The Wedding Night They Never Had

CHAPTER SEVEN

INARA’SHEARTWASbeating very fast. The awful, sick feeling in her stomach and the tightness in her chest that she’d felt in the ballroom had vanished, both feelings melting away as soon as Cassius’s arms came around her, holding her tight.

The evening had started awfully the moment Cassius had led her into the ballroom, and from there it had gone from awful to terrible, then to even worse. She hadn’t been able to remember anyone’s names, and her attempts at conversation had only prompted frowns, strange looks and judgmental stares. No one had been friendly. No one had smiled. Everything the etiquette people had taught her had gone completely out of her head and she’d felt paralyzed, certain that the moment she opened her mouth she’d only make it worse.

She hadn’t wanted to move, in case she’d tried to curtsey instead of shaking hands or stood accidentally on someone’s foot. Her eyes had been sore because the contact lenses were irritating, and her head had hurt because the pins in her hair were digging into her scalp. She wasn’t used to wearing the tall silver heels they’d given her to wear, either—they’d made her feel as if she were wearing a pair of stilts.

And through it all, his arm like iron beneath her fingertips, had moved Cassius. Tall and broad, as unreachable and untouchable as Mount Everest. She’d wanted to impress him so badly, yet every time she’d opened her mouth or taken a step she’d made some mistake. And he’d seen. He’d watched her fail, fail and fail.

Failing her parents was one thing, but failing him was quite another.

It cut her to the bone.

He’d lost his family, had had to pick up a duty he’d never asked for, and the least she could do for him was to give him a queen he could be proud of.

But then she’d knocked that woman’s elbow and wine had gone everywhere, splashing her beautiful dress and causing a scene. Reminding her of that garden party years ago, when she’d tried her best to catch the eye of the duke’s son, only to stammer and forget every rule of conversation the instant he’d spoken to her. She’d been so embarrassed that she’d run away.

Back then she’d been young, only sixteen, yet tonight she’d had no such excuse. She was now an adult and a queen, and she should have stayed in the ballroom and dealt with the mess she’d made, not bolted like a frightened rabbit.

In fact, she’d been on the point of mustering her courage to go back when Cassius had appeared. Everything in her had tightened as she’d braced herself for his judgment and then...it hadn’t come.

He’d seemed angry, coming over to where she’d sat on the cold stone bench, his gaze full of fire. But he hadn’t given her a tirade. Instead, he’d shocked her by draping his jacket around her shoulders then picking her straight up in his arms.

And it had come as another shock to realise that he was only angry with himself. He’d taken responsibility for the entire evening.

That shouldn’t have surprised her. He’d assumed a duty he’d never wanted, becoming king because of a tragic accident. It had always puzzled her that he’d done that because, although he had been next in line to the throne, he hadn’t had to take it. There were others he could have handed the responsibility on to, yet he hadn’t. Some would have said it was power he was after, but Inara knew he wasn’t that kind of man. He never had been.

So why did he take it?

But she didn’t have an answer to that and, with his sharp, intense gaze on her, the question began to fray and break apart.

She was in his arms in her glittering, wine-soaked dress, after having made a fool of herself in front of his entire court, and yet instead of yelling at her he’d told her it was his fault and now he was carrying her into his bedroom...

‘Why?’ The question came out breathily as he strode into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. ‘You changed your mind when I first arrived, so why now?’

He moved over to the tall stone fireplace, a blaze leaping in the grate. It looked as though it had been freshly lit, and she was aware all of a sudden that she’d been cold sitting in the pavilion. Yet she wasn’t cold now. His arms were strong, his hard chest like hot stone. His jacket around her shoulders was warm too, and it smelled of him, a masculine spice with an earthier scent that was all Cassius.

Her mouth went dry, a bone-deep, physical longing curling through her. It was very hard to think about what had happened earlier and her own conflicted feelings when he was here, he was holding her and it was very apparent what he intended to do.

Gently, he put her down in front of the fire, which quite frankly felt like a crime when she wanted to stay in his arms and never leave.

‘Because I thought it best to give you some time to become accustomed to palace life.’ He moved behind her, easing his jacket from her shoulders.

Inara shivered as his fingertips brushed her bare skin, the physical longing becoming deeper and more insistent. It was getting difficult to think, and part of her just wanted to surrender, to let the desire overtake her, because she’d done nothing but think all night and she was tired of it. She wanted to escape. Numbers had always been that escape, but it wasn’t the stark purity of numbers she wanted now. She only wanted him.

Except...he wasn’t giving her the entire truth, was he? He’d changed his mind so abruptly that day in his study after making all those grand proclamations. Why? It wasn’t simply because he wanted to give her some time to adjust, she was sure. He’d walked away from her so quickly after she’d got close to him...

‘No,’ she said huskily, staring at the flames leaping high in the fireplace, every sense concentrated on the man standing behind her, on the heat of his body and the scent of him that wrapped around her, making her feel so safe, the way it always had. ‘That’s not the reason.’

His fingers moved in her hair, carefully extracting each painful pin. ‘The reason doesn’t matter.’

Her hair began to come down, slipping over her shoulders, her scalp aching in relief as he pulled away the tiara, dropping it onto a nearby armchair.

‘Yes, it does.’ She shivered as his fingers wound into her hair, combing through it. ‘At least, it matters to me. You could have come for me any time this week and you didn’t.’

‘The time wasn’t right.’

Inara turned, looking up into his familiar, achingly beautiful face. He was so very tall, built so broad, so muscular. A warrior who could crush her without even thinking. But he wouldn’t. All that magnificent male strength was tightly leashed, so painstakingly controlled.