Princess from the Shadows Maisey Yates (2 page)

Scandalous. Immoral.

Her family, her father, had never thrown those words at her, but she knew it had been thought. How could they not think it? She had. Worse, she knew it was true. A lifetime of keeping her passionate, exuberant nature on a tight leash, and in one great fall from grace, all her efforts had been reduced to nothing. She had tainted her family name, had brought them ridicule, the disgust of a nation who saw her as a clear sign of the degeneration of the royal family.

The question was, how badly did she want redemption? Enough to marry a total stranger? The prince of a country she’d never been to? The man her sister had been engaged to, until she’d broken it by hooking up with Ash on his private plane.

She looked at her father. He had aged in the past few years. She hadn’t been around to see it. She wondered how much of it was her fault. How many lines on his face were from dealing with her transgressions.

It made her sick to think of it.

But she could be the one to fix things here. The one to save the day. To be the daughter her parents had imagined she would be. It was almost embarrassing that she wanted it so badly. That she cared so much. But she did. She needed to look at her father and see something other than disappointment in his eyes.

“What do you need me to do?” she asked.

Rodriguez reclined on the bed, his shoes consigned to the floor, along with his tie. His plane would be ready soon, and then he would be leaving Santina, and with it, the little melodrama that the Santinas seemed to be living.

He didn’t waste his time on this sort of thing. He lived. He didn’t regret. He didn’t worry. He didn’t think more than he had to. Not about anything beyond the here and now anyway.

There was a soft knock at the door and he wondered if it was a maid, then chuckled at where the thought took him. It really had been too long since he’d had sex. He’d been expecting to pick up a fiancée so he’d imagined his celibacy wouldn’t have lasted beyond tonight.

“Si?”

The door opened, and it wasn’t a maid. It was Princess Carlotta Santina, still in her drab outfit, her lips pursed tight. She didn’t look like she was here to alleviate him of his celibacy either.

“I thought we might have a talk.” No, definitely not.

“Did you?”

She nodded, the setting sun filtering through the window shimmering over her straight, glossy bob. “I thought, since my father just tried to … use me as a stand-in for my sister, we might …”

“I’m actually done with that now.” He really wasn’t in the mood for whatever kind of rant she’d come to throw at him. Or was she here to apologize? The way she’d looked at her father, the way her shoulders had folded in, her hands clasped tight in front of her, almost like a shield. Like she feared him … she would come and apologize.

“I’m not,” she said, the slight steel in her tone surprising him.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. My father explained the situation to me more fully. I … I knew that you and Sophia were engaged, in a sense, but I did not know the specifics. I don’t live in Santina so I’m not really in on everything that goes on here and Sophia didn’t. she didn’t really say much of anything about you. I only got wind of how big of a deal it was when the story broke about Sophia being caught with Ash on the plane.”

“That’s because I’ve barely met the girl. No reason for her to talk about me.”

Carlotta cleared her throat. “Yes, well …
the girl
, is gone.”

“With the maharaja.”

He saw the corner of her mouth twitch. “Right. With Ash. Alex’s friend. And you still need a wife.”

“Need is a strong word.”

“Do you or don’t you?” she asked.

“Eventually.”

“How soon is this
eventually
you speak of?”

“Truthfully? The sooner, the better. This will be a time of transition for my people.” He thought of the responsibility, the weight of the crown. It was heavy on his shoulders. Already he’d moved back into the palace in Santa Christobel. He felt like it would choke him, being inside those four walls again. “Anything that can be done to ease their fears at this time would be welcome. Marriage, my marriage, would help with that.”

They wouldn’t be mourning his father, that was for sure. Carlos Anguiano was not much loved. And while Rodriguez had essentially been running Santa Christobel for the past several years, his father had remained the figurehead.

“It would mean a new start for my people. A fresh beginning,” he said.

“Well then, I guess I have good news for you.”

“What is that?”

“I haven’t run off with a maharaja, so … I happen to be available to marry you. At your earliest convenience.”

It was a rare moment that found Rodriguez Anguiano speechless.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“I’ll marry you.”

“What happened to the emphatic no from earlier?”

“I was shocked. In shock. I wasn’t prepared for something like that.”

“To be offered up as a replacement wife in your sister’s absence?” He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing quickly.

“I wasn’t … exactly expecting that, no. I thought I’d come to the party, have a couple of drinks and go home. Wasn’t really anticipating acquiring a husband.”

“And yet you have changed your mind?” he asked, pacing in front of her, adrenaline surging through him, joining the unrest he’d already felt being contained in the walls of the castle in Santina. That he’d been feeling since he’d boarded his private plane, on his way to collect what could only be described as a ball and chain.

“We need this, don’t we? The marriage I …” He watched her throat convulse as she swallowed. “I have always known that I would face an arranged marriage of some kind.”

She spoke the truth. From the cradle they’d all known their marriages would likely be arranged by their parents. Because duty came first, the allegiance to the family name. To Santina. Alex had long been promised to Anna, a woman more than suitable to be the future queen of Santina. But that was before he’d gone rogue and set his sights on Allegra Jackson. And of course Sophia had been promised to Rodriguez. Natalia’s engagement was in the process of being arranged. She didn’t know about Matteo, but it was less urgent now that Alex was formally betrothed.

Before Carlotta had. Well, if not for Luca her father would have likely arranged a marriage for her years ago. As it was, she had been sort of taken out of the “dynastic union” running when she’d had her son.

Well, apparently not really out of the running. She was good enough to play second string. Good enough to marry the renowned rebel prince of Santa Christobel. A man who lived dangerously and loved often. Well, not
loved
. He made love often, according to the tabloids. A new woman on his arm every weekend to accompany him to Europe’s most exclusive parties. Fast cars, fast dates.

The kind of man who represented recklessness, lawlessness, total disregard for honor. A man who served his own passions. The kind of man she hated. The kind of man she was so easily drawn to.

“As have I,” Rodriguez said, his dark eyes unreadable, the little curve of his mouth still present, like it had been earlier. It was a kind of ever-present near-smile that made it look like he was mocking her. It made her stomach feel like it was being squeezed tight by an invisible fist.

She cleared her throat. “So, while I hadn’t really penciled a wedding into my day planner, it’s not a … it’s not a total surprise.”

What was her other option anyway?

Well, there was staying in Italy. That was a good thought. Hiding. But she didn’t know if it served any real purpose. The only person it really helped was her. It allowed her to lick her wounds in private. It allowed her to hide Luca from royal life. Something part of her wanted to do, but something she also knew wasn’t fair. He was a Santina. He was a royal. It was a part of him, and it didn’t do him any good to force him to deny that part of himself. No matter how much simpler it would be to just raise him as an ordinary little boy. Who wasn’t tabloid fodder. It wasn’t reality.

“I don’t suppose you really had other life plans either,” she said.

“I don’t plan. I live.”

“Well … I suppose that means you don’t have a woman back home you’re dying to see. Someone you’d prefer to marry.”

“I’ll be honest with you, Carlotta, I prefer not to marry. But I need an heir. One that isn’t a bastard.”

She flinched when he spoke the word. She hated that word. One used to label an innocent child, to make them suffer for the perceived sins of his parents. Did Rodriguez know about Luca? He had to know. So, he’d chosen the words to wound her.

“Why?” she said. “Do you have many? Children, I mean.”

“Me? No. I always use protection.” Such a throwaway statement. Spoken like a man who never thought about anyone but himself.

She gritted her teeth. “It doesn’t always work.”

“True. But in the event that a pregnancy had resulted, you can bet the woman involved would have told me. I’m rich. Titled. She would have wanted her piece.”

“You would have owed her a piece,” she said. “At minimum.”

“I’m not arguing that. My point is that, whether I want marriage or not, I need it.”

“Preferably to me.”

He looked at her, his dark gaze dismissive. “Because of connection to this family.”

“I didn’t seek to imply otherwise. It’s the only reason I would marry you.”

“Because your father told you to. That’s the reason.”

She felt her cheeks heat. “He has good reasons.”

“Fine. But you’re still doing it because he asked you to.”

“And your father has nothing to do with any of this?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, the light in his eyes turning black, deadly. “My father can hardly lift his hand anymore. He is weak. What I do, I do for my country.”

“Same goes for me. But my family
is
Santina.”

“Thank goodness mine is not Santa Christobel. Santa Christobel is better than the Anguiano legacy has been thus far. But I intend to do better.”

“And I intend to … be a part of it.” It was strange, lobbying for something she wasn’t certain she wanted. But she needed it. Everything else aside, her father was right. She had made mistakes that had cost the family. And he had covered for her. Had done everything in his power to keep her from being utterly humiliated and exposed.

In the scope of things, this wasn’t so very much to ask.

“Does it get boring?”

“What?” she asked, trying to ignore the glint of humor in his dark eyes. It made him seem … attractive. Well, he was attractive, glint or no, with his golden skin and dark hair that was much too long to be considered respectable for a man of his station. Chiseled jaw, a body that looked as though it would be hard like iron. It wouldn’t be impersonal or cold like metal, though. No, he would be hot….

She blinked, trying to reroute her thoughts. She didn’t do the man thing. Not anymore. Just acknowledging the speed and ease with which he aroused her was. horrifying. Even more horrifying was the strength of it. Why was it so hard to be good? To be the woman she was supposed to be?

“Being this noble, does it get boring?”

“Yes. It does. Which is why I practice it in small doses.” And throw it off altogether sometimes.

“Good to know that not even you are always respectable.”

“Not even close.” But she tried. She’d tried all her life. To ignore the fire that seemed to burn so close to the surface of her skin. To be the demure princess she was expected to be. It had been a battle all her life. One she’d lost completely when she’d met Luca’s father. A lifetime of practiced restraint reduced to nothing in just a few short weeks.

He inclined his head. “All right then, Princess Carlotta, you have yourself a marriage bargain. My plane leaves Santina late tonight and I intend to take my future wife with me.”

“I … I can’t leave from here. I can’t leave tonight.” Luca was still in Italy, with his nanny. So were all of her things. Her real things, not her princess trappings.

“Why is that?”

“Because I don’t live here at the palace. I don’t even live on the island. I live in Italy. My home is there, my. everything.” She didn’t know what stopped her from saying something about Luca. Maybe because he hadn’t mentioned him. The whole thing seemed so mercenary. So cold. Adding him to it … it just seemed wrong.

“Fine. We’ll stop in Italy on our way to Santa Christobel.”

Oh, yes, and pick up her five-year-old with Mr. Tall, Dark, Sexy and Imposing standing in the doorway with that mocking grin of his. No thank you.

“I can make my own way to Santa Christobel,” she said archly. “I need time to prepare.”

“Have a lover you need to cast off before we get married?”

She nearly snorted. She’d lived the past few years completely abstinent after only one, near emotionally fatal affair. “Oh, yes, a stable of them. You?”

“I don’t intend to cast anyone off.”

“Excuse me?”