At His Majesty's Convenience / Her Little Secret, His Hidden Heir. Jennifer Lewis

do you want?”

      “So impatient. I just wanted to chat. About you and me.”

      He shoved a hand through his hair. Maxi was definitely not The One. In fact she could be voted Least Likely to be Queen of Ruthenia, since she was firmly in his “keep your enemies closer” circle. He’d been drawing her in and inviting her confidence on purpose. Not because he loved her, or was even attracted to her. He’d found evidence that her family was involved in weapons dealing and possibly worse, but he didn’t have enough proof to do anything about it yet.

      None of the other girls dealt in arms or drugs, as far as he knew, but they were all empty-headed and silly. Right now he was more attracted to his own assistant than to any of Ruthenia’s pampered beauties.

      An idea crept into his brain.

      Since Andi seemed to assume they were a couple, why not make it a reality? He had to marry someone. He could announce to the press tomorrow that his chosen bride was his own assistant.

      A chill of sangfroid crept over him. Could he really arrange his own marriage so easily? Andi was agreeable, intelligent and practical, perfectly suited to life in the spotlight. She’d worked just outside it for years and knew the whole routine of palace life perfectly. Apart from her presumably humble origins—he really didn’t know anything about her origins, but since he’d never met her parents at a ball, he was guessing—she’d be the ideal royal wife.

      They’d known each other for years and he could simply announce that they’d been involved for a long time but kept their relationship secret.

      The announcement would send the long-fingernailed wolves away from his door for good. He and Andi could marry, produce an heir and a spare or two, and live a long, productive life in the service of the citizens of Ruthenia—wasn’t that what was really important?

      Andi had wandered into the bedroom and a quick glance revealed that she now lay sprawled on his bed.

      Heat surged through him like a shot of brandy.

      Her dress draped over her, displaying her inviting curves like an ice-cream sundae with whipped cream on top. Her gaze beckoned him, along with her finger. His muscles itched to join her on the bed and enjoy discovering more of Andi’s wickedly intriguing sensual side.

      “Maxi, I have to go. Have a good night.”

      “I can think of a way to have a much better night.”

      Jake’s flesh crawled. “Sleep knits up the raveled sleeve of care.”

      “Is that Moby?”

      “Shakespeare. Goodnight, Maxi.”

      “When are you going to choose your wife?” Jake flinched at the blunt question, and the shrill voice that asked it. “Daddy wants to know. He’s not sure whether to contribute funds for the new hydroelectric project.”

      Jake stiffened. This is what it all boiled down to. Money and power. Well, he didn’t want to build Ruthenia with ill-gotten gains from the black market, and he’d rather share his life with a hardworking woman than one who thought she could buy her way into a monarchy. “I’ve already chosen my wife.”

      “What do you mean?” she gasped.

      He moved across the room, away from the bedroom where Andi now sprawled enticingly on the bed. She was humming again, and wouldn’t hear him. “I intend to marry Andi Blake, my longtime assistant.”

      “You’re joking.”

      “Not in the slightest. She and I have had a close relationship for six years. We intend to enjoy each other’s company for many more.”

      Already his pronouncement had an official ring to it. Marriage to Andi was a perfectly natural and practical course of action. He was confident Andi would agree, especially since she seemed to have romantic feelings toward him.

      “People are going to be very, very …” She paused, apparently struggling for words.

      “Happy for us. Yes. Of course you’ll be invited to the wedding.” He couldn’t help a tiny smile sneaking across his mouth. Maxi had clearly intended to be the featured host of the event.

      “Invited to the wedding?” Her growl made him pull the phone away from his ear. “You’re impossible!”

      The dial tone made a satisfying noise. And now he wouldn’t have to even make an announcement. Maxi would do all the legwork for him.

      All he had to do was tell Andi.

      Three

      Morning sunlight streamed through the gap between heavy brocade curtains. Hot and uncomfortable, Andi looked down to find herself wearing a long evening dress under the covers. Weirdest thing, she had no idea why.

      She sat bolt upright. Where was she?

      His room. She remembered the soft touch of his lips on her cheek. Her skin heated at the memory. “Good night, Andi,” he’d said. So she was Andi.

      Andi.

      Who was Andi? She racked her brain, but the racks were empty. She couldn’t even remember the name of the handsome man who’d put her to bed, though she knew they were close.

      How could her whole reality just slip away? Her heart pounded and she climbed out of bed. Her chiffon-y dress was horribly wrinkled and had made an uncomfortable nightgown, leaving lines printed on her skin.

      She moved to the window and pulled one of the heavy drapes aside. The view that greeted her was familiar—rolling green hills dotted with grazing sheep, rising to fir-covered mountains. The village in the middle distance, with its steep clay-tiled roofs and high church steeple.

      Looking down she saw the long rectangular fishpond in the walled courtyard. She didn’t recall seeing it from this angle before.

      But then she didn’t recall much.

      Andi what? She pressed a hand to her forehead. Blake, he’d said. How could even her own last name sound alien and unfamiliar?

      She walked to the door and cautiously pulled it open. She caught her breath at the sight of him, standing in front of the mirror, buttoning his collar. Thick black-brown hair swept back from the most handsome face she’d ever seen. Warm, dark eyes reflected in the glass. Mouth set in a serious but good-humored line. Heat flooded her body and she stood rooted to the spot.

      He turned. “Morning, Andi. How are you feeling?”

      His expression looked rather guarded.

      “Okay. I think. I … I can’t seem to remember much.” Had she slept with him last night? Her fully dressed state seemed to suggest not. Her body was sending all kinds of strange signals, though—pulsing and throbbing and tingling in mysterious places—so she couldn’t tell.

      “What can you remember?” He didn’t look surprised at her announcement. Did he know what was going on?

      “Why can’t I remember?”

      He took a few steps toward her and put his hand on her arm. Arousal flashed through her at his touch. “You bumped your head. The doctor says you’re not concussed.”

      “How long have I been like this?” Fear twisted in her stomach.

      “Just since last night. The doc said your memory will come back soon. A few weeks at most.”

      “Oh.” Andi frowned, feeling ridiculously vulnerable, standing there in her wrinkled dress with no idea of who or where she was. Except that she was very—very—attracted to this man. “What should I do in the meantime?”

      “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of you.” He stroked her cheek. The reassuring touch of his fingers made her breath catch and sent tingles of arousal cascading through her.

      She frowned. How should she put a question like this? “Are we … intimate?”

      His