The Princess Seductions

Out of the shadows...

As the illegitimate secret daughter of royalty, Cat’s life has been far from luxurious. After years of bullying, she’s set against a return to her childhood home. But her princess half sister has mysteriously disappeared ahead of her engagement to charismatic King Alexander.

...into the bed of the king!

Cat agrees to stand in for her—but she didn’t agree to the electric attraction between her and Alex! He might have no idea who she really is—but when their insatiable desire threatens to strip away every boundary between them, Cat cannot hold back from the temptation of Alex’s caress...

With Alex’s hand still cupping her face, his eyes twinkling and his long, lean body hemming her in, Cat felt a ripple of longing. Not for a royal marriage, but for this man who awoke desires she’d sublimated for too long.

Move away. Break his hold. Say something.

His touch tightened and need quivered through her. What she felt was real and strong. Pure and true as the swell of the sea on the pristine beach nearby.

‘Tell me you understand.’

His breath warmed her lips. His thumb stroked back and forth across her cheek.

Cat nodded. ‘You don’t want to marry.’

‘I’ve got too much to do. I haven’t got time for a wife. I’m not ready to be a father.’

Yet Alex didn’t draw back. If anything, he seemed closer.

‘If I wanted a bride it would be different.’ His voice was husky.

Cat didn’t trust herself to speak. His expression held her spellbound, though logic screamed that she needed to put distance between them.

‘If I wanted a bride I couldn’t go past those big green eyes. Or those lips. I’d be suggesting we got to know each other much better.’

His thumb dipped from her cheek to her mouth, pressing her lower lip and dragging it down. Cat exhaled, lungs tight, as his thumb stroked her lip once, twice, till she couldn’t resist and tasted him with the tip of her tongue. He was salt and spice and frighteningly addictive.

The Princess Seductions

Driven by duty—destined for desire!

A dynastic marriage is planned between Princess Amelie of St Galla and King Alexander of Bengaria. They are meant to be meeting for the first time—but Amelie has disappeared!

Someone must stand in until Amelie returns—and who better than her secret half-sister Cat Dubois?

But when Amelie embarks on a sizzling forbidden affair will she ever want to return?

Find out what happens in

His Majesty’s Temporary Bride

Available now

The Greek’s Forbidden Princess

Coming soon

His Majesty’s Temporary Bride

Annie West

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Growing up near the beach, ANNIE WEST spent lots of time observing tall, burnished lifeguards—early research! Now she spends her days fantasising about gorgeous men and their love-lives. Annie has been a reader all her life. She also loves travel, long walks, good company and great food. You can contact her at annie@annie-west.com or via PO Box 1041, Warners Bay, NSW 2282, Australia.

Books by Annie West

Mills & Boon Modern Romance

The Flaw in Raffaele’s Revenge Seducing His Enemy’s Daughter Imprisoned by a Vow

Wedlocked!

The Desert King’s Captive Bride

Secret Heirs of Billionaires

The Desert King’s Secret Heir

Visit the Author Profile page

at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

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Dedication

This is my 30th book for Harlequin Mills & Boon! Thirty stories would not have been possible without the support of my fabulous editorial team in London and all the other staff who work hard to ensure my published books are the best they can be. My family, who are gracious and supportive despite my mind often being elsewhere. My writing friends, who know how to celebrate and motivate and make even the tough days fun.

And above all you, my readers, who enjoy the books and encourage me to keep dreaming.

Thank you so very much!

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the first of my two The Princess Seductions stories. I had such fun writing His Majesty’s Temporary Bride!

This story came about because Princess Amelie of St Galla went missing. You’ll find out why in The Greek’s Forbidden Princess. A missing princess…just when her Prince Charming is due to arrive and woo her… Of course there are complications.

Enter Cat, a sporty, sassy professional bodyguard, who seems to have nothing in common with the Princess but their uncannily similar looks. She hates pretending to be someone she’s not even more than she hates high heels and royal protocol. But she’s been made an offer she can’t refuse and finds herself pretending to be Amelie.

I had a ball with this Cinderella story. Cat has a zest for life and an innate honesty that appealed to me and to Alex, the Prince who visits St Galla. Unfortunately he really believes she is the Princess—at least in the beginning.

It’s a situation to make your average prince run for the hills—especially when he begins falling for her. Fortunately Alex is a man who can deal with just about anything. Isn’t that a wonderful trait in a man? The fraught situation challenges Cat and Alex to the max, and it brings out the best in them too.

I was so happy when this pair, who got off to such a rocky start, found their happy ending. I hope you are too!

Warmest regards,

Annie

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

The Princess Seductions

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Dear Reader

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

CAT VAULTED OVER the low wall, her blood singing at the sheer joy of running parcours. Her breathing was fast but her movements measured as she and Paolo raced through the abandoned warehouse.

She vaulted, then made a tic-tac of her feet on a wall as she built momentum and leapt, grabbing the edge of an empty skylight. Swinging, Cat hauled herself up and over the edge. It was there Paolo passed her. She was fast and agile but he beat her hands-down in upper body strength.

With a whoop he was away, across the roof to clatter down an empty stairwell while she raced to draw close. Bounding off stairs, walls and a balustrade, she’d almost caught him when they reached the perimeter fence.

‘Mine today,’ he gasped.

Cat nodded, bracing hands on knees. Her ponytail swung over her shoulder as she breathed deep. ‘That passe muraille of yours was faultless.’

He grinned. ‘Something for you to aim for?’

She punched his arm. ‘Almost up to my standard.’

They headed for the exit. ‘Same time next week?’

‘I may have a job out of town. I’ll call.’

He nodded and unlocked his car. ‘You need a lift?’

Cat shook her head. ‘No. I’m heading to the gym.’ The outwardly dilapidated but excellent gym they used was around the corner. She wanted to check on the kids she’d been coaching after school. They were troubled teens, like she’d been. But they showed promise and while she was between jobs she enjoyed being with them.

She turned into the dog-leg alley shortcut, head full of teenagers and their prickly pride. Which was no excuse for the few seconds it took to scope danger. The shiny limo was out of place in this part of New York. But it was the tall guy with the bulge under his jacket, peeling away from the wall, she should have noticed instantly.

He moved fast as a professional. But so was she. When he reached for her she ducked, grabbed his wrist and used his forward momentum to crash him to the ground. Knee between his shoulder blades, she took his gun.

‘Ms Dubois!’

She turned, hearing the man beneath her groan as her knee swivelled. Standing in the doorway of the limo was a slim man in a dark suit, eyes wide.

‘Ms Dubois, please. I only want to talk.’ The air expelled from her lungs in a rush. Because the man didn’t speak English but the distinctive patois of her native tongue—a modified version of French. Alarm bells rang, leaving her more rather than less alert.

‘Who are you?’ She eased back, giving the guy beneath her room to breathe, keeping a hand locked on his wrist.

The man at the limo stepped closer. ‘I’m the St Gallan ambassador to the US. I’m here with a job offer. If I may show you my credentials?’ Slowly he approached and Cat read his ID. It was genuine.

Tucking the gun into her waistband, she rose. ‘If you want to talk, why send him?’ She gestured to the big man clambering to his feet.

The ambassador grimaced. ‘I was told you might not welcome an approach from St Galla and I needed to be sure you’d listen. His instructions were to bring you to the car so we could talk.’

His bodyguard straightened, rolling his shoulder to test it and nodded. ‘Tactical mistake. I knew you were one of us but I didn’t expect...’ He shrugged, then winced.

‘I’m not interested in a job in St Galla.’ She’d left her island home at eighteen after her mother’s funeral. The place held nothing for her after she lost the one person who’d ever loved her, the only one she’d loved.

The ambassador nodded. ‘There’s someone who could change your mind. The Prime Minister is waiting.’

Cat’s eyes darted to the limo’s tinted windows.

‘A long-distance call. Allow me to offer you the privacy of my car while you talk.’

Angry and confused, Cat was in no mood to comply. But curiosity won and she found herself alone in the vehicle, looking at a screen and the thin, clever face of the St Gallan Prime Minister, Monsieur Barthe. He looked shocked.

‘By God, you are like her! I saw the photos but...’

Cat’s skin crawled. That feeling of a thousand ants swarming. She hadn’t felt it in years but it was back with a vengeance, dredging a lifetime’s painful memories.

‘Who are you talking about?’ As if she didn’t know.

‘Princess Amelie.’ He shook his head. ‘The similarity is astonishing.’

Cat remained silent. She’d learned there was nothing she could say. As a kid, the taunts and snide accusations had grown unbearable. She’d tried turning the other cheek, ignoring them, even fighting back when the bullies got physical. All that had got her was more trouble. On the upside it led to an interest in martial arts that had eventually been her key to escape.

She set her jaw, hating the feeling of powerlessness after all these years and a continent of distance. It was as if ten years had vanished in an instant, all she’d achieved a mirage.

‘Ms Dubois, I have an important, confidential assignment for you.’

‘I’m always discreet.’ As a bodyguard to the famous it was a necessity. ‘But I’m not interested.’

‘This is for your country.’

Her country could go hang. She hadn’t been able to shake its dust soon enough. Her first eighteen years had been torment, defending herself and her mother’s reputation endlessly in public. Then at home, watching the man she’d had to call father grind her mother down.

‘I’m still not interested.’

‘Even though Lambis Evangelos recommended you?’

Lambis? He was the best in the business. His company ran the best in the business. They’d met in Chicago when she worked with Afra, the superstar singer. Cat had been pleased at his interest, his offer of an open door if ever she wanted work.

But to work in St Galla? She shuddered. ‘I suggest you find someone else.’

Shrewd eyes surveyed her. The next question would be why she wouldn’t return to her homeland. As if she’d share that with anyone. The only people who’d known the truth about her were dead. She wasn’t about to let anyone else in on her sordid secret.

‘There are plenty of other bodyguards.’ Though she prided herself that those who employed her asked for her again and again, particularly women who felt more comfortable with a female shadowing them.

His voice dropped. ‘We need your special...attributes. Mr Evangelos suggested you if we ever needed a body double for Princess Amelie.’

Cat sat back, pulse racing. ‘She’s in danger?’ Her voice was inexplicably husky. She’d never met the Princess yet still she felt a connection.

‘Not...danger. Though the situation is delicate.’

‘What situation?’

‘The Princess is...away.’ He paused as if choosing his words. ‘We’re not sure when she’ll return. Meantime it’s vital she appear at a small palace reception. This event must go ahead, for the nation and the Princess herself.’

Cat stared. ‘You want me to impersonate Princess Amelie? You can’t be serious!’ She’d grown up being compared with the Princess. The woman was charming, elegant, graceful, accomplished in ways Cat wasn’t. She wore jewels and formal gowns. Cat was allergic to high heels and had never worn a full-length dress in her life.

‘Deadly serious.’ His tone chilled her and again that shiver of preternatural connection, of anxiety, passed through her. ‘You wouldn’t have to face anyone who knows the Princess well. All you have to do is make an appearance, chat a little, then withdraw.’

‘It’s not possible.’

‘Not even for a very generous settlement?’ Monsieur Barthe named a sum that made her goggle.

‘You can’t be serious.’ Shock stretched her voice.

His mouth tightened. ‘Completely. Money is no object.’

Cat blinked. With that money she could achieve her dream. Bodyguard work had been good to her but she couldn’t do it for ever. Already she wondered how long her knee would hold up long-term. Last year she’d been injured saving Afra from a car driven by a crazed stalker. It had been a long slog to get back to something like her previous fitness.

Cat had no other qualifications, no career path. But working with kids, diverting their negative energy into physical endeavours and a positive outlook—that she could do. Developing a centre either in the wilderness or in a city gym devoted specifically to kids—she’d give so much to achieve that. For the kids and herself.

‘Half the money in advance and half on completion.’

She jerked her head up, meeting steely eyes that had read her momentary lapse.

Cat shook her head. ‘I might look superficially like her, but I’m no princess. Everyone would know.’

‘Not a problem. You’d stay at the palace in advance of the event to be tutored in everything you need to know.’ He paused, surveying her set features. ‘Look on it as your chance to see how the other half lives.’

Cat stared as the words insinuated themselves into her brain. How often in childhood had she wondered what it was like to be Amelie? To live the cosseted life of a rich, beloved child, adored by her father and the nation? It had been a fantasy she’d retreated to when reality grew unbearable. She’d put it behind her years ago, yet to her amazement shreds of that yearning still lingered.

‘I’ll double the fee.’

Cat goggled. The amount was ridiculously huge. What on earth was going on?

‘The Princess...is she safe?’ Again, that sixth sense niggle of concern.

‘I’m not in a position to say. But you’ll help her enormously by doing this.’

Cat didn’t need Princess Amelie’s gratitude. She could get by without the money, even though it represented more than she’d earn in the next several years. It shouldn’t matter if it brought her dream to reality.

Returning to the country of her birth would betray the vow she’d made at eighteen never to look back.

Yet something stopped her refusal. The possibility that Amelie genuinely needed her? Or that the bastard half-sister finally had a chance to discover what life would have been like if she’d been born legitimate? To experience the life she might have had?

No, it was far more than that. This wasn’t curiosity to see how the other half lived. It was a desire, deep down in her secret self, to connect with the family she’d never known. To find a way to meet her sibling. For years she’d told herself no good could come of connecting with her royal relations, yet still that yearning remained. To belong.

Cat cleared her throat, hating the tug of emotion turning her voice hoarse. Hating the neediness. She’d thought she’d conquered it years ago.

Maybe this is your chance to do that.

And still that snaking anxiety for the half-sister she’d never met. ‘Send me a contract to consider.’

His smile told her he knew he’d won. ‘You won’t regret it, Ms Dubois.’

She already did. But she had to do this and silence once and for all the voices of her murky past.

CHAPTER ONE

ALEX STRETCHED, STARING out over the azure depths of the Mediterranean.

He hadn’t wanted to come. If he’d been able to avoid the celebration in St Galla he’d have done it, especially as his mother had stitched up a half-baked proposal that Princess Amelie would make him the perfect bride.

He was only thirty-two, had only been King for three years. He had more important things to grapple with than marrying, no matter what his advisers thought.

Giving up a career he loved to rule Bengaria hadn’t been in his plans. Alex’s fists clenched as he leaned on the gleaming rail of the yacht.

It should have been his cousin, Stefan, on the throne. Except for the accident that had snuffed out his life and propelled Alex’s father into his place. His late and unlamented father. The man who’d almost bankrupted Bengaria in the years he’d been Stefan’s Regent and later the King. The man whose chicanery and double-dealing had milked the nation almost to a standstill, leaving Alex to haul an economic nightmare out of the red and into the black.

No wonder everyone wanted Alex to marry Amelie. St Galla was wealthy and could help Bengaria, even though he was hopeful his country was beginning to recover now.

He sighed and forked a hand through his hair. He’d only agreed to the visit because of his mother. She’d suffered long and hard through her marriage. Alex had at least escaped his father’s control by leaving Bengaria and pursuing a career as a pilot. She’d been stuck in a loveless marriage to a despicable man.

A familiar chill rippled down his spine at the thought of his father.

In the circumstances, meeting Amelie, the daughter of his mother’s best friend, was little recompense for all she’d put up with. He’d attend the reception to commemorate five hundred years of friendship between their countries then return home and report that Amelie wasn’t the woman for him.

Now, with the early sun warming his bare back and the prospect of no civic duties, he felt a lightness he hadn’t known since he’d given up flying. These couple of days were his first vacation in three years. Even though he’d spend most of it working from his office on the yacht, it felt like freedom. Temporary but glorious.

He sauntered along the deck, contemplating a dip, when a shout rang out. He swivelled to face the shore.

Another shout. A splash.

Alex narrowed his eyes against the sun’s golden dazzle. In the distance he made out a capsized canoe and flailing arms. Another shout and a submerging head.

‘George!’ He raced along the deck. ‘Get the tender! Someone’s in trouble.’ For the people—two of them—weren’t swimming. One floated near the hull of the canoe and a second floundered mere metres from it.

Alex dived, the cool water a shock after the warmth of the sun. He surfaced and powered towards the accident.

How had they capsized in such still waters?

Why weren’t they wearing life vests? Obviously they weren’t since one was sinking.

Hauling in air, Alex forced himself to concentrate on the quick, hard rhythm of his strokes, forging through the water with a speed that might, he hoped, save a life and hopefully two.

A gurgling cry told him he was close and he stopped to discover he was only metres away.

A third head bobbed in the water but he realised with relief this woman could swim. She held a boy under the chin, propping his face above water as she sliced back through the water towards the canoe.

‘You’re okay?’ he gasped.

Her head lifted and his gaze collided with gleaming green, the colour of mountain meadows.

‘We will be,’ she said through gritted teeth, ‘when he stops fighting me.’ The teenager was flailing, one long, thin arm reaching back, grabbing at her head.

Alex moved towards them but she was already disengaging the kid’s grasp, telling him firmly but calmly to lie still and let her do the work. Seeing she had things under control, he turned to the canoe where another dark head bobbed precariously low in the water.

Swearing under his breath he raced across, hauling a body up under the arms till the kid started coughing water. No hope of righting the canoe with a dead weight in his hands. Instead he shoved the kid high, so high he lay sprawled over the hull, arms flopping down its other side.

Satisfied he was safe, Alex turned and found the other swimmer had successfully brought the second boy up behind him.

‘Let me give you a hand.’

She nodded and told the kid what they were going to do, again in that clear, calm tone. Then she held the canoe steady while Alex hauled him up onto the hull beside his companion.

Alex’s chest and shoulders burned from the effort. Both teens were lanky and getting purchase in the water had taken a lot of strength. He grimaced. He needed to get out of the office a whole lot more.

‘You’ll be okay.’ He blinked and realised the woman wasn’t reassuring him but the two boys. She’d moved round to the other side of the canoe and was inspecting them.

Alex joined her, relieved to see both kids breathing, albeit in rough gasps.

In the distance he heard a motor start. ‘Help’s on its way. That’s the tender from the yacht.’

She nodded, her attention fixed on the youngsters, and Alex found his gaze dwelling on her high-cut cheekbones, straight nose and plump bow of a mouth. Mermaids were supposed to be beautiful and this one didn’t disappoint.

Abruptly she turned her head, catching his stare. Alex felt their gazes mesh, a palpable connection, and wondered if it had been so long since he’d been with a pretty woman that his brain had turned to mush in the interim.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ He shook his head. ‘It will be easier to transfer them from the other side. I’ll go round and help George if you can stay here and reassure them.’

‘Of course.’ Her voice had a lilt that tugged at something deep inside and told him English wasn’t her first language. He wondered how his name would sound on her lips.

Alex swam around the canoe. First her eyes, now her voice. Had it really been so long since he’d been with a woman?

He banished the thought as George cut the engine and the pair of them worked to get the kids aboard. Once more his golden-haired mermaid proved quietly efficient, easing their burden.

‘Here.’ He beckoned her over when the others were aboard the small boat. ‘I’ll give you a boost up.’

‘No need.’ She flashed him a smile and his pulse kicked hard.

Number three. First the eyes, then the voice. But that smile surpassed the rest. It turned his cool, capable, impervious mermaid into a beckoning sea sprite. That smile was pure mischief and again he felt that draw in his belly, hard and urgent.

Before Alex knew what she intended, or George could offer her a hand, she planted her hands on the side of the tender and pulled herself up smoothly and easily.

He was treated to a view of neat breasts against a saturated T-shirt, a slim waist, baggy shorts and long, shapely legs of pale gold.

Four. Alex clutched the boat, breathing hard. Despite the cool water, this time his response wasn’t belly-deep but lower, stirring his groin. He’d always had a weakness for great legs.

‘Want some help?’ She leaned out, ready to offer a hand, that smile dancing at the edge of her lips.

In that instant Alex knew if he was still the impulsive guy he’d once been, carefree and unencumbered by a crown, he’d have curled his hand around her neck and tugged her close. He’d have kissed her till she planted those small, capable hands on his chest and begged for more.

And he’d have given it.

‘I can manage.’ He hauled himself up.

It was as her eyes rounded that he remembered he’d dived naked into the sea. With the yacht’s crew on shore leave and only he and George aboard, he hadn’t bothered dressing when he woke.

Her gaze stayed low on his body a fraction too long, making his blood surge south in response.

Her eyes flashed to his. ‘I’m guessing you weren’t expecting company.’ Her lips twitched.

Five. Most women he met these days lacked a sense of humour. He missed that. In his old life he’d been part of a close-knit team where humour made a demanding job easier.

‘I was thinking about an early morning dip, but not like this.’ He was responding way too much to the glint of humour in her bright eyes and the husky edge to her voice.

He moved further into the small boat and stood. Alex was fully aware the movement laid his back and buttocks bare to her gaze—he’d swear he could feel the prickle of her regard right now. But it was better than presenting her with what could too easily turn into a promising erection.

He hunkered down at the side of the boat, motioning for George to start the motor. One of the kids had a gash on his temple and there was a first aid kit on the yacht. To his relief though, they seemed to be improving by the minute.

By the time the five of them were on the yacht Alex knew they’d be okay. He got the first aid kit then left it in George’s capable hands while he went below to dry off and dress.

Yet as he tugged on old jeans and a shirt, Alex could recall exactly how he’d felt when the mermaid’s gaze dropped to his chest, lingered a second and then kept moving to his abdomen and groin. The prickle under his skin was a prelude to something he could not afford to give in to.

The timing was all wrong.

So was the place. The person.

Imagine the complications if he followed his instincts and pursued an affair with her right here, offshore from the palace! Especially when there were so many people in both countries promoting a royal wedding.

Alex shuddered and zipped his jeans. Marriage was not on the agenda.

* * *

‘There’s Alex now,’ George said and Cat looked up. Alex, the owner of the beautiful vintage yacht, strolled towards them. His gait was loose-hipped and easy, shoulders back as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Definitely the walk of an assured man. One too sexy for his own good.

Fire spiked in her blood as she recalled his lazy, half-lidded expression when she’d seen him naked. The devastatingly attractive way the corners of his mouth curled up, the gleam in those indigo eyes.

She liked a confident man. One assured enough not to bolster his ego at the expense of others.

He was athletic too. That tall body was strong and taut and oh-so attractive, with powerful thighs and sinewy forearms and a classic male outline that tapered from wide shoulders. She had a sudden recollection of the bunch of his rounded, perfect glutes as he’d walked away. Cat forced her attention back to the bandage she was securing.

‘There, that should do.’

‘Good work, Cat.’ George, the yacht’s captain, closed the first aid kit.

‘Cat?’ The lazy drawl was like fingertips dancing down her spine. She told herself it was the breeze cooling her ancient T-shirt against her skin but she feared it was his luscious baritone.

‘Alex, this is Cat. Cat, Alex.’

‘Nice to meet you... Cat.’

She looked up to read curiosity crinkling his broad brow. A flare of his nostrils brought that chiselled, patrician nose to life and his dark blue eyes narrowed as he surveyed her.

Was that tension in the pulse flicking beneath his squared jaw? No, she’d imagined it. His body language spoke of easy confidence. And a bone-deep, almost indolent sex appeal that played havoc with her hormones.

‘Nice to meet you, Alex.’ She kept her voice blank. The fact he’d obviously towel-dried his black hair and not bothered to comb it, leaving it appealingly dishevelled, shouldn’t make her itch to touch. As for the fact he was still barefoot, and hadn’t buttoned his shirt, which showed a tantalising strip of taut skin...

‘How are you boys feeling?’ It was easier to concentrate on them than this sudden rush of attraction.

They murmured that they were okay, one even venturing a smile. They’d be fine, now the fright wore off. But she’d feel better when a professional checked them.