Page 94

She sensed Leandro beside her about to step in, she could feel the tensile steel of his fury vibrating in the air and silently willed him to hold back. She knew that she had to establish her own authority. That this moment mattered.

‘Princess.’

Queen, not princess, Leandro thought, ignoring the technicality, because at that moment she was. His boiling anger lowered to a gentle simmer as he watched, fascinated by the change in her. Slender, upright, every inch of her haughty cool. He watched, wanting to applaud as she tipped her head in cool acknowledgement of the title she never used and murmured the courtier’s name.

‘I hope you have an enjoyable visit…Majesty.’ The courtier gathered his dignity and walked away.

‘Not one of the good guys, I take it?’ Elsie murmured, elated. It was a small victory but, she sensed, an important one.

‘You got that, did you?’

‘I did, but Franco had also mentioned his name. So, what was that about, or shouldn’t I ask?’

‘He invited the contents of his address book to a state ball. You were to be guest of honour.’

‘Well, that sounds horrific, but not a crime.’

‘I made it known that all engagements were to be run past my office for approval and, unless I am very much mistaken, the guest list would have included every woman I have ever slept with.’

‘That is a big guest list.’

His lips quivered. ‘Definitely several undercover paparazzi.’

‘Again, not nice; he wanted you to be caught with your pants down.’ An accompanying image floated into her head, and she dodged his stare. ‘I don’t see what his motivation would be.’

‘The Count has a niece.’

‘So does that make me the other woman?’

‘Let’s just say that he and his cronies favour an internal candidate for the post of Queen. Someone on their team, so to speak. It would suit their purposes if you got cold feet.’

‘Does everyone know about us?’ she exclaimed, not bothered about her cold feet but the heat elsewhere. ‘I mean, there is no us as such. I mean, we have not even…’ She thought of the kiss and tacked on, ‘Yet,’ without thinking. ‘Oh, you know what I mean,’ she finished crossly, because standing there, his broad shoulders propped against a wall, he looked like he was enjoying seeing her tying herself in knots.

‘I asked Franco to inform a limited number of people. So everyone within a twenty-mile radius knows by now.’

‘We could start a rumour that I’m your mistress.’

His eyes narrowed with amusement. ‘I think you would make a delightful mistress, but I don’t really do mistresses.’

Her eyes went round at the suggestion. ‘Then you should sue because some of those stories they write about you, some of the photos they snap…’

He issued an unrepentant grin. ‘They were erm…dates…hookups, not mistresses.’

‘What do you want, applause?’ she wondered acidly.

‘How about a kiss?’ he said, appearing to have recovered his good humour.

She looked anywhere but at his mouth. ‘Be serious.’

‘I was.’

‘That bathroom?’

He sighed, levered himself off the wall and bowed slightly at the waist. ‘This way.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

ELSIE LINGERED IN the bathroom, looking longingly at the massive bathtub set on a platform in the middle of the room. A TV screen was mounted above the fireplace opposite the wall that was taken up by a walk-in shower with controls that looked like you’d need a degree to operate.