He eyed her, not agreeing just yet. ‘Is taking your vows really worth crossing swords with me, little nun?’
Why are you thinking about her vows?
He had no idea.
She lifted one fair brow. ‘I don’t know. What’s wearing a crown worth to you?’
A fair comment, and clearly time to leave.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I shall expect a report every evening on Ione’s progress and if her behaviour hasn’t improved in two weeks’ time then you’re going back to England with no argument.’ He fixed her with a very level stare. ‘Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sire,’ she said meekly enough.
But he didn’t miss the tiny spark that lit in her eyes.
He pretended not to notice.
CHAPTER THREE
ANNA BENT OVER her suitcase and dug through the limited items of clothing she’d brought with her, though what she was looking for she didn’t know. She hadn’t packed much, since she didn’t have much and clothing had never been important to her, so why she wished she had something more than a couple of plain dresses in her suitcase, she couldn’t fathom.
Tonight was her first meeting with the king to give her report on Ione and she wanted to wear something...different. For inexplicable reasons.
Perhaps it was nerves. She desperately hadn’t wanted to return to England and him granting her two weeks to make some difference to Ione’s behaviour had been a concession she hadn’t been expecting. She’d argued for it, of course, but he’d been so adamant it had felt like hurling herself at a stone wall and expecting it to break.
Snapping at him had been a mistake, but all that seduction talk had irritated her.
It wasn’t irritation you were feeling.
Anna scowled at the contents of her suitcase, not liking that thought one bit. She’d tried to ignore her own physical reaction to him, to ignore that he was half-naked, but then he’d started talking about how the Reverend Mother was meddling in his affairs—affairs apparently including her being sent to seduce him.
‘You’re round and soft and sweet. Just the kind of woman who would appeal to me.’
Heat crept through her, the way it had done all day whenever she’d thought of him saying those words, which she’d tried very hard not to do. Because they made her feel...strange.
He’d called her round, but it was obvious he hadn’t meant it in a bad way. In fact, the opposite. Just the kind of woman who would appeal to me...
She felt even stranger when she thought about that; appealing to him had never occurred to her. In fact, appealing to anyone at all had never occurred to her. The sisters always discouraged such vanity. Some of the younger ones had giggled a bit over one of the better-looking priests, but Anna herself had never thought about men or her own desirability. Once or twice she’d wondered whether she might like a husband and a family, but then had dismissed the idea. Romantic relationships had seemed fraught and dangerous to her, while the relationships she had with the sisters at the convent were much less complicated. There were clear rules for behaviour and you didn’t have to fit yourself around another person’s needs and wants.
It was less exciting maybe, but at least life at the convent was a known quantity. At least, she fitted there better than she fitted anywhere else.
You still liked the fact that you appealed to him.
Anna scowled and pulled a dress out from the depths of her case. It was fancier than her other dresses, in a silky ice-blue fabric with a demure scooped neckline and capped sleeves. The colour was pretty on her—or at least that was what Sister Mary Alice had told her, and Sister Mary Alice was known to have good taste.
She didn’t like that she appealed to him. Not at all. Round and soft and sweet, indeed. It made her sound pathetic and ineffectual and she didn’t much appreciate that. Nor did she appreciate that the Reverend Mother had perhaps had an ulterior motive for sending her here, either. Certainly, she’d never mentioned seduction to Anna.
Not that she should be concerning herself with such things. The Reverend Mother clearly had a purpose in sending her here and it wasn’t up to Anna to wonder at it. She had to trust that the Reverend Mother knew what she was doing.
Still, as she put the dress on, Anna found herself glancing in the full-length mirror at the foot of the bed and noticing that her breasts and hips and thighs were all soft and gently rounded.
Just the kind of woman who would appeal to me...
She pulled down the dress hurriedly and smoothed the fabric, ignoring the unexpected glow of warmth inside her. No, she didn’t want to like that she appealed to him. Because, no matter what either the king or the Reverend Mother thought, she was here for Ione. And to show her obedience so she could take her vows.
Two weeks he’d allowed her. Two weeks to prove herself and hopefully not get sent home. It wasn’t much time in which to gain the trust of a child, let alone modify her own behaviour.
She’d made a start, though. Since she didn’t know Ione and Ione didn’t know her, Anna had decided to spend a couple of days on some getting-to-know-you activities. Today Anna had chosen drawing in the library for a nice, quiet activity that would allow some space to talk.
However, Ione hadn’t been very interested in drawing—or, at least, not until Anna had had a brainwave and, remembering the girl’s sword of the day before, had suggested drawing a knight fighting a dragon. That had gone very well until Ione had insisted on performing said fight and had knocked over a lamp that had been sitting on the table.
The little girl was a live wire, reminding Anna uncomfortably of herself when she’d been that age. It also made her wonder if some of the girl’s boisterousness came from a lack of attention. She remembered feeling alone, as if she didn’t fit in. There had been other children in the foster home run by the nuns and she’d made a few friends, but they never stayed very long, many of the other children having found homes.
But not Anna. No one had wanted to adopt her. And no wonder, since she’d always been over-loud, over-eager, over-friendly. Like a puppy, one of the sisters had said.
Perhaps that was the issue with Ione. Perhaps the little girl was lonely. It was something to raise with the king anyway.
She was sticking another pin into her bun when there was a knock on her door from a guard waiting outside to escort her to the king for her meeting.
Anna hadn’t seen him since the day before, and as she followed the guard down the echoing stone corridors of the palace her pulse started to gather speed and her palms got sweaty, nervousness gathering inside her. All she could think about was him in the ring, moving fluidly around his opponent, the flex and release of hard muscle beneath olive skin, the way he’d stared at her, blue eyes piercing her...
Silly. She was silly. She wasn’t a lovesick teenage girl and he wasn’t a handsome teenage boy. He was a king, for goodness’ sake.
The guard stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and Anna tried to moisten her dry mouth as he knocked and waited for admittance. The king’s harsh voice called for them to enter, and then the door opened and she was ushered inside.
It was a large room with a stone floor and once again, like the whole palace, it seemed, the walls were of bare stone. Heavy wooden bookshelves stood against them, stacked with expensive-looking leather-bound books, while a massive wooden desk sat under one window. There was also a cavernous fireplace—unlit—with yet more heavy furniture in the form of a couch and an armchair arranged around it. Lamps were positioned at strategic points, giving the room a soft, diffused light, the bare stone softened with silk rugs on the floor and yet more dusty tapestries on the walls. The only concession to modernity seemed to be the sleek, paper-thin computer screen that sat on top of the huge desk.
The king himself was sitting behind the desk, looking at said screen, and for a second he looked so incongruous that Anna could only stare. She could
imagine him on the battlefield wielding a sword, had literally seen him in the boxing ring throwing punches. But for some reason his sitting at a desk, frowning ferociously at a computer screen like an office worker, seemed...wrong somehow.
Then again, he sat in his office chair as if it were a throne, his authority and power a physical force radiating from him. His white business shirt was undone at the throat, the sleeves rolled up on his sinewy forearms, exposing his olive skin, and if he looked like anything at all, it was a Fortune 500 CEO hard at work.
He didn’t glance up as she entered the room and she was left to stand there awkwardly as the guard withdrew, closing the door behind him. The king frowned at the computer then hit a few keys, giving no hint that he was aware of her, which annoyed her intensely.
How did he do that? How did he make her feel as if she were once again the disobedient child sent to the Reverend Mother for punishment? She resented it, especially now that she was a grown woman and had left the disobedient child in her behind a long time ago.
Have you, though?
Anna bit her lip, forcing that thought away. True, she hadn’t exactly been a model of good behaviour since she arrived in Axios, but she had far more control over herself than she had used to. Plus, she’d learned from her mistakes. She wouldn’t let her irritation or impatience get to her. She would be calm and poised and obedient.
She managed to stand there without fidgeting for what she was sure was a good ten minutes before he finally looked up from the screen. She’d braced herself, yet still the impact of his sharp, cold gaze was enough to make her catch her breath.
‘You may approach,’ he said curtly.
Anna went over to the desk and stopped in front of it, clasping her hands together in front of her. He’d focused on her very intently, and she found herself blushing again.
You appeal to him.
Oh, but she didn’t want that in her head, not with him staring at her like that, making a deep part of her shiver. And it definitely wasn’t because she was cold.
He said nothing and the tension that she’d felt the day before in the gym coiled around them. It made her uncomfortable, so she opened her mouth to say something, anything, but he forestalled her.
‘My daughter broke a lamp in the library today.’ His blue gaze was so sharp it was a wonder he hadn’t drawn blood. ‘You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?’
Anna took a slow, silent breath. She’d known that would get back to him and she’d hoped it wouldn’t annoy him. Sadly, that didn’t seem to be the case.
‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘I was, of course, going to mention that.’
‘Were you indeed? Explain.’
There was a hard note in his harsh voice that made her bristle and she wasn’t sure what it was about this man that got under her skin so badly, because it didn’t make any sense. She behaved herself with the Reverend Mother and the other sisters; what was it about this king that made her want to push back at him?
‘I thought it would be a good idea if we got to know each other first,’ she said, holding on to her poise. ‘So we did some drawing in the library. She wasn’t much interested until I suggested she draw a knight fighting a dragon. And then she decided to re-enact it and, well...she got a little carried away.’
The king’s expression could have been carved out of granite. ‘You’re supposed to manage her behaviour.’
Anna tried to ignore her irritation at his curt manner. She didn’t expect him to be friendly—it was clear from the two times she’d been in his presence before that friendly was the last thing he was—but he didn’t need to be quite so rude.
‘It’s the first day,’ she said, attempting calm. ‘I needed to get to know her and she needed to get to know me.’
He said nothing, his gaze sharp as a knife.
‘She’s high-spirited,’ Anna felt compelled to add. ‘And if you ask me, she’s probably also a little neglected.’
Instantly, the king’s demeanour changed, the lines of his face hardening even more, his big, powerful body tensing. Deep in his icy blue eyes, real anger glowed.
‘Be careful.’ His deep voice vibrated with an edge of warning. ‘Be very careful what you say about my daughter.’
Anna flushed, realising belatedly how she’d sounded. ‘I don’t mean she’s neglected physically,’ she said hurriedly. ‘What I meant was that she might be acting up to get attention.’
The king’s expression didn’t soften. ‘And you came to this conclusion how? Based on what? Your thorough and extensive knowledge of my daughter?’
Sarcasm edged every word, making her flush even deeper. She was digging herself a hole, and if she wasn’t careful it would get so deep she wouldn’t be able to climb out of it.
And then he’ll send you home.
No. That was not going to happen.
She met his gaze with equanimity. ‘No. Based on my own experience as a very lonely child.’
Adonis didn’t want to ask her. He wasn’t interested in her or her childhood. But she was standing in front of his desk, wearing a sweet little dress of pale blue that wasn’t at all like the plain grey dress of the day before. The colour was lovely on her, highlighting her creamy skin and giving her grey eyes a blue tinge. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that, though the dress had a very demure neckline, it hugged the curves of her breasts and moulded deliciously to her hips, before flaring outward in a silky-looking skirt. It was a cheap dress, yet it also highlighted the fact that this little nun had the most beautiful, womanly body.
Not that it was merely her body he found appealing. If only it had been, because then he wouldn’t have had any issues. Lust could be controlled easily enough. No, it was the intriguing fire in her that added to his fascination. The hint of a rebellious spirit. It shouldn’t attract him, since it was the antithesis of what he believed in himself, but he’d always liked a strong woman. And, for all that she seemed so sweet and innocent, there was more backbone to her than he’d first thought.
She definitely wasn’t a quail or a rabbit, which made her a problem.
Ever since yesterday, when she’d demanded that he change his mind about sending her away, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. All he’d thought about was that spark in her eyes as she’d snapped at him, the flush to her cheeks as he’d talked about seduction. The way she hadn’t been able to stop looking at his body...
It had been inconvenient. He’d tried to busy himself with other things, but she’d remained stuck in his thoughts like a song that kept playing over and over again. He hadn’t had a woman occupy so much of his thinking before and it was clear he was going to have to take steps to resolve the issue.
Perhaps telling her to meet with you every night was a mistake.
Perhaps, but the thought of not being able to stand even ten minutes of her company without being bothered was ludicrous.
Yet he was bothered now, irritated by his body’s response to her and annoyed by her suggestion that Ione had been neglected. He shouldn’t let either of those things touch him, but they did.
Ione was not neglected. She had everything a child could possibly need, and if she was acting up to get attention, then she needed to learn that was not acceptable. Immediately.
Adonis stared hard at the woman standing on the other side of his desk. A lonely childhood... He didn’t care. His mother had been killed at the hands of enemies of the crown when he was seven, causing his father to start down the road of teaching Adonis about the importance of detachment. Lessons that had involved making him listen to his little brother’s torture.
It had been a hard childhood but a necessary one. Loneliness, in comparison, was a walk in the park.
‘Is that so?’ he said, which wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all.
‘Yes.’ She lifted her determined chin as if she wa
s facing him down over something that really mattered instead of something as insignificant as a childhood long gone. ‘My mother gave me up when I was a baby and I was brought up in a foster home run by the nuns. They weren’t cruel or abusive, but they weren’t exactly warm either. And they didn’t much approve of high spirits or emotional outbursts.’
She said it very matter-of-factly, though there was a faint note of something else in her voice, something he couldn’t immediately identify.
He sat back in his chair slowly, looking at her. He didn’t care. He wasn’t interested. Yet somehow his mind started down a track he didn’t want it to, wondering how she’d come to be at the convent and whether she was a woman looking for an escape from modern life or following a family tradition. But neither of those things apparently; she said she’d been given up for fostering...
His detachment was perfect. His emotions were completely under his control. If he didn’t want to feel anything, he didn’t, and so there should have been no reason for a strange, unidentified feeling to coil in his chest. No reason for questions to suddenly occur to him, such as why she hadn’t been wanted, and whether she’d been adopted at last. But no, she hadn’t been adopted. If she’d been brought up by the nuns and was hoping to take her vows, then it was likely she’d remained in the foster home...
Why are you thinking these things?
It was a good question, especially when it made the unidentified sensation in his chest coil tighter.
He ignored it, annoyed at being made to feel anything at all. ‘And? You have a point to this?’
‘Of course I have a point.’ She frowned. ‘I don’t give people I don’t know well personal information about my childhood for the fun of it.’
You have offended her.
So? What did it matter? He didn’t care about his own feelings, still less other people’s. A king was supposed to rule with his head, not his heart.
The Most Powerful Of Kings (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Royal House of Axios, Book 2) Page 4