His Wife, Book #3

• Marriage of Convenience
• Switched at the Altar
• Kidnapped Bride
• Missing Wife

What happens when powerful, sexy Bad, Bad Boys! find the woman they want? They’ll do whatever it takes to keep them. Whatever it takes.

Kidnap his future mother-in-law? Check.

Force future wife-to-be into an engagement? Check.

Wed and bed the wrong woman? What the hell?!?

The will of the people governs Prince Brandt Von Folke body and soul. So when the kingdom of Verdonia is threatened, he’ll do anything to protect it. Perhaps it’s that devil’s deal that makes him think a royal kidnapping and hostile marriage is a good idea.

Princess Miri, sister to the neighboring Prince, lives her life on the razor’s edge of peace and war. When Prince Brandt, the hot, dark prince next door, threatens to destroy the royal balance of Verdonia, Miri takes matters into her own hands. With a heavy veil and a white wedding gown she replaces his bride at the altar … and in his bed for one elicit night of pleasure, before disappearing.

Only one problem. Once you’re in his sights, there’s no escaping Prince Brandt. He’s coming for her and he won’t stop until he has her back in his bed.

His Wife is the third book in the contemporary romance series Bad, Bad Boys! written by USA Today bestselling author, Day Leclaire. Fair warning! This story includes a marriage of inconvenience, a confusing “who did I wed and bed” issue, more than one deception, and a ton of romance.

Not giving herself time to consider the foolishness of her actions, she entered the room. Silently, she crept across the carpet until she reached his chair. Once there, she crouched, staying well clear of the moonlight.

“Brandt,” she whispered, doing her best to imitate Angela’s accent, hoping she was correct in assuming it came close to matching Alyssa’s.

His head jerked up and he glanced at her. A full minute ticked by before he spoke. “You surprise me, Princess.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re here. I thought I’d have to track you down.”

She gave a careless shrug. “You might have, except for one thing.”

“Which is?”

She allowed an exasperated note to enter her voice. “I can’t get out of this stupid dress.”

His features relaxed ever so slightly. “My apologies. I’d forgotten it would be necessary to cut you free. Another Verdonian tradition you may not be familiar with.”

“Would you mind? It’s getting late.”

He stood, and so did she, her skirts rustling as she took a quick step backward, allowing the shadows to swallow her more fully. Bypassing her, he walked to a door leading to the outer corridor. Opening it, he spoke quietly to whomever stood outside. When he returned he held a dagger.

“Your men are well prepared,” she commented faintly.

He shrugged. “It’s part of their uniform,” he said, reaching for a light switch.

“Don’t.” She fought to modulate her voice. “Please, I’d rather you didn’t turn on the light.”

“I need to see what I’m doing.” She couldn’t think of a reasonable response to that, but to her relief, she didn’t have to come up with one. “But I won’t turn it on if you’d rather I didn’t. Let’s see if this will work.”

Returning to her side, he dropped a hand on her shoulder and guided her into the moonlight. She was careful to keep her back to him, terrified that he’d catch a glimpse of her face. Even though Merrick must have gotten far away by now, any extra time she could give him would only help. Not that her plans for this evening had anything to do with helping her stepbrother.

“Hold still,” Brandt instructed, sweeping her hair off her back. “I don’t want to cut you.”

She felt a slight tug at her bodice before it loosened. Inch by inch it sagged forward, slipping from her shoulders. Folding her arms across her chest, she held the gown in place. The silence grew deafening, broken only by the harshness of her own breathing.

When he finished cutting her free, he didn’t step away. “Your skin is amazing.” He traced a path from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine. “The moonlight has turned it to silver.”

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“You know what I’m doing.” He continued his stroking touch, sending shivers shooting through her. “We can make this work, Alyssa.”

Alyssa. Miri closed her eyes against the sharp bite of pain. “You really expect me to consummate this marriage?”

He continued to stand close, so tall he made her feel tiny. “Do you want romantic words? I can give them to you if you wish. But they wouldn’t be true. Because the truth is, we need to consummate our marriage in order to make it legal.” His hands tightened on her. “That doesn’t mean it has to be an unpleasant experience or that we can’t enjoy the physical part of our relationship. How we proceed from here is up to us. This can be a beginning, for both of us.”

“You’d find it that easy?” It hurt unbearably to think so. “A tap to turn on or off? Is that how your emotions work?”

“No. No more than with you. But I’m determined to make our marriage work, if you’re willing.”

“We’re strangers. You know nothing about me. And I—” Her hands clenched, her nails biting into her palms. “And I know nothing about you.” She’d only thought she did. But she’d been wrong. So horribly wrong.

Sliding an arm around her waist, Brandt spooned her close, her spine tight against his chest. His hand splayed across her abdomen, warm and heavy and possessive. The warmth of his breath washed over her as he traced the curve between her neck and shoulder with his mouth. She shivered beneath the delicate caress, relaxing into his embrace. The instant she realized what she’d done, she stiffened in his grasp. Taking a hasty step forward, she edged farther into shadow.

He followed, maintaining contact. His fingers trailed along the path his mouth had followed, gently easing the gown off her shoulders. The sizzle from that stolen touch burned like fire, igniting a shockwave that caused the beadwork on her loosened gown to glitter in agitation.

“Slow and easy, wife,” he attempted to soothe. “We have all night.”

She’d thought she could do this, thought she’d steal this night with him with no one the wiser and no one hurt. But hearing him call her by another woman’s name, having him address her as wife was killing her by inches.

“Maybe we should wait until tomorrow.” The suggestion escaped in a breathless rush. “Wait until we’ve had a chance to get to know each other better.”

“Nothing will have changed.” He sounded so gentle, so caring. Almost tender. “Come tomorrow, we’ll still be married. We’ll still be relative strangers. And your apprehension will have another day to take root and grow.”

“So we’re better off getting it over with?”

“Better off discovering that you have nothing to fear.”

“I’m not afraid,” she instantly protested.

And she wasn’t. She wanted to make love to Brandt. She just wanted him to know who he was loving, though she didn’t dare reveal her identity. But perhaps…perhaps there was a way she could turn this around. If she could reach him on some level, if he recognized her—even subconsciously—maybe it would be enough. He’d still be responding to the uniqueness of her touch. To her personal scent and taste. To a kiss only she could give. In the end, he’d be making love to her, not to Alyssa, and she’d have to hope that some small part of him realized it.

Slowly, she lowered her arms, allowing her gown to slip downward. He accepted her silent surrender without comment. His touch remained gentle, careful. He eased the gown to her waist, then hooked his thumbs in both skirt and petticoats, and guided them down her hips. His palms swept the upper slopes of her buttocks, lingered, then moved on. Dropping to one knee, he helped her step free of the voluminous layers of silk.

Before she had time to feel self-conscious, he stood and turned her in his arms, taking her mouth with his. She remembered this kiss, had longed for it ever since that day by the waterfall. And she found herself returning it, tentatively at first, and then with mounting passion. His lips hardened, grew more forceful. But rather than protest, she met his demand with one of her own.