Page 6 of Princess Bride Swap

Because the idea offreedombegged the question she’d been avoiding. If Lyon knew about her shortcomings, would he have his own threats against her?

Well, it didn’t do to dwell on it. The only thing she could think about was having children.Thatseemed to be Lyon’s only concern really, and that would protect her.

She hoped. She’d make certain it did. Maybe she had no great examples of what good mothering should look like, but as she’d told Zia only a few days ago, they had an example of what itshouldn’tlook like, so that should be enough.

Besides, Zia was only weeks away from becoming a mother herself. She would learn the ropes and help Beau when it was her turn. They would be partners in this voyage into motherhood, as they’d been in everything else growing up.

Once Zia forgave her for stepping in and marrying Lyon, taking over as heir.

The dinner wrapped up. They were given congratulations by the staff and Lyon’s mother. The countess said very little, but Beau didn’t miss the way the woman studied her with suspicion.

Then Lyon was leading Beau out of the ballroom, his large hand on the small of her back, while her white skirts swished around. Feeling a bit like shackles at the moment. The idea made her want to laugh out loud, but she swallowed it down.

Up staircases, down hallways. Lyon said nothing, just led her, and she had no choice but to go along. Because he was herhusbandnow. Because she thought she knew what she was doing.

More hysterical laughter wanted to break free. Who did she think she was, charging in to rescue Zia? To one-up her father? She should have stayed locked in a room, huddled in a corner. Maybe she belonged in one of those asylums her father always threatened her with.

Eventually, Lyon stopped at a grand door and opened it. He gestured her inside. Into what was clearlyhissuite. From this grand sitting room, she could see into a bedroom. Everything very elegant and well-appointed. But very...masculine. Not a floral or pastel in sight.

She hadn’t let herself think too much about this. A wedding night. Maybe she’d been in denial enough to think he’d show her to her own room. With her own bed. With a staff to help her out of this dress. That the idea ofmaking heirsmight be introduced...later.

Instead, it was just the two of them. They were alone here and she did not know what he expected of her. She stood in the middle of the sitting room in this rather cumbersome wedding gown and wondered just what she thought she’d been doing.

“I realize immediately sharing a room might not be the easiest or most comfortable thing,” Lyon offered. Helookedperfectly at ease. Perfectly...in control. Like he knew exactly what he was doing. While her heart clattered around in her chest, thinking about the way he’d kissed her in the chapel.

Breathe,tesoruccia.

She needed to look up whattesorucciameant.

“Unfortunately, for the optics of everything I’m trying to sell, it’s important to act out the facade that we are...more traditionally married,” he continued. “It’s best if our union seems as genuine as it possibly can be, even inside the castle, so there’s no question.”

“Even though your country thinks you were engaged to my sister?”

“I was engaged to your sister.”

“You had a business arrangement with my father. That is not quite the same. Do they even know that engagement was broken?”

He frowned a bit at that, and she knew she should have kept it to herself, but...well, it was hard not to correct people when they were flat-out wrong. One of her many flaws, she knew. One she’d promised herself to improve on in order to make sure this worked.

“No, but I am quite certain the previous engagement will work in our favor. The story will be that I sought a political marriage, but then I met you and fell in love. We hid the truth from the press until we could make certain...all parties were satisfied.”

She supposed that might work. The positive to her mysterious status as the hidden away Rendall was that, really, anyone could believe anything about her. There was no way to prove anything about her was false.

Perhapsshemight wonder why someone like Lyon—gorgeous and powerful and clearly very self-possessed—might be swept away from his princess fiancée by the likes ofherlesser princess self, but she supposed that was up to his palace aides to conjure up for the press.

“We do not need to have this conversation while you are uncomfortable,” he said, gesturing at her heavy dress. “Your things have been unpacked, plus a few items added for the responsibilities of the next few days. Please consider this space yours as much as mine.”

She looked around and tried to imagine treating this space ashers. She wasn’t sure that was going to be possible, but she also knew getting out of this dress wasn’t going to be possible. And there was no staff hovering around to help her. Unless he called someone, and she had a feeling that wasn’t in the cards.

For theoptics.

She cleared her throat. “I cannot undo the buttons on the back of my dress on my own.”

He had no facial reaction to that, but he did pause a moment. “Ah.” He paused again, then moved forward, gesturing her to follow. “Come.”

She followed him into the bedchamber and then into a huge en suite that led to another door, behind which was an entire closet and dressing area nearly as big as the bedroom itself. She peered around the room. She could see one side was clearly his, and one side was...hers.

She thought that this might be the strangest reality check of all time. Her own clothes hung in neat rows directly across fromhis clothes.

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