Page 80 of The Reluctant Wife

"But it’s not the only reason you suggested the match." Tyler smirks.

And I thought he was on my side.I flick a dirty glance in his direction. "What’s that supposed to mean?”

"Figure it out yourself," Brody murmurs.

"If you want a clue, he’s talking about the fact that you’re giving another shot at that ol’ four-letter word, beginning with 'L,'" Connor quips.

"Jesus. Fuck."

"Language," chastises Arthur.

I spare him a look before digging my fingers in my hair and tugging. "Have you guys turned into avid Hallmark movie watchers? Is that where this is coming from?"

Connor chuckles. "If it doesn’t apply to you, why are you so upset? Unless—" He pretends to study me closely. "Unless…there’s a measure of truth in what I said?"

"What? Of course, not," I snap, then notice the sly look in my youngest brother’s eyes. Trust Connor to pull your leg when you least expect it.

"Asshole," I growl.

He chuckles, then slaps at my shoulder. "It had to happen at some point, given the sparks between you and the princess.”

"What do you know about that? You haven’t seen us together."

"Didn’t need to." He nods in Tyler’s direction.

I whip my head toward him to find a sheepish expression on his features. "You told him?"

"And me," Brody pipes up.

"Et moi." Imelda smirks.

"Didn’t have anything else more exciting to gossip about? And seriously, Imelda, I wouldn't have expected you to indulge in such trash."

"But I’m a gossipy old woman at heart." She flutters her eyelashes at me.

And I’m going to marry a princess.

"I think he needs another drink,” Connor says as he peers into my features. “Do you think he needs a drink?" he asks no one in particular.

"He looks pale, he might need a drink," Brody agrees.

Tyler walks over to the bar, pours a finger into a tumbler and brings it over. "A wee dram for some liquid courage?" He holds it out.

I glare at him. Then think better of turning it down. I need all the help I can get. I snatch the glass from him and throw back the liquid before tossing it back to him.

He snatches it from the air. "Feeling better?"

I hold my finger up at him. The sound of the door opening reaches me. The hair on the back of my neck rises, and I know it’s her. I draw in a breath, then another. Then turn and meet her gaze. She stands inside the doorway, head held high, her spine erect.

She combed her hair back, and not a strand is out of place. She refreshed her makeup, and her lipstick is immaculate. Nothing remains of the flushed woman whose swollen lips indicated she’d allowed me to use her mouth in a way that does not befit a princess. She’s, once again, the regal royal, who supports charities and graces events with her presence to drive up their newsworthiness.Damn. It makes me want to go over and muss her up again.

The rest of my family rise to their feet. Everyone bows, including Tyler. When Arthur begins to rise as well, she shakes her head. “Please, stay seated.” Then she turns her gaze on me. I haven’t followed my family’s example. She scowls at me.Does she expect me to bow to her?

And when I slowly rise to my feet, a look of wariness comes into her eyes. I stalk toward her, aware that every gaze in the room is following us, and not giving a damn.

When I come to a stop in front of her, she tips up her chin and fixes me with a haughty gaze.

I lean close and say softly, "No can do, Empress. Don’t expect to treat me like one of your subjects and get away with it.”

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