If he’d still been the charming, feckless prince he’d once been, of course. But he wasn’t. He had a duty to uphold, so he’d left that prince behind the moment he’d found out his family had died.
He hadn’t taken a woman to his bed since and it wasn’t because of a shortage of offers: he had more seduction attempts and frank invitations now he was a king than he’d ever had as a prince.
But his baser appetites had died along with the callow youth he’d once been, so he’d ignored every single offer. A king should be above reproach, as his father had always taught, an example of good leadership, and a new woman in his bed every night wasn’t an example of good leadership.
Besides, as King he couldn’t be seen to be unfaithful to his wife, even if they’d never consummated their marriage. Not that he’d found abstaining a hardship. Grief had killed any hint of the rebel in him and that was probably a good thing.
Yet he couldn’t help noticing again that the white cotton dress she wore was just as see-through now as it had been earlier that day, his attention drawn to the pink glow of pale skin and the lacy shadows of her underwear.
Something stirred inside him. Something he hadn’t felt for a long time.
‘Sorry,’ Inara said stiffly. ‘I didn’t realise you were in here.’
He recalled that she wasn’t a woman who hid her feelings and it was obvious that right now she was very annoyed. Hostile, even. He wasn’t used to it from her and he found he didn’t much like it.
‘If I’m intruding you only need say,’ he said formally.
‘It’s fine.’ One small hand gripped the door handle. ‘I’ll leave you in peace—’
‘Oh, come in,’ he interrupted, feeling suddenly impatient, knowing he’d have to have this discussion with her at some point so he might as well have it now. ‘We need to talk.’
‘Do we?’ She pushed her glasses up her nose with one finger. ‘I think you said all you needed to earlier today.’
Cassius leaned forward, clasping his brandy balloon between his fingers. He nodded at the chair opposite him. ‘Sit.’
‘I’m not one of your staff, Cassius. I don’t appreciate being ordered around.’
He’d become used to people jumping every time he spoke. And maybe it was the brandy relaxing him but, instead of feeling irritated at her refusal, he was almost amused instead.
She hadn’t been impressed with him even at sixteen, that night she’d appeared in his limo, even though he’d been a prince and she the under-age daughter of an unimportant family. She’d been suspicious of his marriage proposal, had asked a great many questions and had then insisted on him putting it in writing and signing it even before they’d got out of the limo.
It appeared she still wasn’t impressed with him, even though he’d been King for three years.
‘Please,’ he added.
She wrinkled her nose, pursed that pretty mouth, finally let out a breath and let go of the door handle, coming over to the arm chair opposite and sitting down on the cardigan still half-draped over the seat.
‘You’re sitting on....’ He gestured.
‘Oh.’ She frowned then wriggled half off the seat, pulling the cardigan out from underneath her. ‘Oh, there it is. I’ve been looking for that for ages.’
Watching her fuss with the cardigan was soothing, though he wasn’t sure why. He took another sip of his brandy, his attention caught by the way she lifted the long, silvery waterfall of her hair off the nape of her neck so she could drape the cardigan around her. It was a deft, practised movement, her curls silky-looking as she shook her hair out over her shoulders.
She was still rather fairy-like, her features elfin and delicate, the shape of her slender and fragile.
She continued to fuss around with the cardigan, then adjusted her glasses, before smoothing her dress in small, agitated movements.
She’s nervous...
He frowned. Why would she be nervous? Was it him? They’d known each other for five years and, although it was true he hadn’t seen much of her the past couple of years, surely he was still familiar to her?
Or maybe it wasn’t so much him as the topic of conversation: the divorce he’d asked for.
It mattered to her, as he’d already realised.
That was puzzling.
‘Tell me,’ he said after a moment. ‘What’s bothering you about this divorce?’