by Casey, Ember
Suddenly, Justine twists her head and glares at me, the shock in her eyes replaced by pure anger.
“What’s gotten into you?” she demands.
Do you really have to ask that? I want to shout at her. After everything this bastard did to you? But despite my drunkenness, I haven’t forgotten where we are, or who else is here. I glance around at all the stunned faces of Rosvalia’s citizens. This isn’t the place to air Justine’s secrets, or to hash out our marital problems.
“I…I thought heard him threaten you,” I say finally. “I thought I saw a knife.”
A couple of people at the edge of the circle gasp and step back, pulling away from the man on the ground. One man raises his voice over the other sounds in the Hall.
“I’ll go call the Royal Guard, Your Highness,” he says. He disappears before I have the chance to stop him.
Justine’s mouth tightens at my blatant lie, but a second later, understanding flashes in her eyes. She glances around at the onlookers, and though her anger doesn’t appear to fade, she gives a small nod.
“Thank you for trying to defend me, husband,” she says calmly and evenly. “But as you can see, he has no weapon.”
I crouch down next to her, pretending to look around him for a knife. James has started to shake off his dazedness, and he sits up fully, glaring at me with those gray eyes.
“Is this how you treat honored guests in this country?” he asks, rubbing his jaw.
“Forgive me,” I say stiffly. “I wasn’t aware you were an honored guest. Should I know who you are?”
The man’s eyes flash—he’s used to people knowing who he is, apparently. But I won’t give him that satisfaction.
He’s arrogant, I find myself thinking. That will make it easy to rile him.
Justine is still gripping his arm, and she helps him up. “This is James Camden, the keynote speaker at the conference.”
I know she’s speaking for the benefit of the crowd, not for me, but I nod along as if I had no idea.
“I didn’t realize you knew my wife,” I tell the man, extending my hand. “Forgive me, Mr. Carden. Let me help you up.”
“It’s Camden,” he says stiffly. “Doctor Camden. And I can get up on my own.”
“Suit yourself,” I say with a shrug. I force a grin as I look at the onlookers. “It looks like this was all just a big misunderstanding,” I tell them lightly. Apparently I was a little overzealous in attacking this poor fellow. I’ll admit I get a little over-protective of your princess, but can you blame me? She’s a woman worth protecting.”
Many people murmur their agreement, and a few even let out cheers—for me or for their princess, I don’t know, but either way, I seem to have avoided a PR crisis. Justine is still frowning at me, though.
A few members of the Royal Guard break through the crowd, shouting orders that the drunk, joyful citizens seem resistant to follow, especially since it’s clear that there’s no actual danger.
“Thank you for your rapid response,” I tell them with a wave of my hand. “But your assistance isn’t needed after all.” To the crowd, I add, “Forgive me for causing a scene in the middle of your celebration. Please, resume your revelry. And have an extra drink to celebrate the safety and wellbeing of your beloved Princess Justine.”
Another cheer goes up, and I reach into my wallet and grab what little money I have there. It’s only enough for a dozen drinks or so, but I shove it into the hands of a woman standing nearby. “For a toast,” I tell her.
James has gotten to his feet, and he’s taking no pains to hide his disdain for me. I suppose I can’t blame the fellow—I did punch him in the face within seconds of meeting him. But I couldn’t care less what the man thinks of me.
What I care more about is the fact that Justine is still gripping his arm, apparently supporting him. Rage and jealousy burn through me, until I can’t tell one from the other.
“Guards,” I call to the uniformed men. “Apparently we need your services after all. To make up for my egregious behavior, I’d like to offer Dr. James Camden a royal escort back to his guest quarters.”
“That won’t be necessary,” James says.
“I insist. It’s the least I could do.” I grin at him, and the man’s eyebrows snap together. If I didn’t know any better, I’d guess he’s a few minutes away from punching me in the face.
Let him, I think, my grin widening. It will only make him look bad. I’ve already won the people back to my side—by some miracle—and having him attack me will only help my case. I could exile him, and no one—except perhaps Justine—would blame me for it.
My eyes shift back to my wife. Her expression has gone blank, and that scares me more than the anger she showed a few moments ago.
“Dr. Camden?” one of the guards says. “If you would come this way, we’d be happy to escort you back to the palace.”
“Take him to the physician’s quarters,” I say. “I want to make sure he receives the best care, especially after that welcome. Again, Dr. Camden, forgive me—I suffer no threats, physical or otherwise, to my beloved wife. You understand, of course.”
James’ glare is answer enough, but at last he seems to have read the mood of the surrounding crowd, and he seems to realize he’s trapped.
“Believe me, Your Highness,” he says, his eyes full of meaning. “I wish nothing but the best for Justine. Nothing but pleasure.”
No one else seems to have noticed that he failed to use Justine’s title. But I did. And I can tell from the glint in James’ eyes that he knows I noticed.
So it has begun, I think. The gauntlet has been thrown. I should have known when I baited a man as proud and arrogant as James Camden that he would fight back. If he’d had any intention of keeping things purely professional between himself and Justine during this conference, that’s gone now—I can see it in his eyes. I’ve staked my claim—quite publicly—and I realize now that it’s only inspired this bastard to reassert a claim of his own.
James walks determinedly—if a bit stiffly—over to the guards, and they lead him through the crowd. But he glances over his shoulder at me as he passes, and the look in his eyes leaves no doubt as to his intentions.
Justine starts to follow. “I should go with him.”
“Darling,” I say, catching her arm. “He’ll be fine. We should finish our dance.”
A few of the onlookers laugh, and the crowd starts to disperse. Enough still watch, though, that I know Justine will hesitate to make a scene.
“I don’t want to dance,” she says sharply under her breath. “Not now.”
“Then I’ll escort you back to our suite,” I say cheerfully. “I believe we were discussing—”
“If you think I want to be around you now, after what you just pulled, you’re bloody insane.” She pulls her arm from my grip. “I want to go back to the palace, but I’ll be sleeping in my own room tonight.”
She’s speaking quietly, so no one will overhear, but she still glances around before slipping through the crowd. I hurry after her.
We don’t say anything to each other until we’re well away from the Hall and the crowds. Most of the other streets are relatively empty tonight—everyone is at the celebration.
“Justine—”
“What the hell were you thinking?” she spins on me. “Attacking James, in front of all those people?”
“I wasn’t thinking,” I admit, a little sheepishly. “But when I saw him, I thought of everything he’d done to you, and I—”
“Oh, no, don’t pretend for a minute this is about me. This is about you trying to stake your claim. I swear, the two of you were two minutes away from whipping out your cocks right there.”
“Can you blame me? The audacity of that man, to try to dance—”
“It was just a dance. And I can take care of myself. I don’t care what bullshit you tell my people—I don’t need you to protect me.” She strides down the street away from me. I hurry to catch up.
“Of cours
e you don’t need me to protect you,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
I might imagine it in the darkness of the street, but I’d swear she stumbles slightly. “I don’t want you to want to.”
“You can’t dictate what I want.”
“And now you’re just being infuriating on purpose.”
“Some women find that attractive.”
“And some women find that rage inducing.”
“Come,” I say, trying to make my tone light again. “You have to admit, a part of you was delighted to see that bastard get clocked in the face. I bet you’ve imagined yourself doing that very thing a thousand times.”
She doesn’t answer, but the corners of her mouth tighten.
“Few people would blame me if they knew the full truth,” I go on. “Or even without knowing, judging by the crowd’s reaction back there.”
“Yes, I know, you can charm your way out of a paper bag. I’m well aware of that.” She stops at the base of the palace steps and turns to me again. “I already fell for bullshit once in my life, and I have no intention of doing it again.”
I frown. “It wasn’t entirely bullshit. I do feel protective of you—”
“And we’ve already established that I don’t need your protection.”
“Justine…” I reach out to her, touch her cheek.
She jerks away from me.
“I’m going to the physician’s quarters,” she says.
Before I can argue, she runs away from me, and I’m left with nothing but a sore fist and more confusion than I care to admit.
Justine
I have no intention of going anywhere near the physician’s suite, nor do I have any intention of being alone in the presence of James.
If William had really read my journals—really understood them—we wouldn’t be having this most recent argument at all.
How can William not understand? James broke my heart. And he didn’t just break it, he crushed it. He ruined me. How could William think for even a moment that I would have any interest in the man?
As much as I might have enjoyed witnessing William punch the man, it was still going a little too far. And as much as I admire William for wanting to protect me, I don’t need my husband pretending to defend me against an innocuous threat—particularly when his protection is merely a ruse to cover up his jealousy.
Instead of going to the physician’s suite, I make my way back to the small guest room where I’ve been staying the past two weeks. Even after our brief reunion, William can’t honestly believe I’d want to spend the night with him tonight.
But I was certainly considering it before…
I push the thought out of my head. Even if I had thought about allowing William into my bed tonight, it’s out of the question now. Besides, it’s probably the wine putting thoughts like those into my head. The wine and the dancing. He seems to be able to put some sort of magical spell on me when we dance together.
I won’t let myself think about how that might translate to other things.
After I change into my nightclothes, I crawl into bed and turn out the light. I suppose I shouldn’t be too angry with William—after all, he was only trying to keep me safe. I can’t say there have been many people in my life willing to fight for me. It was nice feeling protected, if only for a moment.
I also suppose I shouldn’t expect him to understand me from merely reading my journals. It isn’t as though I’ve done much in the way of allowing him to get to know me at all—and I certainly haven’t taken much time to get to know him.
It’s because you only have eighty days left in this marriage, I remind myself. What’s the point of getting to know the man when everything is going to end before it starts?
Between the storm, preparing for the conference, and my undeniable attraction to my husband, I’ve allowed myself to forget about my arrangement with my father. Leaving Rosvalia is still the right thing to do, I’m sure. And none of the things William said to me tonight change anything—the people of Rosvalia despise the royal family. And of course, they have every reason to do just that. It isn’t as though anyone will miss my presence here—they’ll probably celebrate my decision to leave for good.
I’m not going to allow William to sweet talk me into believing anything else. Besides, when I leave Rosvalia he’ll have no reason to stay, either. I know the citizens have appreciated his help these past few weeks—I’ve heard he was exceptional in his work helping with the bridge reconstruction—but it doesn’t change the fact he’s from Montovia. It doesn’t change the fact that he’ll likely return there given the remotest of opportunities.
I haven’t even closed my eyes when I hear a soft rapping on my door. Surely James wouldn’t risk such a thing—and he wouldn’t know where to find me, anyway. With my father gone, there’s been little activity in the palace, and I’ve done a good job of keeping my presence in this guest suite known to only a few trusted staff members.
There can only be one person on the other side of the door. I hesitate before I turn on my light, waiting for another knock before I slide off my bed and go over to the door to answer it.
As I suspected, William stands on the other side. “Hello, Princess.”
I roll my eyes. “What is it?”
“I wondered if you would afford me the opportunity to come in.” He motions to the room behind me. “If only for privacy’s sake, you see.”
He isn’t wrong to suggest the walls in the palace have ears, so I step to the side to allow him through before I close the door behind him.
He clasps his hands behind his back, and it isn’t until I see him standing like this that I see his resemblance to his eldest brother, Andrew, the heir to the Montovian throne. William looks almost regal, no trace of his usual grin on his face.
He gazes into my eyes for a long moment, not quite frowning, but definitely not smiling, either. “Princess, I owe you my deepest apologies. I—”
I wave a hand at him. “You owe me nothing, Your Highness.”
“I do, though. You see, I was merely trying to protect you—”
“We both know it had nothing to do with protection. It had everything to do with jealousy.”
His gaze narrows, but it doesn’t appear to be anger in his expression. “You still love him.”
“I never said that. I would never say that—”
“You don’t have to say it. I’ve read it in your poetry. A person couldn’t write such things about a man she didn’t still love.” He nods. “You should have told me about him before we married—”
“As though you gave me the opportunity to do that, Your Highness.” I roll my eyes again. “Are we really to argue this point forever? We had an arranged marriage—an arrangement I did not agree to. You never gave me the opportunity to tell you if I was—or was not—in love with another man. Why should it surprise you so much to find that you didn’t know everything about me? Did you really see me as so vacuous that I had nothing in my head? Nothing that you might not know?”
“I didn’t know you at all. But I don’t think vacuous is a term I would have used to describe you, no.” He sets his jaw. “And I’ve apologized numerous times for the way our marriage was handled. I could have—I should have—included you in the discussions.”
I frown. “I suppose that is something you should remember for next time.”
The corners of his lips tick up. “For the next time I arrange my marriage?”
I try to hide the smile that I feel forming on my lips. “Yes. For the next time you arrange your marriage.”
“Hm. I’ll definitely try to remember that.” He takes a small step toward me. “Is there any way I might make it up to you, Princess? I do seem to recall there was something I was able to do for you that you quite enjoyed a few weeks ago…” He takes another small step toward me. “And I’d be remiss if I didn’t offer you some sort of proof of my regret in all that has happened this evening.”
The way he’s looking a
t me sends a jolt through me, and when he mentions the gift he gave me a few weeks ago after I begged him to fuck me… A jolt doesn’t begin to describe the sensation.
I don’t want to want him. But my body is begging to feel him inside me. And it almost feels like more of a need than a desire.
He takes another step toward me. “You’re my wife. I’m your husband.”
I take a step back, but it only moves me closer to the bed. “I…I don’t want to have to prove anything to you. I shouldn’t have to prove to you that I’m not in love with another man. If you’d actually read my journals—”
“I told you, Princess. I didn’t read your journals.” He grins. “Well, not most of them. I did read a few things about what you liked, however.”
My cheeks burn. I write everything—everything—in my journals, so he may very well know of my deepest desires. It doesn’t make this particular situation any easier, however.
“For instance, Princess…” He takes another step closer to me before he reaches out and draws a finger across my jaw, tracing it down my neck to my collarbone. “I do believe that this is a place you’ll enjoy being kissed.”
My knees almost buckle beneath me, and I’m not sure if it’s because I have a tendency to melt when touched where he’s pressing his finger or because he knows I’ll melt when he touches me there.
His finger only rests there a moment before he draws his hand down my side, pausing as he brushes over the curve of my breast. When he gets to my waist, he pulls me against his body, sliding his other arm around me. He dips his head to whisper into my ear.
“Shall I show you the other things I’ve learned about you, Princess?”
William