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A frog in her pocket
     
    The King spread his hands in a jovial, inebriated gesture. Miranda had only spent half a day with her brand-new father-in-law, but already she recognised that toothy, forced smile as he concluded his speech with the words, "And that is why we are so happy to witness today the joining of these two marvellous young people."
    All those around the table applauded, but the clapping soon died down in the clinking of cutlery on the royal household 's gold plates.
    Princess Miranda wiped her sweaty hands on her dress, but the hideous frilly material , bunched around her waist, didn't dry them very well. Stupid dress. She had been too polite to tell her mother that these types of dresses where intended to accentuate well-endowed young women's curves. If you were unlucky to have those curves in the wrong places, well, it accentuated those, too.
    See , mother, I've done what you wanted. Joined one powerful kingdom with another. I'm a married woman now.
    But her mother didn 't even notice her. She sat across the table giggling with that silly Duchess Georgina.
    Miranda shrugged, trying to forget the look on George 's face when he lifted her veil in the church. The wide, horrified eyes at the sight of her huge nose, mismatched eyes and crooked mouth. He had placed the ring around her finger, but hadn't even kissed her. She would probably have to hear about that for the rest of her life.
    Well, suppose I 've lived with those taunts all my life, I can cope with a few more.
    She looked away, but caught a sneer from George's cousin, Princess Adelie, seated at her other side. About Miranda's age, Adelie glowed with youthful beauty. Although her father was king of only a very small country, Adelie had everything Miranda didn't, from her peachy-perfect skin, to a wasp-thin waist and golden tresses that flowed over her back. Miranda had tried to make conversation and asked what sort of books Adelie had read recently. With an arch of her elegant eyebrows, the Princess had informed her that reading was something academics did.
    So Miranda fidgeted with her dress under the table, fearing what would happen when the music stopped and the guests went to bed.
     
    *   *   *
     
    George pushed the door shut, took off his jacket while he crossed to the window. "Beautiful night, isn't it?"
    Standing on the thick carpet in the middle of the room, Miranda managed a tiny squeak. Her throat constricted with fear . She could only see the pillow-covered bed. Still, she had to admit he was right. A full moon shone down on the palace garden. From her guest room window that morning, Miranda had admired the pond, with its cover of white lilies and rim of yellow-flowered irises.
    George slid open the window letting the heavy perfume of flowers into the room. Then he turned; Miranda tensed again.
    " Well," he said, and a bemused smile crossed his face, "if we're to provide the kingdom with a lawful heir, we'd best get on with it."
    Miranda shivere d and clamped her arms around herself. "I'm happy, if you don't want to . . ."
    But he had already closed her in his arms. "Nonsense," he said, and slipped the veil off her head. "I won't hurt you." Then he pulled the lacing out of her bodice. The dress slid off her shoulders and a few rolls of flab tumbled back to their rightful places. It certainly felt a lot more comfortable.
    George grinned, squeezed the skin on her voluminous hips and muttered to himself, "Good, very good, you'll make a perfect one."
    What was he talking about? T he cold touch of his hands sent goosebumps over her skin. But as much as she had wanted him to kiss her in public, she preferred if he didn't do this in private. Too late. With one hand, he pushed her back on the bed, while the other hand undid the buttons of his shirt. Miranda's heart thumped in her chest. A lawful heir—using her body. At least there was a chance that the heir would be just as ugly as her. That would teach them.
    His handsome face came closer;