Maisey Yates - Crowning His Convenient Princess

She should spend hours soaking in perfumed baths, readying herself for a lover.

She should not spend hours contemplating the merit of clipboards. Though, he had a feeling that was how she spent much of her time.

Her beauty was, in the end, a terrible farce anyway. She looked like a woman built for such things, with her generous mouth and beautiful curves, but she was through and through a woman of practicality and severity.

And he did his very best not to think about how much he would like to test that severity.

He did his very best not to think about just how satisfying it would be to tease that mouth out of that firm unnatural line she kept it in, and torment her until it became a soft “O” of pleasure.

Yes, he did his best not to ponder that.

His world was changing. He would need to find a wife, and he would need to be faithful to that wife.

The very idea of such a chore set his teeth on edge. He could think of no woman at all that would amuse him for the rest of his life, and if he quit engaging in risky behaviors such as racing cars around the autobahn and jumping out of helicopters, his life would likely have a longer expectancy.

Really, this was a terrible plan, but it was the only way he could see to help Astrid.

Though she did not know it, his life had been devoted to that protection.

He would not falter now.

Marriage was, in the grand scheme of things a small price to pay. And for her he would do it. Perhaps not happily, but it would be done.

Because Gunnar von Bjornland might never be King, but he was the master of his own life. And once he set his mind to something, he would damn well see it done.

This was no exception.

“HERE YOU HAVE IT,” Latika said, setting a stack of folders onto Gunnar’s desk. “Veritable binders of women.”

He looked at the stack, then back up at Latika, one elbow resting on the desk, one brow raised in an impudent manner. “I’m rather insulted you have brought me so much choice,” he said.

Latika blinked. “How is that insulting?”

“I should think that the criteria for becoming my bride would be so exacting that you would have little more than a slim volume to present me with.”

“I should have thought you would want choice,” she said, bristling against his rather pronounced lack of gratitude.

She had gone to a lot of trouble to dig up so many eligible women, lacking in scandal and in possession of beauty.

“I haven’t time to do so much reading,” he said.

“Do you find it so laborious? To read profiles on women you might marry.”

“I find it boring .”

“I have here in these folders options, for a woman that you might be tasked with sleeping with for the rest of your life. How is it you find that dull?” she pressed.

“When one turns sex into homework even that can be boring.”

He was impossible . He was impossible, and he was ridiculous, and she had half a mind to kill him where he sat. She could do it with a letter opener, a paperweight or half a dozen other items on his desk.

As solid as her friendship with Astrid was, she had a feeling that Astrid would take a dim view to Latika assassinating her brother. Just maybe. If Astrid only knew the surrounding story she might forgive her.

“Who do you think the top five are?” he asked. “Use your knowledge of me to guess who I might find the most likely five.”

“Gunnar,” she said, keeping her tone frosty. “If I had that kind of insight into who you are as a person… Well, I would probably throw myself off the nearest cliff.”

“A test then.” He folded his large hands in front of him and it didn’t escape her notice they were scarred. Odd for a man of his position, she would think. “Who do you think my top five would be?”

Latika gritted her teeth. She would lie back and think of Bjornland. She would do her very best to remind herself she worked for the palace.

And this was service to Astrid.

And for Astrid, she could do anything. The other woman had essentially saved Latika’s life. And it was something that she was not going to forget anytime soon. Or ever. She was eternally grateful for all that Astrid had done. Working with Gunnar on this marriage project was a small thing to ask.

“All right,” she said, doing her best to cover up just how aggrieved she felt. “If I had to choose, I would choose not so much to please you , but to give maximum improvement to your reputation, and to the reputation of the country. Therefore, we can set aside your personal preferences as secondary.”

He rubbed his chin, the light in his blue eyes wicked. “ Can we?”

“Yes,” she said decisively. “This marriage is for the country, after all.”

“And yet, I feel that if I am to be shackled to one woman for the rest of my life, it will have to be a marriage bed that I enjoy the idea of being shackled to.” His lips curved upward. “Rather, a woman not averse to being shackled to the marriage bed for my pleasure. I’ve never been one who enjoyed being shackled. But I have nothing against doing a bit of shackling.”

Yet again, she ignored the searing heat in her body, and affected an incredibly bored expression. “Yes, yes. I and the rest of the world are aware of the fact that you are shocking, and love to engage in edgy sexual activity. I promise you that if a double entendre presents itself you do not have to be so obvious as to speak it.”

“Oh, but I enjoy being obvious.”

“Do you?” she asked. “Because I would say that the fact you own your own company was not obvious at all.”

She hadn’t intended to bring that up.

In fact, she had every intention of ignoring it completely in the conversation today, if only to spite him slightly. And herself. Because the fact that he was a secret mogul fascinated her. And the one thing she was eternally trying to ignore when it came to Gunnar was her fascination with him. And anything that seemed to foster further fascination she resented.

There was something about him that enticed her to act in ways she knew she should not. She didn’t like it. It made her feel like she was not above the rest of the female population of the world in any way at all. And she liked to think that she wasn’t that basic.

“That’s the trick,” he said. “Be obvious enough over here that you can have your secrets where you choose.”

“I see.” She took a breath. “Well. That aside.” She shuffled through the folder and plucked out one. “I would choose…these.”

“Explanations,” he demanded, taking the stack of folders in his hand. “Or do I have to do everything myself.”

“You have done absolutely nothing for yourself since I walked in,” she said.

“That isn’t true. I’ve been breathing the entire time. I’m keeping myself alive. For which you and the rest of the world should be supremely grateful.”

“I’m about to expire from gratitude,” she said. “The first candidate is Hannah Whitman, an English rose. She will compliment you well. Though, your progeny will likely burst into flames in the sun.”

He laughed, explosive and deep, hitting her in unexpected places.

“Well,” he said. “Melanin deficit aside, she is pretty. And what attributes do you suppose she would bring to our alliance?”

“She’s extremely wealthy in her own right, her family is very successful in manufacturing. She has started several charities, with a focus on educating children with special needs. She is more than willing to do the work, not simply write a check.”

“I imagine that means there are many photographs of her with grateful children.”

“You are correct. She is a light to all the world.”