Page 20 of Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part One

Noah angles his head, looking me deeply in the eyes. A slow grin spreads across his face as he sees me note that his own eyes are a deep blue-purple.

Noah is awry.

“After much wooing,” Lord Merton baldly announces, speaking too loudly for someone in close proximity to us all, “Noah finally accepted Isla and Archibald’s proposal.”

“The ink isn’t even dry on the contract,” Archie adds, his tone amused but also a little pointed. His father’s antics are pissing him off, but he’s playing along.

Noah steps forward, reaching for my unoffered hand before anyone can caution him.

Skin to skin, his energy pricks against mine, coaxing it forward, as he leans over and kisses the back of my hand.

“Princess Euphrosyne, you are even more lovely in person.” His accent carries a hint of French, but not European. French West Indies, maybe?

Lord Merton clears his throat pointedly.

Isla, looking dismayed, glances at her brother.

“Unhand Her Royal Highness, you heathen,” Archie drawls playfully. “Before the royal guard make Lord Merton terribly displeased by removing your hand themselves.”

Noah chuckles, releasing me and taking two measured steps back. Lord Merton still looks incredibly displeased, but the two younger males exchange smirks behind his back.

“My apologies,” Noah says, grinning roguishly. “I was overcome, meeting one of my own.”

Lord Merton’s face reddens to apocalyptic proportions.

I’m not certain why I always feel the need to smooth everything around me — like, continually — but I touch the lord’s arm lightly. He’s still standing too close, so I only have to reach out to do so. “No insult taken, my lord.”

The elder Merton takes my hand, pivoting us back toward the door as he tucks it in his elbow without formally asking me to join him. “Good, good. You’re always so gracious, Your Highness. Allow me to escort you to your next engagement. It will give us time to talk.”

I glance over at Isla, hoping that she’ll step in, only to find her exchanging furiously hissed words with her brother and Noah.

Archie looks bored, perhaps even slightly peeved.

Noah is watching me. The moment after my head turns, Archie’s expression shifts into something more neutrally pleasant.

Isla notes the change in her older brother, spinning around on her heel to see her father leading me away.

She practically dashes across the room to my other side.

We’re halfway to the door now. The members of my security detail are muttering among themselves through their comms units. If Roz or Greg needs to step in to extricate me from a person of Lord Merton’s stature … well, things are no longer going to be at all smooth.

“Daddy,” Isla says, “Her Royal Highness and I were just discussing future lunch plans.”

Lord Merton pauses to blink at his daughter, then a pleased smile overtakes his expression.

“Yes, yes. That would be best, wouldn’t it?

You don’t need an old man around for that discussion.

” He pats my hand, which is still threaded through his elbow, then finally releases me.

“We will do everything to make you happy, Euphrosyne.”

The use of my first name is deliberate. Intimate. That’s obvious by his tone alone, but the wicked gleam in his eye is even more unmistakable.

I can’t help being shocked— and a little dismayed. Enough so that I can feel those reactions break through my own carefully curated, perpetually neutral expression.

Either missing my reaction or ignoring it, Lord Merton leans even farther into my space, reminding me how much taller he is than me. He murmurs, “Anything you desire shall be yours.” Then he steps back, bows, and abruptly strides from the room. His phone is in his hand before he clears the doorway.

Even with Isla stepping in to help pull it all off, it’s odd that her father managed to make time to stop by a charity event.

I look at her. “What is going on?”

She grimaces, glancing at her brother and their chosen bond mate, Noah, over my shoulder. “We … received your invitation?”

It’s clearly meant to be a statement, but it comes out as a question.

“To the equinox ball …” I start to say. Then it fully hits me what she means, and I just trail off. Completely shocked. Though logically I should have known, should have expected that the invitations would have started going out …

Archie clears his throat. Apparently, I’ve disconcerted him.

“I knew it,” Isla snaps, quietly seething. “It’s fucking archaic. Are you being forced?”

“Isla,” Archie says chidingly.

“What?!” she snaps back. “These are Mirth’s personal guards. They fucking throw themselves in front of death for her. They don’t give a shit about a little private conversation. And no one else can hear beyond …” She nods toward Noah.

Noah smirks at me, shrugging. “A minor talent that cannot hold a candle to whatever is barely contained beneath Her Royal Highness’s delectable —”

“Also inappropriate,” Archie snaps, again.

Then he rubs his forehead. “Am I to understand that you were unaware of our invitation to your matching event, Your Highness? The invitation was worded in a way …” He inhales deeply, then corrects himself.

“We should not have blindsided you. Father simply wanted —”

“A leg up,” Isla mutters under her breath.

“Hence the still-drying ink,” Noah adds cheerfully.

It takes me a second to put that comment together with his introduction, and I must look aghast, because Isla interjects.

“Not like that!” She jabs a finger at Noah, who is still grinning unrepentantly. “Archie and Noah have known each other —”

“Been lovers …” Noah interjects, even more cheerfully.

“— for years.” Isla huffs, then looks at Archie. “Your presence is seriously unhelpful. Would you just leave me to it?”

Archie nods curtly. He bows stiffly to me, then claps a hand on Noah’s shoulder and practically drags him from the room.

“I look forward to our first dance, Mirth,” Noah calls back over his shoulder.

Archie all but snarls, “You’ve not been invited to call Her Royal Highness by that name. And even if you had been, you don’t do so while in public!”

Noah, seemingly unrelentingly cheerful, says, “But we aren’t in public.”

The rest of their conversation is lost as they cross out into the corridor.

Roz and Greg shift a few steps away, giving Isla and me space to converse .

She grimaces sadly. “I’m sorry. We all presumed you knew we’d been invited. Or rather, that Father has been invited to … to …”

“Vie for my hand,” I say, far too sarcastically when I’m with someone who isn’t actually a friend.

“Yes.” Isla straightens her shoulders, taking command of the conversation. “Father understands that though he might be the strongest … option … on paper, that he is far too …” She waves her hand.

“Old.”

“Yes.”

“So … he’s offering you. And Archie. And Noah.”

“Yes.”

I sigh, not bothering to ask for any other clarification. It’s totally my fault that I’ve been blindsided by Lord Merton. I should have known that my father’s invitations would cause a certain amount of … posturing even before the event.

Isla rushes to fill the silence. “Not all bonds need be sexual in nature, of course. But … you are lovely, so lovely. I’ve always thought so. And we, Archie and I, we understand the … awry.”

“You understand Noah.”

She nods, almost primly. “Yes. We understand Noah very well. Which is a step toward understanding you. And your needs … should you have … any.”

A slight blush flushes across Isla’s lightly tanned cheeks. The moment is intimate, but still easy enough that I find myself able to step a little closer to speak. “You share Noah with your brother? At the same time?”

She meets my gaze. We’re practically the same height with her in higher heels. She drops her eyes to my lips, then seems to realize that she’s done so and flicks them up to meet mine.

“We’re actually half siblings, like you and Armin.

And …” She hums quietly under her breath.

“And no. We don’t … I mean, we’ve all slept in the same bed, of course, for companionship and comfort.

But we’re there for Noah. And even then, that’s usually separate …

of the … main event, at least.” She inhales shallowly, her gaze flicking to my mouth again.

Her pupils are a little blown out. “And you … you shared with Armin, didn’t you?

At school? Sully? And maybe even … Bolan? ”

I take a step back. “No.”

Isla blinks, confused. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I just thought —”

“You didn’t overstep. I asked you first.”

Her eyes flick between mine as a slow realization dawns across her face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned your brother.”

I don’t respond to that, simply angling my shoulders toward the open door to clearly broadcast my intent. She swallows, then keeps a step behind me as I move toward the outer hall. That is protocol, even though her father walked next to me as if I’d invited him by touching his arm.

“That you knew Armin … that doesn’t bother me,” I murmur quietly.

Isla quickly steps up beside me, sliding her hand into my elbow. “We’re going to arrange a lunch for next month.”

“I’ll probably still be busy next month,” I mutter, quietly caustic.

Isla pastes on a smile as we step into the corridor, pausing to let Greg take point. The smile is in case we happen upon anyone on our way to my car. My own perfect smile is permanently etched across my face when I’m in public.

“No matter,” she says smoothly. All high-powered executive again. “Defining the foundation and getting the board set up is just as important as an antiquated matching event. Plus …” Her smile slants in my direction, turning just a little wicked around the edges. “We’ll have wooed you by then.”

I laugh involuntarily.

She shrugs delicately. “Noah can be very persuasive.”

“Obviously,” I say dryly.

“According to Noah, Archie also knows what he’s doing. And if I get you drunk enough one night, you might even let me take a little taste.”

I inhale to gently —

She rushes in before I can turn her down.

“I know, I know. It’s always been obvious you don’t swing that way.

” She puts on her father’s more pointed British accent.

“But you are so very gracious that you might find you cannot turn me down without being overtly rude.” Then she leans in close enough that her breath brushes my neck. “Also, I have a very talented tongue.”

“Delightful,” I drawl, not terribly convinced. But then, cunnilingus always felt like a terribly intimate act to me, even more so than intercourse, so I don’t have much experience with it.

Together, we step through an exterior door held open by Greg, finding one of the royal guard’s armored cars waiting for us.

The driver, also a guard, is holding the back door of the car open while keeping an eye on the short laneway.

Greg quickly takes his place as the driver moves around to get in and take the wheel.

Isla squeezes my arm, then drops her hand from my elbow. “Just, please. Don’t reject us based on my father’s ill-conceived ambush today?”

I look at her steadily. “It’s partly my fault. I didn’t realize the list had even been finalized. Or that the invitations had started going out.”

She nods. “We received ours yesterday. Hand delivered by a royal guard. But … rumors had already filtered through to Father …”

“Hence your formalized contract with Noah.”

“Yes.” Isla bites her upper lip, just for a moment, but she doesn’t offer up whatever is concerning her.

I’m suddenly weary. I haven’t been this social, this on display in months. I always find it exhausting, but without Armin … well, I don’t have much energy to begin with. “I’ll see you at the ball, Lady Isla.”

“You most definitely will, Your Highness. And not just because you’re the catch of the century and my father has stacked our decks.”

“Just mostly because of that. And you’re mixing your metaphors.”

She laughs. Involuntarily, I think.

I slide into the car before she can deny it. Roz slides in after me, and Greg eagerly shuts the door behind us. My guards loathe any level of lingering. And unscheduled visitors. Or extended casual chats.

I can’t blame them.

Members of the royal guard have flung themselves in front of me and Armin during life-threatening situations before, foiling kidnapping and outright murder attempts.

Bolan’s father died on one such occasion.

Not that I was old enough at the time to truly understand what had happened to my brother, his mother, and their assigned detail.

There’s no denying that I can’t think of a stronger familial line or chosen bond group than the line of Merton. I just …

I don’t want to be doing any of this without Armin’s support, without his advice.

My brother wouldn’t have been blindsided by Lord Merton’s obvious attempts to circumvent the process, or to somehow influence me.