“Logic clearly states that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one.”

  I scoffed. “Are you quoting Star Trek?”

  Roman nodded. “It was a powerful scene. Have you seen it?”

  “Yes. My father is a big Star Trek fan. He has all the movies.” I felt my forehead furrow as I recalled the dramatic exchange. “In that scene, Spock sacrifices himself for his shipmates. You are not sacrificing yourself for Molave.”

  “No, Mrs. Drake’s suggestion wasn’t nearly as altruistic.”

  “Killing Inessa isn’t an option,” I said. “Harboring her is dangerous enough. King Aleksander would consider the death of his sister an act of aggression.”

  “That was my first reaction too. I’m not a murderer. However, as time has passed, I’ve come to realize how silencing her could help us—you and me.”

  “But Noah said he didn’t tell her.”

  Roman looked up at me. “She made odd comments. What if someone else told her?”

  I considered his question. “Who else knows?”

  “More than we ever assumed. It’s one person in particular who I’m concerned about.” When I didn’t answer, Roman went on, “Francis.”

  My bare feet padded over the soft rug. “Isabella said Inessa was at Forthwith before we arrived, after the speech in Odnessa. She hasn’t mentioned Noah.”

  “I’m confident Inessa and Noah didn’t cross paths. It’s Francis I’m concerned about. If Inessa knows about the impostors, it’s because of him.”

  “Inessa went to Isabella not Francis. They were each harboring guests unbeknownst to one another.”

  Roman took a deep breath and stood. “Noah is certain that Isabella and Inessa dislike one another. When I told Francis that Isabella hid Inessa at Forthwith, he indicated she was covering for him. What if Inessa didn’t go to Isabella but to Francis?”

  I spun toward my husband. “Does this mean Francis is close to both Alek and Inessa?”

  He shrugged.

  “Isabella said that Francis and Alek have known one another since childhood. She didn’t act like she and the princess were close until she was caught hiding her. Now she visits her almost every day.” I had a new thought. “Oh my God.”

  “What?”

  “Could Francis be the father of Inessa’s child?”

  “Well, shit. I’m authorizing the amniocentesis.”

  “Didn’t you say she said no?”

  Roman’s smile grew. “Too fucking bad. I’m the prince of Molave. She’s in my country. I make the rules.”

  “Maybe you can be ruthless?”

  Roman

  In three steps, I was standing before Lucille. The possibility of her suggestion refueled my tired body with fresh strength. If the child wasn’t Noah’s, we could be rid of Inessa Volkov for good.

  Snaking my left arm around Lucille’s waist, I pulled her close as I grasped her chin with the fingers of my right hand. A smile, brought on by the realization my hand was healing, combined with the vision of the blue orbs staring up at me, cracked my sober expression.

  “You’re tired, my prince.”

  “Not as tired as I was a few minutes ago.” Leaning down, I captured her pink lips, drinking her in, her sweet taste, and the soft mews coming from deep in her throat. With little persuasion, her lips parted, offering my tongue access. As our kiss deepened, Lucille’s body melded with mine. With each second, the tension from her earlier announcement faded, lost in the backdrop of the crackling fire.

  The long day filled with study and meetings regarding the upcoming Parliament sessions was temporarily forgotten. Concerns over Noah’s health and Inessa’s motives evaporated as my body came to life.

  Earlier, when I was walking toward the apartments, I felt as if I were Frankenstein’s creation. Lying on a slab, the fabrication of a man being made from the parts of multiple people. The Oliver side of me waned as Romans past were becoming second nature. Trudging forward through the quagmire of unknowns had me ready to surrender. Making life-and-death decisions, questioning my own ethics, as well as the imaginary boundary between right and wrong wore on me.

  I hadn’t recognized the growing void within myself until this moment—until Lucille refilled and refueled me, the connection we shared making me whole. Releasing her chin, I palmed her cheek and stared into the burning embers of her orbs. “I’m never leaving you, Princess.”

  Her lips curled. “I told you the first night we met that royal life wasn’t what Americans thought it was. There’s more to this way of living than crowns and castles.”

  “I’ve never been offered a crown.”

  “Only on your coronation, Your Highness.”

  “Assuming I’m not discovered or replaced—”

  Lucille’s finger came to my lips. “Please don’t mention such things.”

  “They’re real possibilities. We need to be wary.”

  She dropped her forehead to my t-shirt-covered chest, my button-down shirt hanging agape from where Lucille had unfastened the buttons.

  I cradled her face against me. “Assuming all those things,” I repeated, “I wish King Theodore a long life.”

  My princess looked up. “You do?”

  “I do. He is knowledgeable beyond my comprehension. I need more than six months or six years to fully understand the complexities that steer everyday decisions.”

  “That’s what advisors are for.”

  I nodded. “True, but I don’t know who to trust.”

  “You trust the king?”

  My answer didn’t require intense scrutiny. “I do. When it comes to Molave and his family, the man is steadfast.” I took a step back and while holding Lucille’s hand, swept my gaze from her freshly brushed hair and naturally exquisite complexion, over her dressing gown, and down to her toes. “It’s late, my princess. You’re readied for slumber.”

  “I’m ready for bed,” she replied with a smirk. “Slumber will come.”

  Unlike her, I wasn’t prepared for night. Lord Martin had generously made himself scarce upon Lucille’s arrival. I longed for a shower, the feel of water beading down as steam filled the stall. Alas, a bath would be in my future. “Give me ten minutes.”

  “I can assist you.”

  Placing a kiss on her forehead, I smiled. “That royal life you described.”

  She nodded.

  “To continue quoting Spock, he said, “After a time, you may find that having is not so pleasing a thing after all as wanting. It’s not logical, but it’s often true.” I think that’s the American illusion of royal life. From the time many are young, they hear stories and dream of the crowns and castles, they think they want it, but having it isn’t as pleasing as one would imagine.”

  “You aren’t pleased?”

  “I’m grateful every day that I’m standing here with you, my princess. It’s the simplicities I miss.” I lifted my cheeks. “A shower.”

  “Ahh,” she sighed. “And a solitary stroll through Central Park.”

  “That doesn’t seem safe.”

  Her expression was wistful. “When I was at Columbia and I had a break from classes, I would go to the park. Sometimes I’d walk the trails. Other times, I’d simply sit in the grass and read or watch people.”

  “Do you miss that?”

  She nodded. “At times. When I was speaking with Lady Larsen about our upcoming tour, I found myself reminiscing about the city.” Her expression saddened. “It won’t matter where we go. It won’t be the same.”

  “Where do you want to go?” I asked. “A carriage ride through the park?”

  Lucille inhaled as her stunning smile returned. “No carriage ride. I always felt bad for the horses. I was thinking about the Met and maybe a show.” Her eyes opened wide. “Or should we stay away from Broadway?”

  “People see what they want to see.”

  “Is that another Spock quote?”

  I shrugged. “I believe he said something similar, but the truth remains. All contextual clues tell the observer that I am Roman Godfrey. There are enough uncertainties in this world for the average person not to invent more. Therefore, they will believe what they see with their eyes and hear with their ears, regardless if it’s accurate. Broadway would not be a problem, but I must share that I’m a critical theatergoer.”

  “Will you share all the secrets of what occurs backstage?”

  “If only your ears will hear, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” Lucille tilted her head. “What are you thinking?”

  “It’s about Noah. He went to his hometown and learned of his demise. He saw his headstone.”

  Her face scrunched. “Where would you be buried?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “I was born on an air force base in Germany. We moved around multiple countries. I didn’t live in the US until I was a young teenager. At first, we resided in Virginia. My mother and stepfather were both employed as independent military contractors. Later, they were transferred to California. After high school I left. I never really went back.” While I hadn’t disliked my youth, saying the history aloud sounded sad. “In other words, no hometown.”

  “You were in California when you were approached by the Firm?”

  “Yes, Hollywood. I had a nice apartment.”

  Lucille reached for my hand. “None of this is fair to you. At least I had a choice to marry.”

  That wasn’t what Noah said.

  Looking into Lucille’s blue stare, I couldn’t tell her that, the things Noah said about her father. No matter what he’d done in the past, I was here for the future—or I planned to be.

  There it was.

  My resolution.

  My reason for continuing this life.

  Lucille—and now, our child.

  “Ten minutes,” I said, offering her a chaste kiss.

  Vapor hung heavily as the tub filled with steaming water. A look in the mirror confirmed everything I’d said. Since late last summer, the world saw this face as Roman Godfrey.

  Unbuckling my belt and my pants, I let them fall to my ankles. A Velcro strap and I removed the splint, flexing my fingers. Soon, my clothing was in a pile on the tile, and I stepped into the hot water, wishing the liquid could wash away the drudgery of the day. It wasn’t until I was settled with my head against the end of the tub that the door opened inward.

  “Your Highness?”

  My smile returned as Lucille entered, a crystal tumbler with amber liquid in her hand. Her hair was piled on top of her head. Her dressing gown was missing, leaving her covered by a light-pink nightgown. The bright light of the vanity allowed me to see her curves beneath the material.

  “You’re a vision.”

  She came to a stop next to the tub, her gaze peering beneath the clear water as her smile grew and the bathroom lights reflected in her eyes. “I’m happy with what I see as well.” Kneeling at the side of the tub, she handed me the drink.

  Swirling the liquid within, I asked, “How did you know I liked bourbon?”

  “I am your wife.”

  “You are.”

  “I’ve tasted it on you, and I found the small cabinet in the connecting parlor.”

  Taking a sip, I closed my eyes as my throat constricted at the familiar burn. Before my eyes opened, the water splashed. Lucille submerged a cloth and after coating it with bodywash brought it to my shoulders. Her fingers massaged my slick, soap-covered skin. Gently, she washed around the remaining bandage on my arm, down my back, and over my torso.

  I reached for her hand as she went lower.

  Her gaze met mine.

  “If you want to sleep, you’ll let me do the rest myself.”

  “Your Highness, if I wanted to sleep, I would be in your bed, not at your side.”

  Lucille

  If I were to choose what type of intimate experience I enjoyed most with my Roman, I would be hard-pressed to pick only one. The nights of unbridled passion, my body sandwiched between him and the wall, bent over a table with my breasts pressed flat, or over the end of a sofa with my behind lifted in the air, were exhilarating. The switch from royal protocol to savage desire took my breath away. Roman’s devotion to my pleasure centered my world in a way that focused my thoughts, consuming them with the here and now and taking away the outside world. The spark we shared was unlike anything I’d experienced.

  Somehow, we’d jumped from introduction to the familiarity of five years married in a matter of weeks. Now after months, we’d developed an ease that in hindsight I realized Noah and I never shared. I don’t believe the first Roman—the man I wed—and I did either. Our relationship was too new.

  As Roman stepped from the bathtub, his skin glistening with water droplets and his penis semi-erect, the passion we’d shared and would share was present—a sensual cloud engulfing us.

  Yet we both knew without speaking that tonight’s union would be different.

  Softer.

  Gentler.

  Quieter.

  After Roman dried himself with a plush towel, we walked hand in hand to his bedchamber. There was no need for him to clothe himself. We weren’t unaware that the night would culminate in a sexual union.

  As we both settled beneath the blankets of his large bed, there was no rush. The dichotomy of this from what we knew possible was refreshing and comforting. We didn’t need the exuberance of starved lovers to find pleasure. There was an indescribable luxury in holding one another. The sense of the other’s touch as our fingers skirted one another’s skin. The arousal that came with deepening kisses as well as the shivers from those that fluttered over my flesh like butterfly wings.

  The two of us came together in a way that was more than physical.

  Time had played with our minds. The minutes we’d shared were days. The days were months and the months years. Our lovemaking superseded the simple act that had been repeated throughout time. We relished the closeness, the beat of the other’s heart against our chest, the sound of the other’s breathing and intimacy of the noises we vocalized as well as the sounds of our bodies joining over and over as one.

  The pleasure was less intense, yet no less gratifying.

  Nerve endings crackled as endorphins gushed throughout my circulation. My core spasmed as I held tight to Roman’s shoulders. My lips parted as I rode out my orgasm. The world was right as I watched the change in my prince’s countenance, as his thrusts grew more exaggerated, and his neck stretched. There was something truly magical as his handsome face morphed into an expression of sheer bliss.

  I’d once said that I sensed his desire the first time he’d taken me over a table. With his body slack over mine, his breaths in my ear, and the beat of his heart against mine, I felt equally desired.

  True love and partnership wasn’t limited to erotic exchanges that left one speechless, but also in slow and steady interactions that brought each other closer. My heart swelled with the realization that what we’d come to share was exactly what we’d promised.

  A partnership.

  Roman lifted his head from my shoulder, bringing his nose to mine. “You’re the best part of my day.”

  Nodding, I smiled. “You’re the best part of my life.”

  Slowly rolling, Roman disconnected our union and tugged me to his side. “I don’t like the sense of insecurity Inessa brings.”

  While speaking of his mistress after sex wasn’t a great segue, I appreciated his candor and honesty. The two of us had little time during the day that was only ours to share. We could skirt around difficult subjects, or we could face them head-on.

  I lifted my chin to meet his gaze. “What are you willing to do about her?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t like the idea, but I think you’re onto something.”

  Pushing myself up over his chest, I looked down at him. “Truly, Your Highness? What am I onto?”

  “I’m done with her. I was thinking.” He cupped my cheek. “What would Noah do, and how is it different than how I would respond?”

  “Would you like an alphabetical list?”

  Smiling, he shook his head. “Noah would react. I respond. I also have a greater sense of empathy. It’s why I’m currently lamenting over his health and future. I’m not sure if I can ever be as ruthless as Papa, but I do know how to deal with Inessa.”

  “How?”

  “I won’t.” He stretched his neck and lips, reaching up and kissing my nose. “My princess, she is yours to deal with. I will tell Papa and Mrs. Drake I’m done. I’m committed to our marriage. Inessa can’t claim I’m not me if she has no more contact.”

  I inhaled. “You went from being upset I visited her to handing her to me?”

  “Yes. I trust you. I’m here. Speak to me about her, confide, ask my opinion, or simply make your own decisions. With all that Theo keeps adding to my schedule, I need to delegate.”

  Lying back, I looked up at the ceiling. “When I first told you I wanted to do more, this was about as far from what I was thinking as possible.”

  “Talk to Mum. The princess’s future is in your hands. I recommend you share the responsibility with the queen.”

  “I will.” I rolled to my side. “Good night, my prince.”

  “Good night, my princess.”

  Opening my eyes, sunlight spilled around the edges of drapes in Roman’s bedchamber. My eyelids fluttered as Lady Buckingham’s silhouette registered. Reaching to my side, I felt the coolness of the sheets.

  “Your Highness.”

  “Roman?”

  “It’s after ten, ma’am. He said for you to be allowed to sleep. However” —she looked down at her wrist— “I was concerned. Would you like your toast?”

  Letting out a breath, I looked up at the ceiling and assessed my well-being, laying my hand over my midsection. At the same moment, I became overtly aware of my nudity. It wasn’t as if Lady Buckingham hadn’t seen me without clothes. It was that when it occurred, it was usually under different circumstances. With a turn of my head, I grinned. “I think we may have found the cure for my morning sickness.”

  “I’ll alert Lady Larsen to make accommodations to your schedule. You have an audience with her this afternoon.”