Kate Hewitt - A Queen for the Taking?

‘And in exchange I will give you my allegiance and service,’ she answered back, as unruffled as he’d suspected. ‘Children and heirs, God willing. Is it not a fair trade?’

He paused, amazed at her plain speaking, even a little admiring of it. At least she wasn’t pretending to him, the way so many others would. He could be thankful for that, at least. ‘I suppose it is,’ he answered slowly. ‘But I would prefer my marriage not to be a trade.’

‘And yet it must be, because you are king. That is not my fault.’

‘No,’ he agreed quietly. ‘But even so—’

‘You think my reasons for this marriage are less than yours,’ Liana finished flatly. ‘Less worthy.’

Her astuteness unnerved him. ‘I suppose I do. You’ve admitted what you want, Lady Liana. Money. Power. Fame. Such things seem shallow to me.’

‘If I wanted them for my own gratification, I suppose they would be.’

He frowned. ‘What else could you possibly want them for?’

She just shook her head. ‘What has made you so cynical?’

‘Life, Lady Liana. Life.’ He glanced away, not wanting to think about what had made him this suspicious, this sure that everyone was just out for something, that people were simply to be manipulated and used. Even your own children.

‘In any case, you clearly don’t relish the prospect of marriage to me,’ she said quietly.

‘No, I don’t,’ he answered after a pause. He turned to meet her clear gaze directly. ‘I’m sorry if that offends you.’

‘It doesn’t offend me,’ she answered. ‘Surprises me, perhaps.’

‘And why is that?’

‘Because I had assumed we were in agreement about the nature of this marriage.’

‘Which is?’ he asked, wanting to hear more despite hating her answers, the reality of their situation.

She blinked, a hint of discomfiture, even uncertainty, in the way she shifted her weight, clutched her wine glass a little more tightly. ‘Convenience.’

‘Ah, yes. Convenience.’ And he supposed it was convenient for her to have a crown. A title. And all the trappings that came with them. ‘At least you’re honest about it.’

‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

‘Most women who have wanted my title or my money have been a bit more coy about what they really want,’ he answered. ‘More conniving.’

‘You’ll find I am neither.’

‘How refreshing.’

She simply raised her eyebrows at his caustic tone and Sandro suppressed a sigh. He certainly couldn’t fault her honesty. ‘Tell me about yourself,’ he finally said, and she lifted her shoulders in a tiny shrug.

‘What is it you wish to know?’

‘Anything. Everything. Where have you been living?’

‘In Milan.’

‘Ah, yes. Your charity work.’

Ire flashed in her eyes. ‘Yes, my charity work.’

‘What charity do you support again?’

‘Hands To Help.’

‘Which is?’

‘A foundation that offers support to families with disabled children.’

‘What kind of support?’

‘Counselling, grants to families in need, practical assistance with the day-to-day.’ She spoke confidently, clearly on familiar ground. He saw how her eyes lit up and everything in her suddenly seemed full of energy and determination.

‘This charity,’ he observed. ‘It means a lot to you.’

She nodded, her lips pressed together in a firm line. ‘Everything.’

Everything? Her zeal was admirable, yet also surprising, even strange. ‘Why is that, Lady Liana?’

She jerked back slightly, as if the question offended her. ‘Why shouldn’t it?’

‘As admirable as it is, I am intrigued. Most people don’t live for their philanthropic causes. I would have thought you simply helped out with various charities as a way to bide your time.’

‘Bide my time?’

‘Until you married.’

She let out an abrupt laugh, the sound hard and humourless. ‘You are as traditional as my parents.’

‘Yet you are here.’

‘Meaning?’

He spread his hands. ‘Not many women, not even the daughters of dukes, would enter a loveless marriage, having barely met the man in question, in this day and age.’

She regarded him coolly. ‘Unless, of course, there was something in it for them. Money. Status. A title.’

‘Exactly.’

She shook her head. ‘And what do you see as being in it for you, Your Highness? I’m curious, considering how reluctant you are to marry.’

His lips curved in a humourless smile. ‘Why, all the things you told me, of course. You’ve detailed your own attributes admirably, Lady Liana. I get a wife who will be the perfect queen. Who will stand by my side and serve my country. And of course, God willing, give me an heir. Preferably two.’

A faint blush touched those porcelain cheeks again, intriguing him. She was twenty-eight years old and yet she blushed like an untouched virgin. Surely she’d had relationships before. Lovers.

And yet in their conversation this afternoon, she’d intimated that she hadn’t.

‘That still doesn’t answer my question,’ she said after a moment. ‘I understand your need to marry. But why me in particular?’

Sandro shrugged. ‘You’re a duke’s daughter, you have shown yourself to be philanthropic, your father is an important member of the European Union. You’re fertile, I assume?’

The pink in her cheeks deepened. ‘There is no reason to think otherwise.’

‘I suppose that aspect of unions such as these is always a bit of a risk.’

‘And if I couldn’t have children?’ she asked after a moment. ‘Would we divorce?’

Would they? Everything in him railed against that as much as the actual marriage. It was all so expedient, so cold. ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’

‘How comforting.’

‘I can’t pretend to like any of this, Lady Liana. I’d rather have a normal relationship, with a woman who—’ He stopped suddenly, realising he was revealing too much. A woman who chose me. Who loved me for myself, and not because of my money or my crown. No, he wasn’t about to tell this cold-blooded woman any of that.

‘A woman who?’ she prompted.

‘A woman who wasn’t interested in my title.’

‘Why don’t you find one, then?’ she asked, and she didn’t sound hurt or even peeved, just curious. ‘There must be a woman out there who would marry you for your own sake, Your Highness.’

And she clearly wasn’t one of them, a fact that he’d known and accepted yet still, when so baldly stated, made him inwardly flinch. ‘I have yet to find one,’ he answered shortly. ‘And you are meant to call me Sandro.’

‘Then you must call me Liana.’

‘Very well, Liana. It’s rather difficult to find a woman who isn’t interested in my title. The very fact that I have it attracts the kind of woman who is interested in it.’

‘Yet you renounced your inheritance for fifteen years,’ Liana observed. ‘Couldn’t you have found a woman in California?’

He felt a flash of something close to rage, or perhaps just humiliation. She made it sound as if he was pathetic, unable to find a woman to love him for himself.

And maybe he was—but he didn’t like this ice princess knowing about it. Remarking on it.

‘The women I met in California were interested in my wealth and status,’ he said shortly. He thought of Teresa, then pushed the thought away. He’d tumbled into love with her like a foolish puppy; he wouldn’t make that mistake again. He wouldn’t have the choice, he acknowledged. His attempt at relationships ended in this room, with this woman, and love had no place in what was between them.

‘I’m not interested in your wealth,’ Liana said after a moment. ‘I have no desire to drape myself with jewels or prance about in designer dresses—or whatever it is these grasping women do.’