Page 20 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 5-8

‘Yes, I think that will be more than sufficient,’ she managed around the boulder lodged in her throat.

Did he know? What his kiss had triggered? That the minute he had taken her mouth with that sense of entitlement and demand, she had been lost to the passion?

He captured her chin and turned her face to his, then wiped away what was left of the cream on her top lip with a napkin.

‘You good?’ he asked.

‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, although nothing could have been further from the truth.

Especially when his lips quirked. ‘What are you thanking me for, Your Majesty?’

For kissing me as if you meant it.

The pathetic thought humiliated her even more.

‘For making that so convincing,’ she said, still trying to wrestle her wayward emotions back under control. ‘I appreciate it,’ she added, desperate to persuade herself this was still just a transaction.

But then he tilted his head to one side, his gaze roaming over her with the same fierce entitlement that had made his kiss feel so overwhelming.

‘It wasn’t exactly a hardship, Belle,’ he said. His gaze dipped to her mouth, which began to tingle alarmingly—the memory of his conquest still playing havoc with her senses. ‘That mouth is kind of irresistible.’

It is?

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip to stop herself from acknowledging the foolish feeling of validation at the compliment.

‘I’m glad you think so,’ she said. ‘You happen to be a very accomplished kisser, so I guess that makes us even,’ she added, trying to sound sophisticated and not devastated.

She had the awful suspicion she hadn’t fooled him though, when he let out a gruff chuckle.

But the intense heat in his gaze didn’t seem to have the cynical edge she had come to expect when he replied, ‘Yeah, I guess it does.’

He was humouring her. They weren’t even at all. Because sex was a game to him, while it could never be one to her. But still her pulse slowed when he stood and offered her his hand.

‘Show’s over,’ he said, grasping her fingers. Sensation shot up her arm—because of course it did. ‘We’ve given those vultures enough to run with for now.’

‘Yes, of course.’ She gulped down the spurt of regret—knowing that giving in to the impulse to spend more time with him would be even more dangerous than that ferocious, all-consuming kiss.

He dumped some of the local currency on the table.

‘I can get my security to pay,’ she offered.

His gaze flattened, the amusement gone.

‘No, thanks, Your Majesty,’ he said, the cynical edge back. ‘When I take someone on a date, I pay.’

Except this isn’t a real date,she wanted to protest.

But how could she, when it had felt far too real to her?

CHAPTER SEVEN

Two months later

ISABELLEBREATHEDOUTSLOWLY—but the constriction under her ribs from the corset she wore under antique ivory silk was nothing compared to the constriction in her throat as she observed the seven hundred carefully selected guests from her vantage point in the vestry.

Androvia’s famous White Chapel was looking suitably stunning, its five-hundred-year-old eaves decorated with a thousand ivory and red Alpine roses, accented with edelweiss and local greenery, and artistically arranged by a team of fifty florists. The tall candles tied with velvet bows—which lit her route down the aisle—shimmered in the wintry light that shone through arched stained-glass windows and made the whole scene glow with a timeless beauty.

She stepped back to allow the hairdresser’s assistants to finish fussing with her hair, while the stylist and her team made the final adjustments to her gown and the wedding planner briefed the six pageboys and bridesmaids who had been selected from local schools to carry her train and throw rose petals.

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