Contract Wedding, Expectant Bride. Yvonne Lindsay
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“So do we enter into a contract, my king?”
“You still think you have a choice, don’t you?” he said, cocking one brow at her. “Are you always this optimistic?”
“I always have a choice,” she replied.
She sensed rather than heard him as he came and stood behind her. Was it her imagination or did she feel the heat of his breath against her naked skin? A shimmer of awareness crept over her body.
“Then you are indeed fortunate,” he said close to the shell of her ear.
His voice held a whisper of a thousand words left unsaid. Ottavia closed her eyes and concentrated on remaining still. On simply absorbing his nearness and trying to separate out the individual reactions her body clamored with.
“A king does not have many choices,” he said, exposing a surprising insight into his mind.
***
Contract Wedding, Expectant Bride is part of the Courtesan Brides duet: Her pleasure is at his command!
Contract Wedding, Expectant Bride
Yvonne Lindsay
A typical Piscean, USA TODAY bestselling author YVONNE LINDSAY has always preferred her imagination to the real world. Married to her blind-date hero and with two adult children, she spends her days crafting the stories of her heart and in her spare time she can be found with her nose in a book reliving the power of love, or knitting socks and daydreaming. Contact her via her website, www.yvonnelindsay.com.
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To my Writers in the Wild buddies,
and to Soraya Lane, with grateful thanks
for all your support and, at times
(yes, I’m looking at you, Soraya!),
goading and bullying, all of which get
me to “The End” with a happy sigh.
Contents
He was here.
She knew it by the way the energy inside the tranquil island castle shifted and switched up a gear. Ottavia smoothed her gown over her curves for the fifteenth time that afternoon and told herself again that she wasn’t nervous. Not really. In her profession as a courtesan, she was accustomed to dealing with powerful men. Dealing with a king couldn’t truly be that different...could it?
The exquisite French Charles X ormolu clock on the mantelpiece continued to tick quietly, marking the seconds as they dragged by. But thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long. The ornate wooden doors leading into the high-ceilinged room swung open. Her stomach clenched in anticipation. A frisson of nerves shimmered down her spine. But, instead of the royal visage she’d expected to see, one of the king’s advisers—Sonja Novak—stood there instead.
The woman was, as usual, impeccably dressed in a Chanel suit and her iron gray hair was swept into an impossibly neat chignon. Her classically beautiful features were schooled into a bland expression that, as far as Ottavia could tell, was about as close as the senior member of King Rocco’s staff ever came to a smile.
“His Majesty will see you now.”
“I will see him here,” Ottavia replied as firmly as she could.
She should have known it would earn a particularly scathing look.
“Ms. Romolo, the King of Erminia summons you into his presence. Not the other way around.”
“Then His Majesty will be disappointed,