Page 31 of Royal Surrogate 1

“Ah. And that’s why you’re here looking so…frustrated?” He doesn’t give me even a glance as he throws another perfect shot at the dartboard before taking a long gulp of his drink.

“And shouldn’t you be in bed with your wife and son?” I cock my head. It isn’t as though two can’t play at his game. “I’m certain Noah missed you.”

“Of course he did. And he’ll see me in the morning.” He throws another dart, then goes to the board to claim the three again before returning to where he was standing. He gives me a short glance before turning back to the board. “That doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I told you?—”

“You haven’t slept with her,” he says, taking another throw.

My smile falls. “How could you possibly know that? I?—”

“You’re here, for one thing,” he says, still not looking at me. “The two of you slept with my son for the past two nights—I know exactly how that goes. Sex is the last thing on a woman’s mind with a child in your bed.” He rolls his eyes before throwing another dart. “And you’re…fidgety.”

“I’m not fidgety.”

“You are.” He nods, throwing his last dart and repeating his process. He returns, looking me up and down before returning to his darts. “You haven’t been with a woman in weeks.”

I clear my throat. I don’t want to tell him it’s been almost two months—but I’ve been busy looking for a surrogate. Not that I could share that bit with him.

“Renae…is a bit old-fashioned,” I lie. “She wants to wait until our wedding night.”

“Really?” Xavier turns to me with a lopsided grin—which can only mean trouble. My brother is never one to smile, and when he does… Nothing good comes of it. “So you haven’t slept with her, and you’re marrying her?”

“Yes,” I say, giving him my most charming smile. I’m not sure why I’m even trying. Xavier knows me better than anyone. But if I can convince him?—

“I don’t believe you.” He turns away from me and back to his darts.

“And why not?” I press.

“Where is this wedding to be held?”

“Here,” I say, not that I’ve given it much thought.

“Here?” he parrots. “Here, in Wintervale Manor?”

“Yes.” I frown. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” he shakes his head before throwing a dart. “It just means you’re a liar.”

“What?” I shake my head, taking another drink. “How could that possibly mean anything?”

“Why don’t you go down to the magistrate and get married tomorrow then? Have a courthouse wedding?”

I nod. “Perhaps we will. That sounds like a fine idea.”

He sets his drink on the bar, turning slowly—so damn slowly—toward me. His gaze narrows as his lips turn slightly upward. He cocks his head. “Where did Benedict get married?”

I truly hate it when Xavier gets like this—he has something on me, and I don’t know what it is.

So I glare at him. “In the palace, of course.”

“And where did I get married?”

“In…the…palace.” My gaze narrows further. “What are you getting at, Brother?”

“I’ve known you my entire life, Lord Caspar, heir to the Guardianship of Wintervale. If there’s one thing you love, it’s pageantry. You love the trappings of royalty, and you love to rub the noses of everyone you know in how important you are.”

Though it feels as though my brother has taken a knife to my chest, I know he’s right. There is something about the royalness of being a royal that I’ve always enjoyed.

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