to the house tucked into the hills overlooking Glynith, where she’d first agreed to marry him. Silence reigned, neither willing—or able?—to speak. She entered the darkened room and stood in the middle of the living area, still dressed in her wedding finery. She removed her veil, meticulously folded it and set it on the back of the couch. And that’s when all her doubts came storming back.

  “What have we done?” Alyssa murmured.

  “You’re just wondering that now?”

  She spared Merrick a quick glance, alarmed to discover him in the process of stripping off his suit. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting comfortable.” He tossed his jacket aside and approached. “Would you like help getting out of your wedding gown?”

  She took a quick step backward. “And then what?” She couldn’t believe she’d asked the question, despite the fact that it been plaguing her for the past hour or more. “I mean—”

  “I know what you meant,” he replied mildly.

  “I’m sorry.” He maintained his distance, but he was still too close for comfort. Everything about him overwhelmed her, filled her with a sense of risk. “I guess I’m not handling this well.”

  His eyes grew watchful. “Then chances are you aren’t going to handle this next part any better.” A predatory smile edged his mouth. “After we get out of our clothes, I plan to make you my wife in every sense of the word, even if it’s for only one night.”

  Oh God. He’d said it. He’d actually said the words. Part of her trembled with anticipation, the other with apprehension. Apprehension won. “Not a chance.”

  “I think there’s every chance. You want me as much as I want you.” He stepped closer. Too close. “We’ve shared a bed every night for almost two weeks and it’s been sheer torture. Do you deny it?”

  “We’re attracted to each other,” she began, but the expression darkening his face had her faltering. “Okay, fine. I want you. Are you satisfied?” Maybe that accounted for the feelings she’d experienced during the ceremony. Simple desire. Not caring. Not an emotional connection. Lust. It was the only possible explanation.

  “There’s only one way we’ll both be satisfied and you damn well know it. Or are you afraid?” His eyes narrowed. “Is that it, Princess? Are you afraid to take the final step, afraid of what will happen if you do?”

  Her chin shot up. “Where do you want it? Here? On the table over there, maybe?” She scuffed a toe in the carpet. “This looks soft enough. Maybe you’d prefer it down and dirty.”

  She’d pushed him too far. She saw the crack in his self-control, watched as it fragmented and splintered. Before she could do more than take a single stumbling step backward, he snatched her high in his arms. “Personally, I prefer the comfort of a bed.”

  “Merrick, wait—”

  “I’ve waited as long as I intend to. Tonight we finish it.”

  Without another word, he carried her down the short hallway and into the bedroom. The skirt of her gown flowed over his arm and trailed behind, a fluttering flag of virginal surrender. Striding to the center of the darkened room, he set her down. She took a quick, desperate look around. Even unlit, she could tell the bedroom was extremely masculine—too masculine. She wanted lightness and femininity and romance—a playful fantasy that softened the harsh reality. This…this was pure male. Unbridled male. Sharp and potent and darkly dangerous. Just like Merrick. She spun around, intent on escape and plowed directly into him.

  “Shh,” he soothed, gathering her close. “Easy.”

  “I’ve changed my mind. I can’t.” She shot an uneasy look in the direction of the bed. “I just can’t.”

  “Let’s see if I can help you with that.” He caught her left hand in his and ran his thumb across her wedding band. It gleamed in the subdued lighting. “We made promises tonight. Do you remember them?”

  “I promised…” Her chin wobbled. “I promised to love. To honor and cherish.”

  “As did I.” His voice deepened, turning to gravel. “Don’t you understand? This ring symbolizes the first chapter in a book you’ve set aside before even beginning. Don’t leave it unread. What’s happened so far is no more than the prologue. And then what, Princess? Where does the tale go from there?”

  Her breathing grew harsh, labored. “Nowhere.”

  “That’s not true and you know it. It can go anywhere you want. We create the story. We determine the direction. We can even start over if you want and rewrite the beginning.” He lifted her hand and kissed her ring. “Or we can move in a new direction. Start fresh on a new page. The choice is yours.”

  “What about your choices?” She laced her fingers with his, turning their locked hands into the moonlight streaming through the windows. His wedding band splintered the gentle glow, shooting off sparks of silver and gold. “What happens to you when this is all over?”

  He hesitated for the briefest moment. “My choices are more limited.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This can only have one ending for me. Von Folke will see to that.”

  Alyssa’s vision blurred. “You mean jail.”

  “Most likely.” He brushed her cheek with his thumb, erasing the tears she hadn’t been able to control. A cloud drifted across the moon, casting their rings into shadows. The glitter dimmed, then winked out. A prediction of their future? “Look at me, Alyssa.”

  She did as he demanded and saw the calm certainty in his gaze. “I’m not afraid to make love to you.” The truth came tumbling out. “I’m afraid of what will happen afterward. What it’ll do to us. How it’ll change us.”

  “Trust me.”

  Those two simple words hung between them. And then the clouds passed and moonbeams once again pierced the dimness, stabbing the room with tines of silver. He stepped back from her into one of the shards, the moon’s gilding leeching him of all color. Only the blacks and whites and grays remained, shades of darkness and light, of ambiguity and clarity.

  Without a word, he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders. It dropped into shadow. Holding her with his gaze, he unzipped his trousers, the metallic sound harsh and grating in the silence of the room. His trousers parted and her mouth went dry. She could barely think above the fierce pounding of her heart. In one fluid motion, he stripped away the last of his clothing before drawing himself to his full height. Totally nude, sculpted by the moonlight, he made for an impressive sight. He stood motionless, allowing her to look her fill.

  He had one of the most spectacular physiques she’d ever seen. His shoulders and arms were powerfully masculine, able to bear the heaviest of weights. And yet it struck her that those same arms would also be gentle enough to cradle a helpless infant. The dichotomy moved her more deeply than she thought possible. Her gaze dipped lower, to a chest lightly furred with crisp brown hair just deep enough to sink her fingers into. A narrow line speared downward, like spilled i
nk, splitting washboard abs on its path to his groin. He was fully aroused, yet made no effort to act on that arousal.

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

  “So you can see you have nothing to fear.” His gaze grew tender. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

  “Just tonight.” She choked on the words. “It can only be for tonight. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Then it’s just for tonight.” He stepped from the light into darkness, finding her where the gloom held her ensnared. “But when tomorrow comes, you may discover that one night isn’t enough.”

  She wanted what he offered, but fear and uncertainty froze her in place. “Tomorrow doesn’t belong to us. You’ve already warned me about that. Von Folke—”

  “Will be dealt with. And who knows, perhaps it’ll all work out.” He planted his feet and spread his arms wide, an oak of a man—strong and sturdy and protective. His heart and soul was rooted deep in the soil of Verdonia, a fact she envied more than she could have believed possible. “Just come with me. Stay with me. Take a chance.”

  His words sang with endless promise, bewitching her, offering to turn dreams into reality. She gave in to their enchantment. She stepped into his arms and fell from darkness into light.

  Alyssa slid her hands across Merrick’s chest in a quiet prelude to their mating dance. For the first few minutes they barely touched, just a tentative brush of hands. A whisper of a kiss. Lips joining. Clinging. Parting. Then rejoining. The soft exhalation of desire across heated skin.

  This time she was the one wearing too many clothes and she fought to curb her impatience. She didn’t want anything separating them, nothing that would prevent them from touching flesh to flesh. And yet, this wasn’t an occasion to hurry. She wanted to linger over each and every step, to sear into her memory every moment as it happened.