‘Adonis...’ she began softly.
But he went on, implacable. ‘My father was determined to teach me a lesson. He thought I was far too emotional and that enemies would be able to use those emotions against me, so he made it his mission to excise that weakness from me.’
The foreboding that hadn’t quite gone away tightened its grip on her.
She didn’t want to ask, but then, she didn’t need to, because he went on anyway,
‘Xenophon kidnapped Xerxes and interrogated him, tortured him. He pretended to be an enemy, using my voice as a way to break my little brother. I was put in the next room and ordered not to intervene. I had to listen to him scream. My will had to be strong enough to withstand him being used as a weapon against me. My first duty was to my throne, not to him.’
Shock washed through her, a bucket of ice water dumped over her head.
This was the reason he was so hard and so cold. She didn’t know much about King Xenophon, only that he’d been an old-style king, harsh and militaristic in his ways. But this brutal? Torturing his own sons? Because that was what Adonis was describing. Actual torture. And not only the torture of his brother, but the torture of himself too.
‘That’s terrible,’ she said, an instant and fierce protectiveness rising inside her. Because of what he’d suffered. Because of what his father had put him through. Because of what he’d become. ‘That’s abuse.’
‘It was necessary,’ his voice was even icier now, ‘because to break would have been to prolong Xerxes’s pain.’
‘What about your pain?’ She knew she sounded demanding, but she was angry and couldn’t hide it. ‘What kind of father would do that to his own children?’
‘He wasn’t a father,’ Adonis said relentlessly, ‘he was a king. Just as I ceased to be his son, only his heir. Emotion can be used as a weapon and so I had to rid myself of it.’
‘So that was his excuse?’ She couldn’t shut herself up. ‘That was his justification for hurting you? The fact that emotions can be used against you?’
‘He said that our enemies would have no mercy and so he couldn’t have any.’ Adonis’s thick black lashes were a stark contrast to the blue of his eyes. ‘He wasn’t wrong. Our enemies had no mercy. They tortured my mother because they knew I would break.’
‘But that was years ago—’
‘Xerxes was captured while on a mission with his platoon,’ he interrupted in the same cold tone. ‘Our father refused a rescue mission. He was certain Xerxes had been captured in order to draw me out.’ A muscle jumped in Adonis’s hard jaw. ‘I knew I should have put my duty as heir first, but I couldn’t let them have my little brother. So I disobeyed my father’s orders and mounted a rescue mission. I was successful, but Xenophon wouldn’t have any of it. He made me choose once and for all—the throne or exile. He would make Xerxes his heir instead.’
Anna took a shaken breath, fury making it difficult to speak. ‘He would have disowned you? Because you rescued your brother?’
Adonis’s face remained granite, his eyes hard jewels. There was no softness in him anywhere. ‘A king has to put his country before his feelings. Before his family. Before everything. Besides, exile was kinder to Xerxes than the throne would have been. The lessons my father would have taught him would have destroyed him. I was born for this. It is my duty. I chose to remain his heir.’ Adonis paused. ‘Xerxes didn’t know, but it was that decision that got him banished. My father put him out of my reach once and for all.’
Cold wound through the heat of her anger like a slow-moving frost, cold as the wintry blue of his eyes.
Dear God, the horror of it. No wonder this man was so icy, so hard. He hadn’t just learned his father’s lessons, he’d become them. They’d turned him to stone.
‘I am telling you all of this so that you understand,’ Adonis went on, his tone utterly flat. ‘A king cannot allow himself to be a man. To feel as a man would. To love as a man would. A king must put his country before everything, even his own family.’
His harshness felt like an arrow to her chest, piercing her. Was that what he was trying to say? That he could have nothing for himself? Nothing for the man? He could have all the power and authority, but there could be no friendship. No laughter. No love.
The nuns might have been distant, but even they had smiled and laughed. Even they had shown her what peace looked like and given her a taste of happiness.
But he hadn’t tasted it. He didn’t even know what it looked like. How could he? When his father had stripped him of all emotion? His childhood ripped away, a boy tortured for the sake of a throne, and all because of one mistake...
Her eyes pricked with tears, the ferocity of her anger at what had been done to him choking her. ‘You know you’ve been brainwashed, don’t you?’ she said hoarsely. ‘That everything you’ve been told is a lie?’
An expression rippled across his face, gone too fast for her to tell what it was. ‘I brought you here, Anna,’ he went on as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘because first, you are pregnant with my child, and until that resolves itself one way or the other I want you out of harm’s way. And second... Ione needs a mother.’
Anna stared at him, her anger forgotten for a moment. ‘What?’
His hold on her hand tightened. ‘Ione knows you. She likes you, too, which makes you perfect. I want you to be my wife, Anna. Be my queen. Be the mother Ione needs.’
Another wave of shock hit her, stealing any breath remaining in her lungs. ‘But...you can’t want to marry me. I’m just a nun. I have vows I want to take.’
‘You’re pregnant. And you can’t take your vows if you have a child, most certainly not if that child is mine.’ His thumb brushed over the centre of her palm in a sensual stroke that, despite the shock, set all her nerve endings alight. ‘And you were right about Ione. She does need more than I can give. You care about her, you put her first.’ His gaze was focused, relentless. ‘She needs you more than the convent does. More than the Reverend Mother.’ Something hotter glittered abruptly in his eyes. ‘A convent is not the place for a woman like you, anyway. You’re passionate, intense. And I can give you everything you need to satisfy that passion.’
Sex, he was talking about sex. He didn’t mean any other kind of passion.
But you want more than that.
Yet the thought was a dim one, hazy, lost under the stunning surprise of his proposal and the vision of a different life that it had conjured up. A life she’d never thought she’d have and yet always wanted.
She could see it now: a husband and child; a family; a place where she belonged.
She’d thought she’d found that in the convent, with God as her husband and her family the church. But now that she considered it, there had always been something...passionless and detached about that vision. Something distant. There was no immediacy to it, no heat. No desire. No laughter and no joy. At least not for her.
There will be no joy with him either, you realise.
Anna stared into his blue eyes, pain winding tight. His childhood had been so bleak, abusive even. He wouldn’t even know what joy was. But if there was ever someone who needed to learn, it was him. His father had brainwashed him into thinking his emotions were the enemy, but if he could learn how to isolate himself, he could also unlearn it. He’d already given in to the passion inside him, so perhaps he could also allow himself other things. Such as happiness and warmth. Joy and laughter.
Love.
And why not love? Who loved him? His brother did, but that was a sibling’s love. His daughter loved her father, yes, and his people loved the king, but who loved the man?
You can.
The thought had sharp edges, cutting her in places that were far too vulnerable and exposed, but she ignored them. Yes, she could love him. That was possible. No, it was necessary. He hadn’t had enough love in his life from the sounds of it, and he nee
ded it. And so did his little girl. He had no one else to give it to him. No one but her.
And the convent? Your vows?
He was right; the convent didn’t need her. She’d never fitted in there anyway. And the Reverend Mother had been right, too, to send her to Axios, to a king desperate for what she had so much of to give: love.
And what about you? Don’t you need it?
The warning was loud in her head because if he couldn’t put his daughter before his country, then he would never put her first. He would never give her in return what she could give him.
But maybe that didn’t matter. She’d gone years without it, and he had passion at least. Maybe in time that would change. And there was Ione to think about as well...
Was it even a choice?
‘Yes,’ she said, her voice only a little rough, staring into those cold, implacable blue eyes. ‘Yes, I will be your wife.’
The fire in his gaze leapt high. He let go of her hand, his arms coming around her, drawing her in against him, into his heat. Then he turned them both and she found herself lying beneath him, caged by heat, hard muscle, and smooth, velvety skin.
He was above her, his piercing gaze holding her captive. ‘Then you’ll be mine, little nun. And in return you will be queen, your nights full of all the pleasure I can give you, and your days spent with a little girl who desperately needs you. You have a home with me at the palace, I swear it.’
You will be his. But he will never be yours.
A shudder moved through her, a fault line inside her reminding her that there were cracks in her heart. Cracks that hadn’t healed and perhaps never would.
But it didn’t matter. Her heart, cracked or not, was big enough for all of them.
Conviction settled down inside her as she looked up into his strong face. Yes, she was here for a reason and that reason wasn’t just a small, excitable girl, but a man. A king. A lonely mountain who needed someone, even if that mountain didn’t know it yet himself.
And she knew that the vows she was meant to take were never supposed to be ones of chastity and sacrifice, and her vocation wasn’t to be part of the church. Her vows were those of marriage, and her vocation was to be with him. He was her church and she was meant to worship him.
She didn’t speak.
Instead she reached up and pulled him down, taking her first communion from his mouth.
* * *
Adonis decided not to return to the palace that day. Or indeed the next. Or even the one after that. Instructing Xerxes to take over for a couple of days, he didn’t bother with an explanation, merely telling his surprised brother that he was taking some time off. He also issued another order for Ione to be brought to the island after a couple of days, allowing himself and Anna to have some time together before they broke the news of their impending wedding to the little girl.
He told himself that keeping Anna with him was necessary because they needed to discuss how a marriage between them would work, nothing at all to do with the raw possessiveness that gripped him, making it impossible to keep his hands off her.
They spent that first day in bed, disturbed only by palace staff arriving with clothing and personal items for them both, not to mention stocking the place with food. And then the staff left, leaving them entirely alone.
So he indulged himself with her. Indulged himself utterly. She’d left his detachment in ruins the night she’d fainted in his arms, and since it had shattered so completely there wasn’t any point in rebuilding it. Not yet at least.
There would be plenty of time for that later, when they returned to the palace, and in the meantime he might as well let himself be a man for a little while. It was temporary. He’d rebuilt himself once before; he could do so again. And besides, if he gave his hunger for her free rein, perhaps it would ease their intense physical chemistry.
She certainly took delight in the lessons he gave her on how to please him, taking to them with relish and enthusiasm, cementing his opinion that the convent was not and had never been the place for her. She had far too much passion to lead the quiet life of celibacy required of a nun, and it made him rethink his position on the Reverend Mother sending her to him.
Perhaps his godmother knew more than he’d initially thought.
While he demanded her passion during the day, in the evenings he decided to cement their relationship further by cooking for her, much to her shock, which amused him. In fact, shocking her for his own amusement was getting to be moderately addictive, and, since she was getting harder to shock in bed, he found he had to demonstrate his talents elsewhere.
Cooking was one of those talents. His nanny had taught him right here in this very kitchen, with the scrubbed wooden table and herbs, and pots and pans hanging from a wooden frame above it. She’d been of the opinion that a man needed a few practical skills and being able to feed himself was one of the most basic. Xenophon hadn’t approved, but Adonis had learned all the same, and discovered he had quite the talent for it.
Since ascending the throne, he never got a chance to cook, and rather to his own surprise he found himself appreciating the opportunity to do so now. Especially with Anna sitting at the table opposite him, watching him chop onions with wide eyes, making him want to show off like a thirteen-year-old boy in front of a girl he had a crush on.
‘I can’t believe you can cook,’ she said in awed tones.
‘My nanny taught me. She was a firm believer in a man being able to look after himself.’
Anna took a sip of the orange juice he’d poured for her, leaning her chin in one hand, watching him. ‘You enjoy it, don’t you?’
Did he? He never did anything for his own enjoyment, because his own enjoyment was never paramount. Yet...there was something about creating sustenance for her that pleased him.
‘There is something meditative about working with your hands,’ he admitted.
Her eyes gleamed. ‘I know how you can work with your hands.’
He smiled. Her fledgling attempts at flirtation were adorable. ‘What a naughty nun you are. Perhaps after dinner I can show you a few other things I can do with my hands.’
She flushed beautifully, her mouth turning up. ‘Perhaps I’ll even let you.’ Her gaze flickered to the flash of his knife on the chopping board and her smile faded. ‘I never learned how to cook. The nuns wouldn’t let me near the kitchen.’
There was a wistful note in her voice, making him pause in his chopping to stare at her lovely face. ‘You sound unhappy about that.’
‘Oh?’ She looked a little surprised. ‘Do I?’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t mean to. I suppose I was only thinking about how lovely it was that you had someone to teach you.’ She let out a breath, but didn’t offer more.
He put the knife down, unable to tear his gaze from the flicker of sadness in her grey eyes. She’d been fostered with the nuns, or so she’d told him that night in his office, which meant that she wouldn’t have had a family. And it was clear from the look on her face now that she felt the lack acutely.
It made his chest tighten with sympathy.
You feel the lack of yours too.
But how could he? He’d never had a family. All he’d had was a training regime.
‘You’ve been brainwashed... Everything you’ve been told is a lie...’
‘I know you were fostered by the nuns,’ he said, shoving that memory aside, ‘but did you ever make contact with your parents?’
Her smile vanished, her gaze dropping to the table top. ‘I couldn’t find my father. But I tracked my mother down a couple of years ago and yes, I made contact with her. I emailed her a few times, talked to her on the phone.’ Anna traced a small line in the condensation on the sides of her glass. ‘She seemed nice enough.’
He frowned, caught by the edge in her tone. ‘And?’
Her head tilted
, her concentration on the glass. ‘I wanted to meet her and she told me she wanted to meet me too. So I tried to organise a few meetings, but when the time came she would always cancel. I asked her why and she told that me that she already had a family and didn’t want to rake up the past again. Then she broke off all contact.’ Her voice grew tight. ‘I understood. It was hard for her.’
His own muscles tightened too because, while Anna might have said she understood, it was clear the rejection had struck her somewhere vulnerable deep inside. And he disliked the thought of her in pain. He disliked it intensely.
‘But you were hurt nonetheless,’ he said, not making it a question.
Anna lifted a shoulder as if that wasn’t relevant. ‘She’d had a hard life. It made sense that she didn’t want to have it all brought back to her.’
He noted the tension around her mouth and jaw. ‘Except you wanted to meet her, didn’t you?’ He wasn’t sure why he was pushing for information, especially since it was obviously an old wound and he didn’t want to reopen it, not to mention that her pain made him uncomfortable. But he couldn’t ignore it, either.
She gave another small sigh. ‘I would have liked to. I just...wanted to make contact with someone who was related to me, to see where I came from, that kind of thing. I felt out of place in the convent, so I wanted to know if I perhaps belonged elsewhere.’ She made a dismissive gesture. ‘But my mother was uncomfortable with that and so I let it go. It’s fine.’
But it wasn’t fine and he could see that.
‘Your mother might have had her reasons for not wanting to keep in contact with you, Anna, but that doesn’t make it any less a rejection. Especially one you didn’t deserve.’
‘That’s the issue though. Perhaps I did deserve it. I wasn’t very nice to her, you see. I told her that she owed me a meeting after getting rid of me and then she got upset and hung up on me.’ Anna sat back, her hands in her lap, and her shoulders hunched. ‘I shouldn’t have got so angry with her. It was the wrong thing to do.’
He could hear the bitterness in her tone, saw the hurt radiating from her. And he’d moved around the table towards her before he was even conscious of doing so.
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