She pushed his hand away, her cheeks flaming. “I must go.”
“Not yet.” Aron closed the distance between them and pulled her tight against his chest, digging his hand into her long hair to pull it from its loose twist so it hung freely to her waist. “I’ve missed you, Cleo. And I am glad you came to see me in private this morning. I think about you often.”
“Let me leave,” she whispered. “And say nothing about this.”
He caressed the side of her throat, his gaze darkening. “Once we’re engaged, I’ll ensure moments of privacy like this will be much more frequent. I look forward to that.”
Cleo tried to push against his chest, but he was strong. Stronger than he looked. She’d only succeeded in reminding him of the night she’d shamed herself and her family. He seemed to relish this secret they shared while she would rather purge it from her mind forever.
And, goddess, his breath smelled like he’d been drinking and smoking since sunrise.
There was a sharp knock on the partially open door. Aron’s fingers dug into her sides, and he cast a dark look over his shoulder as the door creaked open.
“There you are, princess,” Theon said casually.
Aron let her go so abruptly that she had to struggle to keep her balance and not go sprawling to the floor.
Theon looked from her to Aron and his eyes narrowed. “Is everything well here?”
“Well. It’s well,” she replied, throat full. “Very well. Thank you.”
His fierce expression showed that he didn’t find any humor in the thought that she’d snuck off behind his back. In fact, his gaze was hot enough to burn.
Still, she was more than happy to leave with her angry bodyguard than stay here a moment longer with Aron.
“I want to go back to the palace,” she said firmly.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
“I’m ready now.” She straightened her shoulders and glanced at Aron.
He looked bored. On the surface, anyway. Deep in his eyes was an unpleasant flicker—an unspoken promise that the drunken night she wanted to forget would only be the first of many between them. She shuddered.
She had to convince her father to end this nonsense. The king hadn’t made Emilia marry her fiancé. This shouldn’t be any different.
If Aron ever told her secret after that, she would … simply deny it. She could do that. She was the princess. Her father would believe her over Aron, even if she spoke lies out of necessity. That night would not ruin her. It could not. She refused to allow Aron to have that kind of power over her a day longer than he already had.
“See you soon, Cleo,” Aron said, stepping outside when they did. He lit another cigarillo as he watched them leave.
Cleo didn’t speak, intent on walking away from the villa as quickly as she could.
The heat of Theon’s glare seared into the back of her neck. Finally, when they were nearly back at the castle, she spun around to face him.
“Need to say something?” she demanded, trying her best to hide that she was on the verge of tears. Nausea churned in the pit of her stomach.
If Theon hadn’t intervened...
She was glad that he had, but she was still upset. And taking out her frustrations and anger on the nearest person to her was the only way she knew to cope.
Theon’s fierce expression was not one of respect for a member of royalty, but the annoyance of someone forced to deal with a headstrong child. “You need to stop trying to run away from me.”
“I didn’t run away. I needed to see Aron alone.”
“Yes, I saw that.” He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the golden villa down the road lined with green trees and well-tended flower beds. “Apologies for interrupting your romantic rendezvous. Looked like the two of you—”
“Were doing nothing at all,” she cut him off, her voice catching on the words. While she didn’t feel she should be overly concerned about her new bodyguard’s opinion, she’d prefer he didn’t guess that her chastity was but a memory. Theon would never look at her the same way again if he knew the truth. “That was not what you thought it was.”
“Really.”