He’d done that even as a boy, when the interminable school-room lessons that Caspian had seemed to handle with no problem had become too much for him. He’d never been able to sit still and concentrate for long before the need to move would take him, so he’d disappear into the gardens, hiding out with the head gardener, who used to take him on a tour of all the plants.
It had calmed him then and it calmed him now.
He picked up a tiny pair of scissors and trimmed part of the tree carefully.
Inara wandered over and watched him. ‘What are you doing?’
He snipped off a tiny branch. ‘Trimming the bonsai so it retains its shape.’
‘Oh. Do you do that yourself then?’
‘Yes.’
She peered at the tree. ‘Why? Don’t you have staff to do everything for you?’
He’d never had to explain his interest in plants to anyone. No one had ever asked. Not many people—apart from the staff who tended to the King’s private rooms—even knew about his hobby. He didn’t like to talk about it, not when it revealed certain things about him, and still less to someone as sharp and intelligent as Inara.
Still, not answering was also revealing, so he said, trying not to sound reluctant, ‘I make a lot of decisions that impact a lot of people and I have to do that every day. Tending to a few plants that don’t require much beyond watering and some nutrients is a nice change.’
‘I see.’ She glanced around at the pots scattered everywhere. ‘Are all these yours?’
‘Yes.’ She was standing quite close and he caught a faint hint of delicate musk in the air, along with the flowery scent of her shampoo. It sent a thread of heat through him.
‘Wow. They look amazing.’
She sounded genuine, and when he glanced at her the expression on her face made it clear that her admiration was, in fact,genuine. And he was shocked by the warmth that bloomed abruptly behind his breastbone, as if part of him enjoyed her praise. As if he almost...needed it.
And why not, when you never had any as a boy? Only relentless, constant criticism.
That was true. He hadn’t had much praise in his life, not as a boy and not as a man. He’d more often been told of the many ways he didn’t measure up, never about the things he did that were right, and in the end he’d stopped caring. What was the point in trying to measure up to a standard you’d never achieve? Or constantly trying to be something you weren’t? Better to embrace who you actually were instead. Accept yourself, as no one else would.
He’d told himself he didn’t need to be praised, that he didn’t care what anyone thought of him, and he believed that. So he had no idea why this one woman’s obvious delight in his house plants should please him so much. It was ridiculous.
No, you know why. Her opinion hasalways been important. Right from the very first moment she climbed into your limo and looked at you like you were her own personal saviour.
‘It’s just water and the right fertiliser,’ he said dismissively, ignoring the voice in his head.
‘No, it’s not.’ Inara shook her head, staring down at the cherry blossom he’d been pruning. ‘If it was that simple, all my plants wouldn’t die. I have a black thumb.’ Gently she reached out and touched one of the blossoms on the tree. ‘Numbers I can figure out. But taking care of a plant, not so much.’
‘Numbers are slightly more important than keeping a few house plants alive.’
She lifted a shoulder. ‘I guess. Sometimes. But they’re not exactly practical, are they?’
He remembered suddenly a similar discussion they’d had years ago, about her university studies. She’d been having a small crisis of confidence about her master’s thesis and he’d tried to encourage her, even though he’d had no idea how he, a man who was more interested in parties and women, could possibly make her feel better about her own phenomenal intellectual abilities.
He’d made a joke out of it, made her laugh, though he’d known even back then it was simply to cover up his own inadequacies.
Now, he didn’t feel so inadequate, yet it was clear she still had the same doubts. Where had those come from?
Ah, but he knew. Her family. They’d been so obsequious when he’d married her, both parents bowing and scraping, and making much of the fact that they’d never expected their daughter to do so well for herself as to marry a prince. They hadn’t cared that he was over ten years her senior. They hadn’t seemed to care much about their fiercely intelligent daughter at all, or know what to do with her beyond marrying her off for social gain.
You didn’t really know what to do with her either.
He did now. He was going to turn her into his queen.
‘I’m sure we can find some practical applications,’ he said. ‘And in the meantime, with a bit of polish and some deportment lessons, you’ll do a very fine and practical job of being a queen.’
Inara glanced up at him, her expression solemn. ‘I’m going to try, Cassius. I promise.’
He could feel the warmth of her body. See the pulse beating at the base of her pale throat. She stood so close to him that the curve of her breast nearly pressed against his arm.
Heat licked through him, and just like that his control was hanging by a thread. And he knew that all the concentration in the world on his damn plants wasn’t going to make a difference. That he wanted her right here, right now. On the floor before the empty fireplace. Her clothes ripped away, those delicate limbs wrapped around him, her body welcoming his, clutching him tightly as he drove himself inside her. Giving him pleasure for just a little while...
But no. That was the man talking. The flawed, selfish man, motivated by his own crude appetites and base emotions. He couldn’t allow the man to gain control again.
A king was above that. A king was better than that. He had to be. And so must Cassius.
He put down the scissors carefully and straightened. ‘I think tonight I’ll allow you some time to get comfortable in the Queen’s private apartments.’ His voice was cold, but he couldn’t help that. ‘If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to let the palace staff know.’
Then he strode from the room before the thread on his control snapped completely.