Annie West - Virgin Princess's Marriage Debt / Demanding His Desert Queen

‘You see, years ago, when I was a young man, I fell deeply in love. I would have given everything for her, and in some ways did.’ He felt Sofia flinch and could have sworn he heard the beat of her heart pick up in confusion as to where he was taking this fabricated story. ‘But sadly it was not to be. So I hardened my heart, sure that I would never feel the same way again. And I was right.’ He had predicted Louisa’s brief gasp of shock, and had not been wrong as he’d imagined Georges’ avaricious gaze ready for his next words. ‘For when I met Sofia I realised that what I had thought was love was just a pale imitation.’ Louisa melted, Georges scowled, and Sofia…he simply couldn’t tell.

‘From the first moment that I laid eyes on her I knew I was completely ruined…’ He paused to see if even this would bring Sofia out of her perfect façade, and, though she paled just slightly, no outward sign of upset showed. ‘Ruined for other women for ever,’ he concluded. ‘I knew that she was the woman that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. You may dismiss that as pure fantasy. Or something based purely on her beauty. But it wasn’t. Every word, movement, decision, enthralled. Her intelligence, her poise and, just as much, her playfulness. Did you know that Sofia has a naughty streak?’

‘I remember as much from her childhood,’ Georges said critically.

‘Ah, but this is what makes Sofia so perfect, for while a country needs an iron-willed ruler, the people need fun and authenticity. And that is what really drew me to Sofia. This I knew in just a moment, but Sofia needed a little more time than I. Oh, she made me work for it, I assure you, Georges,’ he said, leaning towards the obese man to intimate confidence, while his skin crawled. ‘Over our first lunch together, I produced my finest wine…knowing that I had to seduce her senses as much as her mind and heart. It was a very special bottle of wine for me. There were only three made, from the very first grape of my vineyard in the Peloponnese. The first was for my mother, my child will have the third, but Sofia…she had the second.

‘Unbeknownst to me, in the years before we had met, I had created the perfect blend of wine, solely in preparation for her. The playful notes of blueberry and bay leaves grounded in the rich, deep Greek soil were simply… her .’

Theo realised, as he had spoken, he had caught her gaze with his, the words casting a spell that had drawn the attention not just of the horrible Georges and his poor wife, but also that of the surrounding courtiers and dignitaries. A pin dropped to the floor could have been heard in the silence.

Sofia’s face was upturned to his, only a few inches between them, shock and surprise evident in her eyes. He felt, as much as saw, her draw a deep breath, stealing the air from before him. In the silence everything disappeared. The room, the guests, the past…and he was seventeen all over again, looking at the young Sofia as her unpractised body begged him to take her lips. Need and desire encased them, separating them from the rest of the world. The stark sensuality of her calling to him across the years, the months, days and seconds.

He dipped his head, closing the distance between them, and drank from her lips, tasting all the flavours he had just described. The slight sting from where she had indelicately bitten him earlier making it so much more sweet.

Then she opened for him and he plunged into the soft warmth of her mouth, teasing them both with swift movements of his tongue, delving deep within her and relishing every moment.

The roaring in his ears shifted and morphed into the sound of a hundred hands clapping, and just as many voices cheering. He pulled back, suddenly shocked by his own actions mirrored in Sofia’s gaze and kiss-bruised lips.

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