The Prince's Bride. Lisa Laurel Kaye

the door behind him. It would be quiet enough in here to finish up the paperwork that he would have to get to Whit, now that his brother would be taking over for him on Isle Anders. The king had insisted that Erik stay at Anders Point for a while and take on Whit’s public relations duties. His father knew Erik preferred doing the king’s domestic duties, the nuts-and-bolts work of running the country, far better than the international schmoozing Whit excelled at. Erik suspected that the king, by changing his duties, was trying to pressure him to choose a bride. He hated this whole arrangement, but had reason to hope that it would only be temporary, and it paled in comparison to his fear for the king’s health.

      Concern about his father’s recovery had been gnawing at Erik, but he was not a worrier, he was a doer. The scene at the hospital that morning had sealed his decision. It was time to get on with the matter of securing the succession. The actual marriage didn’t have to take place until right before his coronation, but if Erik were engaged in the meantime, it might allay his father’s concerns so that he could recover. To accomplish that, Erik would do anything in his power.

      He had had an understanding with Roberta for quite some time. After all, he had known all along that eventually he would have to choose a bride. For a number of reasons, he felt she would be suitable. She was not from Isle Anders, but that was not an issue; his father had himself married a girl from Maine. Erik had known Roberta for a long time. His father thought highly of her, as did everyone who knew her. She carried herself well in public and would be able to perform all the duties that went along with being queen someday.

      Her manners were refined, impeccable. She wouldn’t cause him public embarrassment of any kind. Heiress to a multimillion-dollar fortune, she nevertheless stayed out of the headlines. Sophisticated and polished, she had the background and social graces to be the kind of hostess he would need for state dinners and other events. Cautious and restrained, she took life as it came, instead of rushing headlong out to meet it. With her he would find steady reliability, not breathless excitement.

      Best of all, she was no more in love with him than he was with her, which made possible the only kind of marriage that he would consider—a marriage for duty. She had been in love, unrequited love, with a scoundrel who had strung her along mercilessly for years. But she had finally given up her vain hopes of marrying him. This morning she had accepted Erik’s proposal and his terms for their marriage. And once she had agreed, he had no doubt that she would do her duty, as he was doing his. She was a woman of her word.

      As far as expediting the matter went, circumstances were in his favor. The ball would be the perfect place to take care of this business, although the announcement was a necessary evil as far as Erik was concerned.

      He was by nature a private man. But the fact that he would publicly plight his troth would assure the king he meant business; and that, Erik hoped, would speed his father’s recovery.

      After making a final check on the camera crew, Erik went up to his room to dress. Before he went downstairs, he placed a call.

      “The king is unavailable,” the head nurse in his private wing informed Erik. “He’s resting up.”

      “Is everything in place there?”

      “All hooked up, they tell me,” she said.

      “What did you tell the king?”

      “Just what you told me to tell him, Your Highness. That you hoped he would enjoy watching the ball, even though he couldn’t attend, and that you were going to make an announcement at midnight that you thought he would be interested in.”

      “Good. Now there’s just one more thing I’d like you to do.”

      “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he’s watching,” she promised.

      Naturally Erik looked spectacular in a tux.

      Julie greeted him when he came down the stairs. “I just want to make you aware, Your Highness, that the rumors are flying,” she said.

      “Rumors?”

      “That you will be announcing your engagement tonight.”

      He swore under his breath, then apologized for it. “Where did you hear that?”

      Julie pointed to the media crews gathered outside on the front lawn. The king allowed them limited access to the ball, in order to raise awareness for his charity.

      And besides, most of those in attendance loved the exposure, not to mention the excitement and glamour of flash bulbs exploding in their faces as they got out of their limos.

      Erik’s expression was grim. “How did they find out?”

      “I don’t know,” Julie said, a little defensively.

      “I didn’t mean that I thought you told them,” he said, impatiently. “I told you I trusted you.”

      “At any rate, the rumors have reached your father,” she told him. “He called to ask me if I knew who his future daughter-in-law was.”

      “And?”

      “I told him that if you hadn’t told him yourself, it must not be any of his business,” Julie said simply.

      She looked at Erik’s expression and couldn’t help smiling. “You don’t have to look so relieved. I thought you trusted me.”

      “Looks like I had good reason to,” he said, giving her one of his rare smiles. “And the best part of it is, you didn’t even lie to him.”

      “No, but I think he could tell I was dodging. The king knows I’d make a lousy liar.”

      Outside, the first limousine drove up to the front entryway. “Did you decide where you will be receiving guests?” she asked him.

      “Where you suggested, inside the ballroom.”

      “I’ll make security aware of the expected traffic flow.”

      “Fine,” he said. “By the way, I’m impressed with the way everything has fallen into place so smoothly, Julie.”

      “Just doing my job, Your Highness.”

      “If your jaw were clenched any tighter, Your Highness, the muscles in your cheeks would explode.”

      Erik didn’t have to turn around to know who spoke. Gustave had been his father’s chef for years, and he had all the familiarity of a long-time employee who was a de facto member of the family. Gustave always managed to appear at these occasions as a guest, even though he was in charge of the food.

      “Just doing my job as host. Making sure everyone is having a good time,” Erik said, eyes on the crowded ballroom before him.

      “Especially the lovely mademoiselle in blue, I see.” Although born on Isle Anders, Gustave was half French, a circumstance that flavored both his cooking and his speech.

      He was observant, too. Erik had been watching Julie all night. And he wasn’t the only one. It came as no surprise to him that the eyes of some of the top connoisseurs in the world of women had glazed over when she walked into the ballroom.

      “She has done a fine job,” Erik said, choosing safe ground. “As for her appearance, she does much credit to the king by her manner of poise and restraint”.

      “Ah, yes, I have often myself been struck by her level of poise and restraint,” Gustave said with a chuckle. Erik wondered what the chef found so amusing, but became distracted when he saw a duke with a reputation for shameless philandering trying to wheedle Julie onto the dance floor. A duke who, in the receiving line, had asked him who the luscious babe in blue was. It had taken all of Erik’s restraint to give him a civilized, stony stare, when what he wanted to do was take him outside and wipe the leer from his face.

      It was requiring even more restraint to watch the man flirt with her now. It wasn’t the first time Erik had felt protective toward Julie. He could have kissed her that night nine years ago, like she’d wanted him to—hell, like he’d wanted to.