Page 1 of In the Offensive Zone with My Fake Bride (Romancing the Sun Kings #2)

Chapter One

PAYTON

I’ve never been a fan of formal English gardens.

Their structured beds, surrounded by short stone or brick walls, filled with topiaries and meticulously shaped shrubs, always felt too controlling to me.

Not to mention the rows of flowers lined up like soldiers, as if they were trying to tell you what to do or how to behave in their presence.

Not something I share in mixed company, I assure you. And by mixed company, I mean royals and those who flock to surround them. Much like those stone walls, I never imagined I could wind up hemmed in like one of them.

But today, none of that seems to matter.

Funerals tend to have that effect on a person, I suppose. After the services for my cousin concluded, we returned to his estate for the reception—can you call something dour a reception when everyone would rather be received anywhere else but here?

Upon arrival, I made a mad dash for the gardens to escape the sea of sad faces—both genuine and fake, for the record.

Yet, looking out over the perfectly manicured garden and various flowers giving their last hurrah with the imminent arrival of fall, I’m reminded of idyllic days as a child, playing with Sebastian in these very places.

One time, in particular, comes to mind—me chasing after my cousin and taking a turn too fast, which resulted in a nasty tear in my trousers from the aforementioned stone walls.

My left knee still sports the scar from that fiasco.

Maybe that’s why I much prefer pursuing a puck in an open ice rink.

The only obstacles are other players, and part of the challenge is to either maneuver around them or bodycheck them aside.

The terrain is always changing, and I prefer it that way.

“Longing to be back on the ice, chasing that puck of yours?” My sister Emalia brushes by me, then perches on the short wall, edging a bed of roses ablaze in reds and yellows that remind me of my team colors.

I hum in the back of my throat in reply—my usual response when she annoyingly reads my mind. Practice starts in a matter of weeks, and I’d much rather be swinging a hockey stick than bracing for whatever curveball—sorry, wrong sport—slapshot life’s about to send my way.

She crosses her ankles and folds her hands in her lap, already the picture of royalty.

Losing Sebastian left a gap to be filled—an heir to the baronetcy of Tillendale.

He never married and was the sole heir to his parents, who died much too young because of various health issues.

Perhaps that’s why our dear cousin lived life on the edge.

He told me once he didn’t expect to outlive the age his mother and father reached, and now he’s proven himself right, much to my chagrin. And my sister’s.

After slipping my hands into my trouser pockets, I meander closer to where she’s sitting. “When will you move onto the estate?”

“Later today.”

“That’s bloody fast.”

She waves her hand in a casual gesture toward the small mansion behind me. “We waited most of the summer, hoping they’d find Sebastian lost at sea somewhere. There’s a lot of work to catch up on.”

I clear my throat. “I’m sure you’ll have things back in order in no time.”

She shoots a finely shaped brow in my direction like a bow ready to shoot an arrow, and the gleam in her eye forewarns me of its arrival. “Faster if my baby brother would stay and help his older sister out.”

I knew she’d make one last-ditch attempt to sway me. Hearing that my cousin’s yacht had gone missing was what brought me back to Tillendale, a relatively small and unknown town in the southern tip of England, of which my deceased cousin is—was—the Baronet.

A title now passed to my sister, making me heir apparent.

The sooner I’m on a plane back to the States, the better. Even as a youth, I never enjoyed the occasional formal functions that required my family’s attendance. “The new season is about to start, and I have a contract to honor. The lads are counting on me.”

“I know. But I had to try one more time. This won’t be fun without you.”

I scoff. “What are you talking about? Your favorite game as a child was to play queen. Unlike me, you are well-built for your new role, Em.”

“Maybe, but I’d feel better having you close. Especially since we’re not sure Sebastian’s accident was really an…” She mouths the word ‘accident’ as if doing so would negate the possible threat.

“Don’t buy into those rumors so quickly.”

She blinks, pursing her lips for a moment before speaking. “You heard what Mum and Dad said.”

“Yes, I was in the room, but again, it could just be the ponderings and hearsay of their old cronies.”

“Those old cronies, as you call them, have ties to MI5.”

I lean toward her and lower my voice to a whisper. “So they say.”

With a deep inhale, she turns her head to stare over her shoulder. “Still makes me nervous. I’d feel better if you were here.”

Hearing the hint of fear in her words softens me. I sit down next to her and take her hand between mine. “I’m a hockey player, Em. Not a bodyguard. Your security detail will do a far superior job than I could with a hockey stick.”

My attempt at humor doesn’t seem to faze her as she diverts her stare to our clasped hands. “I don’t need your protection. Just your support.”

“That you already have, dear sister. I’m simply a phone call away.”

She sighs in resignation. “Right.”

Emalia lifts crystal blue eyes to mine as she squeezes my hand. Almost two years apart, my sister and I have often been mistaken for twins because of our shared features and coloring, although my hair is a shade darker than her sandy blonde locks.

“When will I meet this mysterious bodyguard you’ve hired for me?” I project a tone of humor to my words, more for my benefit than hers. I’m not yet keen on the idea of having a bodyguard, but at least we found a workable solution—one I hope will convince my teammates.

“At the airport. She’ll meet the car there and make sure your pretty face doesn’t get harmed in any way.”

“I still don’t see the necessity.” The words slip out before I can stop them.

Frustration tinges her sigh this time. “Yes, we’ve been over this again and again, Payton. But it is necessary. You’re now the heir apparent. You know how the system works.”

I nod, clenching my jaw to prevent spewing my own suppressed irritation. When they finally declared our cousin had perished at sea, the wheels went into motion right away to pass the title to the next person in line—my sister, which then put me in the mix.

Initially, I was told I would have to quit hockey and move back to England. I resisted, stating that I had a commitment to fulfill. My contract with the Sun Kings has two more years left. And the powers that be could find nothing that would require my presence in parliament.

So, we made an agreement. I can return to the States as long as I agree to have a bodyguard with me twenty-four-seven.

Never imagined she’d take my half-joking suggestion that said bodyguard should be a female who could pose as my girlfriend so seriously.

After hours of hashing out ways to make this work, Emalia informed me she’d contacted a firm in London that trained and provided female bodyguards.

Then she had the nerve to outline her brilliant plan—her words, not mine—of me pretending I had a whirlwind romance over the summer and returned with a bride.

I told her that seemed unnecessary, as couples live together all the time without involving a marriage contract.

She insisted that despite our little deception—okay, major deception—our family values needed to be upheld.

However, I know for a fact my sister is a raging romantic because she’s read romance novels as far back as I can remember.

I’m almost certain she plucked this story of hers from one of her books.

Emalia lifts her face to mine and kisses my cheek. “Make sure you’re a dutiful husband, little brother. You wouldn’t want to upset your new wifey.”

I growl in reaction to her tinkling laughter. “You’re enjoying this entirely too much.”

She holds her hands out and dons an innocent expression that might fool others but not me. “You always said you wanted to settle down one day.”

Now she’s playing dirty, repeating something I said after a nasty breakup last year. I rise and take a step back. “Yes, after I’m done living my life and doing the things I want to do.”

Her face turns serious as she stands. “Sometimes we have to do what’s required.”

Em’s words twist like a knife in my chest. She had to give up her medical practice to fulfill her newly acquired role of Baronet of Tillendale, which I know wasn’t easy.

I take her hands and pull her up to hug her, but she remains stiff. “I’m sorry. I understand this has cost you more than it has me.”

She softens and settles against me. “I keep wishing I’ll wake up and find out it was a mistake. That Sebastian will walk in with that goofy smile of his and say it was all a joke.”

I plant a kiss on top of her head. “I wish that for you, too, dear sister. I truly do.”

She lifts her face to look at me. “I know you don’t believe there’s a threat, but promise me you’ll do whatever your bodyguard tells you?”

Her gaze is relentless in her demand for my agreement, and her tone makes it clear she’s left no room for arguments.

I only hope my teammates in Florida will be none the wiser as to my true identity.

I’ve done a fair job of avoiding deeper questions about my family.

They only know I’m the third male to bear the name Payton Gerard Maxwell.

That alone gave them more fodder than they needed in those first months of playing, but with every ribbing, I knew I became one of them, a part of the team.

This new title development could change all of that if my ties to the monarchy were to become known.

The true test came last year when a photojournalist followed us for the entire season.

I managed to avoid her questions about my familial origins, and thankfully, she didn’t do much digging into my family.

Not that she would have found much of interest. The Maxwell name was only second in line before now, and most people outside of Tillendale don’t know or don’t care about what title we might hold.

Surely, this ruse won’t be any more difficult than that .

“I promise.” I strengthen my resolve to not let this become an issue as I hug her tighter for reassurance.

“Thank you.” Her stern expression breaks into a gentle smile for the first time today, sending a spike of relief through me. Seeing my sister so troubled these last few weeks weighed heavily on me—probably what finally pushed me to concede to her insistence that I have a bodyguard.

Do I want to play a charade, deceiving my teammates, who have become like a second family to me? No. But I don’t appear to have much choice. And I know deep down it’s the least I can do for my sister, who’s doing her best to accommodate me.

As she said, sometimes one must do what’s required. I’m sure the long plane flight will give me plenty of time to get acquainted with my new fake bride and develop a plan to make this believable.

Unless I can figure a way out of this, that is…