The Prince She Never Knew. Кейт Хьюит

blood than Alyse’s to marry her son. Leo had gone to that birthday party with only a vague and passing knowledge of Alyse’s existence and it was the media hype that had turned it into something else entirely.

      ‘In an ideal world,’ King Alessandro had said with a geniality Leo knew his father did not remotely possess, ‘you would have got to know each other, courted. Seen if you suited. But it’s not an ideal world.’

      Alyse had simply stared.

      Leo, of course, had known where this was going all along. He’d talked to his parents already, had received the assignment from on high. You must marry her, Leo. The public adores her. Think of what it will do for your country, your kingship.

      He’d known what they really meant: what it would do for them. They’d done enough damage to Maldinia’s monarchy with their lies, affairs and careless spending. He was the only one left to clean up the mess.

      He’d understood all that, but Alyse hadn’t. She’d just looked thunderstruck. She’d barely spoken for that whole meeting, just listened as the King went on about the benefits of a ‘decided’ marriage—a much more innocuous term than arranged, Leo had thought cynically. Or commanded.

      She’d only spoken when she’d begun to perceive, dimly, just what kind of charade they would be perpetuating and for how long. ‘You mean,’ she’d said in a voice only a little above a whisper, ‘we have to…to pretend we’re in love?’

      ‘Feelings come in time, don’t they?’ Alessandro had answered with that same false joviality, and Leo had looked away. No, they didn’t. If Alessandro held up his own marriage, his own family, as an example, it showed they never came. And you couldn’t trust them anyway.

      But Alyse had nodded slowly, accepting, and their engagement had been announced the next day along with them posing for requisite photos.

      And the rest, Leo thought now, lacing his arms above his head, was history. Repeating itself over and over again.

      The door to the bathroom opened and Alyse emerged, wearing the woman’s robe. Leo wondered if she’d try to sleep in that bulky thing. He supposed a little virginal shyness was natural.

      He watched as she skirted the bed and then hesitated on the far side, her fingers playing with the sash of her robe. Leo reached for his bedside lamp.

      ‘Shall I turn out the light?’

      ‘If you like.’

      Actually, he didn’t like. He was suddenly rather curious as to what Alyse looked like in the skimpy negligee. He’d seen her in plenty of designer dresses and well-coordinated outfits, hair and make-up immaculately styled, always primped to perfection.

      But he’d never seen her like this—wearing a bridal nightgown, her chestnut hair loose about her shoulders, grey eyes wide, about to climb into his bed. He felt an insistent stirring of arousal; it had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. A very long time.

      He switched the light off, but the moon spilling through the open windows was enough to see by anyway, and as he lay back against the pillows he saw her slip the bulky robe from her body. Dressed as she was in only the slinky negligee, the moon gilded her slender curves in silver.

      He could see the shadowy vee between her breasts, the dip of her waist, the hidden juncture of her thighs. Then she slid hurriedly under the covers and lay there, rigid and unmoving.

      Leo had never felt so far from sleep and, judging by how she lay there like a board, he suspected Alyse was the same. Perhaps they should have agreed to consummate their marriage tonight. At least it would have given them something to do.

      He considered talking to her, but after six years of enacting this parody of love he had nothing of consequence to say, and he didn’t think she had either. Which was how he’d wanted it.

      Yet in the darkness and silence of that moment he felt a sudden, surprising need for conversation, even connection. Something he’d taught himself never to crave.

      And he had no idea how to go about creating it now.

      ‘Goodnight,’ he finally said, his voice coming out gruffer than he’d meant it to, and he felt Alyse tense even more next to him.

      ‘Goodnight,’ she answered back, her voice so soft and sad that Leo felt caught between remorse and exasperation at her obvious emotion—and his.

      With a barely suppressed sigh, he rolled onto his side, his back to Alyse, and willed himself to sleep.