Page 87 of Modern Romance June 2025 5-8

Edelforst! The province was best known for agriculture and traditional handcrafts. Itwasbeginning to make a name in medical research and robotics, but not, as far as he knew, women’s fashion.

He had a momentary picture of her arriving at the grand cathedral in a dirndl and apron.

‘I—’

‘This isn’t negotiable, Benedikt. If I have to go through with this marriage, I’ll at least wear something designed and made in my home province.’

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to relinquish the need to keep control of every important detail.

Just because she chooses tradition and comfort over glamour it doesn’t mean she doesn’t know how to dress for the occasion.

This was a test. If they were going to marry, a level of trust was needed.

Unfortunate that the real legacy he’d got from his father was to trust sparingly. There’d been his mother and grandfather and now Matthias. He could count those he’d ever trusted completely on the fingers of one hand.

His father had mercilessly used any weakness to coerce others into doing his bidding, or to hurt them just because he could. No one had been spared, especially not his wife and son. Karl had only been interested in people for what he could take from them.

Annalena wasn’t like that. Given the chance, she’d run from him and this marriage. Her honesty about that was strangely reassuring.

‘As long as they can guarantee finishing in time.’

‘Don’t worry, the design’s already sorted and she’s calling in favours to get the hand-stitching done in time.’

Hand stitching. That sounded disturbingly amateur. But what did he know about dressmaking? All that mattered was that they married.

‘Right.’ He swivelled to face the desk and the work waiting for him. ‘I’m glad you’re okay. But we’ve got a lot to discuss. I’ll meet you at eight tomorrow in my office.’

‘I’ll be there. I—’ There was a clatter as if she’d dropped the phone.

‘Annalena?’

‘Sorry, I was reaching for my glass of wine and almost dropped the phone in the bath.’

She was drinking wine in the bath while he was sitting here facing a load of paperwork? Negotiating over her official wardrobe while lolling, naked…?

‘Benedikt? Are you there?’

He scrubbed a hand around his neck. ‘Yes, still here. But I have to go. I’ll see you at eight.’

He ended the call before she could say more. What she’d already said was enough.

A ragged laugh escaped.

The woman had surely been sent to test his limits, as a king and an all too fallible man.

Forget librarian fantasies. In the far wing of the palace, Annalena reclined in a bath, naked, drinking wine. He could be there in minutes. Hewantedto be there.

Except when they became intimate it would be onhisterms, after they’d signed a marriage contract. After he’d got what he wanted: both the throne and therefore the country safe.

He gritted his teeth, opening the detailed reports on the dam. The print blurred because his unruly imagination kept relaying images of a naked, glistening Annalena.

It was going to be a long, hard evening.

CHAPTER NINE

Three days laterAnnalena stood in Benedikt’s study. The room with its full bookshelves and comfortable leather chesterfields felt familiar, almost cosy, since she’d spent so much time here.

There’d been so many details to discuss and agree on. But today was different. It wasn’t just the pair of them.

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