by Ember Casey
She pulls me down the corridor, and I follow faithfully along. But I still have too many questions.
“This thing about you having to have four male heirs—”
“I don’t want to talk about that, either.”
I try something else. “And what exactly does your family do in the eastern wing that I’m not allowed to—”
“Gah, don’t you ever just shut up?”
In spite of everything, I find myself smiling. “You know, there is a very easy way for you to get me to be quiet. If you remember our game—”
“Fine. I… My favorite color is yellow.”
“Because it’s such a happy color? Or because—”
“Aren’t you supposed to shut up now?”
My grin widens. I guess that’s the spirit of the game. But I wonder how long I’m obliged to stay quiet.
I’m silent the rest of the way back to the suite. I still have plenty of questions for her, but they can wait. Instead, I use the time to observe the palace around us, committing as much of it to memory as possible. Even though it’s smaller than my palace back home, it’s much more of a maze. I’m not even sure where one wing ends and another begins—how am I supposed to remember where I can and can’t go? Perhaps I’ll be able to convince Justine to show me a map.
There’s one door that does catch my eye, though. As she pulls me toward a staircase, I happen to glance down one of the side corridors. At the very end of the hallway, two armed members of the Rosvalian Royal Guard stand on either side of a rather nondescript door. I’ve enough of my bearings about me to know that we’re out of the central area of the palace, the part with the ballrooms and receiving rooms and other places open to guests and visitors. The door itself is plain, and there’s nothing to indicate that the room beyond it holds anything of any particular interest—nothing except the guards.
They’re definitely hiding something in this place.
But what?
Justine
After I close the door to our suite, it doesn’t even take a split second for William’s mouth to start running again.
“What’s behind that door?” He drops onto the sofa. “And why would you need guards inside the palace? What are you trying to—?”
“Didn’t we have an agreement?” I can’t help but interrupt him. “I told you something about me, now—”
“This agreement hardly seems fair, Princess.” He grins, patting the seat next to him. “I think we might need to change the rules.”
“The rules to your game?” I glance at his hand, but I make no indication to him that I’m about to sit next to him. “Didn’t you come up with the ridiculous game—?”
“Yes, and that is why I need to change them.” He stares at me for a moment before he stops patting the sofa. “From now on, if you want me to do something, I get to ask the question. You don’t get to make up things like your favorite color being yellow—”
“My favorite color is yellow, Your Highness.” I glare at him for a moment. “I’m not sure why you choose not to believe—”
“No one’s favorite color is yellow, Princess.” He smirks again. “So I request—in the spirit of the game—a do-over. Under my new rules.”
“I’ll do nothing of the sort.” I cross my arms over my chest. “This game was your idea.”
It isn’t until then that I notice William staring at my breasts. He’s trying to hide it, but he’s definitely looking.
I shift the way I’m standing to keep my arms from pushing up my breasts. “And just so you know, Your Highness… My favorite color really is yellow.”
“Oh, really?” His signature smirk is back. “And why should I believe you? What is so wonderful about the color yellow? I’ve never met anyone who loves the color yellow—”
“Well, now you have.”
I can tell just by how his lips tilt to the left that he doesn’t believe me. He smirks for a moment longer. “Prove it.”
“Prove it? How am I supposed to prove anything to you? And why should I need to?”
“Because I told you that you can’t bullshit me, Princess. You broke the rules, and now we’re going to have to change them.”
“I haven’t…” I almost growl with exasperation. “Fine, Your Highness. Believe whatever you want. The only answer I have for you is daffodils.”
“Daffodils?” His brows draw together. “What are you talking about—?”
“Daffodils. My favorite color is yellow because of daffodils. And because of sunshine. Yellow reminds me of spring. Not that I would expect you to understand—”
“Because…?” He gives me the same dazed and confused look as before. “We do have spring in Montovia. Though it has always reminded me more of green—”
“What is it you want from me, Your Highness? I tell you an honest answer, and you somehow are insistent that I’m lying. What do I need to do to prove to you—?”
“Ah, I can think of any number of ways, Princess.”
“None of them are going to be what you’re suggesting. Not now and not ever.”
“Not ever? Really?” His smirk returns, and he pats the seat next to him again. “Four male heirs is a lot. But we’re young. And if we start right away—”
I shake my head. “You’re an idiot if you think that is going to happen.”
His smirk widens to another grin. “If I think what is going to happen?”
I lift a brow. “If you think I’m going to bear you four sons.” I pause for a moment, waiting for his expression to change, but it doesn’t. He merely stares at me with that same stupid grin, so I press on. “Or if you think I’m ever going to give you the opportunity.”
“Really.” There’s no hint of a question in his voice, though he does flinch a little at my words.
“Yes, really.” I study him again for a moment. It pains me to admit, but he’s at least as handsome as his eldest brother, Prince Andrew, and admitting it to myself sends a little shiver through me. And if he hadn’t been so offensive last night, I might actually be willing to allow him in my bed to do far more than sleep. I think I might like to feel what those hands thrumming on the sofa cushion are capable of doing.
But then I remember how he treated me last night when I gave him an opening to have his way with me. How he refused me—humiliated me. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not exactly inexperienced, but in truth, I’ve only been with one other man—a man I loved more than I care to admit, even to myself.
He’s watching me, and his gaze narrows the slightest bit, though that stupid grin goes nowhere. “Then how, exactly, do you plan to reign? If what you say is even true.” He lifts a playful brow. “Now that I know you’re capable of lying to me, I’m not sure I should trust you to play this game fairly.”
I throw my hands in the air. “I don’t care, Your Highness. Believe me. Don’t believe me. Whatever you decide makes little difference to me. Unlike you, I’ve known my role my entire life. And for most of that time, I’ve known I would never reign. I have no desire—”
“Wait, you don’t want to rule?” His smile falls, his brows drawing together. “I thought—”
“And if you’d have thought to check with me first, you might have saved yourself the anguish.” I frown at him for a long moment. “Besides, I can virtually guarantee you wouldn’t want to rule, either.”
A bit of his grin returns. “I can assure you, Princess, I’m happy to be king. More than happy.”
“You wouldn’t be king, Your Highness. You’d be the prince consort—”
“I know.” Only a trace of a smile remains on his lips as he stares at me for another moment. “I do know. However, it’s more than I’d ever hoped for. More than I would ever have a chance at being in my own country. I—”
“Well, why do you think it is that Rosvalia has had only one queen in the past three hundred years? We could have twenty children, and only three of them might be boys—”
“Or twenty of them might be boys. You don’t know for ce
rtain. My mother had four boys…”
I lift a brow and have to fight myself to not make a sarcastic comment about the particular boys his mother bore.
“I’m just saying it isn’t impossible.” His grin returns. “Of course, there’s only one way it would be possible…” There’s no question of what he’s suggesting.
“There’s no way—”
“We’re married, Princess.” He pauses, staring at me again. “And I think that perhaps your servants chatter at least as much as the servants in my own palace.”
“Your Highness—”
“I rather think the sofa will suit you just fine.” I make a waving gesture to him. “Of course, if you’d prefer the floor—”
“Even if you muss the bed, Princess, they are still going to know I wasn’t in it.” He tilts his head. “Or perhaps you don’t know why they will know.” He lifts a brow. “How many men have you been with?”
“How many women have you been with?”
His smile returns. “That isn’t how the game works, Princess.”
“I wasn’t aware we were now playing the game, Your Highness.” I glare at him for another moment. “What happens in your game if I refuse to answer your question? By your new rules?”
His smile slowly widens to a grin, and he stands from the sofa.
I suppose this means I’m about to find out the answer to my question…
William
I move toward her slowly, my eyes locked on hers.
Justine is frozen in place. The anger in her eyes disappears, replaced by something uncertain.
Good. I have her off-balance.
I stop just in front of her, less than a step away. We aren’t touching, but we’re close enough that I can feel the heat of her body. Out of the bottom edge of my vision, I see her breasts rising and falling faster than they were a minute ago.
“Well?” I say. “Do you really want to know what happens when you refuse to play?”
She doesn’t answer. I reach up, ever-so-slowly, and touch her cheek. My fingers slide lightly across her skin. Her breath catches, and she blinks, breaking the intensity of the look between us. Her eyes flicker downward, but she doesn’t move away from me.
God, she’s so beautiful. And the funny thing is, when I agreed to marry her, I didn’t fully realize how beautiful. But now that I’ve spent more time with her, now that I’ve witnessed some of the deeper, more complicated sides of her…I wonder how I never noticed it then. How could I be in the same room with her and not notice the spark in her eyes, or the wild, vibrant energy that seems to swirl around her?
My hand drifts down her throat.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” I murmur, lowering my face toward hers. “Do you really want to know what comes next?”
She lifts her chin, looking up at me again. Her face in now mere inches from mine.
“It’s not fair, Your Highness,” she says. “You have me at a disadvantage. Whether I play along with your game or not, you still get your way.”
“Trust me,” I say, letting my fingers tangle in her hair. “Whatever you choose, I’ll make sure you enjoy it.”
“Is that so?” There’s a gleam in her eyes, and it’s mesmerizing.
“Yes.” My fingers tighten in her hair, but I don’t move my face any nearer. If I move too quickly, I’ll scare her away again, and that’s the last thing I want. Little by little, I want to pull down the walls she’s put up between us.
Her lips part—to speak or to kiss me, I don’t know, but either way, I wait. Let her cross that final bridge.
“Maybe…” she whispers. She blinks, then continues, “Maybe you can sleep in the bed tonight. But just sleep.”
I swallow, then nod. “If that’s what you want, Princess.” I want so much more, but I’ll take anything I can get. Even this small concession is a big step between her and me.
She steps back, her eyes still on mine.
I could lose myself in those blue eyes. And that mouth. I have no idea how the hell I’m going to survive an entire night in bed with her without wanting more…but then again, maybe this whole ‘just sleep’ thing is simply a ruse. Maybe she’s not comfortable asking outright for anything more.
Take it slow, I tell myself, forcing a deep breath. Let her lead the way. Don’t push her, or she’ll run the other way again.
But my body is already responding, imagining her lying next to me. Imagining taking her into my arms, burying my face in her hair, kissing my way down her throat as my hand moves lower toward her—
“Your Highness?” Justine says from the bedroom door. “Are you coming?”
Hell yes, I am. I stride after her, unable to keep a grin off my face.
“I’m going to use the washroom,” she says, not looking at me. “Why don’t you go ahead and make yourself comfortable? I won’t be long.” She looks a little uncertain still, but hopefully she’ll relax when she realizes I’m not the monster she originally thought I was.
Just sleep, I remind myself. Just sleep, unless she asks for more.
She disappears into the next room, and I walk over to a chair in the corner of the room, removing my formal jacket. I can’t wait to get out of this suit.
Quickly, I undress, laying my jacket, pants, and starched shirt across the back of the chair. That leaves me in my underclothes—a pair of boxer briefs and a plain white undershirt.
I run my hands over the shirt. Normally I’d sleep without it, but I have a feeling that if Justine returns and finds me half naked, she’s going to get the wrong idea. Not that I’m not hoping for more tonight—but again, I need to make sure I take this slow.
After a moment’s thought, I grab my suit and dart into the closet. After hanging it, I quickly search through my things until I find the one pair of pajama pants I own. I pull them on.
There. That should be decent enough for the Princess’s sensibilities.
I hear the washroom door open, and I head back out into the bedroom. Justine is there, and she’s changed, too—she also wears a pair of pajama bottoms, but on top she’s simply wearing a snug white tank top. It leaves little to the imagination, and it takes all of my will not to stare at her breasts.
She’s studying me, too. Her eyes move up and down my body, lingering on the black silk pajamas. One corner of her mouth lifts.
“Something funny, Princess?” I ask.
Her smile widens. “Nothing. I just didn’t take you for the silk pajama type.”
“Well, I…” I rub the back of my head. “I don’t normally wear them. But I wasn’t sure whether you’d approve of my normal sleeping attire or not.”
Her eyebrows rise. “What’s your normal sleeping attire? Wait, don’t tell me—you normally sleep in the nude?”
“Not fully nude,” I say, my cheeks getting warm. God, am I actually blushing? “Usually I sleep in my underwear, though.”
“Mm.” She turns away, twisting her long hair casually around in her hands. “Well, don’t feel like you need to dress up on my account. Sleep in whatever you like.”
I hesitate. “You’re sure?”
She shoots me a look over her shoulder. “If I didn’t trust you, pajama bottoms wouldn’t make a difference.”
She makes a good point. But after the way she’s blown hot and cold with me these past couple of days, I still find myself uncertain.
“Are you sure you’re all right with us sleeping in the same bed?” If you knew some of the things I’d thought about doing to you…
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I’m just tired of playing your little game and don’t feel like answering any of your questions tonight?” She sits down on the edge of the bed. “I’ve had enough drama for one evening, thank you. I’m exhausted.”
She’s still twisting her hair around in her hands, not watching me. She looks exhausted—and after seeing what she has to deal with from her family, I don’t blame her.
After a moment, she looks up at me again. “Well? What’s the hold
up? Take off those ridiculous pants already.”
I turn and head back into the closet, pull off my pajamas, and toss them onto one of the padded benches. If she wants me in fewer clothes, then I’m all too happy to oblige. Maybe my initial assessment was right—she wants more than just sleep, but she’s not going to ask for it outright.
My suspicions are only confirmed when I return to the bedroom, and Justine is still sitting on the edge of the bed. Her eyes shift to me, and I don’t miss the way they travel down my body—or the way they linger on my groin.
“Like what you see, Princess?”
Her cheeks go red, and she looks away. “I’m going to bed. You’re free to do whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?” I walk across the room toward her.
Her face goes even redder. “You know what I mean. I…” She looks up at me again. “What do you want?”
“I think you know what I want, Princess,” I say, my voice lower and huskier than I intend. “The question is, what do you want?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she reaches up and places her hand against my stomach. Her fingers seem to burn me even through the cotton of my undershirt. My cock throbs.
She has no idea what she’s doing to me right now. Even the way she’s looking at me—staring up at me through her lashes with those wide, innocent eyes—makes my blood pulse faster through my veins. My entire body is taut, aching with the urge to grab her and push her down on the bed. To tear of her clothes and fuck her until she’s crying out my name in pleasure.
Easy, now.
“What do you want, Princess?” I ask her again. My voice doesn’t even sound like my own anymore.
Her fingers press against me. “I want you to take off your shirt.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. The moment she pulls her hand away, I’ve yanked the shirt over my head. I toss it aside.
“What now, Princess?” I demand.
Her eyes are on my chest. My cock throbs again, and this time my reaction is obvious. Her gaze shifts downward, focusing on my body’s response to her. Her entire face is bright red now, but her voice is perfectly steady as she speaks again.