The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит

she just wanted to start building something, something real. And that took time.

      Tonight was a beginning.

      Taking a deep breath, stealing herself for whatever lay ahead, she opened the door.

      Leo had changed out of his tuxedo and now wore a pair of navy-blue silk draw-string pyjama bottoms and nothing else. He sat sprawled in a chair by the fire, a tumbler of whisky cradled in his hands, the amber liquid glinting in the firelight.

      Alyse barely noticed any of that; her gaze was ensnared by the sight of his bare chest. She’d never seen it before, not in the flesh, although there had been several paparazzi photographs of him in swimming trunks while on holiday—though not with her. They’d never actually had a holiday together in six years’ engagement.

      Seeing his chest now, up close and in the glorious flesh, was another thing entirely. His skin was bronzed, the fire casting long shadows on the taut flesh and sculpted muscle. She could see dark whorls of hair on his chest, veeing down to the loose waistband of his trousers slung low on his lean hips, and her heart felt as if it had flipped right over in her chest. He was just so beautiful.

      He glanced up as she approached, and his lips twitched in sardonic amusement as he took in her huge robe. ‘I think that one’s mine.’

      ‘Oh.’ She blushed, and then as she imagined Leo attempting to wear the smaller, woman’s-sized robe, a sudden bubble of nervous laughter escaped her. He arched an eyebrow and she came forward to explain. ‘I was picturing you in the other robe. Mine, apparently.’

      ‘An interesting image.’ His lips twitched again in a tiny smile and her heart lightened ridiculously. All she needed was a smile. A single smile on which to build a world of dreams.

      She sat in the chair opposite his and stretched her bare feet towards the fire. Neither of them spoke for several minutes, the only sound the comforting crackle and spit of the flames.

      ‘This is strange,’ Alyse finally said softly, her gaze still on the fire. She heard Leo shift in his seat.

      ‘It’s bound to be, I suppose.’

      She glanced upwards and saw his face was half in darkness, the firelight casting flickering shadows over the other half. She could see the hard plane of one cheek, the dark glint of stubble on his jaw, the pouty fullness of his sculpted lips. He had the lips of a screen siren, yet he was unabashedly, arrogantly male.

      She’d felt those lips on her own so many times, cool brushes of mouths when what she wanted, what she craved, was hot, mindless passion—tongues tangling, plunging, hands moving and groping...

      She forced the images, and the resulting heat, away from her mind and body.

      ‘Do you realise,’ she said, trying to keep her tone light, and even teasing, although they’d never actually teased each other, ‘we haven’t actually been alone together in about a year?’

      He shrugged one bare, powerful shoulder. ‘That’s not all that surprising, considering.’

      She glanced back at the fire, tucking her now-warmed feet underneath the hem of her robe. ‘Considering what?’

      ‘Considering we’ve been living separate lives ever since we announced this sham of an engagement.’

      Alyse swallowed. ‘I know that.’ Neither of them had been in a rush to get married. Leo certainly hadn’t, and Alyse had already accepted a place at Durham University. Her parents hadn’t wanted her to give it up for marriage at eighteen, and neither had she, although she suspected Queen Sophia could have bullied her into it.

      She’d been so young then, so naïve and overwhelmed. She liked to think she’d changed, that she’d grown up, at least a bit. She hoped she had, but right now she felt as gauche as ever.

      At any rate, a long engagement had fed the media frenzy, accomplishing the monarchy’s purposes of keeping them in positive press for over half a decade. For the last six years she’d been living in England, completing her BA and then her MA in European history—a subject the monarchy had considered acceptable for its future queen, since it could be relevant to her rule. Alyse just loved history.

      She’d wanted to have some kind of normalcy in her life, some kind of separation from Leo and the feelings he stirred up in her; from the bizarre intensity of life in the media spotlight and under the monarchy’s critical eye.

      University had thankfully given her a degree of that normalcy she’d craved. Out of respect, and perhaps even love for her, the paparazzi hadn’t followed her too closely.

      She’d had a somewhat usual university experience—or as usual as it could be, considering the jaunts to royal functions every few weeks, her carefully choreographed appearances with Leo and the constant curiosity and speculation of the other students and even some of the tutors and lecturers.

      Remembering it all now brought a sudden lump to her throat. No matter how normal her life had seemed on the surface, she’d still felt the loneliness of being different from the other students. Of knowing the paltry truth of her relationship with Leo.

      It was a knowledge that had sometimes led to despair, and that had once led to a foolish choice and a heartache and shame that even now could bring her to a cringing blush.

      She pushed the memory away. It had no place here and now, on her wedding night.

      ‘But we’re not going to live separate lives now,’ she said and Leo inclined his head in brief acknowledgement.

      ‘I suppose we need to decide how we want to conduct our marriage, now that we’ll be under the same roof.’ He paused to take a long swallow of whisky, and Alyse watched the movement of the corded muscles of his throat, felt a spasm of helpless longing. ‘I don’t see any real reason to change things too much,’ he continued. Her longing left her in a rush.

      She felt the way you did when you thought there was one more step in a staircase, the jolt going right through her bones to her soul. Had she actually thought things would change that much now they were married? That Leo would? It would mean more pretending, not less. Yet how could they pretend that much?

      ‘Things will have to change a bit, I imagine,’ she said, trying to speak lightly. ‘I mean...we’re married. It’s different.’

      ‘Assuredly, but it doesn’t mean we have to be different, does it?’ He glanced at her, eyebrows raised, cool smile in place. ‘The last six years have worked out quite well, don’t you think?’

      No. No, no, no. Yet how could she disagree with him when she’d been acting like she’d agreed with him all along? Alyse swallowed. ‘I suppose, but now we have a chance to actually get to know each other...’ She trailed off uncertainly, wanting him to leap in and agree. When would she learn? He wasn’t going to do that. He wasn’t that kind of man.

      Leo frowned, then turned back to the fire. ‘We’ve always had that chance,’ he answered after a moment. ‘We just chose not to take it.’

      ‘I suppose,’ Alyse managed. She tried not to let his words hurt her; he didn’t mean to be cruel; he simply had no idea of how she felt, never had. This wasn’t his fault, it was hers, for agreeing to pretend for so long. For never having been honest with him about how she really felt.

      ‘It might get a bit tedious,’ she ventured. ‘Pretending for so long. We’ll have to appear together more often, I mean.’

      ‘Oh, the media will get tired of us eventually,’ Leo said dismissively. He gave her a quick, cool smile, his eyes hard and glinting. ‘Especially once the next generation comes along.’

      The next generation. Their children. Alyse felt her heart start to thud.

      He put his glass down, raking both hands through his hair so Alyse’s gaze was drawn to the ripple of muscles in his arms and chest, the sculpted beauty of his body. Desire twisted and writhed inside her like some desperate, untamed creature seeking its freedom.

      Leo dropped