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“I don’t suppose you know who.” The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Violet’s whole face lit up with glee and conspiracy. She giggled.
“What’s funny?” he asked, curious about her descent into teenage titters.
There were few instances when Rowan was reminded of Vi’s age. She had this aura of an old soul about her. But in that innocent sound, he remembered she was only fifteen.
She scooted over on the sofa and leaned in toward him. “It’s like the who’s who of forgotten European royalty. There’s one princess, three dukes’ daughters, one duchess, and one woman who claims to have links to the Romanovs. The staff is in an uproar, trying to ready the estate, cleaning and polishing everything before everyone arrives for the Carnival. They will all stay through Ash Wednesday. So, essentially, seven days of simpering, spoiled aristocrats flitting around, trying to win the heart of one of the most titled men in the world. Should be a bloody lark!” she finished enthusiastically.
Rowan was fatigued, just thinking about it.
“Good news for you though,” Vi said. “You’ll have rehab, wheelchairs, and crutches. You can’t do much dancing and entertaining with your schedule.”
“Yes, great news for me,” he bit out sarcastically.
Violet placed her hand on his arm. “You know what I mean,” she explained, her eyes steeped with sympathy. “You’ll have a bit of an out.”
“There is that,” he responded drolly.
“And I can run interference for you. We can come up with signals. Like when you get annoyed, you can run your hand over your head. You always do that when you’ve had enough.” Vi sat up straight and imitated Rowan’s impatient head rub. She even grabbed the back of her neck and rolled her head to the side in a perfect copy of him.
He laughed. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with me.”
“Making up for fifteen years of being ignored,” she said flippantly, like it was a joke. But Rowan could read the hurt beneath it. “You do know one of the women who will be here.”
Glad for the change in subject and the out she was providing, he took the bait. “I do? Who is that?”
“Princess Juliana.”
Rowan loved science fiction and fantasy. He was a closet Trekkie and Star Wars geek—something he kept completely to himself. He imagined himself in an airlock as someone pressed their hand on the scanner to send him floating out into space. He wanted to breathe oxygen, but all he could gulp was the void of air. His body tumbled without gravity, and he flipped head over feet, over head, over feet as he slipped into the abyss. On top of his injury and his banishment to the Siberia of Xavier Hall, his father’s country estate in the province of Nava, he would be in the same place as Princess Juliana Altamirano.
With only the little provocation of hearing her name, he slipped back into the moment at the press conference when Juliana had seemed to materialize directly in front of him. Her eyes, determined and frank. Her flawless beauty, a drug of sorts, pulling him in. Her full lips, glistening with the moisture of her tongue as it offered a tantalizing swipe. Her freckles, overpopulating her flawless skin, tiny imperfections placed perfectly on her dainty nose and cheeks and eyelids and chin. The split second before her lips met his, sucking the control from his body. The taste of her mouth had been bottled in his memory, ready to overflow with a single pop of the top. The spike of arousal from just the thought of her lanced through him, and he twisted with discomfort and embarrassment. Pain shot up from his leg, and all thoughts of Juliana evaporated.
“Princess Juliana is participating in this farce?”
Violet shrugged. “It would be odd if she wasn’t, don’t you think?”
Rowan cocked a brow at her, asking without asking.
She sighed. “The two most powerful families with eligible, marriageable candidates. Joining the two would be a coup for both sides. And maybe put all the independence stuff to rest.”
Rowan was struck by the truth of her words. The marriage of Frederik and Juliana would be a game changer. His father would have the in he’d always wanted, and the political capital would be immeasurable. A terrible plan began to percolate in his brain. His rehab would provide him some protection from the marriage mart about to commence. But what if he could convince his father and his mother that he already had someone? Someone they would both approve of? Someone who would further everyone’s ambitions? It would buy him the time he needed to get better and get out of here.
And there was a princess who owed him a favor.
