Promoted to His Princess Read online

  ‘Spare me the speech,’ he murmured, the gold in his eyes glinting. ‘And eat the fruit. I’ll order you some more food.’

  A surge of irritation went through her. ‘No, thank you. I’ll need to be getting back to my—’

  ‘No. You will not be going anywhere.’

  She blinked. ‘What?’

  One black brow rose. ‘You really think I’m going to let the mother of my child out of my sight? No, that’s not what will be happening.’

  Yet more shock rippled through her. ‘But...you’re in the middle of your engagement party. I’m sorry about the timing, but I thought you’d want to know immediately.’

  ‘And indeed I did.’ He had that lazy drawl again, the one that was deceptive because it hid so much steel. ‘Eleni is going to be very relieved.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’re carrying a lion or lioness of Axios, Calista. What do you think I mean?’

  She frowned, picking up her glass again for another sip of water. ‘I think you’d better be clear, Your Highness.’

  His beautiful mouth curved in another of those smiles that held no amusement. ‘Very well. You’ll not be going anywhere tonight, Calista Kouros, because in approximately half an hour I will be informing my brother that I’ve had a change of heart.’ The gold in his eyes flared, bright and fierce, his smile like a wolf’s, white and predatory. ‘I won’t be marrying Eleni after all. I’ll be marrying you instead.’

  The glass dropped from Calista’s nerveless fingers and shattered on the floor.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SHE’D GONE EVEN whiter than she’d been when he’d first seen her on the terrace, but then, that was to be expected. It wasn’t every day a woman got a proposition of marriage from a prince, after all.

  Not that it was a proposition as such. It was more of an order, though that wasn’t a bad thing when it came to Calista. She was a soldier and she obeyed orders.

  And if she doesn’t obey this one?

  Oh, she would. There would be no disobeying him this time. This time his word would be law.

  The moment Calista had told him she was pregnant with his child, it had felt as if something had clicked inside him. A key turning in a lock. A sense of rightness, of certainty. Because it had come to him very suddenly that this was why he was here. Why he’d answered his brother’s call to come back to Axios. This was his second chance, his purpose.

  This was his destiny.

  He’d failed at so many things—protecting his brother, protecting his country, protecting his men. But he would not fail at this. He would not fail to protect his child.

  Which meant that letting her go was out of the question. He wouldn’t let any child of his be born away from him, where he couldn’t protect them or look out for them.

  The way your father failed to protect you.

  Yes, that was a lesson he couldn’t ignore. He’d be a better father than his own had ever been. He wouldn’t torture or betray his child under the guise of ‘training’. He wouldn’t banish them for not ending their life when they should have. He wouldn’t call them ‘weak’.

  No, he would be different. And he would not fail.

  As for the marriage, there was no question it was necessary. He wanted his child to have a mother, a family. Legitimacy. He also wanted her. Returning to Axios had involved a certain loss of choice about a great many things, including marriage. But this changed things. This gave him the perfect excuse to choose his own wife, and so he’d choose Calista. It was true that Eleni bought political benefits to Axios, but an heir was more important. And he would marry the mother of his heir.

  All that fire and passion...all that feeling will be yours.

  And why not? Hadn’t he sacrificed enough? Didn’t he deserve something for himself?

  His brother wouldn’t like it, but Adonis wouldn’t argue. Not when he found out Calista was pregnant.

  He won’t like that, either.

  Marriage would solve any doubts Adonis had about his reputation. His brother couldn’t say that Xerxes didn’t take responsibility for his actions.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ he murmured. ‘You appear to have dropped that glass.’

  Calista didn’t notice the glass. She’d shoved herself upright, her eyes gone dark, the dusting of freckles across her nose and cheekbones standing out against her pale skin. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  Xerxes got out of his own chair and strolled casually over to the door. He pulled it open, spoke a word to the staff member standing outside then turned back as one of the housekeeping staff scurried in and set to work cleaning up the broken glass.

  ‘I’m completely serious.’ He thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers. ‘As you can tell from my very serious demeanour.’

  She shook her head as if that would somehow change things. ‘No. No. You can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I’m a—’ She stopped dead and looked down at the staff member kneeling on the floor and sweeping up the broken glass. Her teeth worried at her bottom lip.

  There was no soldier’s mask now, no thousand-yard stare, no iron control. All those powerful emotions he’d seen the night they’d spent together were laid bare, shock flickering over her strong features and darkening the liquid amber of her eyes. The light from the unnecessary fire had caught the differing shades of gold in her glorious hair and he was suddenly, almost forcibly reminded of how he’d wound that hair around his wrists and used it to guide her mouth on him.

  Desire pulsed through him, a thick, hot wave of it, and deeper this time, an edge of possessiveness creeping in. She would be his and there would be no cold bed for this particular marriage. He was tired of feeling nothing. He wanted to drown himself in her heat and her fire, which meant she would be his wife in every way.

  The staff member finished up with the glass, making sure every shard had been collected and the water mopped up, then they scurried away as noiselessly as they’d entered.

  Xerxes shut the door again and moved over to the coffee table, picking up the glass of orange juice and holding it out to her. ‘Drink this. You’re looking pale.’

  ‘No.’ Disbelief was stark on her face. ‘I’m a palace guard and you’re a prince. I can’t marry you.’

  ‘Au contraire, soldier. I can marry anyone I choose because I’m a prince.’

  ‘No, you can’t,’ she insisted. ‘Your engagement to the princess—’

  ‘Has been put on hold, soon to be cancelled.’ He moved over to her, took her nerveless hand in his and closed her fingers around the glass. Her skin felt cold against his. ‘Don’t drop it this time.’ He deepened his voice, putting a note of command in it that seemed to work so well on her. ‘Drink at least half, and that’s an order.’ She needed the glucose to combat the shock.

  Reflexively she lifted the glass and took a couple of swallows.

  Satisfied, Xerxes went on, ‘I have already informed my brother that I need to speak with him urgently. In about...’ he glanced down at the heavy platinum watch that had been made just for him ‘...twenty minutes. And I will inform him of my plan.’

  Calista’s eyes were wide and shocked, but her cheeks had lost that overly pale look.

  Xerxes took the glass from her—she’d swallowed almost exactly half as ordered—and put it down on the coffee table. Then he laid a hand at the small of her back and guided her to the chair again. She didn’t resist, the heat of her body seeping into his palm, making the desire already smouldering inside him flare.

  But as much as he’d like to kiss those red lips, taste the sweetness of her again, he wasn’t going to. Not yet. She needed some time to come to terms with her new situation and he could be patient when he wanted to be. He’d had practice since coming back to Axios, after all.

  ‘Sit down before you fall down,’ he murmured, easing her back int
o the chair.

  She did so, looking up at him, her face still whiter than he would have liked. ‘You can’t...’ she whispered. ‘You can’t.’

  ‘I can,’ he said with a certain amount of gentleness, and crouched down in front of her chair, reaching out to take her fingers in his and chafing them to warm them. She let him, as if she wasn’t aware he was even doing it. ‘I’m going to tell the king that you are pregnant with my heir and that I need to marry you quickly. Eleni won’t care. She’ll be relieved, since she didn’t want to marry me anyway. We’ll come to some arrangement about the armies we promised her country; it won’t be an issue.’

  He wouldn’t let it be an issue. His own father had put everything before the welfare of either of his sons; nothing was more important than the throne, than Axios. A prince had to be made of rock and stone, since human flesh was weak, and so he’d tried his hardest to crush the humanity right out of them.

  Xerxes still remembered that stone room in the bowels of the palace, with no windows and no furniture except a chair and one bright light. A test, Xenophon had called it afterwards. But it hadn’t been a test his father had put him through, but torture.

  No, he would not do the same to his child. Never.

  Calista was shaking her head. ‘But all those people in the ballroom...’

  Of all the possible issues she should concern herself about, the people in the ballroom were the least important. He’d half considered presenting her to the assembled dignitaries right now so that it was done. But it was clear she wasn’t ready and he had no desire to put her through that.

  Later, when she’d come to terms with it, he’d dress her in that golden gown and a tiara worthy of her new status. Array her like a goddess, Artemis with her bow and arrow, ready to hunt. He’d present her to his country as the prize she was. His.

  Hunger and possessiveness wound itself around his throat, clawing at him. The sudden rush of feeling would have worried him, since possessiveness wasn’t exactly a hallmark of detachment, but he ignored it, refusing to examine it.

  Instead, he kept his touch on her fingers businesslike. ‘The people won’t care. They’ll have enjoyed a party with free champagne and it’ll end in a scandal, which will thrill them. I’ll be speaking to Eleni before I see the king and ensure she’s well taken care of. She might want to score a few points off us for it, but I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.’ Ideas had already begun to turn themselves over in his head, his brain flicking through options the way it had used to do when he was in the army. ‘In fact, I’ll probably offer some military support in recompense and she’ll be pleased. Even more pleased if I tell her that she can be the one to break off the engagement. Tell everyone I’m not suitable. No one will be surprised.’

  Calista’s fingers were warming in his hands now, the cold leaving them, and he had a sudden urge to kiss them. Instead, he closed his own around them, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

  Instantly, as if remembering herself, Calista jerked her fingers from his, leaning back in her chair away from him. There was a set look on her face, the beginnings of anger glowing in her eyes. ‘You’re totally serious, aren’t you?’

  He remained where he was, crouching in front of her chair. ‘Of course I’m serious. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the past ten minutes.’

  ‘And if I refuse?’

  Slowly, Xerxes rose to his full height. ‘You won’t.’

  The anger in her eyes leapt, hot as the fire in the grate. ‘I can and I will.’

  Desire clenched harder, urging him to match himself against her, take her challenge, turn her anger into something far hotter that would consume both of them the way it had consumed him that night in his bedroom. Make her forget any objection she had.

  God, he was so tired of feeling nothing, of this cold void around him. He was Hades in the Underworld and she was Persephone, bringing heat and fire and passion, bringing life to him. Literally. He wanted to wrap himself up in her, cover himself with her, lose himself just for a moment.

  But there was no time for that now. He had an engagement to break.

  ‘You will not,’ he said flatly. ‘You’re pregnant with my heir and I will not allow any child of mine to grow up without the protection of the throne behind them.’

  Calista shoved herself unexpectedly out of the chair again, standing so she was right in front of him, bare inches away. There were sparks in her dark honey eyes, anger suffusing her cheeks, bringing much needed colour to them.

  And he realised suddenly that he’d spent weeks watching her, weeks looking for some kind of reaction to him, weeks being disappointed when she betrayed no reaction at all. He’d wanted that soldier’s mask of hers to slip, just once, yet it never had.

  It was slipping now though. Now, if he pushed a little harder, it might come right off.

  ‘I can’t marry you, Your Highness,’ she said forcefully. ‘I’m afraid it’s impossible.’

  He stared at her, right into those gorgeous eyes. The shock had gone, leaving anger flaming in its wake. A goddess full of righteous fury.

  The desire was so strong now it just about strangled him, and all he could think of was how badly he wanted to pull her closer, to take her lovely mouth. Show her all the physical benefits that a marriage to him would bring.

  He hadn’t had a woman in weeks. In fact, the last woman he’d had was her, so no wonder he was feeling it so acutely.

  She’ll be the last woman you’ll ever have.

  Yes, she would. And he was not disappointed about that in the least.

  ‘It’s not impossible, soldier. It’s inevitable.’ A rough edge crept into his voice. ‘And I wouldn’t get that close to me if I were you. It’s been a while since I’ve indulged myself with a woman and I have no issues with taking my fiancée to bed before we’re married.’

  Her strong features hardened. ‘I’m not your fiancée.’

  ‘Not yet.’ He lifted a hand before he could stop himself, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding her fast. ‘Give me five minutes.’

  She went very still. ‘I’m not even going to get a choice?’

  ‘I’m sorry, was that not clear?’ His fingers tightened as her anger blazed, his own will rising to meet it. ‘No. You don’t.’

  Her hands half lifted then closed into fists, and he smiled, because he knew exactly what she’d been going to do. ‘Attacking one’s future husband is very bad form. Especially when one’s husband-to-be is second in line to the throne.’

  The sparks in her eyes had become flames, blazing unchecked. He thought she might lay hands on him anyway, and he wanted her to. He wanted her to attack, to fight, because he knew how that would end. He’d turn her rage into passion and they’d end up on the floor of this room, naked and panting.

  Maybe she knew it, too, because her gaze flickered, dropping to his mouth then back up again. And for a second tension crackled between them, electric and hot.

  She was aware of him now, he could tell. Physically aware. Aware that the chemistry that had ignited between them that night in his bedroom was there still. It was written all over her face. He thought she might go up on her toes and kiss him, take his mouth the way he wanted to take hers.

  But she didn’t. Instead she lowered her hands and jerked her chin out of his grip. ‘I’m not marrying you, Your Highness. I won’t.’

  So that was how it was going to be. Well, he could work with that.

  ‘You will,’ he said calmly, stepping back from her, because it was probably wise for them both to have some distance. And besides, it was time to go and see Eleni and then his brother. ‘And that’s not a request. That’s an order.’

  Then he turned on his heel and went out.

  CHAPTER SIX

  CALISTA WOKE UP the next morning and for a second couldn’t work out where she was.

  The
room was far bigger than the barracks she was used to and there was certainly a lot more furniture. A low couch against one wall and a dresser. A couple of side tables and then the bed she was lying in, big and wide and very comfortable. The walls were stone and there were a couple of paintings hanging on them, a rich, thick silk carpet on the stone floor...

  And then memory came rushing back, of a small room with a fire flickering in the grate, the sparkle of smashed glass on the floor, and the taste of orange juice in her mouth. Dark eyes staring into hers revealing a will as formidable and immovable as a mountain.

  Xerxes.

  Marriage.

  Calista sat bolt upright, feeling as if a bucket of ice water had been emptied over her head, the image of Xerxes informing her that, since she was carrying his heir, she’d be marrying him and that she didn’t have a choice about it, replaying over and over.

  She still couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t got rid of her the way she’d feared he might, but she certainly hadn’t expected him to claim her hand in marriage. That had seemed unreal. It still did and she didn’t understand it.

  She was a soldier in the palace guard. She didn’t come from wealth and her family wasn’t important. She was nothing, a nobody. And yet, he wanted to marry her, to break off an engagement that had already been agreed upon, and all because she was carrying his child?

  It didn’t make any sense.

  She wasn’t sure why she’d got so angry with him. But his calm and the way he’d taken her chin in his hand, looked at her with that flicker of deep gold in his eyes, had almost broken her tenuous control.

  She’d almost laid hands on him, almost shoved him away. And he’d seemed to understand exactly where her temper had come from, his smile making her anger burn hotter and something else inside her tighten.

  Her control had gone from tenuous to almost non-existent and she’d been seconds from kissing him. Seconds from rising up on her toes and covering his mocking mouth with hers. In that moment it had seemed like the most logical, most obvious way to handle the burning tangle of emotions inside her and to claim some of her own power back.