Free Captured and Crowned by Janette Kenny

to thank Kristo.
    But sanity had prevailed—for she’d known in her heart ifshe did that she’d not return to her room that night. She’d end up in his arms. In his bed.
    She’d not find the willpower to break free of him a second time. Already she was weary of fighting the inevitable.
    But she was determined to gain the upper hand over this raging desire. She had to. She would not let her passions control her, weaken her, as they had surely ruled her mother!
    In less than two weeks she’d be the Queen of this country. She’d be Kristo’s wife. But though she was giving up her career, she refused to lose the essence of who she was.
    She studied her new sketch with a critical eye. It was a blend of modern and traditional lines purely from her imagination. New. A bit daring.
    This reflected the woman she was now, not the fanciful girl she’d been.
    The dream gown of a woman.
    A design nobody had ever seen. A style that people would remember forever for the romantic vein it captured while still looking sophisticated.
    It was a very simple classical design, with a delicate golden-embroidered edging on the bell skirt. A nearly sheer lace cream shawl shot with gold softened a simple strapless bodice and lent a seductively mysterious air.
    The ivory color would complement her light olive complexion. The addition of gold would set it apart from the majority of gowns.
    And that touch of gold would lessen its appeal to the masses who wanted virginal white or palest cream. It would set the bride too far from tradition.
    Her shoulders slumped as that fact hit home.
    For that reason alone she feared the King would dismiss it straight away. He’d likely want a more opulent style, encrusted with pearls. A style that screamed wealth and old world andwas totally unlike her. Something in the order of the lavish gown Gregor had commissioned.
    She rubbed her forehead, unable to think clearly anymore. She crossed to the sofa on legs that feel wooden.
    She desperately needed sleep, and if she was lucky she would be too exhausted to dream of one tall, arrogant King.
    Â 
    Kristo let himself into Demetria’s room midmorning, with the intention of asking her to join him for a walk. He wanted to get her away from the palace for a while. He wanted to start over fresh with her before they embarked on this arranged marriage.
    But his impatience to put the strained past behind them froze when he caught sight of her curled on the sofa, fast asleep. She looked like an angel, with her dark hair spilling to the floor and her long lashes sweeping her sun-kissed cheeks.
    He frowned, noting the darker smudges beneath her eyes. Had she stayed up all night?
    He noticed the sketchpad lying on the table, as well as the pages ripped out and lying helter-skelter. Some were of completed gowns. Others were clearly half-formed ideas that she’d discarded for one reason or another.
    The one finished design on the sketchpad caught his attention. The detailing was minute, with neatly printed notes explaining the finer points.
    He could picture her wearing it and knew she’d turn all heads her way. She’d surely capture his attention with her creamy shoulders covered with only the sheerest strip of cloth kissed with threads of gold.
    Kristo’s gaze lifted to Demetria, lost in sleep. He wasn’t a stranger to working all night and grabbing a nap when he could. But he hadn’t thought she would work this hard tocreate a design for her wedding gown. He hadn’t thought she was this dedicated.
    Again, she wasn’t behaving like the conniving woman he’d envisioned. What other surprises would he discover about her?
    He paused at the sofa and reached down to slide his hand beneath the dark hair falling over the pillow. His fingers slipped through the mass as if it were spun silk—another memory that had tormented him.
    He’d toyed with a woman’s hair before, but he’d never felt this deep