‘Which I have to say you failed quite comprehensively, Princess.’
‘Well, maybe you shouldn’t be so skilled at seduction!’
There was silence for a moment before eventually he expelled a long sigh. ‘Look, I can see with hindsight that it’s unreasonable of me to apportion blame,’ he said, lifting the palms of his hands in what looked like a gesture of conciliation.
‘Why don’t you say that as if you mean it?’ she demanded, thinking that here was a man who was a stranger to the word apology. But weren’t all powerful men like that—especially kings? They only said sorry if they were forced to—the way her father had done in the past, when he’d been found out in his latest dalliance. They might go through the motions, but they never really meant it.
‘I have had sexual partners before,’ he continued. ‘So I guess it’s not unreasonable that you should have done the same.’
‘But?’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘I sense there’s a “but” coming.’
Again, a shrug—but this time there was no accompanying hint of apology. ‘We both know that the unwritten clause in our marriage contract is that you should have known no lover other than me, Zabrina. It’s how these things work. Sexual equality may be alive and well in most of the world, but it has yet to reach either of our two countries. And I’m certain your grasp of royal history is thorough enough for you to realise that there can be no possible question over the legitimacy of any future progeny, which can only be the case if my bride is pure.’
‘Pure?’ Zabrina stared at him, tugging the band from her hair and giving her ruffled mane an angry shake. ‘Look, believe or don’t believe that I wasn’t the cowering little innocent you were hoping for—I don’t particularly care either way. But please don’t illustrate your prejudices with such ridiculous euphemisms. You make me sound like a bar of soap!’
For a moment Roman almost smiled at her outburst, until he remembered the gravity of the situation in which he now found himself. A situation which must be resolved as quickly as possible. He shook his head. If only he could just walk out of the salon now and pretend that this had all been like a bad dream.
Or an irresistibly sweet one...
But he couldn’t. That was the trouble. Nobody could rewrite the past, no matter how much power they possessed at their fingertips. And unfortunately, the past wasn’t his only dilemma—not when the present was haunting him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He found himself wishing she were someone else. Someone anonymous, with whom he had no projected future, so that he would have no qualms about going back over to the sofa on which she reclined and ravishing her over and over again as he hungered to do. What wouldn’t he give to feel her soft thighs wrapped around his back one more time, and hear her soft moans of joy as he thrust into her with wild abandon? He swallowed, looking into her defiant face and realising she didn’t look in the least bit chastened—which he might have expected in the circumstances.
Until he forced himself to remember that this was not a virginal princess who was grateful to marry the mighty King who had been selected for her. No, this was a princess who had betrayed, not only him, but both their lands. And now she would pay the ultimate price for her folly.
Yet he remembered what it had felt like to touch her and he felt a bitter regret that he would never experience it again. Sex had never felt like that before. As if he would die if he didn’t possess her. As if his very life had depended on being deep inside her. He remembered the battle which had raged within him as he’d fought to conquer the terrible desire she had unleashed in him. To stop what was happening before it reached the point of no return. But he had been unable to turn away from her sweet temptation and prevent himself from stripping them both bare, before losing himself in her delicious honey. As he had entered her, he had looked deep into her eyes and seen a powerful yearning which had matched his own and a random thought had briefly speared his mind. A thought which contradicted everything he had been brought up to believe.
That this woman was his equal.
But he forced himself to focus on the truth instead of fantasy.
Yes, she was a woman who would have made a superb mistress.
But a thoroughly unsuitable wife.
He wondered if she would save face by exiting their embryo relationship with the minimum of fuss or whether she needed him to spell it out for her. He thought perhaps she did since she was studying him with an impassive expression, almost as if nothing had changed. When everything had changed.
But he knew that this was a delicate situation which required careful and diplomatic handling, if the fallout was to be kept to a minimum.
‘You have many attributes, Princess,’ he said slowly. ‘You are a beautiful and intelligent woman and I am certain you will find another man who is willing to marry you. Perhaps not one as highly connected as I am, it is true.’ He glimmered her a smile, trying to reassure her, yes, but also trying to convince himself that nothing would be gained from making love to her again. He tried to take his mind off his throbbing groin. ‘And you must rest assured that what I said earlier was true. Nothing which has passed between us will go any further than these four walls.’ He gave her a swift, businesslike smile. ‘Your secret will be safe with me.’
Some of the impassivity left her face. ‘My...secret?’
‘Nobody will ever know what happened between us, Princess. It will be like closing the chapter of a book.’
Zabrina flinched and not just because his words were filling her with fury, but because they were managing to turn her on at the same time. How did he do that? For a few brief seconds she felt almost powerless over the effect his cool stare was having on her. Why else would she find herself recalling how amazing it had felt to have him peeling off her panties? Or remembering the expert flick of his tongue against her throbbing bud until he had brought her to orgasm? She swallowed as she remembered the second orgasm when he’d been deep inside her. Just the thought of what he’d done was making her stomach dissolve and her skin grow heated. Surely, if she wasn’t careful, he would guess at the effect he was having on her.
And that was something she simply couldn’t afford to let happen.
Setting her mouth into a firm line, she stared at him. ‘You mean, you are no longer planning to marry me?’ she verified.
His sigh sounded genuinely regretful—it was just a pity the steely glint of relief in his eyes didn’t match the sentiment. ‘I cannot marry you, Princess—for the reasons I have already expanded upon and which I am sure you understand. Because if you are being honest with yourself, can you really be hypocritical enough to exchange public vows with a man you theoretically betrayed, even before you’d met him?’
‘I—’
‘The wedding must be called off as quickly as possible. We just need to work out the best way to go about it and how best to return you to your country.’ A new and gritty note entered his deep voice. ‘A damage-limitation exercise, if you like.’
If she liked?
Zabrina could hardly comprehend the audacity of the man. How did he have the nerve to start talking about damage limitation and coolly state that he was about to send her back to Albastase like some reprimanded schoolgirl? She bristled with indignation. And wasn’t it funny how contrary human nature could be? Earlier that day she would have sold off the few humble jewels she possessed if someone could have guaranteed her a get-out clause for her marriage to the grisly King.
Except that he wasn’t grisly.
He was anything but. He was gorgeous enough for her to have eagerly surrendered her virginity to him—a virginity he didn’t believe she’d possessed. So not only had he deceived her, he had also accused her of lying! His list of crimes against her was long, but could she afford to dwell on them, or take offence? No, she could not. She needed to keep her eye on the bigger picture and not on whether or not her feelings were hurt, because at the end of the da
y that didn’t matter. Feelings passed. They waxed and waned like the moon whose cold, silver crescent now looked like a scythe hanging outside the train window.
She thought about the different choices which lay ahead of her. She and Roman could agree a joint statement which could be put out by both their countries, stating that the wedding would not take place. They could fudge a reason—although it was difficult to see what that reason might be. Incompatibility was hardly going to work as a believable concept, because the underlying understanding within an arranged marriage was that compatibility had to be worked at.
She swallowed. Then there was all the expense involved—all the lavish celebrations which would need to be cancelled—not to mention the disappointment of their subjects, who were looking forward to a three-day holiday of feasting and dancing, once the wedding had taken place. But those things paled into insignificance when she remembered the real purpose behind this union...
Her country badly needed an injection of funds to bring it back from the brink of economic ruin.
And wasn’t she the only person who could do it?
If the wedding was called off, she would be seen as a failure. No matter how they spun it she would always be known as the Jilted Princess, unwanted by the highly desirable and powerful ruler. She would be the one who would be judged negatively, because in this region men were seen as more important than women. Her father would be furious that she had failed to provide the goose that laid the golden egg, but ultimately wouldn’t it be her brother and her sisters who suffered as a result of a cancelled marriage?
Zabrina sucked in a determined breath. No. No matter what the provocation, the luxury of escaping her fate with the arrogant King was simply not an option.
‘But I don’t want to call off the wedding,’ she informed him quietly.
His eyes narrowed, but not before she’d seen the flicker of astonishment glinting in their pewter depths—as though someone disagreeing with him was something he wasn’t used to. Zabrina could almost see the cogs of his brain whirling, as if he was trying to decide the best approach to take to kill off her rebellion, before it had a chance to grow.
‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Princess, but that’s what’s going to happen.’
‘No. I think you misunderstand me, Roman. I am not disappointed. This is a decision I have made using my head, not my heart. This has nothing to do with emotion, because emotion has no place in this marriage of ours. It never did. I never particularly wanted it, if the truth were known, but I was willing to accept my fate.’
‘Do you realise how much you insult me?’ he breathed.
‘It was not said with the purpose of insulting you. I said it because it was true. But the past is irrelevant.’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘The union must still take place. It has long been agreed. My country will benefit. Yours, too. Aren’t you forgetting how much you desire that piece of land?’
‘And aren’t you forgetting something?’ he snapped. ‘Something less pragmatic than matters of finance and territory? It was always intended that my future queen should be—’
‘Pure?’ she interjected sarcastically. ‘So you keep saying. Maybe it was and maybe I should be a lot more offended than I actually am that you don’t believe I was. But I find I’m not offended at all—which I can only put down to the fact that I set the bar very low when it comes to my expectations concerning men!’
‘Your negative opinions about men do not interest me. And I don’t think you’re hearing me properly, Zabrina. You are not what I consider to be a suitable partner and I do not want you as my wife.’
‘And you’re not hearing me,’ she countered fiercely. ‘You said yourself that my virginity was the unwritten clause in our wedding contract, and anyone who knows even a little bit of law realises that an unwritten clause means nothing!’
His eyes hardened. ‘So you wish to force me to marry you? Is that what you really want? A man you have hounded to the altar? And all because your ego can’t take perceived rejection.’
‘It has nothing to do with my ego and everything to do with securing a prosperous future for my country!’
‘And then what?’ he demanded. ‘Being with someone who doesn’t want you is hardly a recipe for life-long contentment, is it?’
For a moment Zabrina was perplexed by his words—because surely he wasn’t foolish enough to believe in fairy tales like life-long contentment. A relationship of polite civility and tolerance was the best that could be hoped for, because that was how these things worked. A royal marriage was about what the couple represented rather than the relationship which existed between them. She had even known she would be expected to turn a blind eye to his behaviour—to the liaisons with other women he would undoubtedly have—and she had been prepared to do that, because that had always been the case for the wives of kings.
She looked at him and thought about his words. ‘But in some ways you do want me,’ she said slowly.
‘I’m not talking about sex!’ he snapped.
‘But isn’t that also important? I mean, is what happened between us just then usual?’
‘No, it isn’t usual,’ he said. ‘You must know that.’
Zabrina nodded. She’d thought that to be the case. Perhaps in a different situation she might have been pleased by his acknowledgement of the powerful chemistry which existed between them, were his words not tinged with such obvious bitterness. And, of course, accusation. That subtle jibe about her supposed sexual experience hadn’t escaped her. But she had lived a life where unfairness was something you just learned to live with and there was no reason why this should be any different.
‘So why not just go through with it? It’s not ideal, I know. But understand this, Roman. I’ve spent years preparing for my fate and if I hadn’t, I might have lived my life very differently. I don’t want to go back to Albastase as the Jilted Princess, and when you think about it you’ll have to go to all the trouble of finding another bride who can provide you with an heir—that all-important means to securing and continuing your line of inheritance. Someone else who might just happen not to pass your exacting vetting process.’
There was silence for a moment. ‘You mean you wish to bear my children?’ he questioned slowly.
It had always been a given that she would do so and deep down Zabrina had always longed for children of her own. She thought of the fierce love she felt for her sisters and brother and how much she was going to miss them. Producing a family was an essential part of an arranged royal marriage, when you stopped to think about it, and yet it wasn’t the kind of thing you spoke about in polite society. Yet as Roman asked the question, Zabrina felt a surge of something which felt like hope. Something which warmed and stirred her heart in a way she hadn’t expected, but she kept her expression deadpan, because she suspected that somehow it would be more appropriate. That passion or eagerness might scare him.
‘That has always been part of the deal, hasn’t it?’ she questioned quietly. ‘We could make this marriage work, if we wanted it to. We don’t seem to have a problem with communication and maybe that could work in our favour. We don’t shy away from discussing things other people might find difficult. And neither of us believe in love, only duty. We have no foolish illusions, do we, Roman? No secret dreams ripe to be shattered. So, if you were to agree, we could continue on this train to the palace at Petrogoria and I could prepare for my life as your queen, as planned.’
There was a long pause before he spoke. ‘Just like that?’
‘Why not?’
His eyes narrowed, the silver gaze slicing through her like a blade. ‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you, Princess?’
She wished he wouldn’t use her title in that mocking way, because she liked it. She liked it more than she should. ‘Let’s just say I’m making the best of a bad situation.’
‘And if I refuse? What then?’
> His voice was silky but the note underpinning it was anything but. Zabrina imagined that tone might have intimidated many people, but it wasn’t going to intimidate her. She shrugged, hearing the rhymical sound of the train as it thundered through the darkness towards Petrogoria. If she had been somebody else she might have threatened to go to the newspapers, because imagine all the money the press would pay for a juicy scoop like this—a respectable king pretending to be someone else and seducing the virgin princess! But she wouldn’t do that—and not just because such a disclosure would drag both their names and their reputations through the mud. No. There were some things she would push for and some things she realised were pointless, because on an instinctive level she recognised that a man like Roman the Conqueror would never give in to something like blackmail.
‘I don’t think you will refuse,’ she said, her gaze very steady. ‘Because I think you need this marriage as much as I do.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
THERE WERE FLOWERS EVERYWHERE. Bright flowers which filled the air with their heady scent. Roses and gerbera. Delphinium and lilac. Pink and blue and red and orange and every conceivable shade in between. Swathes of them festooned the railway station at Rosumunte and yet more were waved by the packed crowds lining the roads to the palace. Petals were thrown towards their open-topped car and most fluttered to the ground but some were captured by the inert wipers and lay against the car’s windscreen, where already they were beginning to wilt in the warm sunshine.
One Night Before The Royal Wedding (Mills & Boon Modern) Page 7