Royal Marriage Market (20 page)

Christian

I almost kissed her. Just moments before Mat found us, I almost caved in to my rapidly growing, nearly insatiable desire, and kissed Elsa. And now, these interlopers are discussing skinny-dipping in the middle of the night, and I’m trying to keep my dick from growing any larger, because shite. Elsa naked?

Like far too often lately when I’m around her, I stuff my hands in my pockets. Try to think about less pleasant things, like the meeting we’re to go to in a few minutes, the one we’ll share with our parents. I’ll be sitting next to the She-Wolf for nearly two hours; if that’s not able to kill a hard-on, then I don’t know what could.

But then, like a moth to flame, I refocus on Els, and I have to subtly shift to hide just how fucking attracted to her I am.

And I am. Almost obsessively so.

I push off the concrete wall and pray that none present will notice the bulge in my trousers. “We’ll be late to our meeting if we don’t go now.”

I don’t need to tell Elsa twice. She slips away from Mat’s arm so swiftly he nearly trips on the stairs.

“See you at tea?” Isabelle says to me. At least, I think it’s to me, as there’s no enthusiasm at all in her voice.

I’ve never been more grateful for assigned seating at dinner in my life.

chapter 26

Elsa

The meeting for Nordic countries held in the library is fairly productive, especially in light that there were no discussions relating to the RMM, so that right there makes it the best meeting I’d been to in California. Furthermore, we heirs are finally allowed to speak, and it does my ego good to be able to bring to light my causes.

While the King of Sweden discusses key economic issues facing Scandinavia, as well as the influx of migrants crossing our borders, my attention drifts back to the stairwell. His Majesty encourages us to locate land and housing to offer to the migrants, and a heated debate arises. I am heated, too, but for entirely different reasons. I know what I want tonight’s first to be. I simply must work up the courage to admit it to Christian.

chapter 27

Christian

The stairwell is blessedly empty, so Elsa drops down onto one of the steps. “I refuse to go skinny-dipping with the others.”

I ease myself down on the step right below her, trying not to remember that, just a little over two hours ago, we were nearly kissing in this same spot. “Then we won’t.”

She looks astonished, then relieved, then guilty that she’s so terribly pleased I say this. “You are free to go, of course.”

Has she lost her senses? Isabelle will be there. A naked Isabelle. So, hell no. Unless there is a direct order alongside a sincere threat issued from the Grand Duchess, there is no way I will be at that pool tonight. “Why, thank you. I’m delighted to know I’ve been a good enough lad to earn such an outing.”

I wish she’d gift me with her laughter already. It’s dancing in her eyes, seducing me in ways I never would have imaged. “No offense,” she says, “but I don’t fancy the idea of getting buck naked in front of a bunch of virtual strangers.”

I can’t help but tease, “We’re Europeans, Els. We’re famous for our topless beaches,” even though the thought of her stripping down in front of the others makes me want to smash my fist into the concrete wall next to us.

“Not in Scandinavia, we aren’t. And it sounds as if tonight requires more than just a top coming off.”

“You could keep your knickers on, you know.”

She groans. “Oh yes, I will be the one lady who refuses to let go of her knickers. I can see how easily the others will let that slide.” She shakes her head, grinning. “No thank you.”

Her reluctance is fine by me. I’d rather spend my time with just her, anyway. “In any case, midnight is three hours short of our witching hour. It would probably go horribly. There’s no magic to skinny-dipping at midnight.”

She ducks her head, biting her lip as she studies me through obscenely long lashes. “What about at three a.m.?”

I stretch one of my legs out until it brushes up against hers. It’s as if I’m woefully addicted to Elsa. “Everything’s magical during the witching hour. I thought we already established that.”

She doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but I can practically see the wheels in her mind churning. And it’s reckless and foolish, but my heart beats a new, uneven melody a bit too forcefully within my chest.

I hold my breath. I wait.

And she says, “The Roman Pool feels magical, does it not?”

I clear my throat. Pray I don’t squeak like some kind of lad going through puberty. “Oh, most certainly.”

The Valkyrie I’m with leans forward. Says, “If there is to be skinny dipping on the menu, I want it there.”

Holy.
Hell
.

“That’s my first for tonight, Christian. I want us to go skinny-dipping in the Roman Pool during our witching hour.”

Us. Our
. Two words I have no right to feel possessive over when it comes to this princess. I strain to sound amused. “Will you be wearing your knickers?”

“I shan’t if you don’t.”

I pretend not to notice her voice shook saying that, but then, I’m pretty sure mine wasn’t the steadiest, either.

chapter 28

Elsa

“You cannot be serious.”

“And yet,” I tell Isabelle, “I am.”

She sets her hairbrush down. “You know how this will look once word reaches His Serene Highness. He was most insistent on you spending time in the pool with Mathieu.”

Our father is downstairs in the Assembly room, discussing important matters, and I am in our room with my sister, explaining myself for not wanting to skinny-dip. Correction, skinny-dip with the masses. But I will not—cannot—let Isabelle know I am more than fine swimming in my birthday suit with Christian—or at least, I hope I will be. Just the thought of him naked and me naked in the same room has my legs crossing.

“You say that like it’s a selling point.”

She removes the tasteful dress she wore for dinner and cocktails and tosses it onto a nearby chair. “It ought to be.”

For all her demureness in public, my sister has been anything but shy around me, because her bra and panties are off and join the dress in her hunt for something new to wear. “There will be nothing to worry about if His Serene Highness remains ignorant of the entire situation.”

She digs out a matching, lacy black pair of panties and bra from her suitcase and slips them on. “You would be surprised at how fast word travels around this place.”

“I rather doubt the others will be crowing to the elders about their naked, intoxicated adventures in a pool they’ve been banned from using, let alone tattling like small children on those who did not take part. Speaking of,” I say, lightly yet meaningfully, “I am rather surprised
you
are so eager to join in.”

“It is expected.” She adjusts the bra. “You really ought to be going, Elsa. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, Mathieu is quite easy on the eyes. Think how . . . helpful it might be to get sneak peek of what’s to come.”

I nearly choke on her thinly veiled meaning, even though I have not taken a drink. Outside of her indicating that a naked Mat might tempt me more than a clothed one, I can admit that, while good looking, I am not attracted to Mat at all—and seeing him in all his naked glory will not change that. No, I am instead attracted to the one person I
can’t
have.

And yet, contemplating our late night rendezvous, a tiny bit of rebellious fierceness argues I
do
have Christian.

Just not in the way I think I want.

A sweater and skintight jeans are pulled on. “This would be the perfect opportunity for you two to spend more time together,” Isabelle continues. “Get to know one another, before the inevitable axe drops.”

Have I not been forced to do that everyday already? “Ah, yes. What was I thinking?” I muse, tapping thoughtfully on my chin. “Group skinny-dipping is the perfect time to really get to
know
one another. Please do not take offense when I tell you that efforts toward fulfilling our parents’ wishes to encourage me into a farce of a relationship are less than stellar. And honestly, Isabelle. Why the fancy lingerie? You are just going to take it off anyway. Nobody will sort through your pile of clothes if you’re all in the pool.”

“Christian will be there,” she says flatly, “and I cannot have him think I don’t always look my best. Or that I am not . . .” Her swallow is audible, her face pinched. “Trying.”

I am an utter wench, because I fail to tell her Christian will be just as absent as I. His first, us finally having those cups of hot cocoa together, will be shifted to an earlier time to accommodate my daft request. At midnight, we two will be in the kitchen rather than streaking with the rest of the singletons.

My sister makes a good point, though. Am I wearing cute lingerie right now? Scratch that. I do not desire cute. I want sexy. Do my panties and bra even match? When Isabelle turns away, I sneak a peek down my dress. Pink silk and lace numbers that thankfully match one another stare back up at me.

Thank God.

chapter 29

Christian

“The She-Wolf will either be shagging somebody or be too blitzed out of her mind to notice,” Lukas says as he pops the tops of the beers he smuggled into our room. “So you don’t need to worry about
Prince Perfect
tonight.”

“Believe me,” I say dryly, “that’s the last thing on my mind. But it doesn’t matter, anyway. I won’t be at the pool with the rest of you.”

He passes over one of the beers; it’s weak and pale, but better than the piss the She-Wolf has provided us. “Which means you’ll be somewhere else, right?”

Hell yeah, I will.

“With Parker?”

“There was that event for private secretaries tonight, remember? Chances are, he’s probably on his cot, passed out from the amount of booze consumed.”

But Lukas is a dog with a bone. “Okay, bro. It’s just us right now. Where in the hell are you sneaking off to in the dark of night?”