Sunita blinked, tried to compute why it mattered—they were engaged. Surely he wasn’t embarrassed. Properly awake now, she propped herself up on one elbow as a sudden awkwardness descended. ‘You should have woken me earlier.’
‘I thought I’d let you sleep.’ Now a small smile quirked into place. ‘We expended a lot of energy.’
‘So we did.’ For a moment relief touched her—maybe she’d imagined the awkwardness.
‘But now the day is over and we aren’t “just” Sunita and Frederick any more. We are the Prince and his Princess-to-be and we can’t repeat this.’
‘This?’ she echoed, as a spark of anger ignited by hurt flared. ‘Define “this”.’
His gaze remained steady. ‘We can’t sleep together again before the wedding. This engagement needs to be seen as completely different from my father’s marriages—I don’t want the people to believe it is based on physical attraction alone, that their ruler has been influenced by anything other than the good of Lycander.’
‘Of course.’
It made perfect sense, she could see that. Of course she could. She could measure every publicity angle with unerring accuracy. This marriage would not play well with Lycander—she herself had pointed that out. So she understood that they needed to downplay their physical attraction and focus on the real reason for their marriage—Amil.
Yet his words felt like a personal rejection, as though beneath his common-sense approach lay reserve, a withdrawal.
The knowledge...the certainty that he regretted the day and its outcome, that he regretted ‘this’, bolstered her pride, gave her voice a cool assurance. ‘I understand.’
After all, he’d made it clear enough. Their physical attraction was a side benefit, a bonus to their marriage alliance, and she would not make the mistake of reading any more into it than that.
‘I need to get dressed. Shall I meet you in the gardens?’
For a moment he hesitated, and then nodded and headed for the door. Once he was gone Sunita closed her eyes, annoyed to feel the imminent well of tears. Two years before she’d allowed physical attraction to override common sense, and now it seemed she might have done it again. But no more.
She swung herself out of bed in a brisk movement and headed across the room. Pulling open her wardrobe, she surveyed the contents and settled on a black cold-shoulder crop top over floral silk trousers. A quick shower, a bit of make-up and she was good to go.
Once in the gardens, she spotted Frederick in conversation with Eric, saw the hand-over of a package that Frederick dropped into his pocket before he saw her and walked over.
‘Shall we have a quick walk before dinner?’ he asked.
‘Sure.’
They walked into the sylvan glade, skirting the lily pond, where two brilliant turquoise kingfishers dived, their white ‘shirtfront’ breasts bright in the dusk.
‘I wanted to give you this,’ he said, and he reached into his pocket and took out the package, undoing it with deft fingers and handing her the jeweller’s box inside. ‘We can’t announce the engagement without a ring.’
She flipped the lid open and gazed inside. The ring had presence; it glinted up at her, a cold, hard, solid diamond. A discreetly obvious ring that knew its own worth—its multi-faceted edges placed it in the upper echelon of the diamond class. A regal ring—perhaps he hoped it would confer a royal presence on her.
Hell, it was the very Kaitlin of rings.
‘Did you choose it?’
For a scant instant discomfort showed, but then it was gone. ‘No. Kirsten did.’
The woman who chose his clothes. Of course—who better to choose the correct ring for Lycander’s bride?
‘I asked her to get it done last night. Is there a problem with it?’
‘Of course not.’
In an abrupt movement she pulled the ring out and slid it over her finger, where it sat and looked up at her, each glint one of disdain. The ring wasn’t fooled—it knew this was not a worthy hand to rest upon.
Sunita glared down at it as she executed an almost painful mental eye-roll. Note to self: the ring does not possess a personality. Second note: of course I am worthy.
She summoned a smile. ‘Guess we’re all set to go.’ Even if she couldn’t have felt less ready.
CHAPTER TWELVE