Page 10 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 5-8

Home-schooled in the palace until she was eighteen, she had then been enrolled in a private all-female college in Switzerland. But while the other students had been able to enjoy the nightlife in Zurich, Isabelle had concentrated on her studies—and been accompanied at all times by her security personnel.

‘My point exactly,’ Mel said, unfazed by the revelation, because Mel knew exactly how inexperienced Isabelle was when it came to men. And kissing.

Despite their differences, she and Mel had become firm friends as ten-year-olds when Mel’s mother had become the palace’s head chef. But while Mel had learned how to flirt with boys at the local community college as a teenager, Isabelle had been busy learning the protocols of how to host a dinner party for two hundred VIPs, or address the UN assembly. In many ways, Isabelle had lived vicariously through Mel, because she’d had no romantic adventures of her own—which would be sad, if it weren’t so pathetic.

‘Secondly, you’re meant to be in love with the guy, that means making out like you can’t keep your hands—or your lips—off him,’ Mel continued.

‘It does?’ Isabelle said, her throat tightening. And the hum in her abdomen becoming a definite throb.

‘Of course.’ Mel smiled. ‘Don’t look so worried, Issy. You said you liked kissing him.’

‘Well, he’s very accomplished at it.’

‘Then, kissing him again shouldn’t be a problem. He’s agreed to go through with this farce,’ Mel added, because she had never been one hundred per cent on board with Isabelle’s plan, believing a fake marriage was going above and beyond the call of duty. But then Mel had never really understood Isabelle’s devotion to her role as Androvia’s queen. ‘Let him take the lead,’ she said easily. ‘It sounds like he’s more than capable. And given that he’s such a good kisser...’ Mel’s blue eyes twinkled with mischief ‘...you should enjoy it. Plus, youdefinitelyneed more practice, if you’re going to have any hope of pulling this off.’

Isabelle nodded. ‘All exceptionally good points,’ she said—but her panic did not downgrade much. She sighed and breathed through the anxiety.

She needed to view her relationship with Travis Lord as a transaction—pure and simple. Lord was getting the land he wanted for nothing and she would finally be able to grow Androvia’s economy with a string of infrastructure projects.

But just because this would not be a real romance, or a real marriage, there was no reason not to use this opportunity to explore being a woman as well as a queen.

She had never even flirted with a man before now. And when would she get the chance to develop those skills on a man as accomplished as Lord? He’d been mocking her when he’d initiated their library kiss. She’d understood that—while she’d been analysing the kiss in minute detail at two in the morning. However embarrassing that was on one level, it also gave her an opportunity. Because if he was going to use her—and their fake marriage—for his own amusement, she need not feel guilty making the most of his kissing skills.

He had not been indifferent to the kiss, any more than she had. Even with her total lack of experience she’d seen the dark shadow of awareness, maybe even arousal, in his gaze.

And the thrill had been... Not insubstantial.

They had already agreed that physical intimacy would not be a part of their relationship, but public displays of affection were required. So, really, more practice would not go amiss.

As Mel helped her pull on the ski suit, Isabelle decided she would not worry about her physical response to Lord—when it was a basic biological urge—especially as she would be able to control the outcome, thanks to their deal.

As the cavalcade of security vehicles drove to the end of the mountain track, Isabelle spotted a single black SUV stopped on the ridge, the engine still running. Lord stood alone a few feet from the vehicle with a large snowboard under his arm. He looked suitably striking and intimidating in a bright red ski jacket and black ski pants fitted perfectly to his athletic build.

Figures.

He signalled to his driver, and the SUV reversed and drove past them as Lord himself kept his eye on her entourage approaching.

After her security team had checked the perimeter, she stepped into the pristine snow, the lightweight ski boots she preferred sinking into the icy blanket with a crisp crunch. She dragged in a heady lungful of the clean cold air. They were a good three and a half thousand metres above sea level here, which had to explain why she felt light-headed, while the throb of anticipation could only be the rare chance to spend an afternoon skiing.

One of her staff placed her skis in front of her. She dug her feet into the bindings and thanked the young man, before putting on her goggles and gloves while she waited for her guards to equip themselves.

Once the whole party was ready, she skied smoothly across the ridge towards Lord, who hadn’t budged. Why was she not surprised he was making her come to him?

She reached his position, with two of her security team flanking her and two more trailing behind.

‘Hello, Mr Lord,’ she said, his expression unreadable behind a pair of designer sunglasses. He wore no hat, or goggles, his dark unruly hair ruffled by the slight breeze. She kept her gaze fixed on his face, and not on his physique in the striking outfit.

‘Call me Travis, Belle,’ he said, using the ridiculous nickname again. Before she had a chance to comment though, he directed his gaze over her shoulder. ‘What’s with the circus?’

‘Excuse me?’ she managed, before she realised he was referring to her security team. She had become so used to taking the guards with her wherever she went, she didn’t really notice them any more, but she could see from his scowl he was not pleased.

‘Your babysitters,’ he clarified, with typical bluntness. ‘Why do you need them in the middle of nowhere?’

‘It’s procedure,’ she said stiffly, determined not to let him aggravate her straight away. ‘And we won’t be in the middle of nowhere once we arrive in Sariyelva,’ she added, pointedly. ‘Which is where we are supposed to end up so the local press can photograph us together.’

‘Then tell them we’ll meet them there,’ he replied coolly.

At least he hadn’t objected to their destination, she thought ruefully. ‘I also need them on hand to protect me.’

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