My Royal Sin / Playing Dirty. Lauren HawkeyeЧитать онлайн книгу.
Impatient. Unstoppable. A force of nature. Nikolai and I had loved him, perhaps getting him into more trouble than befitting a much younger brother, but always getting him out of it again.
His birth ended our mother’s life, yet no one could look upon our youngest brother’s face and fail to see the arrogant, brutal features of my father, the king. My Damien may be many things, but no one would ever call him a bastard.
Unlike me...
These days, however, we see him only in paparazzi photos. After he bedded our stepsister—also Nikolai’s first betrothed—he was banished from Edenvale. His portraits were removed from the halls. The press has a field day with his wild exploits. His fistfights in high-end nightclubs. His drinking binges. His tumultuous romantic affairs. His devotion to fast cars and racing.
My frown deepens as a shadow ahead takes shape, merging into the form of a man.
“Your Highness.” X dips his head in his curt version of a bow. No obsequious gestures for him.
“Jesus.” I am startled into taking the Lord’s name in vain. “Where did you materialize from, thin air?”
A smug smile serves as his response. “Miss Ruby anticipates your arrival. You will find Monique has treated her well. And I will see to it that the saleswoman who mistreated your guest is aware of the commission she lost.”
The cobblestone gardener’s cottage rises behind his broad shoulder, a scene from a storybook come to life, a dwelling that would look at home in one of Grimm’s very own fairy tales. Every light is ablaze inside the small round windows. My Adam’s apple bobs. What will I confront inside? Scraps of lace? Strategically placed silk? Leather?
It takes all my self-control to walk with a steady, measured pace. A young but capable-looking guard stands watch at his post. I recognize him as Gideon from the front gate watchtower, the one with the large strawberry birthmark on one cheek. Good. I’d ordered X to make sure Ruby remains protected during her sojourn, mostly from curious interlopers as our grounds are well fortified. Gideon’s inquiring gaze veers in my direction as I rap on the door.
It swings open in an instant. An older woman, raven hair styled in an intricate chignon, sweeps into a curtsy. Monique Mantissa. “Miss Ruby is ready for your inspection.” She sidles past me and out into the maze with a throaty giggle. “I believe that you will be most pleased with her selections.”
“Allow me to entertain you while the prince makes his examination?” X’s voice betrays no hint of innuendo, and yet the fashion designer’s breathless sigh is audible as the door snicks shut.
My eyes adjust to the light. The air is rich with perfume: roses, jasmine and lilac penetrate my senses. A floorboard squeaks in the next room. I step forward, steeling myself for sin incarnate.
A fire roars in the hearth, the same color as her shimmering golden silk and lustrous hair. Out of all the possible sights, I never imagined to discover Ruby dressed in a formal gown, looking every ounce as regal as any queen in Europe.
She truly is a jewel.
Ruby
Heat warms my cheeks as the prince drinks me in with his eyes.
“It’s too much,” I say. “I told them it was too much. I’m not meant to wear—”
“That gown was made for you and you alone,” he says, no hint of irony in his tone. No condescension or judgment. I’m not entirely sure what to do with that.
“Is there no pretense with you, Your Highness?” His dark brows furrow, the reaction endearing. “You say what you mean, mean what you say. You don’t let any of the bullshit get in the way.” I gasp and cover my mouth. “My apologies, Father.”
He smiles and shakes his head. “That won’t be necessary. Ruby, this is your home for the next month. I want you to feel safe to be yourself here.”
No big deal. Just be myself and find some painting for the Madam. I try to tell myself this isn’t a betrayal of my new benefactor but rather a step closer to saving Jasper. It’s not as if I’m going to do anything to the portrait. I just have to let the Madam know it’s here and where it is. What happens then is beyond me.
I give the prince a once-over—my whole preposterous situation rolling out before me—and then burst out laughing. And there he goes again with the crinkled brow, completely disarming me and making me forget, at least for now, how I ended up here in the first place.
Damn this man for looking so beautiful when he’s befuddled.
“It would already be a tall order to ask me to be myself while residing among royalty. But I’m meant to spend the majority of my time here with not only a prince but one who—though not yet a man of the cloth—dresses like he’s forever on a pulpit about to give a sermon.”
I’m still giggling when he does something so out of character that it stops my laughter and catches my breath all at once.
He smiles.
The whole kingdom—and the entire world for that matter—has been known to swoon for the king’s firstborn, Prince Nikolai. They loved him when he was a tabloid playboy, and now that he’s proved himself worthy of ruling Edenvale, as well as worthy of his future queen, the public swoons for him even more, myself included. Nikolai Lorentz is a beautiful man who will do great things. But before me stands the man who has always lived in his shadow—who keeps himself there by hiding behind a collar before it is truly his.
And he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
“You’re wrong, Ruby. This,” he says, pointing to the white collar, “is my pretense.” He unfastens it and pulls it free.
I smooth out a nonexistent wrinkle in the buttery-soft silk of my gown. “When you take your final vows—” something twists in my gut at the thought “—do you have to wear it all the time?”
Again he grins, though this time the expression is laced with a wistfulness I don’t understand.
“No,” he says. “Giving my life to the church is my duty. But presiding over the church is also my livelihood. When I’m not performing clerical duties, I’m free to dress as I please.” He glances at his attire and then shrugs. “I guess this is easier.”
Then he unbuttons his black shirt and removes it. I gasp until I realize that beneath it he wears a white cotton T.
“There,” he says, hanging the garment over a high-back leather chair that faces the fire. “No more pretense.” He then strolls to a tall oak cabinet against the wall. With wide eyes, I watch the sculpted muscles in his arms flex as he retrieves a decanter of red wine and two crystal goblets. The prince nods toward a small game table, ignoring the clothes strewn about the sofa.
“You can...drink?” I ask, and he laughs, a rich, deep sound that sends an unexpected shiver through me, goose bumps dotting my flesh.
He sets the items on the table and pulls out my chair for me.
“There are many things I can still do once I am a priest,” he says. “But, of course—some I cannot.”
His eyes darken before they dip to the table as he seats himself across from me. When he looks up again, he forces a smile, but I know the spell is broken, and it’s time to get to work. I reach behind and start to lower my zipper.
“Stop,” he says. “Not yet.”
Because he is my prince and also my employer, I obey.
He pours two goblets of wine and hands one to me.
“Ruby.” His voice is gentle. “I’m sorry for what happened in the Square this morning. That was unacceptable.”
I press my lips together and shrug. “I didn’t belong there,” I say matter-of-factly.
He sips his wine and shakes his head. “You belong wherever it is that you