The King Takes A Bride (Royals Book 4) Read Online Free PDF

should have put a time limit on it. The man really was the devil.
    But he was her devil, and she loved him so.
    Sander, of course, didn't move until the very last few seconds. He kissed her first, then rolled off. “Deal.”
    For good measure, Chey reached over to pinch the inside of his thigh. Hard. Then she fled the bed for the shower, muttering the whole way about punctuality and dealing with obstinate Kings.
    Sander rumbled laughter from the bed where she left him.
    She didn't have time to wash and dry her hair. Good thing she'd washed it yesterday. In less than four minutes she soaped, rinsed (shaving her legs would have to wait) and dried off. She changed into a pantsuit of dark gray with a peach shirt beneath. These slacks had a little give in the waist to accommodate her early stages of pregnancy. Soon, though, she would have to start buying maternity clothes. Jamming her feet into low heels, she spritzed on perfume and applied a little make up with quick slashes, smudges and smears. Her hair had a sex-tousled look that she managed to almost tame with a brush. Leaving it straight and loose—not her preference for this meeting—she glanced in the mirror. The woman staring back looked hectic and hastily put together. No help for it now.
    Chey vacated the bathroom and crossed to the door without searching for Sander or even saying goodbye. The guards snapped to attention in the hallway. One fell into step at her flank, shadowing her all the way to the stairs and down them. Making her way as fast as she dared to the main floor, Chey marched toward the parlor in question. With no watch on her wrist, she couldn't tell if she was running a few minutes late or not.
    Entering through the open door, Chey discovered half the elaborate room had been converted to a dressing and staging area. The furniture was now organized into an open ended rectangle facing a large round dais situated before a long string of tall mirrors.
    Several women stood at one end near a rack with the bridesmaid's dresses hanging from it. One, with rosy cheeks and neck length, white-blonde hair bustled over with a wide smile of welcome. Her accent was thicker than Sander's. “Miss Sinclair, I'm Hanna. Pleased to meet you and be working with you.”
    So this was the new attendant. Chey returned her smile. “Pleasure, Hanna.”
    “May I get you anything? A drink, something to nibble on?” Hanna asked, cocking her head like a bird examining a treat might.
    Chey took note that Natalia was not here yet. The two women sitting on the sofas being pampered by staff had to be the cousins.
    “Not just now, thank you,” Chey replied to Hanna.
    “Very well. Allow me to introduce the Princesses Katrin and Esta.” Hanna swept her hand wide to indicate the two women on the couch. Katrin, a leggy woman with tawny hair and green eyes, didn't look over right away. Esta, a petite blonde with doe-like brown eyes, stood up and approached with a tentative smile in place.
    “Princesses, may I present Miss Chey Sinclair, his Majesty's future bride.” Hanna shifted weight on her feet, as if she might flit away any second or had trouble standing still for any length of time.
    Katrin, finally deigning to acknowledge Chey, looked her up and down. Head to toe. She said nothing in regard to the introduction.
    Chey counted Katrin in Natalia's camp and promptly ignored her.
    Esta, with kinder eyes, bridged the awkward gap left by Katrin and extended a hand. Her accent, like Hanna's, was thick and lilting. “Pleased to meet you. Congratulations on your upcoming wedding.”
    Chey shook Esta's hand, pleased the woman chose to at least give friendship a chance. “Nice to meet you, too.”
    “Are these the dresses we'll be wearing?” Esta asked, making her way to the rack. She skimmed her fingers over the satiny material.
    “You're supposed to curtsy, Miss Sinclair. They're Princesses,” Hanna whispered after Esta went out of earshot.
    Chey twitched at the reminder. Too late