The Wedding Night They Never Had

But what could she say? How could she argue? He still saw her as a child and, as long as he did, nothing would change his mind.

The fizzing happiness of his presence began to recede, a flat feeling stealing through her.

He’d never been a man who changed his mind once he’d made a decision, not even when he’d been that laughing, charming prince, and she knew there was no point arguing with him.

‘Fine. I suppose it doesn’t matter what I say.’ She clasped her trembling hands in front of her. ‘You’ve obviously made your choice. I don’t know why you bothered coming here at all, in that case. You could have just sent me an email.’

Another frown flickered over his perfect features. ‘An email? You really think I’d ask you for a divorce via email?’

‘You haven’t visited me in nearly six months. And you’ve already made up your mind. You could have just sent me an order; you didn’t need to make the trek all the way out here.’

Cassius’s gaze sharpened. ‘You’re upset. Why?’

Shock pulsed down her spine. She’d forgotten how perceptive he could be—when he deigned to notice, that was.

But she couldn’t tell him the truth. He’d look at her with distant, condescending pity and tell her gently once again that any kind of relationship between them was impossible. The thought was unbearable.

‘I’m not hurt,’ she said, forcing away her anger and the small, sharp pain of rejection. ‘I’m only...shocked, I suppose. It’s quite sudden.’

He gazed at her, still frowning, and she thought he might push it, but as he opened his mouth to speak someone said, ‘Your Majesty, we have an issue.’

Inara turned to see one of the uniformed palace aides standing in the doorway to the sitting room.

Cassius straightened. ‘What is it, Carlo?’

‘There’s a mechanical problem with the helicopter. A part needs to be replaced, and we can get it, but it won’t be here until after dark.’

If this annoyed him, Cassius didn’t show it. His expression remained opaque. ‘How long will it take to fix?’

‘A couple of hours.’ Carlo looked apologetic. ‘I’m terribly sorry, Your Majesty, but—’

‘It’s no problem,’ Cassius interrupted. ‘I’m sure the Queen won’t mind if we stay here the night.’

Inara blinked. ‘You want to...what?’

‘Flying at night can be an issue and safety is of prime concern to me.’ He nodded at Carlo. ‘Tell the pilot not to rush. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.’

Wait. What was he suggesting?

‘T-Tomorrow?’

He glanced at her. ‘We’ll stay here, obviously. There should be room for everyone.’

Already unsettled, his casual arrogance was a further irritation to her. Sure, he was the King, and casual arrogance was part of the job. And, yes, technically, although it was known as the Queen’s Estate, the manor was owned by the crown, thus him. But, still, she’d been living here for three years and she’d come to think of it as hers. He couldn’t just arrive, demand a divorce then decide to stay the night, as if having the house full of his presence for the next twelve hours wouldn’t be an issue.

Except...how could she argue? He was the King and this, despite all her protests, was his house.

Yes, and you’re the Queen. Don’t forget that.

That was true. She was. Maybe not for too much longer, but she was still the Queen now.

Inara raised her chin and stared at him in what she hoped was a haughty fashion. ‘Actually, I’m not sure. I’ll have to check.’

Another flicker of expression crossed his perfect features, but whether irritation or impatience she couldn’t tell. ‘No need. Henri is still managing the house, I imagine? I’ll inform him. It’s only me, Carlo, the pilot and a couple of my guards.’

Already he was looking away from her. Already he was dismissing her as if her feelings and her opinions were of no consequence.

As if she were of no consequence.