Royal Holiday Bride. Brenda Harlen

suitor for brunch.”

      Gabriella paused in the act of pushing back her chair. “Why did you say ‘potential suitor’?”

      “Just repeating Elena’s words,” Marissa explained. “You know my mother thrives on mystery and drama.”

      “So she never actually said it was the Duke of Bellemoro?” Hannah asked.

      “No,” she admitted, still not following the direction of their parallel thinking.

      “What if it’s not the duke?” Gabby pressed.

      Marissa dismissed the possibility with a shake of her head.

      “Who else could it be?”

      Dante had first met the Princess Royal about half a dozen years earlier when he’d accompanied his father on an official visit to Tesoro del Mar. His initial impression had been of a woman whose beauty was surpassed only by her ambition—an impression that was confirmed when, a few weeks after he’d taken the throne, she contacted him with a proposal to strengthen the bond between their respective countries.

      At the time, he’d had more pressing issues to contend with, and she’d graciously agreed to defer the matter to another time. But when the invitation to the Mythos Ball arrived in the mail, he’d accepted that this meeting was one that could be put off no longer.

      Since assuming his new role, Dante had been the recipient of more marriage proposals than he wanted to count. The majority of them were personal entreaties sent by hopeful future queens, though some were sent on behalf of the potential brides-to-be by a mother or sister or grandmother. Dante had delegated the task of responding to these offers to the palace’s junior secretaries.

      Elena’s letter had been the exception. He was all too aware that Ardena’s relationship with Tesoro del Mar—her closest neighbor, naval ally and trading partner—had become strained in recent years. Just as he was aware that it was his responsibility to do whatever he could to rectify the situation. A marriage between Ardena’s king and a Tesorian princess would go a long way toward doing that.

      When he arrived at Elena’s estate, Dante was prepared for the Princess Royal to do or say almost anything to convince him that he should marry her daughter, and he was willing to let himself be convinced. As his father had pointed out to him, there weren’t a lot of single women of appropriate genealogy—and even fewer still with whom he didn’t already have some kind of history.

      “Your Majesty.” The Princess Royal curtsied. “I’m so pleased you were able to take this time to meet with me while you’re visiting Tesoro del Mar.”

      He bowed to her in turn. “The pleasure is mine, Your Highness.”

      “I trust you had a good time at the ball last evening,” she said when they were seated in the parlor.

      “I did,” he agreed, though the remark caused his mind to flash back not to the charity event but to the pleasures he’d enjoyed after leaving the ballroom.

      “Marissa will be pleased to hear it.” Elena passed him a delicate gold-rimmed cup. “Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to be there last night, but she tries to ensure that the annual ball isn’t just successful but also enjoyable.”

      “I’ve heard that she’s very committed to her work at the hospital.” He sipped his coffee.

      “She has experience with numerous charitable endeavors—an essential attribute for the wife of a king.”

      Dante had always found it easier to negotiate with people who were forthright about their demands rather than those who tiptoed around them. It was clear that the Princess Royal didn’t believe in tiptoeing.

      “I don’t disagree,” he told her. “But there are many other factors to consider.”

      “You won’t find another candidate more suitable than Princess Marissa,” Elena promised. “She has lived her whole life with the demands and duties of royal life, she is educated, well mannered, kindhearted and still innocent.”

      Definitely no tiptoeing going on here.

      Dante set down his cup and cleared his throat. “I do think that the criteria for suitability have changed somewhat with the times.”

      “But your country’s Marriage Act still enumerates some very specific criteria,” Elena pointed out. “Including that the bride of a king must be of noble birth and pure virtue.”

      Technically, she was correct. But since a king was entitled to privacy on his wedding night, he wasn’t concerned about the latter stipulation. “I’m not sure that’s a realistic expectation in this day and age,” he acknowledged, refusing to think about his mysterious virgin lover of the previous evening. “I’m more concerned that my future bride is untouched by scandal.”

      “I assure you that my daughter is untouched in every way that matters.”

      He forced a smile, though the calculation in her eyes made him uneasy. It was obvious that the Princess Royal wanted a union between their families and would do everything in her power to make it happen, and he couldn’t help but feel a tug of sympathy for the princess whose mother so clearly viewed her as a commodity to be bartered.

      “You don’t think she would be reluctant to leave her friends and family here to live in another country?”

      “Ardena is not so far,” Elena said dismissively. “And a marriage between its king and a Tesorian princess would only strengthen the historically close ties between our two countries. It might even help our people forget the unnecessary stir created by your father on his last visit.”

      “Whether the stir was or was not necessary is a matter of perspective,” Dante retorted, not even attempting to disguise the edge in his tone. “And he had reason to be concerned about your son’s relationship with my sister.”

      “Well, that’s past history, anyway,” she said, conveniently forgetting that she’d been the one to bring up the subject. “What matters now is the future.”

      “Agreed,” he said, only because he knew that the relationship between Prince Cameron and Princess Leticia alleged in the newspaper headlines had been predicated on nothing more than one dance in a nightclub.

      Of course, the relationship Elena was advocating for her daughter would be based on even less, and Dante couldn’t help wondering if the princess in question might not want more than a marriage founded solely on politics. And he was both baffled and infuriated that her mother didn’t seem to want more for her.

      Or maybe he was angry that he wasn’t allowed to want more for himself. His parents’ marriage had been “suggested” rather than arranged, and they’d been lucky enough to fall in love so that they wanted to honor the wishes of their respective families. When Dante had protested that he should be given the opportunity to find love, too, his parents had bluntly pointed out that he’d managed to find enough lovers without worrying about emotional attachments, and now it was time for him to accept that he had a responsibility to his country and its people. And that responsibility took precedence over all else.

      “How does Princess Marissa feel about a potential wedding to the king of Ardena?”

      “You don’t need to worry about her feelings,” she assured him. “She understands very well that duty must come before desire.”

      “You seem certain of that,” he noted.

      “Marissa understands the demands and responsibilities of your position. She will stand by your side when you need her there and remain in the background when you don’t.”

      He wasn’t sure he wanted a wife who would be so docile and unassuming. He’d always admired women who had their own thoughts and ambitions, who challenged him to consider different ideas and perspectives, who were intelligent and strong and passionate. He wanted passion.

      He wanted Juno.

      He pushed the haunting memories of