At His Majesty's Convenience / Her Little Secret, His Hidden Heir: At His Majesty's Convenience

He slipped in—didn’t she know better than to leave her door unlocked?—and switched on the light. The suitcases were still there. Closer inspection revealed that one of them had been partially unpacked, as if an item was removed. Still, there were no clues as to Andi’s whereabouts.

Frustration pricked his muscles. How could she just disappear like this?

At the foot of the stairs, Fritz accosted him, martini in hand. “When are you going to choose your bride, Jake? We’re all getting impatient.”

Jake growled. “Why is everyone so mad for me to get married?”

“Because there are precious few kings left in the world and you’re up for grabs. The rest of us are waiting to see who’s left. None of the girls dare even kiss us anymore, let alone do anything more rakish, in case they’re making themselves ineligible for a coronet. They’re all fighting for the chance to be called Your Majesty.”

“Then they’re all nuts. If anyone calls me ‘Your Majesty,’ I’ll fire ‘em.”

Fritz shoved him. “All bluster. And don’t deny you have some of the loveliest women in the world to choose from.”

“I wish the loveliest women in the world would take off for the night. I’m ready to turn in.” Or rather, ready to find and corner Andi.

Fritz cocked his head. “Party pooper. All right. I’ll round up the troops and march ‘em out for you.”

“You’re a pal.”

Jake watched the last chauffeured Mercedes disappear down the long driveway from the east patio. He needed some air to clear his head before tackling Andi—and watching from here ensured that she couldn’t leave without him seeing her.

Could he really stand to marry Maxi or Alia or any of these empty-headed, too-rich, spoiled brats? He’d been surrounded by their kind of women all his life, even in New York. Just the circle he’d been born into. You’d think a king would have more choices than the average Joe, but that was apparently not the case.

Something moving in the darkness caught his eye. He squinted, trying to make out what was crossing the lawn. An animal? Ruthenia had quite large deer that he was supposed to enjoy hunting.

But this creature was lighter, more upright, and moved with a kind of mystical grace. He stepped forward, peering into the gloom of a typical moonlit but cloudy night. The figure whirled and twirled on the lawn, pale fabric flowing around it.

A ghost? His back stiffened. The palace was nearly three hundred years old and built over a far more ancient structure. Tales of sieges and beheadings and people imprisoned in the dungeons rattled around the old stone walls.

Long, pale arms extended sideways as the figure twirled again. A female ghost.

Curiosity goaded him across the patio and down the stone stairs onto the lawn. He walked silently across the damp grass, eyes fixed on the strange apparition. As he drew closer he heard singing—soft and sweet—almost lost in the low breeze and the rustling of the trees.

Entranced, he moved nearer, enjoying the figure’s graceful movements and the silver magic of her voice.

He stopped dead when he realized she was singing in English.

“Andi?”

Despite the hair streaming over her shoulders and the long, diaphanous dress, he recognized his assistant of six years, arms raised to the moon, swaying and singing in the night.

He strode forward faster. “Are you okay?”

She stopped and stared at him and the singing ceased. Her eyes shone bright in the darkness.

“What are you doing out here?” He walked right up to her, partly to prove to himself that she was real and not a figment of his imagination. His chest swelled with relief. At least now he’d found her and they could have that talk he’d been rehearsing in his head all night.

“Why don’t we go inside?” He reached out for her hand, almost expecting his own to pass through it. She still looked so spectral, smiling in the cloud-veiled moonlight.

But the hand that seized his felt warm. Awareness snapped through him as her fingers closed around his. Her hair was longer than he’d imagined. Almost to the peaks of her nipples, which jutted out from the soft dress. He swallowed. He’d never noticed what … luxurious breasts Andi had. They were usually hidden under tailored suits and crisp blouses.

He struggled to get back on task. “We need to talk.”

Andi’s grip tightened on his, but she didn’t move. Her face looked different. Transfixed, somehow. Her eyes sparkling and her lips glossy and parted. Was she drunk?

“You must be cold.” On instinct he reached out to touch her upper arm, which was bare in the floaty evening gown she wore. As he drew closer, her free arm suddenly wrapped around his waist with force.

Jake stilled as she lifted her face to his. She smelled of that same soft scent she always wore, not a trace of alcohol, just flowers and sweetness. He groped for words, but failed to find any as her lips rose toward his.

Next thing he knew he was kissing her full—and hard—on the mouth.

Two

Jake let his arms wind around her waist. The movement was as instinctive as breathing. Their mouths melted together and her soft body pressed against his. Desire flared inside him, hot and unexpected, as the kiss deepened. His fingers ached to explore the lush curves she’d kept hidden for so long.

But this was Andi—his faithful and long-suffering assistant, not some bejeweled floozy who just wanted to lock lips with a monarch.

He pulled back from the kiss with great difficulty, unwinding himself from the surprisingly powerful grip of her slim arms. A momentary frown flashed across her lovely face—why had he never noticed she was so pretty?—then vanished again as a smile filled her soft eyes and broadened her mouth.

She lifted a hand and stroked his cheek. “You’re beautiful.”

Shocked, Jake struggled for a response. “You’re beautiful. I’m handsome.” He lifted a brow, as if to assure himself they were both kidding.

She giggled—in a most un-Andi-like way—and tossed her head, which sent her hair tumbling over her shoulders in a shimmering cascade. She twirled again, and the soft dress draped her form, allowing him a tantalizing view of her figure. He’d certainly never seen her in this dress before. Floor-length and daringly see-through, it was far dressier and more festive than her usual attire.

“Happiness is glorious joy,” she sang, as she turned to face him again.

“Huh?” Jake frowned.

“Mysterious moonlight and wonderful wishes.” Another silver peal of laughter left her lips—which looked quite different than he remembered, bare of their usual apricot lipstick and kissed to ruby fullness.

Unless she’d suddenly turned to poetry—very bad poetry at that—she must be intoxicated. He didn’t smell anything on her breath, though. And didn’t she always insist she was allergic to alcohol? He couldn’t remember ever seeing her with a real drink.

Drugs?

He peered at her eyes. Yes, her pupils were dilated. Still, Andi experimenting with illegal substances? It seemed impossible.

“Did you take something?”

“Steal? I’d never steal from you. You’re my true love.” She gazed at him as she spoke the words, eyes clear and blue as a summer sky.

Jake groped for words. “I meant, did you take any pills?”

You’re my true love? She was obviously tripping on something. He’d better get her inside before she tried to fly from the parapets or walk on the water in the moat. “Let’s go inside.”

He wrapped his arm around her, and she squeezed against him and giggled again. This was not the Andi he knew. Perhaps the stress of threatening to leave had encouraged her to take some kind of tranquilizer. He had no idea how those things worked, but couldn’t come up with any other explanation for her odd behavior.

“You smell good.” She pressed her face against him, almost tripping him.