Page 11 of Mistaken as His Royal Bride

Ari frowned. He could distinctly remember her visiting Santanger when she was younger, with her father, and how they’d both tensed when the palace dogs had appeared. He’d had to have them put in the palace kennels until the visit was over. But Laia was crooning over this dog now, and scratching behind his ears.

A cold finger traced down Ari’s spine as a suspicion started to form in his head. A suspicion that he couldn’t even fully name yet. Just a feeling. He turned away from the view and went back to his desk, which was covered with newspapers and grainy paparazzi photos. He’d been about to throw them all in the bin—part of his efforts to track down Princess Laia that he no longer required. Except...maybe he did.

He pushed the papers and photos aside, growing more frustrated when he couldn’t find what he was looking for—he wasn’t even sure what he was looking for—but suddenly there it was.

A picture of Princess Laia in Central Park in Manhattan with another girl. Named under the photo as merely ‘a friend’. They were arm in arm, heads together. Clearly close. And also...far more intriguingly...very physically similar. In fact they could almost be twins.

Similar height and build. Except the ‘friend’ was a little curvier. Both had long, wavy dark hair. They were wearing sunglasses, but Ari sat down now and searched online for a better image of Princess Laia. A formal photo popped up, showing very clearly that her eyes were a striking shade of green. To his shame, he couldn’t have said for certain what colour her eyes were before. But now he could.

The woman he’d just brought to Santanger did not have green eyes. They weren’t far off—a kind of hazel—but they weren’t this very distinctive green.

The cold finger tracing down his spine became a burning sensation. Anger. When she’d been in Manhattan that time, he’d interrupted a trip to South America and had flown in at short notice to try and meet her. But when he’d arrived she’d already departed, leaving a paltry message of apology, saying that something had come up. Once again slipping through his fingers like mercury.

Another picture caught his eye. It was the grainy paparazzi photo of Princess Laia in the desert that had pinpointed her location for the first time in months. When Ari had read the caption under the photo his patience had snapped:Is Party Princess Laia ever going to settle down?

What he hadn’t noticed until now was the same ‘friend’ with her in the picture. Arm in arm again.

Ari knew it now with cold certainty. The woman currently in his palace, wearing clothes from the trousseau he’d bought for his fiancée, wasnotPrincess Laia. No wonder she’d seemed so different. So if she wasn’t the Princess, then who the hell was she? And where on earth—literally—was Princess Laia?

He picked up his mobile phone and made a call to his younger brother. He was grim. ‘Dax? I need you to do something for me...’

‘Princess Laia? The King is ready for you to meet him for dinner. If you’d follow me, please?’

Maddi felt unaccountably nervous. When she’d come back to the suite after exploring earlier she’d thought she might be tired enough to nap a little, but she’d been restless.

She wasn’t used to just doing...nothing. Waiting around.

She and her mother had received a modest level of financial support from her father the King. Her mother probably could have got more, but she’d been too proud to ask for it.

It had been enough to give Maddi a good education, but not so much that they hadn’t had to work for their keep. Her mother had worked as a receptionist for the local doctor in the small town outside Dublin where they’d lived. And Maddi had taken part-time jobs to help out from a young age. So she was used to working. To being active.

That was why she’d asked Laia if she could be her lady-in-waiting. It gave her something to do.

She followed Hannah down endless labyrinthine corridors, wondering if she should be slightly insulted that King Aristedes had put so much space between himself and his ‘fiancée’? But then they stopped abruptly at a set of double doors at the end of a corridor. There were guards outside. Stony-faced. They made Maddi want to try and make them smile, like she did with the guards on Isla’Rosa, but she controlled herself.

She suddenly felt self-conscious about what she was wearing, but it was too late. Hannah had knocked on the doors and the guards were opening them. Hannah stood back to let her into what was clearly the private apartment of King Aristedes, and the formal splendour of the foyer area alone told Maddi that she was dressed completely inappropriately.

What the hell was she wearing now?

Any thoughts Ari had had about confronting this stranger pretending to be Princess Laia dissolved in a rush of white-hot lust.

She was standing in his reception area and his mind couldn’t even compute what she was wearing.

Black liquid trousers clung lovingly to long shapely legs.

Leather, Ari, it’s called leather, supplied an atom of his brain that was still functioning.

The trousers showcased a very lush but firm bottom.

Blood rushed to every erogenous zone before he could stop it.

Above the waist she wore a black silky top overlaid with lace that highlighted her curvy but toned physique. And those amazing breasts.

His mouth went dry. She looked as if she wasn’t wearing a bra—again.

Her hair was down, wavy and untamed. He could see that she wasn’t wearing much make-up, but she didn’t need it. Like Princess Laia, she had a natural beauty and stunning bone structure.

At least she was wearing shoes this time, even if they were spindly high-heeled sandals that added inches to her height. Which would put her even closer to his mouth.