But now people were going to be looking so she needed armour. That was what clothing and make-up could be, right?
Hester spent the best part of an hour turning this way and that and holding still while Billie pinned her waist and hem. The fabrics were so soft and sleek, slowly her trepidation ebbed and she actually began to enjoy herself.
‘Now I have your measurements, I can get you some more when we land in Triscari,’ Billie said.
Hester glanced at the pile of clothes laid out on the table. ‘Do I need more?’
‘Much more.’ Billie swiftly hung the dresses. ‘It’s not all photo shoots and public engagements. You’ll still have day-to-day life at the palace.’
Hester bit back a nervous giggle. It sounded fantastical and her usual navy utility trousers weren’t exactly palace proper. ‘Okay, some more casual items would be wonderful. And…’ she fought back her blush ‘…perhaps some new underwear.’
‘Leave it with me.’ Billie smiled.
Hester smiled shyly. As the beautician waxed, plucked, buffed and massaged her, hours of flight time passed by and she was able to avoid conversation by studying the information on the tablet Alek had given her. Wrapped in a white fluffy robe, she sat in one of the chairs in the boardroom while Jon settled a towel around her shoulders.
She’d never coloured her hair or had any sort of stylish cut because she’d never been able to afford it. So now she sat still for hours as Jon and his assistant hovered over her while Billie hand-sewed alterations to the stunning dresses.
‘Okay,’ Jon said. ‘Take as long as you like in the shower and then we’ll get to drying it.’
‘Shower? Seriously?’ On an airplane?
‘Apparently so.’ Jon grinned. ‘I’ve been in some planes…but this?’
The biggest and the best. She bit back her grimace.
As she dressed, Hester tried not to wonder what Alek would think of her make-over. He didn’t need to find her attractive. She just needed to pass inspection.
But inside, she felt oddly different. There was something sensual about her smooth skin, rendered silky by the luxuriant lotions the beautician had rubbed in. For the first time in her life she felt pampered—almost precious.
* * *
Alek sprawled back in the recliner, absurdly satisfied with the day’s events. He’d gone from frustrated and angry to being in complete control of the situation. Flying off last minute to vent to Fi after another monster row with his chief advisor, Marc, had turned out to be the best idea he’d ever had.
He’d forgotten all about his sister’s prim secretary but she was perfect for this assignment. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t the most beautiful bride the world had ever seen because she was, after all, the one student his father had approved of. Back when Alek had been fighting to get his irascible control-freak father to allow Fiorella to study overseas, he’d come up with the idea of having an approved older student act as a mentor. His father had selected Hester from the pile of student records. So what better temporary wife could Alek produce now? The irony of it delighted him. And not having any emotional entanglement would make this ‘marriage’ wonderfully straightforward.
Though her determined reserve still fuelled his curiosity. He suspected she was more inexperienced than he’d first realised, but she had a smart head on her shoulders and it was insulting of him to think she couldn’t handle this. She was a tough, brave little cookie.
His curiosity deepened as he wondered what personal fire she’d been through to make her so. Because there had to have been something. Why else had she been less than enthusiastic to invite what little family she had left?
He thought again about that barren little bedroom. There was minimalist simplicity and there was plain sad. He knew she had no education debt because she’d been on a scholarship and worked her way through her degree. She was clearly frugal and knew how to live on only a little. Yet she’d wanted a bundle of money in a hurry. Maybe one day she’d tell him why. Though he had the extraordinary inclination to make her tell him sooner. How would he get her to do that? She was so reticent he’d have to tease it out of her. He eased further back in the chair, enjoying the possibilities when the door opened. He glanced up as a goddess walked into his lounge.
Hester Moss.
At least he thought it was Hester. His brain had suddenly been starved of oxygen and he had to blink a couple of times and force his slack jaw actually to suck in a hit of air before he could quite believe his eyes.
‘Do I pass?’ She gestured to her outfit in an offhand way, her gaze not quite meeting his. ‘Am I ready for the media onslaught?’
Her glasses were gone. Her hair was loose. Her baggy, boring clothing had hopefully been consigned to an incinerator because he only wanted her to wear items that fitted her as gorgeously as this dress did. He noticed all these things, but somehow he couldn’t actually think. He could only stare.
Her expression pinched. ‘That much of a difference, huh?’
‘We’re arriving early—they won’t get much in the way of pictures,’ he muttered almost incoherently before clearing his throat and reaching for his glass of water.
‘Are you saying I just sat through an hour-long hair-drying session for nothing?’ She finally looked him directly in the eyes.
‘Not for nothing.’ Oddly breathless, he detangled the tie in his tongue. ‘I think it looks lovely.’
‘Oh, that makes it so worth it.’ She sat down in the recliner next to his. ‘Lovely.’
He grinned, appreciating the lick of sarcasm in her tone. He’d deserved it with that inane comment, but he could hardly be honest. He didn’t even want to face that raw and uncontrollable response himself.
Her unruffled
