A Christmas Bride - By Susan Mallery Page 0,62

in love with Kayleen. You look at her the way Daddy used to look at Mommy.”

Love? Not possible, As’ad thought, dismissing the very idea. Kayleen kept her head down. Dana rushed to her.

“Do you have a ring?” the girl asked.

Kayleen removed it from her pocket and slipped it on her fingers. The girls gasped.

“That’s really, really big,” Pepper said. “Is it heavy?”

“I’m getting used to it.”

As’ad watched in contentment. All had turned out well, thanks to his aunt. She had given him advice on the best way to approach Kayleen. While he didn’t usually agree with taking advice from a woman, in this case she was the acknowledged expert.

She had told him about Kayleen’s desire to be needed. It was a position he could respect. Having a place to belong was far better than worrying about a fleeting emotion like love.

Kayleen stood. The girls rushed at him and he found himself embracing them all. He bent down and gathered Pepper into his arms, then straightened and settled her on his hip.

“I’m a real princess now,” she said. “I want a crown.”

“A princess wears a tiara,” he told her.

“Then one of those. Does this mean the next time I hit a bully I won’t get into trouble?”

“Hitting anyone is never a good idea,” Kayleen told her.

Pepper sighed and looked into his eyes. “But you’re the prince. Can’t you change that?”

She was delightful, as were her sisters. He smiled. “I will see what I can do.”

“You shouldn’t encourage her,” Kayleen told him.

Perhaps not, but he suddenly wanted all that was possible for the girls. He wanted to give them everything, show them everything, and always keep them safe.

An odd pressure tightened in his chest. It was a feeling he didn’t recognize, so he ignored it. But it was there.

* * *

FAYZA ST. JOHN arrived the next morning exactly on time for her prearranged meeting with Kayleen. She was a fifteen-year veteran of the protocol office, something she shared with Kayleen immediately upon their meeting.

“I’ll be in charge of the wedding,” Fayza said as she stretched her thin lips into what Kayleen hoped was a smile.

Everything about the woman was thin—her body, her face, her legs, her hair. She was well-dressed, but more than a little scary-looking, although elegant. Kayleen had the feeling that the other woman already knew her dress had been bought at sixty percent off at a discount outlet and that the patch pockets had been added after the fact to cover a stain that wouldn’t come out.

“You’re our first bride in decades,” Fayza went on. “Princess Lina was the last, of course. With the princes getting older, we knew it was just a matter of time, so we’ve been doing a lot of prep work, just in case. Now you’ll have to deal with a lot of decisions yourself, but much of the wedding will be handled out of my office. You can request things like colors, but everything will have to be vetted. While this is your happy day, it is also a state occasion.” She paused. “Any questions?”

Kayleen shook her head. A question would require a functioning brain, which she didn’t have at the moment. Marrying As’ad was unexpected enough, but to find out the event would be a state occasion?

“Obviously no serious work can get done until we have a date,” Fayza continued. “The king mentioned a spring wedding.”

“Uh-huh.”

“With a formal announcement right after the holidays?”

Kayleen nodded.

“All right. That gives us time, which, believe me, we won’t have enough of. You’ll start working with one of our people right away. She’ll help you learn the culture and traditions of El Deharia. You’ll need instruction in the language, deportment, current events, etiquette and a hundred other things I can’t even think of right now. Oh, I’ll need your personal list for the announcements and the wedding. What family are you inviting?”

Kayleen had to consciously not grab her head to keep it from spinning. This wasn’t anything she’d imagined. All she wanted was to marry As’ad and get on with her life.

“Does it have to be like this?” she asked. “Can we just go away and get married quietly?”

Fayza laughed. “He’s a prince, dear. And the first one to marry. You’re going to be on the cover of People magazine.”

The idea made her want to throw up. “What if I don’t want to be?”

“Sorry—this will be the social event of the spring. We’ll try to keep the number of guests down. Anything over five hundred is a nightmare.”

F-five