The King's Convenient Bride / The Illegitimate Prince's Baby: The King's Convenient Bride. Michelle Celmer

year is a long time when you’re alone.”

      It was the same song and dance she’d fed Hannah three months after his death, when she’d gone out on her first date. I’m lonely, she’d told Hannah. What she didn’t seem to get is that she had just lost her husband, therefore she was supposed to be lonely. She was supposed to mourn his death, not take the first opportunity to run out and find a replacement.

      “Please don’t be angry, Hannah.”

      “Who is he?”

      “No one you know. He owns a small law firm outside of Seattle. But you’ll love him, honey.”

      No, she wouldn’t. No one could replace her father. Ever. And if her mother honestly believed someone could, she was more oblivious than Hannah could have imagined.

      “I was thinking, I could bring him to your wedding. So you could meet him.”

      She didn’t want to meet him. “For security reasons, that won’t be possible.”

      “Please give him a chance. He’s such a sweet, generous man. And he loves me.”

      Hannah was sure that what he probably loved was the substantial estate her father had left behind. “You say that like Daddy didn’t love you. Or is it that you didn’t love him?”

      “That’s unfair. You know that I loved your father very much.” There was a quiver in her voice that said she was on the verge of tears. No big surprise there. She often used tears to win sympathy. But Hannah wasn’t buying it this time.

      “Then why are you so eager to replace him?”

      “You’ve gone on with your life. I should be allowed to go on with my life, too.”

      It wasn’t the same thing and she knew it. Besides, Hannah wasn’t out trying to find a new father, was she? “And so you have, Mom. You don’t need my permission.”

      “No, but I would like your blessing.”

      “I really need to go now.”

      “Hannah, please—”

      “We’ll talk about this when you’re here next week,” she said.

      “I love you, honey.”

      “Goodbye, Mom.” She could hear her mother still talking as she set the phone back in the cradle. But if she stayed on the line any longer, she would have wound up saying something she regretted.

      There was nothing she could do or say to change her mother’s mind. She had obviously made her decision. And since Hannah had no control over the situation, there was no point in wasting her time worrying about it.

      She had other things to keep her occupied. Wedding plans and redecorating, and hours of reading to do. She didn’t need her mother anymore.

      She sat on the sofa, surrounded with binders full of information to read, color swatches and wallpaper samples to choose from, last-minute wedding plans to tie up. But she couldn’t seem to work up the enthusiasm for any of it.

      She felt too…edgy.

      Hannah decided a long, hot bath with her lavender bath gel might relax her. Afterward she towel-dried her hair and changed into her most comfortable cotton pajamas. She curled up in bed to watch television, browsing past the gazillion channels available, but there wasn’t a thing on that held her interest.

      She snapped the television off and tossed the remote on the coverlet. She was bored silly, yet she didn’t feel like doing anything.

      Hannah glanced over at the closet door, where Phillip’s jacket hung. She had planned to give it back to him tomorrow. But what if he’d forgotten he’d lent it to her, and was wondering where he’d left it.

      Yeah right. She just wanted an excuse to see him. Which in itself was silly because he was her fiancé. She shouldn’t need an excuse to see him. Right? If she wanted to see him, she should just…see him. Shouldn’t she?

      Yes, she decided. She should.

      Before she lost her nerve, she rolled out of bed and grabbed her robe, shoving her arms in the sleeves and belting it securely at her waist. She stuck her feet in her slippers, grabbed Phillip’s jacket, and headed out into the hall.

      His suite was all the way down the main hall at the opposite end of the east wing. She had never actually been there, but it had been part of the tour Elizabeth took her on earlier in the week.

      When she reached his door, she lifted her hand to knock, then hesitated, drawing it back.

      What was she doing? Begging for his attention? Was she really so pathetic? Had she so little pride? Wasn’t she stronger than that?

      She turned to walk back the way she came from, but hesitated again.

      On second thought, why shouldn’t she stop by to give him his jacket? He was her fiancé, wasn’t he? And damn it, she had worked hard to prepare herself for her role as his wife. Didn’t she deserve a little something in return? Was a little bit of his time really all that much to ask for?

      No, she decided, it definitely was not.

      She turned back, and before she could talk herself out of it again, rapped hard on the door.

      Seven

      Get a grip, Hannah, she told herself, since her heart was about to pound clear through her chest. It’s not like he’s naked.

      But darn close.

      A pair of Egyptian cotton pajama bottoms rode low on Phillip’s hips as he opened the door. Other than that, all she was able to comprehend, to process, was the ridiculous amount of muscle she was seeing.

      Wide, ripped shoulders and bulging biceps. Lean hips and toned, defined abs. And she could only imagine what was under the pajamas. In fact, she was imagining it.

      She was so stunned silly by his perfect physique, it took a moment to register that he was speaking to her.

      She peeled her eyes from his flawless pecks, located his face, and uttered a very eloquent, “Huh?”

      Amusement danced in the depth of his eyes. “I said, is there something wrong?”

      “Wrong?”

      “Why are you here?”

      Think, Hannah. Why did you come all the way down here? Then she remembered the jacket still hanging from her left hand. “No. Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to give this back to you.”

      She held the jacket out to him, and he took it.

      “Is that it?” he asked.

      “Yes.” She shook her head. “No.”

      He leaned in the door frame, arms folded across his chest, waiting patiently for her to elaborate. And, boy, were his biceps huge. So thick and strong looking, like he could probably bench-press a compact car and not break a sweat.

      Did it suddenly get a lot hotter in here? Her cheeks were on fire and she was feeling just a little light-headed.

      What was wrong with her? It wasn’t as if she had never seen a half-naked man before.

      The biggest problem here wasn’t that she was wary of what she was seeing. Instead, she felt a very real and intense desire—no, not desire, need—to put her hands all over him.

      She locked them together behind her back. Just to be safe.

      “Are you all right?” he asked, though he looked more amused than concerned.

      “Yes. I just…” She shook her head again. “No. I’m not.”

      “Maybe you should come in.” He opened the door wider and stepped aside.

      You know you shouldn’t be doing