Free The Prince She Had to Marry by Christine Rimmer

finger under her defiant little chin and tipped her face up to him. He could see his own distorted reflection in the lenses of her dark glasses. “Keep smiling...”
    She made her smile so wide it was almost a grimace.
    He leaned closer.
    A muscle in her jaw twitched almost imperceptibly, but she didn’t try to pull away. So he kissed her.
    When his mouth touched hers, there were whistles and catcalls from the crowd onshore. He hardly heard them. He breathed in her tiny, resigned little sigh and tried not to wish that things could be different.
    As always, she tasted infinitely sweet. She tasted of hope, although he had none. Of all the joy he would never know.
    “I think that will do for now,” she murmured against his lips. Her mouth was so soft under his.
    He didn’t want to let her go. Lifting his head, he slanted it the other way. “We have to give the paparazzi their chance to get a good shot...”
    “Hah...” But she went on kissing him. She even slid those slim arms up over his chest and wrapped them around his neck.
    Onshore, they were still clapping and shouting and whistling. People called out encouragements. He heard all that, but only faintly due to the hungry roaring of his blood as it raced through his veins.
    She pulled away. He wanted to follow, to capture her mouth again and kiss her some more. But he didn’t. Something about the warning tilt of her chin held him at bay. Plus, any photographer worth his salt had to have gotten the shot by now.
    “Turn around,” she instructed, her smile tender and dreamy, her voice laced with steel. “Wave to your people. As soon as we’re out of the harbor, we can go below and...be ourselves.”
    * * *
    The master stateroom had onyx counters in the bathroom and sink fixtures shaped like gold swans. The bedroom had a bed almost as big as the one he used to sleep in at the Prince’s Palace until he married Lili and surrendered that bed to her. There was a wet bar and a small seating area of two chairs and a table. The thick carpet underfoot was gold threaded through with bronze.
    Alex took one of the chairs and watched his wife as she prowled the room, looking into drawers, disappearing into the long, deep dressing room and then into the bathroom. When she finally perched on the edge of the bed, she tossed her dark glasses on the gold-accented bronze bedspread and aimed a cool, assessing look in his direction.
    He said, “Don’t worry. I can sleep on the floor.”
    She pressed her fingers to her temples. Now she’d taken off the sunglasses, he saw the dark smudges beneath her eyes.
    He sat forward. “You look tired. Are you ill?”
    Her slim shoulders were drooping. “Tired, yes. A little.”
    Should he be concerned? “You didn’t eat a lot at breakfast....”
    “I’m all right, Alex.”
    “The baby—”
    “—is fine.” She regarded him steadily. “I hate this, that’s all. It’s just one big lie after another.”
    How could he argue with that? She was right. “Do you want me to go?”
    She shook her head. “We’re supposed to be inseparable, remember?”
    He rose. “I’ll move to another stateroom. I won’t go on deck.”
    “No, you need to stay here. Counting servants and crew and your men from the CCU together, there are thirty other people aboard the Princess . We have to convince them all that we’re deeply in love—or one of them is bound to betray us.”
    His men would never betray them, but she knew that. He said, “So cynical, Lili? It’s not like you.”
    “I’ve had a good teacher since I married you.”
    He took a Montedoran orange from the basket of fruit on the table, put it to his mouth, felt the smooth skin against his lips, smelled the tart citrus scent. “Just because I leave our berth doesn’t mean I’m not completely in your thrall.”
    “In my thrall.” She laughed. It was not a happy sound. “That’s a good one.”
    Reasonably, he pursued his point. “I could be leaving you alone because you’re tired,