AllFreeNovel
Share Us
This morning, both she and Fen had revised their charitable opinions somewhat when they’d discovered that in her new role as a royal princess, Melody was no longer expected or encouraged to dress herself.
Her staff—because, apparently, she had astaffin the royal version of her life—had first appeared to hover about and smother her with unsolicited and unnecessary help while she’d tried to get out of her wedding dress. They’d appeared again that morning, three relentlessly cheerful women who would not take no for an answer. Instead, they’d bustled ferociously around the vast apartment, which would have resulted in their quick and merciless deaths at Melody’s hand had they not come bearing a tray of Idyllian pastries to complement the thick, rich coffee that had far more in common with traditional Greek coffee than the milky, frothy concoctions preferred in other places. Or so Melody had read.
Even Fen’s dark mutterings of the dire consequences she might mete out for waking her were soothed away with an infusion of caffeine. And lashings of butter and dough.
Melody had found that shoving bits of heavenly pastry in her mouth was the only way that she could make it through the experience of having more women flutter about her. Dressing her as if she was an oversize doll. It was creepy.
“I am only going to my sister’s house,” she said at one point, when she could no longer keep her words trapped inside her. And what came out was far more polite than what still lurked around in there. “We’ve spent many, many hours together wearing only our pajamas. I’m not sure this level of preparation is called for.”
“I can’t imagine that anyone would wish to go before Their Royal Majesties without looking their absolute best,” one of the women said. Mildly enough.
“I woulddie,” declared another.
And that was how Melody found herself slicked into her princessy place all over again.
She did not need to take stock of Prince Griffin to understand—merely from the elbow she held as he led her into the palace at a snail’s pace—that he was kitted out much the same. The coat beneath her fingers had a luxuriant richness that seemed to meld with the hardness of his forearm. And if she listened, she could hear his military medals clink about on his lapel.
Her marriage might turn out to be fine. It was already better than she’d imagined, because Melody had never dreamed that she’d be left to her own devices. She never had been before. That was all good news.
But she worried that the studied formality of royal life might kill her.
“Do you always dress in formal clothes to visit your brother?” she asked as they moved into the part of the palace she recognized. The private royal apartments, where her sister now lived.
“Only when there is a photo opportunity,” Griffin replied, and Melody found she liked his voice almost too much. It cast the same spell his physical presence did, as if there was a force field that emanated from it—from him—and surrounded the both of them when he spoke to her that way. Low and dark. Inviting. “And when it comes to things like national holidays, you can be certain that there will always be a photo opportunity.”
“I will make a note,” Melody said, without thinking, because she was still caught up on hisvoice.
Because if she’d been thinking, she certainly wouldn’t have used that tone. It was far too sharp and dry and revealing of her actual personality.
She could feel his gaze on her, measuring. Aware, perhaps, that there was more to her than the role she played.
And they couldn’t have that. So Melody clung to him instead, letting out a breath on a shuddery sort of high-pitched sigh.
“I’m so terrified I’ll do something wrong,” she lied. She endeavored to sound as feeble as possible. “There’s a reason my father has always preferred to keep me out of the public eye.”
Griffin stopped moving, forcing her to stop, too. She instantly balanced evenly on her feet, before it occurred to her that perhaps she should be feeble in gait as well. So she made a small production of tripping into him, which accomplished what she wanted.
He caught her. Easily and swiftly. Then held her up with an arm wrapped carefully around her back.
Melody told herself she should have laughed at that. Or wanted to laugh.
Instead, she could feel her whole body hum in response to that coiled, whipcord strength of his. To the heat of his body making her feel overly warm, everywhere. To the fascinatingly foreign and relentlessly male length of his torso pressed against her.
Oh, my.
“You will not be locked away ever again,” Griffin told her fiercely. “You are a royal princess of Idylla, Melody. And more important still, my wife. If any accommodations need to be made, I promise you, it will be the world who accommodates you this time.”
And all she could do was stand there with her face tilted up to his, her mouth slightly ajar in astonishment. Possibly in more than astonishment, though she couldn’t say she fully knew whatmorewas.
She could feel the flush that started deep and low in her belly flood through her, heating her up everywhere else. She could even feel it splashed all over her face when she’d spent long years learning to control her expressions.
But however she looked—no doubt flustered beyond repair—it clearly worked for Griffin. Melody told herself that was all that mattered.
Because he took her hands in his, solicitously.
She assured herself that what she felt was delight that her display of feminine weakness was doing its good work. And not...a different sort of feminine weakness altogether.
“You are safe now,” he told her. “I promise.”
