Page 82 of Modern Romance June 2025 5-8

Benedikt shrugged as he sat opposite her. ‘I’m an early riser.’ And sleep had been impossible. ‘How did you sleep?’

Her eyes widened as if surprised. Annoyance stirred. Just how much of his father’s reputation was she attributing to him? He felt like saying his mother had insisted on impeccable manners. That he wasn’t an ogre who ate pretty little girls for breakfast.

Annalena shrugged. ‘Not well. I had a lot on my mind. You?’

‘The same.’

‘What’s so amusing?’

He hadn’t realised he was smiling. ‘In the short time we’ve known each other we’ve never beaten around the bush, have we? I appreciate that. I prefer unvarnished fact to polite untruths.’

‘So do I.’

He believed it. Her reaction to his proposal had been forthright. His bruised ego was testament to that.

‘I assume you’re here to give me your answer.’

She inclined her head, her mouth pinching. ‘Not that you actually asked.’

Benedikt frowned. ‘I did you the courtesy of sharing the truth, Annalena. What is it you want? For me to get down on bended knee—?’

‘No!’ Her eyes rounded in horror. He couldn’t decide whether it was because she wanted nothing to do with him, or because she didn’t want to enact a farce. ‘There’s no need to insult us both with such a performance.’

Relief stirred, but so did annoyance. She had a unique ability to discomfort him.

‘So you’ve made a decision.’

Her hands twisted in her lap before she saw him watching. Instantly she lifted her hands to the arms of her chair, adopting a pose that looked graceful and nonchalant. Except for the quickened pulse at her throat.

He liked it, he realised. The combination of outward serenity on a woman who, he’d learned, was volatile. Passionate.

Something stirred at the prospect of knowing her better.

Because, he realised, hewouldbe knowing her better. If she planned to reject his proposal she wouldn’t be jittery. Not that an ordinary observer would see her nerves. She pulled her collar close then sat straighter, the image of royal composure.

Inside him a tiny demon danced with glee. She was going to say yes.

‘Ihavemade a decision.’ Her needle-sharp gaze skewered him. ‘I’ll accept the throne and marriage. With provisos.’

‘Naturally.’ He should have known she wouldn’t make this straightforward. ‘Go on.’

‘I want your signature on a document stating that the dam won’t go ahead and I want your decision announced publicly, before the engagement is made public.’

‘My decision?’ he scoffed. ‘Don’t you meanyours?’

He’d yet to see the detailed argument against the project. Yet he couldn’t fault her logic or her bargaining skills. He admired her for both.

‘I’m happy to wait until you’ve read the papers. I sent them again to your office last night. In fact, take your time. I’m in no rush.’

‘No. We’ll finalise this quickly. And while we’re talking about conditions, I have one. I want you to stay here until we announce the engagement.’

She blinked, pupils darkening the green of her eyes. Her skin paled. But instead of making her look fragile, the changes emphasised her allure and that elusive touch-me-not air.

Excitement stirred. She might have perfected the look but he’d learned her body sent a different message. Yesterday when they’d got close he’d felt her change from aloof to breathless anticipation.

Before Annalena’s arrival he’d forced himself to consider marriage despite his own antipathy. Now though, he saw definite compensations.

‘But I have work. Meetings. I can’t just cancel everything.’

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