Page 7 of Princess Bride Swap

“Allow me,” Lyon said, holding out his hands.

It took her a few quiet moments to understand he meant that she should turn around so he could unbutton her dress. Which was fine. Maybe the sleeveless nature of the dress meant she wasn’t wearing any undergarments up top, but...but...she would just hold the dress up once he unbuttoned it.

She wasn’t getting out of it any other way. Besides, whatever this was, she would grin and bear it. That had been the deal she’d made.

Gingerly, she moved so she was closer to him, with her back within his reach. At first, she didn’t feel much, just the gentle tug of the dress moving. But as more and more buttons came undone, she began to feel...him.

It was such a strange sensation. No matter how often she’d been helped to dress or undress, it had never been amanback there. A tall, warm wall ofpresence.One whose fingers occasionally brushed the exposed skin of her back as he moved down the delicate row of buttons.

She held her breath, knowing if she released it some strange sound would come out of her that would no doubt be embarrassing in some way.

“All done,” he said, sounding somewhat stiff. But when she turned to face him, his expression was arranged in a bland kind of smile. Even if his dark eyes seemed to...glint.

“Thank you,” she managed to offer.

He nodded. “You’re welcome.”

She nearly barked out a laugh. He was herhusband. This man. She was his wife. Standing in his closet, holding the sagging dress to her chest so it didn’t fall. It was all so surreal. She didn’t even feelpanic. How could she? It felt like it couldn’t even be real.

“I’ll leave you to change.” With that, he exited the closet and the en suite bathroom. So that she stood, still grasping her heavy wedding dress, completely at a loss.

What should she change into? Pajamas of some kind? What would be appropriate pajamas for sharing a room with her husband? Foroptics.

Or was he expecting something different? Something more? He’d made very clear the entire purpose of this marriage was forheirs.Multiple. Beau might be innocent, but she knew how heirs were made. And she read enough romance novels to know the nuts and bolts ofthat.

She really thought she’d been prepared for this, but the reality of Lyon somehow made it that much more...

She didn’t even know how to finish the sentence. That’s how little the reality of him matched up to her preparations.

She stared at the clothes in the closet. Some she recognized as hers her staff back at the Lille castle had packed up. Some items were clearly for her, but not her own.

Optics or no, this was going to be their own private bedchamber. She should wear something comfortable to bed. And if he didn’t like it...well...

She closed her eyes and breathed out, using all those well-worn techniques to keep panic at bay. Sometimes they worked. Sometimes they didn’t. But she was alone, so she wouldn’t start adding to the panic by worrying if an attack was coming.

She just counted and breathed until she felt like she was strong enough to make a decision. She’d gone into this knowing she couldn’t be herself. She had to be some...made-up version that would suit Lyon. Playing pretend in a way she’d never done before, because it was her turn to take a bullet for Zia.

Zia had protected Beau her entire life. She had stepped in between her and Father whenever she could. Zia had bent over backward to do the things an heir was expected to do, to keep the king from enacting threats against Beau. BeauknewZia was the entire reason Father had never stooped so low as to put her in an asylum. That and how hard it would have been to keep a secret from the press and citizens of his beloved country.

But there was no way to be perfect here right off the bat. She didn’t know Lyon well enough. She would have to accept that there was a learning curve and be open and ready for any changes Lyon might want made.

If he didn’t like the pajamas she chose, she would march right back in and change. If he told her to do anything differently, she would. And if that started to grate, she would just remember the look of shock on her father’s face when she’d told him she’d arranged to take Zia’s place in marrying Lyon.

That all the papers were drawn up.

And he would have to announce her as heir.

Thatmemory would keep her going fordecades.

So, she picked out a pair of comfy leggings from her own clothes and a silk nightshirt. It was hardly lingerie, but there was a kind of sophistication to it that was elegant and could lend itself to anything hands-off...or hands-on.

Filled with determination—or at least she’d fake it till she made it—she returned to the bedroom. To find him unbuttoning his own shirt. His tie was already off, hanging over the back of a chair that sat nestled into a corner by the big window.

He really was beautiful. She knew she hadn’t met a lot of men in her life, but he was so tall. His hair had an interesting wave to it, though he kept it short. Underneath the crisp white shirt of his wedding suit, a broad expanse of tan skin, well-muscled and impressive.

Did he work out? He must. No one justlookedlike that, surely, even a handsome prince.

He looked up, and she didn’t miss the quick survey of her outfit, though she couldn’t read his reaction to it. He straightened, and for a few moments they simply stood in silence regarding each other.

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