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‘Marrying is a little more than combining ourresources.’ To her chagrin, heat climbed her throat and into her cheeks. ‘You’re talking about joining our lives.’
And your bodies. Don’t forget that. He’s not the sort of man to be satisfied with a paper marriage. And he’ll want an heir to the throne.
That twisting ache low in her body intensified.
From the first she’d been aware of Benedikt’s intense masculine charisma. It wasn’t the aggressive, boisterous masculinity some men exuded. But he was a powerful, virile man, an intelligent man who challenged and intrigued her. She was always intensely aware of him, mind and body.
She wasn’t gullible enough to think he was proposing a temporary arrangement. Royal marriages didn’t work like that, especially when both husband and wife had claims to the throne.
His eyes narrowed. ‘You have plans to spend your life with someone else? You have a fiancé? A partner?’
Her chin lifted. She’d bet he knew there was no such person in her life. As well as researching her birth and her right to the throne, his staff would have compiled a report on her.
‘Not at the moment.’ Not ever. Because there’d never seemed time with her family obligations and her career. The circumstances of her birth and her parents’ deaths had impacted her ability to throw herself carelessly into romantic love. Deep in her psyche, love and tragedy were inextricably entwined. Was it any wonder she hadn’t taken that risk yet? Wariness, even fear, had kept her from the possibility of an intimate relationship. ‘That doesn’t mean I won’t meet someone right for me in the future.’
He lifted his shoulders, the lazy action emphasising the leashed power in his rangy form.
‘Perhaps with time we could be the right person for each other. Successful matches don’t always begin with romance.’
He was talking about a match for dynastic reasons. What about the personal? Finding someone to share your hopes and dreams, your fears and delights?
She’d never been hung up on dreams of white bridal dresses and confetti. But through her rather isolated childhood and adolescence she’d hankered for someone with whom she could share her life. Now, approaching thirty, that had solidified into a desire for family, a partner and maybe children. But above all someone who loved her for herself, not for what she could do for her country.
‘What about you? Do you have a partner? A fiancée?’
She waited for his instant denial. And waited. Her eyes rounded.
For the first time since the conversation began, his gaze strayed away from her. ‘I—’
‘You have a long-term lover and you’d throw her over without a second thought? Just to shore up your position?’ Annalena backed a step and found herself pressed against the French door, hands splayed against glass. ‘How could you—?’
‘It’s not like that.’ He dragged his fingers through his hair, then, as if realising the gesture betrayed emotion, pushed his hands into his trouser pockets.
She stalked across the room to stand before him. She wanted to be close enough to read every nuance of his expression. ‘What is it like, then,Benedikt?’
Annalena dropped her voice on his name, allowing him to hear the ponderous weight of her distrust and disapproval.
A muscle flicked in his jaw and he rolled his shoulders, standing taller. ‘There’s no partner, but Ihavebeen thinking about marriage.’
Surely the two went together. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Isn’t it obvious? I’ve been considering potential brides. Someone to share the burden of royalty.’
Considering potential brides. He didn’t sound happy about it. Did he have a list of requirements? Did he interview candidates? Or did he delegate that to his staff?
No doubt every woman on his list was gorgeous, talented and would make an admirable royal hostess. She’d have to be sexy too. Annalena couldn’t imagine him accepting anything less. Especially as sharing the burdens of royalty no doubt included producing an heir.
Swallowing an acid taste, she asked, ‘You have someone particular in mind?’
A brief pause before he nodded. ‘But there was no agreement, no proposal.’
Annalena shook her head, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Oh, that’s all right, then. If there was noagreement.’ Her lip curled. ‘You’ve led her on to believe—’
‘Marriage hasn’t been mentioned. I haven’t led her on.’
Did he really believe that? He must know the effect he had on women. If he’d been seeing her seriously he must have raised expectations.
Benedikt was well-built and imposingly tall with even—okay, handsome—features. Charismatic. Not to mention rich and royal. She suspected he merely had to smile at a woman to raise her hopes.