Page 10 of Mistaken as His Royal Bride
Eventually she found a loose pair of trousers and a silk shirt. She opened the drawers and gasped when she saw the wispiest items of underwear. She pulled out a bra and it almost floated away it was so delicate. She grew hot at the thought of the King approving such purchases.
But of course he’d be too busy to bother himself with such things. He’d probably given someone a brief and they’d researched Princess Laia. Because all of these items were definitely suited to her sister more than to Maddi.
Maddi’s style ran in a more eclectic direction. And she definitely needed more support from her underwear. Especially if that censorious look from the King on the plane was anything to go by. Just thinking of it again made her skin prickle and warmth bloom between her thighs.
These bras wouldn’t go near fitting her, so she’d have to do without. She grabbed underwear and the shirt and trousers, and slipped out of her own clothes and into the new ones. They felt as light as air against her skin. She tied the ends of the shirt around her waist.
Hannah returned with a delicious lunch and left it on the table on the terrace. Maddi ate it with relish and savoured the view.
And then she thought of Laia and felt guilty. She got her phone out of her bag—it had been turned off since she got on the plane. She switched it on and there were numerous messages from Laia.
Are you okay? Where are you?
You’re completely crazy, you know that?
Thank you, Mads, you’ve saved my life...
Where are you? Please let me know you’re okay...
Maddi smiled and texted back.
I’m fine. We came straight to Santanger. The King has no idea I’m not you...yet. I hope this gives you enough time to get away...let me know where you are. By the way, I’m wearing clothes from your ‘trousseau’. I hope you don’t mind! I miss you! xx
Maddi sent the message and waited. Nothing. She presumed Laia must be travelling and put the phone down.
She sat looking at the view for a few more minutes, sipping her water, and then she started to feel restless.
She wanted to explore, but she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to roam around. But then...she wasn’t a prisoner, was she? Why shouldn’t she explore the palace a little bit?
CHAPTER THREE
ARIWASSTANDINGin his formal office at the palace. He’d showered and changed and allowed himself to feel a sense of satisfaction at having finally tracked his errant fiancée down.
But something about that niggled at him. It had been a little bit too...easy. His mouth thinned. If you discounted the fact that he’d had to fly to a remote desert to find her.
He went over to his French doors and opened them, the view of Santanger laid out below him never failing to make his blood surge with pride. He put his hands on the stone wall of the terrace and breathed in the familiar scents of his home—wild herbs, native flowers and the very distinctive salty tang of the sea.
He didn’t take his inheritance for granted for a moment. Unlike his father, who had seen it as some sort of God-given right.
Maybe if his father hadn’t displayed such feet of clay Ari might have been the same. But from an early age he’d known that his father was much closer to the earth than to God.
He’d witnessed the tawdry reality of his father’s very earthly desires—namely for other women. So he’d always had a sense that he didn’t want to insult the people of Santanger by being a hypocrite—presenting the facade of a happy royal family when in reality it had been anything but.
Ari wasn’t perfect by any means, but when it came to him marrying for the sake of his country he would do so with the utmost integrity. He would not be unfaithful. He would not do that to his Queen. He’d witnessed his own mother crumble and become a shell of a person. Belittled and made insecure.
She’d married for love and she’d never got over the betrayal of that dream. Ari could only be grateful that he’d learnt early in life that such a fantasy didn’t exist.
Maybe for normal people. But not for people like him. Or Princess Laia.
Something caught the corner of his eye and he looked down to his left. As if conjured out of his thoughts, Princess Laia was walking around a courtyard, stopping to sniff flowers.
She’d changed into a shirt and loose trousers, and she was...Ari squinted...barefoot? A flash of heat went through him before he could stop it. She’d pulled her hair up into a loose knot and tendrils fell down around her face.
She’d always seemed neat to him before. Somehow fastidious. Here, with her shirt tied around her slim waist, she looked like a student who’d wandered in from outside the palace. As he watched, one of the palace dogs came into the courtyard, big and shaggy, of indeterminate breed.
He tensed. He knew Princess Laia had an aversion to dogs because her father had been attacked by one as a small child. Ari had never noticed dogs in or around the castle on Isla’Rosa on his few visits over the years—understandable, if a little regrettable, because he himself loved dogs.
The dog ambled along behind an unsuspecting Princess Laia. Ari’s hands gripped the wall. He didn’t fear for her safety, only that she might get a fright. But, as if sensing the dog, she turned around and immediately dropped to her knees to greet him with smiles and soft words. Like any other dog-lover. Except Princess Laia was not a dog-lover—unless she’d had some kind of immersion therapy since he’d last seen her.