Marion Lennox - Princess Of Convenience

This wasn’t her! But how he was making her feel… She wanted to sigh with pleasure, she thought, but how could she sigh? Maybe she could do without the sigh if she could take control of the situation, grab him and kiss him right back…

Did she really want to take control? Maybe she’d just submit.

How stupid could that be? How wrong?

It couldn’t be wrong, she decided, or if it was it was too late to make such a call, because that was exactly what she was doing. She was submitting to a kiss that was driving her wild. It was transforming her from plain Jessie Devlin, Australian designer, Dom’s mother, Warren’s ex-wife, to someone she had no idea she could possibly be.

Princess Jessica?

Raoul’s wife.

She liked it.

No. She loved it. She just…loved it.

The kiss went on and on, with neither party wanting to be the first to pull away. Why would she want such a thing? He was searching her mouth, plundering her lips with his tongue. His hands were pulling her closer, closer, while overhead the bumble-bees droned in the morning warmth, the flowers dripped their crimson petals and their audience beamed and beamed and beamed.

And when the kiss ended-as finally, inevitably, even a kiss such as this must end-they broke apart and Jess knew her life had changed. And more, she knew that it wasn’t just she who was feeling like this.

Raoul’s eyes were clouded, dazed, and he gazed into her eyes and she knew that he felt exactly the same as she did.

He wanted her. And she wanted him.

Well, why not? she demanded wildly of herself. She was no virgin bride and she knew how good it could be between man and woman. Even if that man had been Warren, it had once been fun. But Raoul… How much better with Raoul?

And Raoul himself…what had he said? He’d had a thousand women?

But this wasn’t about wanting anyone, she told herself, striving desperately for logic. It was more. If she slept with this man, if she stayed with him much longer-then her heart would be given absolutely. She was so close to falling in love.

And love was stupid. Impossible. He was a royal prince and she was a convenient bride who’d now go back to the palace, twist off the wedding ring that he’d placed on her finger for show and forget about being a princess. She’d pack her bags and leave for Australia.

Leaving her husband behind.

He saw her confusion. How could he not? He put his finger under her chin and he lifted her face so he was looking straight down into her eyes.

‘Don’t look so bewildered, Jess,’ he told her gently. ‘It was just a kiss. No?’

‘N…no.’

No? She was agreeing with him. Or disagreeing with him. She didn’t know which.

It was just a kiss.

He’d had a thousand women.

He was a royal prince. Get a grip, Jess. She was looking dumb.

So explain it. Find some sort of reality.

‘I’m sorry but I thought I’d better look moonstruck,’ she managed. ‘For our audience.’

She’d surprised him. She saw a flash of what could have been bewilderment in his eyes-but then the laughter returned and the mask was in place and he was turning his bride to face their audience.

To face the world.

‘We’ve done it,’ he said, smiling, and M. Luiten surged forward to kiss the bride, and so did the housekeeper and then so did the gardener, even though that ancient relic had hands that had just come out of the turnip patch and if Jess had been wearing white gossamer it would have been a disaster. But it was no disaster. She was a gardening type of bride. The bride wore denim…

‘Now.’ M. Luiten was rubbing his hands. ‘I need to get everything here copied and sent to every dignitary in this country so there can be no possible doubt that this marriage is binding.’ Then, as the housekeeper and gardener disappeared reluctantly back to their duties, he became even more direct. ‘I’ve done my job,’ he told them. ‘Raoul, you take your bride home and consummate the marriage before anyone can possibly gainsay it.’

‘No!’ The two voices spoke as one and M. Luiten glanced from Raoul to Jess and back again.

‘Is there a problem?’

‘What are you talking about?’ Raoul demanded. ‘Consummate? How can anyone gainsay our marriage if it’s not consummated?’

‘It’s in the ascendancy rulings,’ monsieur told them-apologetically. ‘It’s to stop a child becoming Prince Regent and it dates from the times when princes were married off as children. The prince regent must be a partner in a consummated marriage.’

‘No one told me that,’ Jess said, weakly, and Raoul’s hand gripped her shoulder in empathy.

‘No one told me that either.’

‘Welcome to reality,’ M. Luiten told them. He looked doubtfully at the pair before him. ‘But there’s no problem, is there?’

‘Please tell me we don’t have to prove technically that it’s been consummated,’ Jess managed, with visions of ancient traditions, groomsmen around the bed cheering the groom on, brides’ mothers producing stained sheets… What was the modern equivalent? DNA testing? Surely not.

‘No,’ M. Luiten told them, but he cast an uneasy glance at the retreating back of his servants and waited until they were well out of earshot before he continued. ‘But let’s not take any chances. Just make sure you’re nicely compromised, Jessie, my dear.’

Compromised. She thought back to all those historical novels she’d read-the ones without the groomsmen cheering. Compromising seemed to have been achieved quite easily when a girl’s reputation was at stake. ‘Raoul slept with me last night,’ she ventured, and Monsieur Luiten beamed his approval.

‘Very good. That will do it. Now you’re married, do it again tonight.’

‘Hey,’ Raoul said, startled. ‘We did not sleep together.’

‘We did, too,’ Jess said demurely, and nudged him meaningfully in the ribs. This type of consummation she could handle. ‘Are you saying you didn’t come to my chamber at midnight and stay until well after dawn?’ She smiled at him-still demure. ‘Dear?’

He choked. ‘Yes, but…’

‘There you go, then,’ she said serenely. ‘Consummated.’ She turned back to M. Luiten. ‘If there’s any doubt then ask Henri. He burst in on us at dawn.’

‘When you were compromised?’

‘Well, sort of,’ she said and Raoul choked again.

The magistrate gave him a doubtful glance. But he spoke to Jess. Of the pair, he’d obviously decided she was the sensible one. ‘Someone well might ask Henri,’ the old magistrate growled. ‘There’s a lot at stake here so make sure you get it right. Stay together tonight and make sure there are people about as witnesses.’ And then his look of worry faded.

‘I know you’ll do the right thing,’ he told them. ‘You’ve done enough. The terms of the regency seem to have been fulfilled. Raoul, you’re now the Regent. Ruling monarch for the next eighteen years until Edouard is of age. And your bride is the Princess Jessica.’

‘Princess.’ She wrinkled her nose. This was sounding more and more like some sort of crazy historical tale. How could this be happening? On this nicely normal morning, in this real-life setting? With this gorgeous prince beside her?

Forget the prince, she told herself desperately. Focus on yourself. Princess? It sounded ridiculous.

‘I need to address you as Your Highness,’ M. Luiten told her and she blushed from the toes up.

‘I’m not-’

‘Yes, you are,’ he told her, very definitely. ‘From this day forth. Now, off you go, the pair of you. Back to your castle. A prince and his princess forever. And me? I’ll go back to a second cup of coffee-after I’ve attended to some photocopying and a few very important phone calls.’

‘Not to the Press,’ Raoul growled and Jess looked startled. The Press?

‘No. Oh, no.’

‘They need to know,’ M. Luiten said, surprised. ‘You can’t keep this a secret. More, you don’t want to. Marcel needs to be put in his place and the population needs to be told. Indeed, I can’t think of any announcement that will be met with more joy in this country.’

‘But…’ Jess looked at Raoul for confirmation and he nodded. This, it seemed, was her call. ‘I’m leaving the country as soon as I can,’ she said. ‘It would be so much better for everyone if the Press didn’t learn of it until after I left.’

‘So much better for everyone?’ the magistrate prodded and she gave a shamefaced grin.

‘Well…so much better for me.’

‘A wedding without a bride.’

‘That’s what this is, after all,’ she said. ‘I’m a wife in name only. To pretend otherwise isn’t going to work for a minute.’ She blushed. ‘OK, we’ll get the consummation bit sorted but after that I’m out of here, and I’d like to be gone before there’s any fuss.’

‘Raoul?’ The magistrate looked to Raoul for confirmation and he nodded.

‘It’s a big thing Jess has done for us,’ he growled. ‘We’ll not ask more of her. Surely a wedding is enough.’

THEY drove away, stunned. Or Raoul was probably stunned, Jess thought. She definitely was.

Princess Jessica.

The name drifted in her head as they turned toward the town boundaries, and then started up the mountainside to where the fairy-tale castle nestled on an eyrie that looked out over all the land to the sea beyond. Over all this principality.

She was a princess. Going home to her castle.

She choked back laughter.

‘What?’ Raoul asked. He seemed to be deep in thought-or maybe he was just concentrating on the winding road.

‘Do you think people will find out?’

‘That we’re married? Of a surety they’ll find out. They must. Hopefully the fuss will wait until you’re safely out of the country, but our marriage will have major consequences for everyone here.’

‘I meant…back in Australia,’ she said in a small voice. The enormity of what she’d done was just hitting home. She’d proposed to a prince and she’d married him. She thought back to her workrooms, where her staff were hopefully beavering away producing her latest designs. She might have a loyal staff but they weren’t exactly deferential.