The Wedding Night They Never Had by Jackie Ashenden, Millie Adams
CHAPTER FIVE
INARADIDN’TSLEEPmuch that night and woke the next morning with a head full of cotton wool and scratchy eyes. She felt tender between her legs, her inner thigh muscles were sore and there was a certain electricity humming in her blood.
She didn’t want to think about Cassius, not when she’d spent most of the night going over and over what had happened between them in the library, but there was no avoiding it this morning.
He’d taken her virginity. He’d decided against a divorce.
He wanted to stay married to her.
She’d be his wife and his queen, not just in name only this time, but for real.
Inara rolled over and tried to burrow her way back underneath the blankets as if she could escape the reality of her situation. But there was no escaping it. What she’d secretly always wanted, had secretly always longed for, was happening, yet in the most nightmarish way possible.
Once again she was being shunted around, at the mercy of other people’s decisions, her own thoughts, feelings and opinions not mattering one iota. Her parents had never made any secret of the fact that she was only a tool to them, a disappointment, not the son they’d been counting on, and so it had been her responsibility to make up for it by being useful to them.
It had been bad enough knowing she wasn’t what her parents had wanted, but it was a million times worse knowing she wasn’t what Cassius wanted. She loved him. She cared about his opinion. And, as he’d pointed out so clearly the night before, she wasn’t his choice. He was stuck with her and that hurt.
But of course he wouldn’t want a small, stringy, awkward and chaotic maths genius as a queen. He’d want someone tall, beautiful and charming. Someone with perfect manners and all the social graces. Someone with natural authority and dignity, someone who looked the part.
Five years ago when her parents had told her that she was to be promised to Stefano Castelli—after she’d failed to make an impression on the duke’s son they’d been eyeing for her—she’d taken matters into her own hands and run away, going straight to the only man in the world she’d thought could help her.
But the man who’d helped her then was the same man who was forcing her into an impossible situation now, and there was nowhere to run to this time.
He was the King. If he wanted to keep her as his wife, as his queen, then he would and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
You’ll disappoint him in the end, just as you disappointed your parents. And not just him, but the entire country.
The thought made her feel ill, so she dragged herself out of bed at last and into the shower, hoping that the warm water would help her feel better. But when at last she stepped out, wrapping a towel around her as she wandered back into the bedroom, she still felt as ill as she had when she’d woken up.
The urge to lose herself in the research paper she was currently writing with a colleague in Helsinki gripped her. Numbers were simple. They were clear, logical and had absolutely nothing to do with the confusing mass of emotion currently tangling inside her. But there was no time for that. So she pulled on whatever clothes came to hand, then spent ten minutes packing the rest in a small suitcase.
It wasn’t much. After years of having her appearance checked over constantly by her mother, she’d let everything slide while living in the Queen’s Estate. It had been a relief not to worry about her hair, or make-up, or her posture, or her dress. Living here meant she was essentially forgotten—which was fine by her. The Queen’s Estate was her haven, her refuge.
A cage.
The thought came out of nowhere and for a second was so alien that she looked around to see if someone had spoken it aloud. But, no, apparently that thought had come from her own head, from a deep part of her subconscious even she hadn’t known existed.
It was wrong, though. Very, very wrong. The Queen’s Estate wasn’t a cage. How ridiculous. It was her place of safety and she was sad to leave it.
She stuffed a dress into her case, suddenly annoyed. At Cassius and his insistence on his kingly duty. At herself and her decision to seduce him. At the stupid crush she had on him and how that had led her to this moment, forcing her to leave her place of safety for the cold halls of the palace in Katara where her failings would soon become obvious to everyone who looked at her.
Then you have a choice, don’t you?
Inara forced the top of the case down and zipped it up, then stood there a second looking down at it.
Cassius had told her the night before that she couldn’t put her feelings before her country, and that was very true. It was also very true that she had a choice before her: she could choose to spend her future being miserable and, reluctant and negative about being Queen or, as she couldn’t change what would happen, she could choose to accept it. She could choose to try being the kind of queen Cassius wanted. And just because she’d failed her parents, it didn’t mean she’d fail him.
After all, hadn’t she wanted to be his wife? A real wife, sharing his bed, sharing his life. Having his children, living with him, being with him.
She’d always hoped that being his wife for real would include him being in love with her, but perhaps that would come in time. And if love wasn’t on the cards, then she’d settle at least for some respect. That would make being Queen easier, hopefully, and if not it would surely be some consolation?
At that moment there was a knock on her bedroom door that turned out to be Henri, advising her that the helicopter was here to take her to Katara. The King, as it turned out, had left hours earlier to prepare for her arrival, which meant they wouldn’t be travelling together.
Inara was relieved. Right now the thought of having to share the tiny space of a helicopter with Cassius was too much for her. She wanted some time alone before she was confronted with him again. Some time to think about how she was going to approach this, because if she decided to accept his decision and take her place as his queen—and really, she had to accept it, because she didn’t particularly want to be miserable for the rest of her life—then she needed to figure out how.
Ten minutes later, safely ensconced in the helicopter and flying over the mountains and down towards the coast where the palace was located, Inara decided to put her anxiety about being Queen to one side for now and concentrate instead on being Cassius’s actual wife.
And it required some thought, because what did a wife do, exactly?
She only had her own parents’ experience to go on, which wasn’t encouraging. Their marriage, like their parenting, had been cold, her father interested in nothing but his political machinations, her mother in her social ones. Neither had seemed to like the other much yet they didn’t argue. They treated each other with the same chilly politeness with which they treated her.
Would it be like that with Cassius? She knew he wasn’t a cold man, or at least he hadn’t been the previous night, so maybe it would be different between them.
Except she didn’t much like the gentle condescension he’d been affecting with her the past couple of years. Perhaps once they started living together as husband and wife that might change.
Although...would they be living together as husband and wife? All Cassius had said was that she would remain his wife and take her place as queen. Did that involve living together? Sharing a bed? Or would they have separate rooms at the palace? Would they only meet for formal occasions and official functions, continuing on with their separate lives? Or would they spend time together outside of those times? Alone with each other. The way they used to...
Longing curled in Inara’s heart.
Yes, that was what she wanted. A marriage like that—talking together, easy and friendly. Laughing and discussing things of interest, with the occasional argument that didn’t get too serious. Not her parents’ icy formality, but something warmer and more real. Friendlier.
And sex. You want that too.
Inara shifted on the seat cushions, remembering the night before—Cassius beneath her, all long, lean muscle and power, looking at her with fire in his eyes. Looking at her the way she’d desperately wanted him to for so long. Him moving inside her, giving her the most intense pleasure...
Heat prickled over her skin. Yes, okay, maybe she wanted that as well. But...would he? Would a marriage to him include that? Or was what they’d shared together in the library a one-off thing that wouldn’t happen again?
He’d said that he hadn’t had a lover in three years, that she was the first one he’d taken in all that time, so surely...? But then again, if he’d managed to go without sex for so long then perhaps he didn’t need it...
No, there were too many variables, that was the problem, and too much she didn’t know. The answers to those questions could only be solved by more research, and that meant talking to him, which she would have to do when they landed.
Feeling somewhat better now that she’d thought a few things through, Inara watched as they flew over Katara, the capital city of Aveiras.
It was famously beautiful, with a historic walled town located near the central business district and by the sea. The old palace was the centrepiece of the old town, built out of weathered white stone with beautifully laid-out formal gardens. It was the seat of the royal family of Aveiras and had been for centuries. Inara had always disliked it.
Despite how picturesque it looked, the palace had felt cold and echoing and unfriendly whenever she’d visited and, as the helicopter descended to the helipad located in the palace grounds, creeping doubt wound through her.
Regardless of what kind of wife she would be, she would also be Queen. What would the palace staff think of the King’s decision? What would the people of Aveiras think? Cassius’s mother had been revered and deeply loved, and her death had been bitterly mourned. No one would want Inara stepping into her shoes, surely?
A phalanx of palace staff waited as the helicopter landed, and as soon as she stepped out they surrounded her, taking her one pathetic suitcase and shepherding her towards the doors that led into the palace. All of them looked business-like and not one smiled at her. It made her homesick for the Queen’s Estate, where there was no one to look at her and judge her. No one to disappoint. Only Henri and Joan, who cared about her.
And now you have no one...
The thought threw dark shadows everywhere so she pushed it away, hoping that Cassius might come to meet her. But it was soon clear that he wouldn’t, so she told herself it was fine and she didn’t mind. He was the King. He probably had better things to do, and anyway, though it would have been nice to see a friendly face in amongst the crowd of grim-looking palace employees, she didn’t need it. She would manage. Of course she would. She would have to.
Inara was ushered down the long, echoing stone hallways of the palace with high-vaulted ceilings and long lines of dark, formal portraits of the de Leon royal line. The chill of the palace crept into her bones as she walked, though she tried not to let it, and the disapproving gazes of the people in the portraits followed her.
The palace had always felt oppressive, and it wasn’t any different now, the heavy weight of history and its judgment pressing down on her. It reminded her of being in her parents’ house and the constant critical attention they had subjected her to—always measuring her, always judging her.
And this is now your home.
Inara did her best not to think of that.
Eventually she was led to the royal apartments and ushered into what turned out to be a rather pleasant sitting room located in a part of the large, sprawling palace that overlooked the famous Aveiran white cliffs and the deep blue of the sea that lay below them.
Inara had never visited the royal apartments and had always assumed they would be just as cold and empty and echoing as the rest of the palace. But this room was neither cold nor empty nor echoing.
It had large windows that looked out over a small but beautiful and slightly overgrown garden full of flowers, with the jewel-blue sea beyond it. There were rugs on the floor that echoed the colour of the flowers outside, and a couple of deep, comfortable-looking chairs upholstered in dark-blue velvet, with a matching sofa. Cushions had been scattered artfully everywhere and bookcases full of books stood against the bare stone walls. And most surprising of all, on the side tables, sideboard and numerous shelves, there was a plethora of small shrubs in decorative pots. The plants softened the atmosphere, making it seem lived-in and inviting, even though the whole room reeked of a tidiness that was foreign to Inara.
She took a few steps over to the windows and glanced out at the early afternoon steadily advancing.
Nerves coiled tightly inside her. Presumably she’d been brought here to...what? Wait? For whom—Cassius? Or would someone else come for her? And what was she supposed to do, exactly?
Inara swallowed, her hands closing into fists. She hated not knowing things and there was nothing worse than questions she didn’t know the answers to. Especially when the answers were dependent on someone else who wasn’t around. It meant there was nothing to stop her brain from throwing up yet more questions until her thought processes were going round and round like mice running on a wheel.
It didn’t help that, along with her nerves, there was also a strange, prickling sense of anticipation, the same feeling she got whenever she knew Cassius was coming to visit, except not quite.
Before, she’d been full of a simple joy. Now, the joy was tempered with other things, more complicated things. Nerves and a little rush of fear, along with heat and a strange sort of excitement. Normally when she felt this way she retreated into her research, but she couldn’t do that now, so to relieve the tension Inara walked slowly over to one of the tables to examine a tiny, gnarled bonsai in a blue glazed pot that sat on it.
Too busy looking at the bonsai, she didn’t hear the door click softly behind her.
‘Inara,’ Cassius’s deep, authoritative voice said from behind her. ‘Welcome to the palace.’
She hadn’t dressed for the occasion, Cassius observed with some disapproval as Inara straightened from looking at the bonsai juniper that sat on the table near the couch.
She looked as if she’d pulled on any old thing that had come to hand, which in this instance was a pair of worn jeans and pale pink T-shirt with a coffee stain on the front of it. Her silvery hair was caught in a simple ponytail at the nape of her neck and she wore no make-up whatsoever.
Yet still desire gripped him by the throat, refusing to let go as a deeply possessive, very male part of him noted how closely the T-shirt moulded to her figure, highlighting the soft roundness of her breasts and the elegant curve of her waist. The jeans, though they were entirely unsuitable for a queen, certainly made him want to put a hand on her pretty rear and squeeze her gently.
Unacceptable.
He hadn’t slept much the night before, having left the Queen’s Estate at dawn so he could get back to the palace as quickly as possible in order to prepare for Inara’s arrival. Also, if he was honest with himself, to get rid of the heat that lingered in his blood whenever he thought of her.
He’d thought having the entire morning to prepare and then attend to his other duties would have dealt with any remaining lustful thoughts, but apparently that had just been a convenient lie he’d told himself.
Apparently all that was needed for those thoughts to roar back into life was her physical presence, in simple jeans and a T-shirt no less.
It was unseemly. He needed to control himself, to discourage his baser instincts, not look at her hungrily, thinking about what he’d like to do to her. He should remember that he was the leader of a nation and not a teenage boy with more hormones than sense.
It was a good thing he’d spent some time this morning deciding on an appropriate code of conduct between them, which was why he’d brought her here, to one of his favourite rooms in the palace. He hoped she’d find it a relaxing environment in which to be informed of her duties as Queen and what the shape of her future at the palace would look like. Also his expectations of her as his wife, a subject he’d given much thought.
Since returning from the Queen’s Estate, he’d immediately informed his council and parliament of his intention to remain married and for Inara to stay on as Aveiras’s queen. This had prompted some disapproval, which he’d expected, and he’d had to put his foot down about the decision. However, he was hoping that a strict regimen of stylists and lessons in protocol and etiquette would soon sand the sharp edges off and make Inara more palatable to both his parliament and his people.
It was important to him that they accept her, especially when they’d already had to accept him, the black sheep of his illustrious family. He’d been hoping to give them a queen they could love, like they’d loved his mother, but as that was now out of the question he hoped to give them a queen that they could tolerate at the very least.
Being patient was key. Inara needed some time to come to terms with her new position and to learn her official duties, and that couldn’t be rushed. In the meantime, he’d organised a small function to present her to his court and his parliament. Nothing too formal or too large, but enough to remind people that Inara was their queen and would remain so.
Already, gossip about her was rife, and he’d decided that wasn’t a bad thing. The more people talked about her, the more she’d be in the public consciousness. She’d be a novelty at first, but then she’d become ubiquitous, as he had.
She turned from the bonsai, her eyes wide behind the lenses of her glasses. Then she straightened and her shoulders went back, as if bracing herself. ‘Hello, Cassius,’ she said, her sweet voice very formal.
He frowned. Something was missing. And it took him a moment or two to realise that what was missing was the smile she always gave him whenever she saw him—the warm, joyful one. The one that made him feel as if he was a bright spot in her particular world. The one that made him feel like a friend. Like a person instead of a figurehead.
Why would you want to be a person? Especially the person who caused his brother’s death...
Cassius shoved that thought away.
‘The palace staff will bring us a late lunch shortly,’ he said. ‘I thought it might be easier for you to have an informal meal for your first day in the palace. It will also give us some time to discuss what happens now.’
‘Oh. Uh...yes, that would be very...pleasant.’ She shifted on her feet, a pink flush staining her cheeks. ‘I don’t know where my suitcase is.’
The suitcase in question had been taken to the Queen’s apartments, though if she’d only brought one case then there hadn’t been much point in bringing anything. Not when he’d provide her with everything she needed.
‘It’s in the Queen’s rooms,’ he said. ‘Which will be exclusively for your use, of course. At night, however, you will share mine.’
She blinked rapidly. ‘Yours?’
‘Yes. Not right away, of course,’ he allowed. ‘You will need some time to feel comfortable with me, and I understand that. But you will be my wife, Inara. And that does not mean separate beds.’
It was something he’d thought long and hard about, especially after his lapse in the library with her. Grief and shock had killed his desire, and three years of abstinence hadn’t helped. But now it had returned and with such a vengeance that it was clear he needed an outlet for it. He needed someone in his bed and, logically, that someone should be his wife.
It was convenient that she was the one he wanted, too. Perhaps if he had her in his bed every night he’d be better able to control himself, not let himself become so desperate that he’d fall back into old habits.
‘Oh,’ she said again. ‘I suppose so.’
It shouldn’t have been a source of irritation that she didn’t look entirely happy with the suggestion, but he was irritated all the same. It was an emotion he had no right to, of course. He’d been the one to take her innocence the night before, to lose control. He’d thought of no one but himself and his own pleasure and, if he needed yet another lesson in what a mistake that was, he was looking at it right now.
It’s no less than what you deserve.
Oh, he was well aware. Being King was his penance and one he undertook willingly.
Cassius ignored his irritation. ‘If you’re not comfortable with that tonight, you may sleep in the Queen’s rooms,’ he said levelly. ‘But I should warn you that this will not be a union of convenience only, not now.’
‘I see. Well, I understand. And no need for me to go to the Queen’s rooms tonight.’ Something hot gleamed in her eyes, a little spark.
So it seemed she was happy being in his bed after all.
Careful.
Yes, he needed the reminder, because already the smouldering embers of his desire were beginning to ignite in response to that spark. It wouldn’t take much for them to burst into flame...a kiss, a touch...
The thread of unease he’d felt when he’d walked in wound tighter.
His desire for her was more...consuming than he’d expected it to be and he didn’t like that one bit. This wasn’t the library at the Queen’s Estate. This was the palace, where he was king, and a king shouldn’t be so desperate to sleep with his wife that he literally couldn’t think of anything else.
That was the man talking and the man couldn’t be trusted. He knew that already.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have her in his bed tonight after all. Perhaps he should use tonight to remind the man of how a king should act so that, when she finally joined him, it would be the king who’d be in control.
Besides, she could probably use a night to adjust to her new position too, no matter that little spark in her eyes.
He strolled over to the windows, paused to glance out at the blue sea, then carried on over to the fireplace, Inara watching him all the while.
It made him uncomfortable. Made him feel oddly transparent, as if she could see the exact nature of his restlessness. As if she knew that the title of king was just a mask he wore, and a badly fitting mask at that. As if she could see beneath that mask to the same careless prince he’d once been. A man driven by his own selfish desires and desperately unsuited to be the ruler he now was. A man who hadn’t respected the throne or the role he’d been given to play.
A man whose own brother was dead because of him.
It was a good thing that man was now as dead as Caspian.
Cassius met her gaze, his mask firmly in place. ‘Good. I have drawn up a schedule for you this week, which will involve a stylist and wardrobe consultation, meetings with the palace PR people, media training plus protocol and etiquette instruction. That won’t be enough time to prepare you for a formal royal ball, but it should allow you to feel more comfortable at the small gathering I’ve organised to reintroduce you to my court.’
A flicker of unhappy surprise crossed her face. ‘A...small gathering? How small?’
‘It’s nothing,’ he said dismissively. ‘A couple of hundred people. Not many.’
‘A couple of hundred...’ She looked abruptly down at the floor. ‘No,’ she said as if to herself. ‘No, I can do that.’
Cassius, expecting an argument, was thrown off balance. ‘I know it’s not what you particularly enjoy but—’
‘It’s part of being a queen,’ she interrupted, brisker this time. ‘I understand.’ She lifted her gaze back to his, somehow standing even straighter. ‘I’ll do it. I can manage. And I... I’m sorry about my behaviour yesterday in the library. When you suggested I take on royal duties, I was...shocked. And a bit scared. I’ve been living at the Queen’s Estate for five years and...well...change is always difficult. But, as you said, neither of us has a choice about this, so I’m going to try.’ Her chin lifted. ‘I want to be a good queen for Aveiras and I’m going to work hard not to let you down.’
Surprise rippled through him. He’d expected her to give in at some point, because he wouldn’t be moved on this, but he’d thought he’d have to insist or perhaps argue with her.
He studied her, aware of something shifting inside him. A curiosity he hadn’t been conscious of before. She’d always been an open book to him, but this was...different. ‘What brought this on? You weren’t at all happy about it yesterday.’
‘I know.’ She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, her feet moving about as if she couldn’t figure out how to stand. His mother would have found that appalling. She had been a stickler for correct behaviour, and fidgeting was not correct behaviour, especially not for a queen.
‘I’ve had some time to think about it,’ Inara went on, oblivious to her bad posture. ‘And you were right about having to accept things. About putting my feelings before my country, too. Aveiras needs a queen, and I’m that queen whether I like it or not.’
Cassius knew he should have been happy that she’d made peace with his decision, that she was willing to try being the queen Aveiras needed. Yet her little speech irritated him. Had he been expecting something more, something he could fight her on? Did he want to fight her?
Ridiculous. He didn’t want a fight. The last few years his parents had been alive had been a constant battle against his father’s repeated calls for him to display some kind of restraint—especially after his ‘ill-conceived marriage’, as his father had termed it. He’d accused Cassius of disrespecting the crown, accused him of loving himself more than he loved his country.
His father hadn’t been wrong. Cassius had taken great pleasure in disobeying his father’s rules and strictures, even making a game out of it with mocking statements, snide observations, sarcastic sound bites and compromising press photos. And the worst part about it was that now he barely even remembered why he’d done all those things.
One thing he was sure of was that he didn’t do them any longer, and neither did he fight. He didn’t lose himself to anger—or indeed any emotion inappropriate to his position—so he shouldn’t be regretting his wife’s capitulation, not at all. He wanted this to go smoothly and easily, and the fewer challenges from her the better.
Yet, despite what he wanted, he still felt restless and irritable, moving from the fireplace and pacing over to one of the tables where he kept another bonsai, a cherry blossom. Reflexively, he looked the miniature tree over, taking note of the soil conditions and the tree itself. Tending plants was useful for all kinds of emotional disturbances. Sometimes he preferred more physical outlets, such as swimming endless laps of the palace pool, or running for miles on the treadmill in the gym, but when that was impossible he liked to come into this room and check over the pots. It focused his mind and helped him concentrate. Helped him stay in control.
He’d done that even as a boy, when the interminable school-room lessons that Caspian had seemed to handle with no problem had become too much for him. He’d never been able to sit still and concentrate for long before the need to move would take him, so he’d disappear into the gardens, hiding out with the head gardener, who used to take him on a tour of all the plants.
It had calmed him then and it calmed him now.
He picked up a tiny pair of scissors and trimmed part of the tree carefully.
Inara wandered over and watched him. ‘What are you doing?’
He snipped off a tiny branch. ‘Trimming the bonsai so it retains its shape.’
‘Oh. Do you do that yourself then?’
‘Yes.’
She peered at the tree. ‘Why? Don’t you have staff to do everything for you?’
He’d never had to explain his interest in plants to anyone. No one had ever asked. Not many people—apart from the staff who tended to the King’s private rooms—even knew about his hobby. He didn’t like to talk about it, not when it revealed certain things about him, and still less to someone as sharp and intelligent as Inara.
Still, not answering was also revealing, so he said, trying not to sound reluctant, ‘I make a lot of decisions that impact a lot of people and I have to do that every day. Tending to a few plants that don’t require much beyond watering and some nutrients is a nice change.’
‘I see.’ She glanced around at the pots scattered everywhere. ‘Are all these yours?’
‘Yes.’ She was standing quite close and he caught a faint hint of delicate musk in the air, along with the flowery scent of her shampoo. It sent a thread of heat through him.
‘Wow. They look amazing.’
She sounded genuine, and when he glanced at her the expression on her face made it clear that her admiration was, in fact,genuine. And he was shocked by the warmth that bloomed abruptly behind his breastbone, as if part of him enjoyed her praise. As if he almost...needed it.
And why not, when you never had any as a boy? Only relentless, constant criticism.
That was true. He hadn’t had much praise in his life, not as a boy and not as a man. He’d more often been told of the many ways he didn’t measure up, never about the things he did that were right, and in the end he’d stopped caring. What was the point in trying to measure up to a standard you’d never achieve? Or constantly trying to be something you weren’t? Better to embrace who you actually were instead. Accept yourself, as no one else would.
He’d told himself he didn’t need to be praised, that he didn’t care what anyone thought of him, and he believed that. So he had no idea why this one woman’s obvious delight in his house plants should please him so much. It was ridiculous.
No, you know why. Her opinion hasalways been important. Right from the very first moment she climbed into your limo and looked at you like you were her own personal saviour.
‘It’s just water and the right fertiliser,’ he said dismissively, ignoring the voice in his head.
‘No, it’s not.’ Inara shook her head, staring down at the cherry blossom he’d been pruning. ‘If it was that simple, all my plants wouldn’t die. I have a black thumb.’ Gently she reached out and touched one of the blossoms on the tree. ‘Numbers I can figure out. But taking care of a plant, not so much.’
‘Numbers are slightly more important than keeping a few house plants alive.’
She lifted a shoulder. ‘I guess. Sometimes. But they’re not exactly practical, are they?’
He remembered suddenly a similar discussion they’d had years ago, about her university studies. She’d been having a small crisis of confidence about her master’s thesis and he’d tried to encourage her, even though he’d had no idea how he, a man who was more interested in parties and women, could possibly make her feel better about her own phenomenal intellectual abilities.
He’d made a joke out of it, made her laugh, though he’d known even back then it was simply to cover up his own inadequacies.
Now, he didn’t feel so inadequate, yet it was clear she still had the same doubts. Where had those come from?
Ah, but he knew. Her family. They’d been so obsequious when he’d married her, both parents bowing and scraping, and making much of the fact that they’d never expected their daughter to do so well for herself as to marry a prince. They hadn’t cared that he was over ten years her senior. They hadn’t seemed to care much about their fiercely intelligent daughter at all, or know what to do with her beyond marrying her off for social gain.
You didn’t really know what to do with her either.
He did now. He was going to turn her into his queen.
‘I’m sure we can find some practical applications,’ he said. ‘And in the meantime, with a bit of polish and some deportment lessons, you’ll do a very fine and practical job of being a queen.’
Inara glanced up at him, her expression solemn. ‘I’m going to try, Cassius. I promise.’
He could feel the warmth of her body. See the pulse beating at the base of her pale throat. She stood so close to him that the curve of her breast nearly pressed against his arm.
Heat licked through him, and just like that his control was hanging by a thread. And he knew that all the concentration in the world on his damn plants wasn’t going to make a difference. That he wanted her right here, right now. On the floor before the empty fireplace. Her clothes ripped away, those delicate limbs wrapped around him, her body welcoming his, clutching him tightly as he drove himself inside her. Giving him pleasure for just a little while...
But no. That was the man talking. The flawed, selfish man, motivated by his own crude appetites and base emotions. He couldn’t allow the man to gain control again.
A king was above that. A king was better than that. He had to be. And so must Cassius.
He put down the scissors carefully and straightened. ‘I think tonight I’ll allow you some time to get comfortable in the Queen’s private apartments.’ His voice was cold, but he couldn’t help that. ‘If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to let the palace staff know.’
Then he strode from the room before the thread on his control snapped completely.