Page 22 of Royal Catch
She speaks in an equally fierce low tone. “I needrealtreasure. Gold, jewels, cash.”
I stiffen, doubting her for the first time. She sounds mercenary, and I know her kingdom has a thriving economy. “What do you need it for?”
“My kingdom.”
“They’re doing well with tourism already.”
“It’s not the country I’m helping. It’s a person. A really important person to the kingdom.”
And I’m in the same place, going through all of this to help my father, the king, to bring him some joy in his last days and peace of mind for the succession. Polly and I are cut from the same cloth—duty, honor, obligation. Others above ourselves.
Polly sets her hands on my shoulders and goes up on tiptoe to whisper directly in my ear. Her breasts press against my chest and arm. I am not unaffected. “You see why my offer makes sense? You help me win, pay me, and you’re free to marry the woman of your choice.”
She doesn’t want to marry me, and that should make everything easy and clear, except I’m not ready to let her go. My hands go to her waist, spreading my fingers to feel as much of her heat through her shirt as I can. “I have never had the freedom to marry the woman of my choice. Let’s go. You’ll be declared the winner.”
“What did I win?” she asks softly. “I have nothing to show for it.”
Irritated by her lack of appreciation and by the whole absurd situation that is my life, I grab her hand and drag her out of the cave and into the light of day. Three princesses stand there, their eyes huge at seeing me. “Polly is the winner. I am the treasure. She’ll have dinner with me this evening.”
“Congratulations,” they murmur in near unison, shooting her jealous looks. These ladies would’ve been happy to have me as the treasure.
Polly looks off in the distance, and I can almost see the gears turning in her mind. She is single-minded in her determination to send funds to this person back home. I will help her, but not until I’m ready to say goodbye.
Chapter Seven
Anna
I won the second competition, but it’s a hollow victory. I’m no closer to helping the real Polly than I was when I first arrived. The queen has quietly arranged for me to have tea with her in her private sitting room, where, as the winner, I’m expected to name two princesses who should be kicked off the island. I don’t care about that. All I care about is having a say in the next challenge so I can arrange for a prize of some value. I’ll bow out before we get to the final two contestants. That’s what it’ll come down to at this rate of competing and eliminating.
My maid, Anna, leads me on a long twisty journey through the palace—I need a map of this place—and I’m escorted into a surprisingly masculine room. Dark wood paneling, floor-to-ceiling bookcases along one wall, burgundy leather sofa with matching wingback chairs. The lighting is warm and dim from a few lamps on side tables. I turn back to Anna, curious if this is the king’s sitting room, but I only catch a glimpse of her back as she slips out the door.
I turn back to the cozy room. There’s even a fireplace and a small wet bar in the corner. It smells wonderful in here, like paper, leather, and rich woodsy notes. Like a manly wine! I smile at my own joke and walk over to the bookcase. The books are really old; some of them have hand-stitched leather covers. I run my finger down the spine of one.
“That’s a boring one,” a deep masculine voice says, startling me.
I whirl, my cheeks flushing hot. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I know.” Gabriel strides toward me, all masculine swagger. “Too caught up in the history of horse breeding on the island to notice me.”
I gulp, the room suddenly airless as he stands directly in front of me. “Where’s the queen?”
“Please have a seat.” He gestures toward the long leather sofa. “Brandy?”
“No, thanks.” I need my wits about me, but then one look at his sexy bedroom eyes and my brain clouds while my heart thumps out a quick answering beat. It goes like thisyes, please, yes, please. I play it cool despite the X-rated fantasy reel that’s been on repeat in my head since last night. “Please tell me you’re not trying to seduce me.”
“So brash,” he mutters, turning on his heel and striding to the sofa. “Don’t worry, Anna will be discreet.”
He says it like it’s a forgone conclusion that hewillbe seducing me. I search for some righteous indignation, but nope.Nada.Instead I’m checking him out. He’s changed into a light blue button-down shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders, crisp gray pants, and black leather shoes. I’m in a pink halter top and white pencil skirt with my nude sandals. I feel way underdressed. Like I’m wearing a big sign that says commoner. How did we get to this place? Royal versus commoner locked in a battle of lust. It feels like a forgone conclusion to me too, like it had to come to this.
He sought me out. He summoned me to what must be his private sitting room. Why not his bedroom? Did I read this all wrong? Maybe he wants to talk and make an arrangement to help me win.
My brain is too muddled with lust to figure it out, so I go the easy route. I mentally undress him. It’s so much more vivid when he’s right here. Too bad he’s who he is from where he is, and I’m not who he thinks I am. My gut does a slow roll and I look away, fidgeting with the end of my shirt. Guilt stabs at me. I’ve been lying to him this whole time. He’s been good to me, tender even in his gruff way. We’ve shared some intimate moments, not just physical, a real connection. If he finds out that I’m not Polly, he’ll be furious at the betrayal. I shudder to think what might happen to me, or the real Polly for that matter. Banishment, jail time, or worse.
I wish I didn’t have to play the part anymore. I wish I could just be me. I’ll try as much as I can to be real with him without giving Polly away.
“Polly.”
I turn at the name that is me but not me. What would it be like to hear my name from his lips?
