The Wedding Night They Never Had by Jackie Ashenden, Millie Adams

CHAPTER SEVEN

INARA’SHEARTWASbeating very fast. The awful, sick feeling in her stomach and the tightness in her chest that she’d felt in the ballroom had vanished, both feelings melting away as soon as Cassius’s arms came around her, holding her tight.

The evening had started awfully the moment Cassius had led her into the ballroom, and from there it had gone from awful to terrible, then to even worse. She hadn’t been able to remember anyone’s names, and her attempts at conversation had only prompted frowns, strange looks and judgmental stares. No one had been friendly. No one had smiled. Everything the etiquette people had taught her had gone completely out of her head and she’d felt paralyzed, certain that the moment she opened her mouth she’d only make it worse.

She hadn’t wanted to move, in case she’d tried to curtsey instead of shaking hands or stood accidentally on someone’s foot. Her eyes had been sore because the contact lenses were irritating, and her head had hurt because the pins in her hair were digging into her scalp. She wasn’t used to wearing the tall silver heels they’d given her to wear, either—they’d made her feel as if she were wearing a pair of stilts.

And through it all, his arm like iron beneath her fingertips, had moved Cassius. Tall and broad, as unreachable and untouchable as Mount Everest. She’d wanted to impress him so badly, yet every time she’d opened her mouth or taken a step she’d made some mistake. And he’d seen. He’d watched her fail, fail and fail.

Failing her parents was one thing, but failing him was quite another.

It cut her to the bone.

He’d lost his family, had had to pick up a duty he’d never asked for, and the least she could do for him was to give him a queen he could be proud of.

But then she’d knocked that woman’s elbow and wine had gone everywhere, splashing her beautiful dress and causing a scene. Reminding her of that garden party years ago, when she’d tried her best to catch the eye of the duke’s son, only to stammer and forget every rule of conversation the instant he’d spoken to her. She’d been so embarrassed that she’d run away.

Back then she’d been young, only sixteen, yet tonight she’d had no such excuse. She was now an adult and a queen, and she should have stayed in the ballroom and dealt with the mess she’d made, not bolted like a frightened rabbit.

In fact, she’d been on the point of mustering her courage to go back when Cassius had appeared. Everything in her had tightened as she’d braced herself for his judgment and then...it hadn’t come.

He’d seemed angry, coming over to where she’d sat on the cold stone bench, his gaze full of fire. But he hadn’t given her a tirade. Instead, he’d shocked her by draping his jacket around her shoulders then picking her straight up in his arms.

And it had come as another shock to realise that he was only angry with himself. He’d taken responsibility for the entire evening.

That shouldn’t have surprised her. He’d assumed a duty he’d never wanted, becoming king because of a tragic accident. It had always puzzled her that he’d done that because, although he had been next in line to the throne, he hadn’t had to take it. There were others he could have handed the responsibility on to, yet he hadn’t. Some would have said it was power he was after, but Inara knew he wasn’t that kind of man. He never had been.

So why did he take it?

But she didn’t have an answer to that and, with his sharp, intense gaze on her, the question began to fray and break apart.

She was in his arms in her glittering, wine-soaked dress, after having made a fool of herself in front of his entire court, and yet instead of yelling at her he’d told her it was his fault and now he was carrying her into his bedroom...

‘Why?’ The question came out breathily as he strode into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. ‘You changed your mind when I first arrived, so why now?’

He moved over to the tall stone fireplace, a blaze leaping in the grate. It looked as though it had been freshly lit, and she was aware all of a sudden that she’d been cold sitting in the pavilion. Yet she wasn’t cold now. His arms were strong, his hard chest like hot stone. His jacket around her shoulders was warm too, and it smelled of him, a masculine spice with an earthier scent that was all Cassius.

Her mouth went dry, a bone-deep, physical longing curling through her. It was very hard to think about what had happened earlier and her own conflicted feelings when he was here, he was holding her and it was very apparent what he intended to do.

Gently, he put her down in front of the fire, which quite frankly felt like a crime when she wanted to stay in his arms and never leave.

‘Because I thought it best to give you some time to become accustomed to palace life.’ He moved behind her, easing his jacket from her shoulders.

Inara shivered as his fingertips brushed her bare skin, the physical longing becoming deeper and more insistent. It was getting difficult to think, and part of her just wanted to surrender, to let the desire overtake her, because she’d done nothing but think all night and she was tired of it. She wanted to escape. Numbers had always been that escape, but it wasn’t the stark purity of numbers she wanted now. She only wanted him.

Except...he wasn’t giving her the entire truth, was he? He’d changed his mind so abruptly that day in his study after making all those grand proclamations. Why? It wasn’t simply because he wanted to give her some time to adjust, she was sure. He’d walked away from her so quickly after she’d got close to him...

‘No,’ she said huskily, staring at the flames leaping high in the fireplace, every sense concentrated on the man standing behind her, on the heat of his body and the scent of him that wrapped around her, making her feel so safe, the way it always had. ‘That’s not the reason.’

His fingers moved in her hair, carefully extracting each painful pin. ‘The reason doesn’t matter.’

Her hair began to come down, slipping over her shoulders, her scalp aching in relief as he pulled away the tiara, dropping it onto a nearby armchair.

‘Yes, it does.’ She shivered as his fingers wound into her hair, combing through it. ‘At least, it matters to me. You could have come for me any time this week and you didn’t.’

‘The time wasn’t right.’

Inara turned, looking up into his familiar, achingly beautiful face. He was so very tall, built so broad, so muscular. A warrior who could crush her without even thinking. But he wouldn’t. All that magnificent male strength was tightly leashed, so painstakingly controlled.

Everythingabout him was so painstakingly controlled.

He didn’t used to be, remember? He used to be much more relaxed, so much...happier.

Yet there was nothing of the man he’d once been in his face. The duties of kingship had stripped it all away, taking that happiness with it.

Her heart ached with a sudden, painful realisation. She’d never thought much about him as a man. He’d always been a fantasy figure, a template on which she could hang her own longings and desires.

But he wasn’t a template. He wasn’t even a king—that was only a title. First and foremost, he was a man, and a complicated one at that.

She stared up into his level amber gaze. ‘It’s not about timing. You changed your mind very suddenly that night and then you left me alone for an entire week. You didn’t even respond to the messages I sent you.’

The expression on his face was set, and he radiated tension like the fire behind him radiated warmth, yet in his eyes were flames hotter than those in the grate.

She could feel herself begin to catch fire too, though she resisted the pull. This was too important, like the key to solving an equation she’d been studying and hadn’t found a solution to yet.

‘Turn around, little one,’ Cassius ordered, his voice very deep, his gaze turning from smoky amber into brilliant, burning gold. ‘The time for talking is over.’

Her whole body tightened with the need to obey him but she knew, if she did, if she let this moment pass, it would set a precedent for their marriage that would be difficult to depart from.

He’d told her he didn’t see her as a child any more, but even so he was still treating her like one. He was the one in charge, telling her what to do, where to go, that this was how it should be, and she’d accepted it. And not simply because he was her king, but because she’d so badly wanted his approval.

He’d taken control, but only because she’d let him.

And you’ll always be a child to him as long as you keep doing so.

Determination hardened inside her. If she continued to fall in with his wishes, to accept it every time he said no, then things would never change between them. He would continue to view her as his child bride, and their marriage would simply be an endless set of orders she obeyed, while he got to dictate everything.

Well, that ended tonight.

‘The time for talking is not over.’ Inara lifted her chin. ‘If you want me, Cassius, you need to tell me the truth.’

The flames in his eyes glowed brighter. ‘Are you trying to bargain with your king?’

His voice was calm, yet there was an edge to it, a note of warning that sent a small electric thrill through her, excitement gathering in her throat.

The growing intensity in him was making it harder to resist, but this mattered. She couldn’t let it go.

‘Maybe,’ she said, her breathing getting faster.

‘You can’t bargain with me, little one.’ His hands settled on her shoulders and gripped her gently but firmly, the heat of his touch stealing all the breath from her lungs. Then he turned her round so she faced the fire once more, with him at her back. ‘Kings take what they want. And they don’t accept bargains.’

Anticipation coiled low inside her, bringing with it a nagging, insistent ache. Tension crackled in the air around them, not the same tension that seemed to be holding him back, but something else. Something hot and electric. She’d felt it that night in the study, when he’d teased her, flirted with her, and she’d challenged him. He’d liked that then and she was sure he liked it now.

Maybe that was the key to unlocking him. Maybe she should take this further, play this game and see where it led. Maybe she’d get the truth out of him, and some power and respect for herself.

‘They don’t?’ She hoped she sounded more in control than she felt. ‘Surely if it was in this king’s interest he might?’

‘In my interest, hmm?’ His thumbs stroked over her bare shoulders, searing her skin, sending delicious chills through her. ‘And what have you got to bargain with?’

Inara closed her eyes, every sense focused on the man at her back and, despite the fact that he towered over her, all hard, masculine strength and power, she’d never felt so safe.

Yet at the same time she knew she was also in danger. Danger of the most exciting kind.

‘Tell me why you sent me away,’ she said huskily, ‘and I’ll let you do anything you want to me. Anything at all. You won’t need to ask. You can just take.’

Cassius stilled. Her skin beneath his fingers was soft, and very, very warm, and he felt like a starving beast he was so hungry.

He took a breath, then another, trying to focus on what she’d just said, because she couldn’t mean it. She couldn’t. She was small and delicate and very innocent. Too innocent. She couldn’t mean what he thought she meant.

‘You don’t want that,’ he said roughly. ‘You don’t know what you’re—’

‘I know exactly what I’m offering.’ She sounded almost...cool. As if she was the one with the control here, not him. ‘And I mean it, too. You can have me, all of me, for as long as you want, doing anything you want. I give you permission right now. All I want in return is for you to be honest with me.’

Her shoulders beneath his hand felt narrow and fragile, and yet the heat coming off her... She was hotter than the fire in front of them. And she smelled of sex and sin and all the things he’d denied himself. All the things he could have right now in the privacy of his own bedroom. No one to watch him. No one to see if he let himself be just a man for a few hours. Just for tonight. Just with her. She was his wife, after all. It was allowed.

Except she wouldn’t allow it unless he gave her the truth. He hadn’t expected her to want to know. He hadn’t expected her to be interested. What he’d expected was her complete surrender, the way she’d surrendered to him in the library that night. The way she’d surrendered out in the pavilion overlooking the sea, letting him scoop her into his arms.

He hadn’t expected her to question him or to hold out when he’d told her not to. He hadn’t expected her to push him.

The predator he’d once been growled low and hungry, liking this challenge to his authority. Liking her determination too, because he’d never been a fan of a pushover. He preferred women who knew what they wanted and weren’t afraid to say it. And it had been a long time since anyone had challenged him like this, because no one challenged the King.

Except, clearly, his queen.

‘Why are you so interested?’ He brushed aside the silvery mass of her hair, baring her nape before bending and pressing a kiss there. ‘I’ve given you the answer to your question.’

She shivered. ‘What you gave me was an excuse. And now you’re making this into a big deal.’

She’s not wrong.

He pressed another kiss to the top of her spine, inhaling the sweet scent of her body. His hunger was becoming more and more difficult to contain. The restraints he’d put on himself were starting to fray. If he hadn’t already given himself permission, it might have worried him, but he had given himself permission, and now all he felt was impatience.

Yes, he was making this into a big deal. What did it matter if she knew that she was the reason he’d kept his distance this week? It gave her a certain power over him that he was reluctant to let her have but, whether she knew it yet or not, she was already using that power over him right now, right here, in this room. And it was working.

Cassius had never taken a woman without permission, even when he’d been at his worst, and he certainly wasn’t about to start now, so he murmured in her ear, ‘Why did I change my mind that night? Why did I keep my distance all week? I think you know why already, little one.’

He took hold of the zip of her gown. ‘It was you. I changed my mind because of you. Because I want you. Because a good king is controlled and measured in all things and you make me forget that. You make me remember who I used to be and I cannot have that.’

Slowly he began to draw down the zip, the silvery fabric parting to reveal silky pale skin and the elegant curve of her back. She made no move to stop him, but he could feel her tremble. ‘But...why? Why can’t you remember who you used to be? What’s so bad about that?’

He didn’t want to get into that. Didn’t want to tell her the bitter truth about himself and how flawed he was. How he’d sent his own brother, his twin, to his death.

He never wanted to tell anyone about that.

So he unzipped her gown all the way and pushed it from her body, letting it fall at her feet in a pool of glittering wine-soaked fabric, leaving her wearing nothing but lacy underwear and silver high heels.

‘Cassius,’ she murmured, her voice sounding slightly uncertain.

He put his hands on her hips, drawing her back against his body and holding her there. ‘Not now,’ he said quietly in her ear. ‘I gave you what you wanted. It’s my turn now.’ Then he turned his head, brushing his mouth over the sensitive place between her shoulder and neck before biting her there lightly.

She gasped, so he bit her again, sliding his hands slowly and with care up her sides and then back down again, tracing the glorious feminine shape of her.

Delicate and finely made, his queen. She hadn’t yet become sharp and rigid and unbending, as he had. She was still hot and soft, like candle wax melting so beautifully under his touch. There was passion in his bride, so much of it, and she was going to give it all to him.

It was a gift, and he knew it. And not just her passion, but her trust too. Anything, she’d told him. He could do anything to her and she’d let him....

He nipped her again, gently, then dropped to his knees behind her, pressing kisses down her spine as his hands went to her hips, his fingers slipping under the waistband of her knickers. She gave a trembling sigh as he eased them down her legs to her ankles, helping her to step out of them and the miles of tulle of her gown. Then he swept the clothing aside so she stood free and unencumbered, naked but for the sexy silver heels.

She began to turn, but he gripped her, keeping her right where she was. ‘No. Stay still.’

Then he ran his palms down the outsides of her thighs to her knees, and then down further, tracing her calves and then her ankles. He could hear her breathing, fast and erratic, and she kept shifting on her feet. He stroked her again, from her ankles up to her hips then back down again, glorying in the feel of her skin. It had been so long since he’d touched a woman...

He frowned at her feet and the backs of her heels where the leather of her shoes had obviously rubbed, turning the skin red. ‘Are your feet sore?’

‘Only a little,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I’m not...used to heels.’

Another reminder if he needed one that tonight must have been a nightmare for her, and that he’d let it happen.

But he’d fix it. Right now, right here, he’d make it better, the way he used to, by giving her the only good thing he was capable of: pleasure.

‘You’re unbelievably sexy in those heels,’ he murmured, running his hands up her legs once more, pressing kisses to the small of her back. ‘But I can’t have them hurting you.’

‘Oh, it’s okay. I don’t mind. Not if you like them.’

‘I do like them. But I also mind that they’re hurting you.’ Sitting back on his heels, he closed his hand around one delicate ankle and lifted it, easing the shoe off, before doing the same to her other foot. Then he knelt there and began to touch her body, outlining every dip and curve with his fingertips. The narrow indentation of her waist and the soft roundness of her bottom. The sweet swell of hips and thighs. The delicate arcs of her shoulder blades and the graceful curve of her neck.

She shook as he traced her, but he didn’t rush it. He wanted to take his time, because if he was going to allow himself a whole night to indulge in her...with permission to do whatever he wanted...then he was going to make the most of it.

His hunger simmered as he fed it small bites. The velvet of the back of her neck. The petal softness in the crook of her elbow. The creamy taste of the small of her back as he pressed his tongue there.

Her breathing became louder and more erratic as he went on, and she leaned against him, as if she couldn’t hold herself upright any longer. But he’d only just started, and he wasn’t done with her yet, not even close.

When he’d explored every inch of her from behind, he turned her round to face him at last, staying on his knees because he wanted to savour her up close.

And what a sight she was, her pretty face flushed with heat, her silvery-grey eyes darkening into charcoal. She had the most perfect round, pink-tipped breasts, and the soft curls between her thighs were as silvery as the hair on her head.

His breath caught at the sight of her, the simmering hunger beginning to boil. He was so hard and so ready, but his long years of self-control had taught him well so, instead of picking her up and throwing her on the bed the way his sex was demanding, he stayed where he was, put his hands on her hips and drew her closer.

She reached for him, swaying on her feet, clutching at his shoulders, her gaze open and so full of longing and heat that for a second every thought went straight out of his head.

He’d seen an echo of that look before, every time he’d visited her. When she’d come rushing into the room to greet him, her face lit up, eyes shining. And it hit him all of a sudden that she’d been the brightest part of those years before his family had died.

He’d thought he was happy then, rebelling against his rigid upbringing and all the palace rules. Throwing them in his father’s face and indulging himself whenever and wherever he could.

But he hadn’t been happy. He’d been at war with his family...at war with the ideals that he felt had been forced on him...at war with his place in the world. He’d been living selfishly and a part of him knew it.

Really, the only time he’d ever felt true happiness was when he’d come to visit her. When she’d smiled at him, taking him out of his own petty grievances and pain. Distracting him, teaching him what it was to be interested in another person, not just himself.

He’d married her because of the way she’d looked at him that night in his limo, seeing in him something better, something worthy. A hero. A saviour. And that was how she’d continued to see him, no matter how awful or selfish he’d been. No matter how imperfect. No matter how flawed.

She saw the good in him and it gave him hope.

She wasn’t smiling now, but that same look was glowing in her eyes, only this time it was hotter and tinged with passion. And suddenly he was almost beside himself with desperation. To touch her, taste her, explore every part of her. Take her out of herself, the way she’d done to him.

To feel like he was worthy.

He pulled her closer, pressing his mouth to her stomach, licking her and then moving higher to take one of those little pink nipples into his mouth. She tasted so sweet, like strawberries and champagne from a long-lost summer, and when she groaned, arching into him, offering herself, she sounded even sweeter.

He was starving, desperate for her. Releasing her breast, he licked his way down her over her stomach to the soft, sensitive place between her thighs. She gasped as he nuzzled against her damp curls and then, when he slid his hands over the curves of her bottom to hold her steady, sliding his tongue through her slick folds, she cried out.

She was delicious, the best thing he’d tasted in his entire life, and he couldn’t get enough. She sagged against him, folding herself over him, panting out her pleasure, saying his name like a prayer as he explored all the delicate textures of her, silken, slick and hot.

And, as he lost himself in her, he had the oddest feeling that it was her sheltering him, her holding him up, rather than the other way around.

He wanted to hold her there for ever, forgetting everything but the sound of her cries and the taste of her on his tongue. But her pleasure was a double-edged sword, because her every cry sharpened his own hunger until he couldn’t stand it any more. He pushed his tongue deep inside her, gripping her hard as she cried out his name and convulsed in his arms.

He stayed where he was through sheer will power alone, holding her as she quietened. Only then did he rise to his feet, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her over to the bed.

Then he laid her on it and followed her down, putting one hand on either side of her head, stretching himself over her.

He looked down into her darkened eyes, tendrils of silver hair clinging to her damp forehead.

‘Time to make good on your bargain, little one,’ he growled.