Was he really prepared to track down every female guest until he found a green-eyed redhead with a sexy little mole on her right hip?
Of course not, because even if he had the time or the energy for such an endeavor, the discovery of her true identity would change nothing. Because he’d known when he invited her back to his room that they could never be anything more than strangers in the night.
So why was he wishing for something different now? Why was he fantasizing about an impossible reunion with a woman he didn’t even know?
His future was already laid out for him and last night had been only a temporary and forbidden deviation from the path that had been set for him at birth. It was time to set himself back on that path and be the king his country needed.
It was time to meet his bride.
Dear Reader,
Royal Holiday Bride is my sixth title in the REIGNING MEN series, but the first that starts with a bona fide princess.
I remember reading fairy tales as a child and being captivated by the idea of finding my own prince someday. As I grew up, I was less enchanted by the prospect of meeting a real blueblood and more interested in meeting a man who embodied princely characteristics. (And not only did I meet one, but I married him!)
But for a woman who is already a princess, what does she dream about? Surprisingly, Princess Marissa Leandres of Tesoro del Mar doesn’t have great expectations—until she meets the newly crowned King of Ardena. Then the sparks start to fly and the princess begins to hope that the chemistry between them might lead to a fabulous holiday wedding … and a happily-ever-after.
I hope you enjoy their story.
Best,
Brenda Harlen
About the Author
BRENDA HARLEN grew up in a small town, surrounded by books and imaginary friends. Although she always dreamed of being a writer, she chose to follow a more traditional career path first. After two years of practicing as an attorney (including an appearance in front of the Supreme Court of Canada), she gave up her “real” job to be a mom and to try her hand at writing books. Three years, five manuscripts and another baby later, she sold her first book—an RWA Golden Heart winner—to Mills & Boon®.
Brenda lives in southern Ontario with her real-life husband/hero, two heroes-in-training and two neurotic dogs. She is still surrounded by books (too many books, according to her children) and imaginary friends, but she also enjoys communicating with real people. Readers can contact Brenda by e-mail at [email protected].
Royal Holiday
Bride
Brenda Harlen
MILLS & BOON
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To Sharon & Ken May~
When I created the fictional island of Tesoro del Mar
for the Reigning Men series, I was looking for a make-
believe paradise. When you invited me to Exuma,
I discovered that paradise is real
—and it’s in the Bahamas.
Thank you both so much for sharing it with me!
Chapter One
Princess Marissa Leandres of Tesoro del Mar had a plan.
If her plan seemed a little desperate, well, that was probably because she was desperate. For too many years, she’d been a good princess, behaving as was expected of her, careful not to make waves in the family or do anything that might result in a scandal. After all, her brother, Cameron, had created more than enough of those.
But time was running out and if she had any hope of taking control of her life and her future, she had to make a move. And she knew she would never have a better opportunity than tonight’s masquerade ball.
What better way for a princess to shed the restrictions inherent to her title and all of her own personal inhibitions than to be someone else—at least for one night?
Still, she couldn’t deny that she was nervous. Actually, she was more than nervous—she was terrified. But she was also determined.
She hadn’t planned to be a twenty-eight-year-old virgin. As a teenager experiencing the first stirrings of physical attraction, she’d been cautious. Not that she’d thought of her virginity as any great prize, but she hadn’t been anxious to throw it away, either—especially not with the possibility of a reporter or photographer lurking around every corner.
While a lot of her friends boasted about going “all the way,” she’d been content to wait, at least until she met someone really special. Unfortunately, that special someone never did cross her path, and now her mother was ready to offer her as a virgin sacrifice to Anthony Volpini, the Duke of Bellemoro.
Marissa shuddered at the thought. No way was she going to let that happen. She’d shared one brief kiss with Anthony a few years back, and the memory of that lip-lock was not a pleasant one. The prospect of experiencing anything more intimate with the lecherous duke made her skin crawl. So tonight, she was dressed as Juno. And the goddess knew what she wanted.
As she made her way toward the ballroom, the elegantly engraved invitation trembled in her fingers. Her first test would be at the door, where her cousin and his wife, Prince Rowan and Princess Lara, would be greeting each and every guest. If she could get past them—
No, she wouldn’t let herself think if. She had to be confident. She had to ignore the butterflies frantically winging around inside her tummy and refuse to think about all the reasons she should abort her plan—and she knew there were many. She couldn’t have second thoughts about what she was doing, because if she didn’t go through with it tonight, she would forever be a helpless pawn in her mother’s unending games.
Drawing in a slow, deep breath, she took a step forward as the line of guests advanced. She couldn’t help but smile when she caught a glimpse of herself in one of the antique mirrors that lined the halls. She’d worried that her plan would fail, that she would somehow be recognized, but as she curtsied to the prince regent and his wife and neither of them showed so much as a flicker of recognition, her butterflies began to settle.
Really, she had nothing to worry about. With the auburn wig, emerald-colored contacts and elaborate mask covering half of her face, her own mother wouldn’t be able to identify her. Not to mention that the gold sandals on her feet added a full four inches to her usually petite five-foot-four-inch frame.
The one-shoulder toga-style gown hugged her breasts, nipped in at her waist and flowed to the floor with a slit halfway up her thigh on one side. It was more suggestive than revealing, but