To Marry A Prince. A.C. Arthur
Being a college student and working two jobs, added to the two years she’d spent in New York when her internship had been extended, had taught Landry how to dress in a hurry. She lined her eyes, stroked on mascara and added a bit of color on her eyelids. The quick makeup routine stalled momentarily when she discovered she was getting low on her favorite lip gloss. It only took another second or so for her to browse through her makeup case and settle on a nude gloss instead. Swiping that on quickly, she found her earrings—silver buttons that matched the bangle she pulled onto her arm. Slipping into five-inch-heel sandals was next before standing again and grabbing a random bottle of perfume and spritzing herself generously. Her hair was already up in a messy bun and once she looked into the mirror, Landry decided it was the perfect accent to the otherwise neat and almost demure dress she wore.
It was navy blue, with a layer of lace over the tight bodice and full asymmetrical skirt. There was also a slip to the dress, crinoline, the most despised fabric in Landry’s opinion. Still this dress needed that extra poof to the skirt. As she stood looking in the mirror, moving from side to side the way she’d seen Malayka doing, Landry thought she looked like the twenty-first-century Audrey Hepburn. She smiled because she liked it.
Moments later she was leaving her room, only to come face-to-face with a man who looked nothing like the dour staff worker who had promised to escort her to the dining room. No, this was no older person. He was young and built and wore the white dinner jacket and black pants like a seasoned model. His face was breathtakingly handsome and when he smiled, Landry almost swooned.
“Ms. Norris. I would be honored to escort you down to dinner,” he said with an extravagant bow.
When he was once again upright, Landry touched the sides of her dress and curtsied—because something told her this guy was royal. He had to be. He was too beautiful to be just a mere human.
He was reaching for her hand when she straightened.
“I am Prince Roland DeSaunters, and it is my immense pleasure to meet you.”
No, Landry thought as she let him take her hand in his and they began to walk down the hallway, the pleasure was definitely hers.
* * *
The table could easily seat somewhere around fifty or so people. It was huge and a glossed cherrywood. A pristine white runner stretched its entire length; gold candelabras held tall white candles with golden flames at their tips. Ornate brass chandeliers hung from the high ceilings while several matching sideboards filled the great space. Beneath the table was a plush rug decorated in deep reds, greens and of course gold. But the definite eye-catcher to this room was the enormous arched window situated perfectly behind the head seat of the table. The window had automatic shades that Landry suspected were room darkening as well as provided privacy when needed. The shades were raised tonight so that the last intense colors of sunset over the glistening water were visible.
As if this room and its awe-inspiring view weren’t enough, the rest of the royal family was seated at the table and now staring expectantly at her.
Landry already felt a bit lightheaded by the gorgeous man walking beside her and the scent of his intoxicating cologne. Prince Roland had talked the entire time they walked, commenting on the very statues she’d perused not long before. He laughed a lot which made her smile. He walked with a seasoned swagger that said he knew he was not only good-looking, but rich and powerful and none of that meant a thing. She liked him instantly.
As for how she felt about the rest of the family, well, nervous or not, she was about to find out.
“Heads up,” Roland said as he continued to guide her down the length of that table to where the others were seated. “Gang’s all here!”
As they approached, Prince Kristian stood and so did his father. Seated next to Kristian was Malayka who looked at Landry with her brow raised in question once more. She was most likely wondering why Landry was arriving with Prince Roland. Landry was wondering that herself. The princess sat opposite of Malayka, her expression more amused than questioning.
“Ms. Norris,” Prince Rafferty said as he stepped away from the table to stand in front of her as she approached. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Kristian has told me all about you.”
Landry did another curtsy—she was getting really good at them now. The prince took her hand, kissing the back of it in a gallant and romantic gesture that stole her breath and made her smile.
“The pleasure is all mine, Your Highness. Thank you for having me in your home. It is a beautiful palace,” she said then snapped her lips shut for fear of babbling.
“You are welcome here for as long as Malayka requires your assistance.”
His response was more formal than the slight lifting of his mouth as if he were contemplating a smile.
“And this is my sister, the Princess Samantha DeSaunters,” Roland announced after turning her once again toward the table.
His hand was lightly touching her shoulder. Landry looked at the princess. In Landry’s line of work, she was used to seeing beautiful people—whether it be natural or assisted via surgery, hair extensions, makeup, designer clothes, whatever it took. This woman was actually very pretty, the light makeup and lovely ivory-colored gown she wore only adding to her allure.
Her complexion was a little lighter than her father’s, her dark hair curling to her shoulders. Her eyes were intelligent and assessing and the smile she gave Landry was, thankfully, genuine. So Landry mirrored it.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.”
“Very nice to meet you, Landry. Kris also told me a lot about you.”
Well, Landry thought with a tight smile as she gazed across the table to “Kris.” He had been talking about her a lot, hadn’t he.
“And you’ve already met my older brother, Kris, next in line to rule this magnificent island,” Roland said as he began guiding Landry to the seat between the princess and another empty chair.
Prince Rafferty had already taken his seat and Kristian was now watching her with an obvious frown as she sat in the high-backed cushioned chair Roland had offered.
“There will be a bridal party meeting on Friday. Everyone that I’ve selected will be flying in on Thursday. I’m thinking that a lovely breakfast on the north terrace would be nice because there’s not much sun on that side of the palace that early in the day,” Malayka began speaking, once everyone was seated and servers had arrived with plates of a colorful salad.
“The Children’s Hospital brunch is Friday at eleven,” Samantha announced, her tone just shy of being frosty.
“Oh,” Malayka said, her fork poised over the salad she was just about to dig into. “Well, the palace is enormous, I’m sure we can entertain two groups at the same time. Isn’t that right, Rafe?”
“The royal family is expected to attend the brunch. The Children’s Hospital performs in a professional manner throughout the year and is the top medical facility for children in the Caribbean. This is our way of thanking them for a job well done.”
Kristian spoke with an air of finality. There was no mistaking his authority, not in his tone, nor in the way his shoulders squared. He wore black. His suit jacket had satin lapels, and his shirt had a white silk tie at the neck. It was a decidedly Mafia look to Landry’s eye, but it worked exceptionally well with his buttery complexion. His hair was jet-black, just like the rest of the royal family, but cropped closer than Prince Rafferty’s and Roland’s. Where Roland’s low-cut beard gave him a rugged, handsome quality, Kristian’s clean-shaven face suited his dour expressions perfectly.
“Well, I’ve already made the plans. Everyone is preparing to travel. It’s not possible to cancel at this late date,” Malayka implored.
The look she was giving Prince Rafferty was almost comical, but Landry knew not to laugh. This was, after all, serious business for the soon-to-be princess. Malayka undoubtedly expected her husband-to-be to stand up to his children in