Vows to Save His Crown

Mateo kissed her on her mouth, savouring the sweetness of her lips, before he moved lower, kissing his way from her jaw to her throat, and then taking his time to lavish each of her lovely breasts with his full attention. The mewling sounds she made enflamed him further, and he moved lower, his tongue skimming the gently rounded beauty of her belly to settle happily between her thighs.

‘Mateo...’ Her fingers threaded through his hair as her hips lifted instinctively and Mateo tasted his fill.

Rachel’s cry shattered the air as her body shuddered with her first climax. Mateo intended there to be several.

‘Oh, my goodness...’ she managed faintly, and Mateo smiled against her skin. ‘I’ve never...’

‘Now you have.’

She laughed at that and he rolled on top of her, bracing himself on his forearms, as he looked down at her, flushed and sated, yet clearly ready for more. ‘Oh...’ she breathed as he nudged at her entrance. She wriggled underneath him, a look of concentration on her face as she angled herself upwards, ever the scientist looking for the perfect conditions for an experiment.

And the conditions were perfect, Mateo acknowledged as he slid slowly, inch by exquisite inch, inside her. Rachel’s eyes widened and her lips parted and she hooked one leg around his waist to draw him even deeper, so their bodies felt totally enmeshed, utterly entwined. As one.

Here was the ultimate chemical reaction, where something new was created from two separate substances, and could never, ever be torn apart.

Mateo began to move, and Rachel moved with him, hesitant at first but then with sinuous certainty, and they found their rhythm together as easily as if they’d always known it, minds and bodies and hearts all melded.

It was wonderfully strange and yet as natural as breathing, as they climbed higher and higher towards the pleasure that was promised both of them, just out of reach until it burst upon them like a dazzling firework, and then, with a gasp and a cry, they fell apart, reassembling themselves together, as one, their bodies still entwined, their arms around each other as their releases shuddered through them.

Mateo rolled onto his back, taking Rachel with him, their hearts thudding against one another with frantic beats.

He’d meant to offer this—himself—as a gift to her, but it wasn’t, he realised now, that simple an exchange. He couldn’t give without receiving. He couldn’t offer himself and at the same time keep himself separate.

If he’d thought he was in trouble this morning, after the ceremony, he knew he was utterly lost now. Lost—and yet found. And the thought terrified him, not for his own safety or self-protection, but for Rachel’s.

He could not hold her heart in his hands. He could not bear to, for he would surely, surely shatter it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

‘THANK YOU SO much for your contribution, Your Highness.’

Rachel smiled and nodded graciously at the head teacher of the girls’ high school in Constanza, where she’d been part of a round-table discussion on encouraging female pupils to study STEM subjects. The conversation had been wide-ranging and invigorating, and she’d enjoyed every minute of it.

‘Thank you for inviting me,’ she said as she took her leave, pausing for a photo op before shaking hands with everyone at the table. A few minutes later she was in the back of a black SUV, speeding back towards the palace.

It had been a month since her wedding, and Rachel had done her best to fully involve herself as Queen. She’d selected several charities to support, and said yes to almost every engagement at which she’d been asked to appear. Maybe if she kept herself busy enough, she wouldn’t notice the empty space in her heart.

She had nothing to complain about, Rachel reminded herself severely. It was a talking-to she had to give herself almost every day. Absolutely nothing to complain about, because she’d agreed to this; she’d known what she was getting into; she’d accepted the deal with full understanding of what it had meant.

She just hadn’t realised how it would feel.

Since their wonderful and frankly earth-shattering wedding night, Rachel had had hopes that something more—something a lot like love—would blossom between them, in time. When Mateo had held her to him, moved inside her, buried his face in her hair...

She’d been so sure. Everything had felt possible.

But in the month since that night, that incandescent sense of possibility had begun to fade, day by day and night by night. Mateo wasn’t cruel, or cold, or even cool. He was exactly what he’d said he’d be—a trusted friend, an affectionate partner. But he didn’t love her, Rachel knew that full well, and while she’d agreed in theory to a marriage based on friendship rather than love, she’d assumed it would mean that neither of them loved the other.

Not, Rachel acknowledged hollowly as she watched the streets of Constanza slide by, that she would fall in love with a man who was determined not to love her. Who kept part of his heart clearly roped off, who had a shadow in his eyes and a certain distance in his demeanour that even a passionate night of lovemaking—not that she could even call it lovemaking—could banish.

And meanwhile she felt herself tumbling headlong into something she was afraid was love. The kind of soul-deep, long-abiding love she had never expected to feel for anyone. But Mateo had been so kind...had made her feel so valued...had held her like a treasure and laughed with her and given her joy. Of course she’d fallen in love with him.

It was just he hadn’t fallen in love with her, and had no intention of ever doing so, as far as Rachel could see.

The SUV drove through the palace gates and then up to the front doors. A footman hurried out to open Rachel’s door, bowing as she stepped out. Four weeks of this kind of treatment and it still felt surreal. Rachel thanked him and then walked into the palace, heading for her private suite of rooms. It still felt strange, to live in a palace rather than her own home.

Although Mateo had assured her she could redecorate her suite as she liked, Rachel hadn’t dared touch any of the antiques or oil paintings, the silk hangings and fine furnishings. As a result she felt as if she lived in a five-star hotel rather than a home, which was sometimes nice and sometimes a bit disconcerting.

‘Your Highness, you’re back.’