Claimed by the Crown Prince, page 1
Laia put her hand on his bare chest.
Exactly as she’d wanted to the other day.
Dax’s eyes flared. He put his hand over hers. But he didn’t pull hers away.
His skin was warm. Still damp from the sea. She could feel his heart. Strong and steady. Maybe a little fast. Like hers. His hand felt huge enveloping hers.
“Laia, what are you doing?”
Her eyes fell to his mouth. It wasn’t thin anymore. It was lush and full. She frowned, her mind not able to let go of the strand of thought she’d just been picking at in spite of Dax’s warnings. She asked, “What happened to make your brother give you a life of freedom?”
She looked up as something occurred to her. He saw it in her eyes and before she could say another word, Dax had snaked his free hand under her wet hair and around to the back of her neck, and then his mouth was on hers, and Laia didn’t have any thoughts in her head anymore. Because they were incinerated by the fire.
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Abby Green
Claimed by the Crown Prince
Irish author Abby Green ended a very glamorous career in film and TV—which really consisted of a lot of standing in the rain outside actors’ trailers—to pursue her love of romance. After she’d bombarded Harlequin with manuscripts, they kindly accepted one, and an author was born. She lives in Dublin, Ireland, and loves any excuse for distraction. Visit abby-green.com or email abbygreenauthor@gmail.com.
Books by Abby Green
Harlequin Presents
Bound by Her Shocking Secret
A Ring for the Spaniard’s Revenge
His Housekeeper’s Twin Baby Confession
Hot Summer Nights with a Billionaire
The Flaw in His Red-Hot Revenge
Jet-Set Billionaires
Their One-Night Rio Reunion
Passionately Ever After...
The Kiss She Claimed from the Greek
Princess Brides for Royal Brothers
Mistaken as His Royal Bride
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
This is for the lovely country and people of Malaysia—I was lucky enough to work and live there for a few months a long time ago. KL, Penang, Langkawi, Ipoh...all hold very special places in my heart. It’s a magical place and I hope everyone gets a chance to visit at least once.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT FROM ONE FORBIDDEN NIGHT IN PARADISE BY LOUISE FULLER
CHAPTER ONE
HE’D FOUND HER. A sense of intense satisfaction rolled through Dax as he took a seat in the beach bar—on the far opposite corner to where the woman sat at a table alone, with her laptop in front of her and a big floppy sun hat covering most of her hair and features.
She might have been any number of travellers in this laid-back beach bar on the beautiful Malaysian island of Langkawi. It was a mecca for backpackers and sun worshippers, with its white sand beaches and glittering green waters.
But Dax knew she wasn’t just any other traveller. And she certainly wasn’t a backpacker. For a start, he noted the not exactly discreet security detail keeping watch over her. Two burly men who looked as if they were desperately trying to blend in and failing miserably.
Because the woman was Crown Princess Laia Sant Roman of Isla’Rosa, a small independent kingdom in the Mediterranean. A long way away from here.
She was a queen-in-waiting. Heiress to an ancient line of kings and queens who had battled to protect their modest rock in the sea. Dax knew her history and lineage well—because he was also not just a random traveller, in spite of his khaki cargo shorts and short-sleeved shirt.
He was the Crown Prince of Santanger, the neighbouring island kingdom and heir to his own throne, if anything happened to his brother the King and until his brother had heirs.
Which was where this woman came in. She’d been promised in marriage to his brother since she was born. A pact made by their fathers—the two late Kings—in order to ensure lasting peace and diplomacy in the region after hundreds of years of enmity and war.
But to say she was reluctant was an understatement. Dax had vague memories of her father visiting Santanger when he’d been younger, but Laia had only accompanied the King a couple of times. Dax remembered her as small and dark-haired, with wide eyes. A serious expression.
Since her father’s death, she appeared to have turned avoiding his brother into an art form. And now, mere weeks before the wedding was due to take place, she’d flitted to south-east Asia.
She, unlike her security team, did fade into the crowd a little better. Especially for one so exceptionally beautiful.
Dax’s insides clenched with an awareness that he desperately ignored.
Not welcome. Not appropriate.
But it was there nonetheless. And it had been there ever since they’d crossed paths one night in a club in Monaco over a year ago—his first time seeing her again since she was a young girl. Like Dax, Princess Laia had cultivated a reputation as a lover of socialising, earning her the moniker of The Party Princess.
Except, strangely enough, while Laia had been photographed at almost every ‘it’ social event in the past four years—most of which Dax himself had frequented—he’d never actually seen her in the flesh. Even though they’d both appeared in the papers in the days following the said events.
Dax had his suspicions as to why that was, but he’d never had the opportunity to say it to the Princess until he’d seen her at that event for the launch of one of the biggest motor races a year ago.
She’d been on the dance floor in a green silk strapless jumpsuit, with a silver belt around her slim waist. High-heeled sandals. Hair down around her shoulders. She’d looked like the beauties who’d used to grace the iconic Studio 54 club in New York in the seventies. Except she was far more beautiful.
She’d had her eyes closed and had looked as if she was in a world of her own. Dax had felt almost a little jealous of her absorption. He’d walked over to her, and as he’d approached—as if sensing him—her eyes had opened and she’d looked directly at him.
Her eyes were huge and almond-shaped and very green. Long lashes. Exquisite bone structure. Straight nose. Lush mouth. A classic beauty, of that there was no doubt. And Dax, who was a well-known connoisseur of women, had felt—such a cliché—as if he’d never seen true beauty until that moment. Her effect on him had been like a punch to the gut.
He hadn’t been able to breathe. Literally hadn’t been able to find a breath for a long moment. She’d looked at him as if she’d never seen a man before. Eyes wide.
He’d seen her indicate to her security team that it was okay to let him approach. A subtle movement. The heaving crowd around them had disappeared. It had as if they were enclosed in an invisible bubble.
But then she’d blinked and, as if she’d come out of a trance, an expression of distaste had crossed her face. Dax would have sworn he’d felt a chill breeze skate over his skin. The temperature had definitely dropped a few degrees.
She’d made a small bow, but it had felt to him like a mockery. She’d looked at him.
‘Crown Prince Dax of Santanger... What a pleasure to meet you in your favoured habitat.’
Dax had been surprised at the unmistakable scorn in her tone. After all, they’d never really met face to face, and she was promised in matrimony to his brother. She would become his family.
He’d felt compelled to respond with a bow of his own, saying, ‘I could say the same of you, Your Highness. We seem to frequent all the same social events and yet you’re as elusive as the Scarlet Pimpernel.’
She’d paled dramatically at that.
He’d frowned and put out his hand to steady her, ‘Are you okay?’
Her arm had felt incredibly slim, yet strong, skin like warm silk. He’d had an impression of steeliness.
She’d pulled away from him, colour washing back into her cheeks. ‘Don’t touch me.’
<
He’d watched her leave, wondering what the hell had just happened. But he hadn’t been alone for long.
‘Hey, Prince Handsome, care to dance?’
Dax had torn his eyes from where Princess Laia had been fast retreating and looked down. A woman had come up beside him in a sparkling dress revealing more than it hid. Seeing her overly made-up face, and the very tell-tale glitter of synthetic substances in her unfocused eyes, he’d felt such a profound sense of ennui come over him that he’d walked straight out of the club—just in time to see a sleek chauffeur-driven SUV pull away from the kerb, followed by the recognisable security detail.
Dax had been eschewing his own security for some time by then, in spite of his brother’s protests, for complicated reasons that went to the root of who he was and the burden of guilt he’d carried for years. Quite simply, he didn’t deserve to be protected. He certainly wouldn’t be responsible for someone putting their life ahead of his.
As he’d watched those vehicles disappear he’d felt, ridiculously, as if he’d just lost something. When he’d made it his life’s purpose not to have much of an attachment to anything. Apart from his brother. It had been a long time since anyone else had made Dax feel anything. Not since the dark days of his mother’s tragic death. A death he still held himself accountable for.
His emotions were rarely engaged now, and that was the way he liked it.
Even when he wanted a woman it was fleeting and quickly satisfied. But what had happened between him and Princess Laia had gone beyond mere wanting, although that had been there too.
But there had been nothing he could do about it because she was the one woman Dax couldn’t touch.
She was promised to his brother.
Which was why he was here. In a rustic beach bar in Malaysia. To take her back to Santanger so she could fulfil her duty. Marry his brother and beget heirs.
A bilious knot formed in his gut at the thought of her with his brother. He chastised himself—she was beautiful and he couldn’t have her. That was all it was. FOMO. He smiled mirthlessly at himself.
It was time to let his brother know he had found her and would be bringing her back.
Dax put his hand out to retrieve his phone from where he’d put it on the table but his hand found nothing. He looked down. There was an empty space where he’d laid it just moments before. He looked up, his eye catching a small Malaysian kid on the other side of the bar, who was handing Crown Princess Laia what looked like a phone.
His phone.
She smiled at the boy indulgently and handed him some ringgit. The boy skipped away, delighted with himself, counting the money. She slipped the phone into a voluminous beach bag, and only then did she deign to let her gaze track over to Dax.
He could see the green of her eyes from here. It was like an electric shock straight into his bloodstream. Her smile faded. Dax stood up and walked over, through the bar, and saw her gaze tracking his progress.
He noted that her security team didn’t move. Just watched carefully. He realised something then. He leaned against a wooden post beside her table and folded his arms across his chest.
‘How long have you known I was here?’
She started to put away her laptop, and a notebook full of scribbles, not looking at him. ‘We knew as soon as you boarded the flight in Kuala Lumpur. We’ve been tracking you since you landed in Langkawi two days ago.’
‘Did it amuse you to wait and let me find you?’
She looked up briefly, that vivid green gaze barely skating over him. A not-so-subtle insult. He was used to women looking and lingering. But to this woman he was inconsequential. A novelty.
She said in a clipped voice, ‘Not particularly.’
She stood up and Dax realised she was wearing a turquoise blue one-piece swimsuit under cut-off shorts. The floaty vibrantly coloured wrap couldn’t disguise her perfect body. Not an inch of excess flesh. She veered towards an athletic physique, but she still had curves in all the right places.
Dax had to force his gaze up from where the swells of her breasts were barely contained by the thin material of the swimsuit. Since when were one-pieces provocative?
Her naturally olive skin was evidence of the same ancestry as Dax. A mixture of Spanish, Italian, Moorish and Greek.
He asked, ‘Can I have my phone back, please?’
She looked at him. ‘That depends on what you intend to use it for. If it’s to divulge my location to your brother, or anyone else, then, no, I’m afraid not.’
Dax was more amused than anything else. There were other means of getting in touch with his brother. ‘How do you know I haven’t already done that?’
‘Because you only knew for certain I was here when you walked into the bar.’
‘So you stole my phone?’
She made a tsking sound. ‘I’m not a thief.’
‘No, but you employed an innocent child to do your dirty work. What kind of a message is that sending out?’
She flushed at that, and Dax found it inordinately satisfying to see her flustered. How much more satisfying would it be to see her flushed with arousal?
He shifted minutely and cursed his imagination.
Princess Laia said stiffly, ‘I told him I knew you and wanted to play a joke on you.’
The fact that she’d considered the integrity of what she was doing sent a dart of something unfamiliar to Dax’s gut. A mixture of humour and something soft. Dangerous.
He stood up straight. ‘Enough chit-chatting, Princess, we both know why I’m here. It’s time to come home and fulfil your responsibilities to the people of Santanger.’
Her eyes glittered brightly. ‘Santanger is not my home and never will be. I already have a home and responsibilities to my own people.’
Dax studied her, curious about this intransigence. The marriage pact between Santanger and Isla’Rosa made sense on many levels. Not least of which were economic and meant to foster lasting peace in the region. There hadn’t been any active wars in at least a couple of generations, but there was still an underlying seam of distrust and enmity between the people in each kingdom, which was having an adverse effect on investment—even in Santanger.
Some investors that Ari and Dax had courted to do business had been put off by the merest hint of potential instability, and it didn’t help that things were still stirred up occasionally by very small but effective rebel elements who seemed determined to hang on to the enmity of past generations.
Ari wanted to stamp this out once and for all through his marriage.
But the risk of stirring up unrest was one of the reasons why the marriage agreement between Ari and Laia hadn’t been promoted with as much fanfare as would normally be the case. Everyone knew about it, and had known about it for years, but the details—like the wedding date—weren’t due to be released until just before the event, to minimise even the small risk of rebellion in either kingdom.
‘You know that marrying my brother will bring about a much hoped-for surge in goodwill from both kingdoms that will put an end to any rebel elements for good,’ Dax pointed out. ‘Not to mention a much-needed injection of capital for development in Isla’Rosa.’
The smaller kingdom was much poorer than Santanger. Santanger had moved with the times and grown into a modern and largely flourishing economy, with a thriving tourist scene for most of the year, thanks to its Mediterranean climate, but Isla’Rosa still lagged far behind.
It was a charming island, and attracted its own loyal tourists, who were captivated by the quaintly medieval capital city and idyllic villages and pristine beaches, but it badly needed hauling into the modern era.
‘Your father did your kingdom a disservice by not allowing more growth.’
Princess Laia had gone even pinker now. Dax was momentarily distracted by that wash of blood into her cheeks.
‘Don’t you dare mention my father. He was a great king and beloved by the people.’
