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

CHAPTER EIGHT

INARACOULDN’TTHINKof anywhere she’d rather be than right here, in Cassius’s bed, beneath him, his gaze gone brilliant with hunger and desire, and all for her.

Yes, her.

She’d wondered why he’d kept his distance and, even though she’d shied away from thinking about it, some deep part of her had doubted. Doubted that, despite his lapse in the library at the Queen’s Estate, it hadn’t been about her. That it was just because he hadn’t had a woman in years. That he didn’t really want her after all.

It hadn’t been something she’d wanted to admit even to herself, though, so she’d deliberately pushed it away. The way he’d carried her into his bedroom had relieved her somewhat, but the deeper doubt had remained.

Until he’d given her the truth. She was the reason he’d kept his distance. Not because he didn’t want her, but because he did. Too much.

You make me remember how I used to be.

That admission troubled her, caught at her, made her want to know more. Because there had been something conflicted in his voice, as if remembering who he used to be was a bad thing. As if he wasn’t that person any more and was now someone different.

He is different. He changed when he became king.

He had. He’d become so distant, so...not cold, precisely, but chilly. As if there were oceans between him and everyone else. She’d assumed that was just part of being a king, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe there was something more to it.

Except it was difficult to think of that now, with him crouched over her like a beast, his brilliant, hungry gaze on hers.

Aftershocks of pleasure still jolted through her. After the intense climax he’d given her with his mouth right there in front of the fire, she’d thought it wasn’t possible to be ready for another so soon. How wrong she was. The way he looked at her, as if he wanted to eat her alive, made her whole body tighten with need and desire.

‘Anything,’ she said thickly, staring up at him, meeting his fierce stare with her own. ‘You can have anything. I promised and I meant it.’

She did mean it. She’d never been so sure of anything in her life. She had no experience whatsoever, not like he did, but that didn’t matter. He’d keep her safe. She knew that on an almost cellular level. There was nothing he could do to her that she wouldn’t want, nothing that she wouldn’t enjoy.

She wasn’t afraid of him or what he might to do her in the slightest.

It’s not your body you should be worried about. It’s your heart.

The thought was a cold thread cutting through the heat, and she didn’t want it there, so she ignored it.

That didn’t matter—not here, not right now.

Slowly Cassius straightened, still watching her with that hungry amber gaze. He lifted his hands to the buttons of his shirt and began to undo them, slowly, teasing her, and she loved it—the slow reveal of his bare chest as the cotton parted, letting her see at last the hard, ridged lines of his chest and abdomen, sharply defined, as though he’d been chiselled from rock by a master sculptor.

She pushed herself up, hungry to touch him, but almost as soon as she put her hands on his hot, smooth skin he grabbed her wrists and pushed her back down against the mattress.

‘No.’ His voice was rough and guttural. ‘Not yet.’

‘Oh, but I—’

‘You’ll get your turn, I promise. But I’m too hungry for you to do that right now. My self-control isn’t limitless where you’re concerned.’

She loved that too. That she really could test him. That his desire for her was apparently just as hungry as hers was for him. It made her feel strong, a current of unexpected power running through her. That she, the failure, the girl her parents had never particularly wanted, could tempt a king.

She wanted to tease him the way he was teasing her, so she gave him what she hoped was a flirtatious look from beneath her lashes. ‘Hurry up then, Your Majesty. I’m getting impatient.’

Then she wondered if she’d done something wrong, because he stared at her for a few seconds with that blank expression she was beginning to think was his default when he was shocked. But, just as a flush of embarrassment threatened, his beautiful, sensual mouth curled in the most devastating smile she’d ever seen.

He’d never smiled like that at her. In fact, it had been three years since she’d seen him smile, full-stop.

Her heart twisted, giving one hard, desperate beat, and she swore in that moment that, if nothing else, she’d spend the rest of their marriage trying to make him smile like that again. No—she’d dedicate her entire life to it. He was so beautiful when he smiled. Warm and wicked and unbelievably sexy. No wonder he’d had a never-ending stream of women all queuing for a night in his bed.

‘Are you perhaps teasing me, little one?’ His voice was low and rough, a velvet growl.

‘Maybe.’ She felt triumphant, as if she’d won a Nobel prize. ‘Though it’s not the done thing, is it? To tease a king?’

Cassius shrugged out of his shirt and let it fall, his hands dropping to the belt on his trousers. ‘No, it’s not. Kings are very serious and hate being teased.’ He began to unfasten his belt. ‘There are laws, you know. And consequences.’

Inara was thrilled. Who’d have thought that she’d love flirting? Because that was what they were doing, wasn’t it? They were flirting. And, unlike that night in the library when she’d been so uncertain, she wasn’t uncertain now. Not when it was clear he was enjoying this as much as she was.

‘Consequences?’ She took in his hard-muscled torso before focusing on what his hands were doing with his belt—undoing it, pulling it from the belt loops and discarding it. ‘What kind of consequences are there for teasing a king?’

He pulled down the zip of his fly. ‘Give me five minutes and I’ll show you.’

‘Five minutes?’ Inara’s mouth went dry as he shifted on the bed, pushing his trousers down and taking his underwear with them. ‘Is that all?’

Cassius laughed, roughly, deeply and unbelievably sexily. ‘Not a response I’m familiar with, I have to say.’

Inara blinked, staring at that most male part of him, all flirtatious banter instantly going out of her head. Back in the library she hadn’t had a chance to see him properly, hadn’t even had a chance to touch him, but now... Oh, now...

‘I didn’t mean th-that,’ she stuttered, sitting up as he got off the bed to get rid of the rest of his clothes, then reaching for him as he came back, stretching himself out over her. ‘I meant...’

‘I know.’ He caught her wrists once again and put them down on either side of her head as he eased his big, muscled body between her thighs. ‘Time to stop talking now.’

And, before she could say another word, his mouth was on hers, hot and demanding, ravaging her mouth. She tried to kiss him back, but he gave her no quarter, conquering her so completely that she simply surrendered, letting him take whatever he wanted.

Then his hands were sliding beneath her, lifting her hips, and she felt him thrust into her, a long, deep slide that made her cry out in pleasure.

It was different from before. Then, she’d been on top of him, his hands on her hips gripping her so that, even though they had been joined, there had been a distance between them.

Now, there was no distance. She was surrounded by him, by his heat and his scent, by the rough sounds of his ragged breathing and the exquisite friction of him moving inside her. There was no pain now and no awkwardness or uncertainty. Only a growing intensity, a longing that gripped her as tightly as he did.

She put her hands on his powerful shoulders, feeling the flex and release of hard muscle, the strength in him a wild thrill she’d never imagined. And she hung on, wanting to get closer, even closer than they were already, because it wasn’t enough.

‘C-Cassius.’ His name was both a hoarse prayer and a plea, though for what she had no idea.

But it was clear that he knew, because his mouth was on hers again, kissing her as he moved, driving her relentlessly towards the edge a second time.

Then everything began to fray around the edges, pleasure blooming inside her like the most intricate and elegant of equations, the solution to it so, so close. So very, very close...

It was him, wasn’t it? He was the solution. He was the answer to every question, every problem, every difficulty she’d ever had. It was him.

It had always been him.

Inara wrapped her arms around his neck, desperate to hold onto him, unable to escape the feeling that, once this was over, she’d lose him. That this sexy, wicked man would slip away, turning once more into a king.

But nothing was going to stop the climax from happening and, when he slipped his hand between her thighs, stroking her gently, she could feel herself break, shattering like a fragile piece of glass thrown onto a tiled floor.

She sobbed as the pleasure overwhelmed her and she broke apart. She was only dimly aware of him letting go of the leash on himself, slamming into her hard, fast and out of rhythm, until she felt his teeth against her shoulder, a growl of pleasure escaping him as the climax came for him too.

For a while after that, time drifted and Inara let herself simply lie in his arms, enjoying having him so close, holding her, his body pressed the length of hers, his breath ghosting over her skin. She lay underneath him, safe and protected by his strength, and there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

Right now, he wasn’t distant or chilly. He wasn’t the King. He wasn’t even wicked Prince Cassius, scourge of the bedrooms of Europe. He was just Cassius, her lover, another side of him that she’d newly discovered. Another part of him that she’d fallen in love with.

She let out a soft breath.

Perhaps this marriage would work. Perhaps it would be okay. During the day he might be a distant king, and she’d have to concentrate hard on learning how to be his queen. But all that would be bearable if she could have Cassius, her lover, at night.

If they had this, then surely she didn’t need anything else?

Finally, he stirred, lifting his head and looking down at her, examining her critically. Then he smiled that devastating smile again, the one that set her heart racing and her pulse sky-rocketing.

‘You said I could do anything to you, didn’t you?’ Desire burned in his gaze.

Inara swallowed, feeling that longing for him begin all over again. ‘Yes.’

‘Good.’ Then he flipped her over onto her stomach and covered her with his body.

Cassius kept Inara up most of the night, sating his pleasure and hers in as many ways as he could think of which, considering the wide breadth of his experience, was quite a few. Eventually she fell into an exhausted sleep and he let her, though he didn’t sleep himself.

He was content to hold her, aware of nothing but how good her warm, silky body felt against his, and how calming he found the soft, regular sound of her breathing. It was good, too, to think of nothing. To be nothing more in this bed than a man holding a woman.

But as dawn came he knew he couldn’t afford to stay being a mere man, that he would have to be King again in a few short hours, and he couldn’t prepare himself adequately for that while she was in his arms.

So he shifted without waking her, slipping from the bed and pulling on his trousers, moving out of the bedroom and walking down the stone corridors to his study.

The first rays of morning light were shining through the windows, the sound of the sea wild outside.

It was his morning ritual to tend to his plants. It calmed his mind and settled him for the day ahead, allowing him to put aside his own petty concerns and feelings and to become the king he needed to be.

It usually worked.

But this morning he couldn’t concentrate. His mind was too full of Inara and the memories of the night before. Of her skin beneath his hands and the delicate scent of her arousal. Of her cries and sobs of pleasure and the husky way she’d said his name. The way she had made good on her promise, letting him do whatever he wanted to her, and clearly loving every moment of it. There had been no fear in her, only absolute trust. It had shone in her eyes so brightly, it made something in his chest ache.

He didn’t deserve it. He’d married her because it had made him feel good that she’d looked at him as if he was her saviour, not out of any real concern for her, and then, apart from a few visits, he’d forgotten about her. For years. Then he’d tried to get rid of her with a divorce, only reluctantly agreeing to stay married when circumstances had forced him to...

But that’s you all over, isn’t it? You only take responsibility when you’re forced to.

Cassius gritted his teeth, trying to get his thoughts under control as he examined the small azalea he was in the process of sculpting.

He shouldn’t be thinking about this. He should be thinking about the day ahead and the things he had to do, not his own personal failings—of which there were many, naturally, but he didn’t let them get in the way of his job.

He’d dedicated the last three years of his life to not doing that.

But aren’t you doing it again? Letting her get to you?

Cassius snipped off a small branch. No, a delay in settling his thoughts was not letting her get to him. Another half an hour and he’d be fine. He wouldn’t think of her again for the rest of the day.

She needs more guidance. What are you going to do? Ignore her for another week? Sabotage her chances of being the kind of queen you wanted?

Without thinking, Cassius snipped off another branch, realising only at the last minute that it wasn’t one he’d meant to cut. Muttering a filthy curse, he tried to haul his mind back to the task at hand and not let it get distracted by Inara, but then he heard the sound of the door opening then closing behind him.

He didn’t turn. He knew who’d come in. He could smell her warm scent getting closer, making his body harden instantly.

‘What are you doing in here?’ Inara asked.

He wanted very much to drop his scissors, turn round and take her back to bed to replay some of his favourite memories from the night before, but it was morning. A new day. And in an hour or two his presence would be required and he would need to act like a king instead of a hormonal teenage boy. He’d have to explain his abrupt absence from the ball the night before, for a start.

‘I’m preparing myself for the day,’ he said, without looking around. ‘Go back to bed, little one.’

Inara ignored him, coming closer, and then a small, warm hand rested lightly on the bare skin of his back.

‘What kind of tree is that?’ she asked curiously, peering at the azalea on the shelf in front of him. ‘It’s very pretty.’

Every thought went straight out of his head. All he could think about was her hand on his skin and how it made him burn. How it made him want. As if all the desires he’d successfully managed to contain for years were in danger of bursting out.

She’s put a crack in your control.

No, that wasn’t true. He hadn’t been at all controlled the night before, admittedly, but that had been purposeful. He’d consciously put being a king aside and let himself be a man for once.

He could put the man aside at any time. It wasn’t a problem. Still, he shifted minutely, causing her hand to drop away. His attention was on the tree, but he could feel the surprise radiating from her. He told himself he didn’t feel the warmth lingering on his skin from her casual touch.

A silence fell.

Cassius made another precise snip with the scissors.

‘You’re him again, aren’t you?’ Inara’s voice was very quiet.

He examined the cut he’d made. ‘Him? What do you mean?’

‘You’re the King again.’

‘I’m always the King.’ He ignored the thread of what sounded like disappointment in her voice. ‘I don’t stop being him.’

‘But you never wanted to be. You told me your brother was welcome to the job. That you’d rather die than have it.’

He remembered that conversation, over a long and leisurely lunch at the townhouse she’d lived in before he’d ascended the throne. She’d asked him in her usual blunt, curious way about whether he was disappointed at being younger than his brother by a few minutes and whether he’d ever want to be King.

‘Caspian is welcome to it. Personally, I’d rather die than have the job.’

A throwaway comment. Such a careless remark, when a year later...

It should have been you. You’re the one who should have died. But you didn’t. It was your brother who took your place, the way he always did.

Everything in him went tight and sharp and hot, and before he could stop himself he said, ‘Yes, well, as it turned out it wasn’t me who died. Caspian took that honour and I got the job anyway.’

He hadn’t meant to sound so bitter and as soon as the words were out he wished he hadn’t said them. They revealed too much. But it was too late and he knew it.

In the echoing silence he could feel her looking at him. He didn’t look back, concentrating on the tree instead.

‘Why did you take it, Cassius?’

He didn’t want to talk about this, not when he had less than an hour before he had to be in his office. So he couldn’t understand why he answered her. ‘Because there was no one else.’

‘But didn’t you have a cousin somewhere? Couldn’t she have taken the throne?’

This had to stop.

He dropped the scissors and turned.

Inara was standing right next to him, her silvery hair loose down her back, and she was wearing his shirt from the night before. It was far too big for her, the sleeves rolled up hugely, the hem almost reaching her knees.

It should have looked ridiculous. Instead, she was so indescribably beautiful it made his chest hurt and that primitive, possessive thing inside him growl with satisfaction.

She wore his shirt and she smelled like him.

Yours.

Oh, yes, she was. Which made this battle with himself and his desires pointless, an old pattern of behaviour he didn’t need, not now. She was his wife; she was living with him; she’d be in his bed every night. Which meant that, while during the day he had to be the King, at night he didn’t. He could be himself. And it wasn’t losing self-control. It was only sex, only relaxing after a hard day’s work. After all, every other person on the planet did it; why couldn’t a king?

‘No,’ he said. ‘My cousin couldn’t take the throne because it was my responsibility.’ He put the scissors back on the shelf. ‘A throne isn’t like any other job, Inara. It’s a duty. You can’t just decide not to do it because it’s too hard or you don’t like the work. It’s not about you at all. It’s about the role, the responsibility you have to your subjects.’

Her brow wrinkled. She had her glasses on again and her luminous grey eyes seemed less red. Clearly the contacts she’d been wearing had irritated her eyes. He made a mental note to let the stylist know that the Queen preferred glasses. He should never have made her wear contacts.

‘But Aveiras didn’t want you,’ she pointed out bluntly. ‘You could have passed it on to someone else and they would have been fine with it.’

A formless anger simmered inside him, an anger he hadn’t been aware of before, and yet it tasted familiar. As if it had been there all this time.

‘Careful,’ he said. ‘Be very careful what you say.’

‘Why?’ She looked stubborn, determination glittering in her eyes. ‘Does no one ever talk to you about these things? Does no one ever question you?’

‘No, they don’t.’ The anger twined with the embers of his desire, creating something hotter, more demanding. ‘I’m the King.’

‘Actually,’ Inara said, ‘I’m beginning to wonder if you’re not so much a king as a world-class martyr.’

Something jolted hard inside him, as if she’d struck him, and the simmering anger and desire began to boil over.

Cassius reached for her, pulling her hard up against him. ‘Don’t push it, Inara,’ he growled. ‘I’m not the Prince any more. You can’t—’

‘Well, you should be.’ She stared at him as if he was no threat to her whatsoever. As if his anger was nothing. As if he was just a normal man she was arguing with and not the leader of an entire nation. ‘At least that prince was honest with himself. He didn’t nail himself to the cross of duty like you’re doing right now.’

‘Of course he didn’t,’ Cassius ground out before he could stop himself. ‘Because that prince hadn’t yet killed his brother.’

Inara’s pretty mouth opened in a soft O of surprise, her eyes going wide. Her hands were on his chest, her palms like hot coals on his bare skin. ‘What? What do you mean, he hadn’t killed his brother?’

Let her go. Walk away.

He should. But the anger needed to do that had gone, leaving in its place only a burning desire to tell someone. He’d kept it a secret for so long, a heavy weight he’d been dragging around for years, and he was tired of it. So very tired. And he had no one else to tell. A king didn’t have friends or confidantes; a king had no one but himself and his own secrets. But his secrets were eating him alive.

So who better to tell than the person who knew him better than anyone else? The person he’d always been honest with, always himself?

‘Caspian wasn’t supposed to be on the helicopter that day,’ he said roughly. ‘I was. But I made him swap places with me because I had a hangover and I didn’t want to go.’

Shock rippled over Inara’s lovely face. ‘Oh, Cassius.’

He didn’t know what kind of response he wanted from her, but it wasn’t the pity he heard in her voice. She shouldn’t pity him. She should be horrified. Not only because of how he’d sent his brother to his death, but his parents as well.

He let her go. Suddenly, he didn’t want her warmth near him, touching him. Reminding him of all the things he couldn’t allow himself to have. Because he didn’t deserve it, not any of it.

‘The trip to the mountains that day was my fault too.’ He stripped the emotion completely from his voice so all that was left was the truth. ‘My father was displeased with my behaviour and wanted me to see the tombs of the de Leon kings so I was aware of the legacy I was supposed to uphold. I hated all the rules I was supposed to obey. All the limitations on what I could say, on what I could do. I wasn’t the heir so I didn’t see why I should have to follow them.’

Inara opened her mouth, but he held up a hand, silencing her. She might as well know everything now.

‘My father told me I had to come on the trip, that I wasn’t allowed to say no. But I was angry with him, so I made Caspian go in my stead. My brother wouldn’t have been on that helicopter if it hadn’t been for me. In fact, there would have been no trip at all if it hadn’t been for me and my terrible behaviour. My entire family would still be alive.’

Her mouth had gone so soft, her eyes liquid. ‘Cassius...’

‘So you can call me a martyr all you like,’ he went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘But my father and my brother left me a legacy, and I will continue that legacy, to the best of my ability, for as long as I can. I will be the king my brother never got a chance to be and I will continue to do that until the day I die. It will be my memorial to them.’

Her expression twisted and she reached out a hand to him, but he was done. He’d got rid of his secret, he’d told her, and now that was over he had a job to do.

‘I will see you tonight, little one.’ He found a thread of his usual calm and held on tightly to it. ‘In the meantime, I have a job to do.’

And, ignoring her hand, he turned on his heel and went out.