She turned her head as he approached, obviously hearing his step. Even though she hurriedly wiped her face, he could see the tears there.
You hurt her. Like you hurt everyone close to you.
His heart twisted hard with a familiar pain. Well, that was nothing new, but at least with Inara he could do something about it.
He came closer, holding his jacket out, but she shook her head, her tiara slipping to one side. ‘No. Stay where you are.’ Her voice sounded thick. ‘Just...give me five minutes.’
Cassius stopped. ‘Inara.’
‘I’ll come back, I promise.’ She surreptitiously wiped at her face. ‘I hope that lady was okay. I didn’t mean to knock her elbow, I just... I don’t know what happened.’
‘Inara,’ he said again.
‘I’m sorry. I tried, I really did, but when I told you I wasn’t good in social situations, well, I meant it.’
He stood there stiffly, holding his jacket in one hand, staring at her small figure curled up on the stone bench. Remembering her white face and her red eyes. The feel of her fingers on his arm, clutching at him.
Remembering joining her in that little room before the ball, reeling from the gut punch of her beauty and trying not to show it. Trying not to see the way she looked at him, as if for reassurance. Trying not to hear the hurt in her voice as she told him that she’d asked for him...
She’s always looked at you as if you were her hero. And you let her down.
His stomach dropped away, the truth of it settling in his heart. Denying the man had worked very well for three years. He’d controlled his appetites, excised the selfishness from his heart and, following his brother’s example, he’d done everything he could to become a perfect king. But that didn’t allow for much else. It certainly didn’t allow for a woman who was new to royal duties, who hadn’t been brought up with them the way he had.
A woman who was only here because of him and the mistake he’d made. He couldn’t fix what had happened with Caspian, but he could fix what happened with Inara. He’d lost control with her when he shouldn’t have and, while nothing could change that fact, he could admit that the decision to keep her at arm’s length had clearly been a foolish one.
He’d decided she would be his queen, but Inara wasn’t a princess brought up in the palace spotlight. She was a girl he’d married at sixteen and left to her own devices in an isolated manor house in the countryside for the best part of five years. Throwing her into court on her own after a mere week’s training, and expecting her to behave like a woman born to it, was ludicrous.
Worse, it was selfish, because it was about his own discomfort rather than anything to do with her. And it had hurt her. His control was usually excellent these days. Yes, he’d lost it with her once, but that didn’t mean he’d lose it every single time. And, anyway, he wanted heirs. How could he get those heirs if he avoided taking her to his bed?
She was his wife. His bed was where she belonged and it was high time he showed her that. Without a word, Cassius strode over to her and draped his jacket around her shoulders.
She looked up, her eyes wide. ‘What are you doing? Just give me another minute and I’ll come—’
‘You’re not going anywhere except back to my rooms,’ he said coolly. Then he bent and picked her up in his arms.
Inara stiffened, twisting in his grip. ‘Put me down. I don’t want...’
‘Hush.’ He tightened his hold, keeping her safe against his chest. ‘We won’t be returning to the ball. We’re going to my apartments where we can talk in peace.’
She took a breath and he could feel the resistance bleed out of her, her small, delicate frame going limp against him. ‘I’ll get wine on your clothes.’
‘I don’t care.’
He stepped out of the pavilion, making his way through the dimly lit gardens, conscious of how warm she was, and how beneath the acrid smell of spilled red wine he detected the faint musky scent that was Inara.
It made him feel hungry and possessive, like a leopard with its kill. Ordinarily he would have ignored that kind of feeling. He would have pushed it away. But not tonight.
Avoiding the ballroom, Cassius entered the palace through a side door. He nodded to the guards stationed on either side and strode on down the corridors, heading towards his private apartments.
‘I’m sorry,’ Inara said, a bitter note in her voice. ‘I failed.’
He glanced down. Her head rested against his shoulder, silvery hair caught in the black fabric, and she was staring at nothing in particular. Her pretty mouth was soft and vulnerable, her cheeks still very pale. He remembered the bright smiles she always had for him, the joy that had lit her expression whenever he’d visited, and now...
Now she looked defeated, all the brightness, all the joy, gone.
You did that to her.
He had. And so he’d fix it.