The Rebel Queen

by Jeana E. Mann

  “You locked me in my bedroom.” The ticking grandfather clock scrapes across my nerves. Henry cocks his head, eyes narrowing. I’m too pissed off to hold my tongue any longer. “I’m a prisoner. Don’t deny it.”

  The corners of his mouth twitch. “I didn’t. Technically, however, someone else locked you in your room. I just gave the order.”

  “To punish me?”

  “No.” His attention cuts sideways to the servants who’ve entered the room, a silent warning for me to hold my tongue. Like that’s going to work. “Leave us,” Henry says to the maids. They curtsy and back silently out of the room. Once the door closes, his fingers curl around my bicep. “I understand that you’re upset, but you can’t talk that way to me. Not in front of the help.”

  “I’ll talk to you any way I please. Especially when you’re treating me like I’ve done something wrong. I want to know what’s going on.” While my anger escalates, he watches me, expressionless. I cross my arms over my chest. “You can’t hold me here against my will.”

  “Oh, but I can.” He takes a step toward me. My pulse leaps. Adrenalin rockets through my body. I swallow and back up until my butt hits the edge of a loveseat. “I can talk to you any way I like. I can do anything to you I like.” The backs of his fingers trail down the length of my arm. “You’re completely at my mercy.”

  My heart pounds frantically, drowning out everything but the sound of blood pumping into my arteries. The gooseflesh on my arms is more from desire than fear. I grip the loveseat to keep from toppling backward. Henry stalks forward and cages me in, bracing one arm on each side of me. “Is this your master plan? Trick me into marrying you, drag me to Androvia, and make me your captive?”

  “Something like that.” Those perfect, plush lips curve into an ornery grin.

  “You really are a bastard.” I sound like a petulant teenager, but once my temper escapes, it’s nearly impossible to rein it back in.

  “You’re being overly dramatic.”

  “Don’t patronize me.” My hands shake from the force of my anger. “No wonder you couldn’t find a wife.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong.” He shoves a hand through his hair, ruffling the blond perfection into disorder. The messy strands add to his attractiveness which makes me even angrier. I hate being drawn to him. It makes me feel weak and vulnerable when I need to be strong and guarded. “I had a wife lined up, but she fucked Nicky during our engagement.”

  The mention of my ex-boyfriend’s name sends an uncomfortable flush up my neck. Nicky was a momentary lapse of good judgement. Even after our breakup, he still haunts me. “That’s not my fault.”

  “No, but I’m going to take it out on you anyway.” The glint in his eyes suggests he’s enjoying this.

  “I thought you were being kind when I needed a friend.” The more I think about the past few days, the more disillusionment taints the memories.

  He reaches for me. I shy away. His hand falls to his side. “I know it looks bad, but I can assure you it was necessary.”

  “Explain, please.”

  “Not here.” He tries to guide me toward the door, but I yank out of his grasp. An exasperated growl rumbles in his throat. “Upstairs. The walls have ears down here.”

  7

  Everly

  Henry’s bedroom overlooks the snow-capped mountains and glittering lake. As I stand at the window, staring at the fairytale landscape, a hole forms in the storm clouds, revealing the final pastel slivers of sunset. I exhale the breath I’d been holding, forcing the tense muscles of my neck to relax. Too soon, the clouds shift. Darkness descends. The loss of the sun’s presence reminds me that everything is temporary, including my predicament.

  He dismisses the staff and closes his bedroom door. The lock clicks. “I had no idea your bedroom was in such a deplorable state. It’s been closed up for decades. I’ll have it thoroughly cleaned and aired out for you. You can customize it to your liking.” I press my sweaty palms together. He clears his throat. “No one expected me to bring home a wife today. Under normal circumstances, you would have had months to redecorate.”

  “It’s fine.” In truth, I don’t give a damn about leather sofas, color wheels, or tapestries. Behind me, his footsteps move around the room while I stand alone at the edge of a plush Aubusson rug, wondering what comes next with us. Us. Yesterday morning, I was me. Everly McElroy. Today, I’m the king’s consort and prisoner. I’m miles from being fine. “You know what? It’s not okay. You should’ve warned me about your mother and Lady Clayton and the locked doors. Do you have any idea how demeaning it is to walk into a situation like this without a clue? It’s unacceptable, Henry.”

  “I did what I thought best under the circumstances. If you had known what you were walking into, you might have changed your mind.”

  “That’s entrapment. Or at the very least, a lie by omission. This might be a game to you, but it’s my life. Mine.” For emphasis, I place a hand over my heart. “For this to work, you have to let me know what to expect.”

  He takes two steps toward me. The glimmer of amusement is gone. “Point taken. I’ll work on my communication skills.”

  “That’s it?” Part of me wants to fight with him, because fighting provides a release for the emotions trapped in my chest. “No apology?”

  “Like I said, I had my reasons. I’m not going to apologize for keeping you safe. If anything, you should be thanking me.” The humor returns to his eyes. “On your knees.”

  “If you think I’m going to have sex with you after today, you’re crazy.” I give him my haughtiest glare. He advances another step. The tip of his tongue sweeps over his lower lip, like he’s thirsty for me. Strength ebbs from my knees. “I mean it.”

  “What do you want from me, Everly?” Henry yanks on his tie and slowly slides the tails through the knot. “Tell me. And be specific.”

  “Respect. Trust. Security.” My words are confident, but inside, I’m shaking. Men have never made me nervous, but this one—he’s so much more than I’m used to.

  “You already have my respect. I trust you—to an extent, or you wouldn’t be here. As for security? On my honor, you’re safe as long as you follow my rules.” Another step brings the tips of his shoes to the toes of my pumps. “What else?”

  “Umm…” The spicy musk of his cologne distracts my thoughts. No man should smell that good—clean, masculine, and primal. I retreat until the wall hovers at my back. His steps ghost mine, keeping the distance between us negligible.

  “Do you trust me, Everly? Do I have your respect?” The angle of his head casts one side of his face in shadow.

  “Those things have to be earned, and right now, I’m not sure where your loyalties lie.” He’s going to punish me again. The thought weakens my knees. I’m not ready. Not after the way he dominated me last night and the locked door incident of this afternoon. Yet, I can’t stop thinking about how good his weight will feel on top of me. My attention dips to his mouth, full and sensual with lips made for kissing.

  “My loyalties lie with Androvia, my subjects, and my wife. In that order.” His pupils dilate, darkening his eyes until I can see my reflection in their depths. “Don’t ever doubt it.”

  “But I—” The words die on my lips as he takes my chin between his thumb and index finger, bends down, and draws my lower lip between his teeth. The tug rockets to the space between my legs. I’m instantly wet.

  When he pulls back, the lines of his face harden. “It’s time to resume your lessons. I think we’ll work on obedience again tonight. Are you ready?”

  I jerk my chin from Henry’s grip. “Never.” But inside, I’m dying for more of his touch.

  The boom of his laughter brings heat into my cheeks. “You said the same thing last night, right before you begged me to fuck you.” He lifts index and middle fingers into the air. “Twice.”

  “Really? Because I don’t remember it like that.” Lying has never been one of my talents. It’s too painful to look at him, so I redire
ct my attention to the gigantic poster bed in the center of the room. The canopy soars toward a stormy sky mural on the ceiling. Heavy velvet draperies and gossamer sheers hang from the posters. The embroidered bedspread is cool to the touch, the silken threads tickling my palm. I run a hand over the intricate flower-and-vine carvings of the nearest bedpost. Matching fur-lined leather restraints dangling from metal rings on the headboard and footboard. There’s a silver ring mounted in the top of his canopy. For what purpose, I have no idea. Excitement dulls my anger. Last night, he gave me multiple orgasms while my hands were bound by his necktie. My body had responded to his touch, the sound of his voice, his nearness, in ways I’d never experienced before. Then I remember the locked door. Bastard.

  “Don’t lie, Everly, or I’ll have to punish you.”

  “Touch me, and I’ll scream.”

  “All the better.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.” The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the gloom. The silk of his tie slides noiselessly through his collar. He tosses it onto a nearby chair and takes a step closer. Practiced fingers unthread the cufflinks at his wrists, place them on the dresser, while his eyes—those damned intense eyes—remain locked on my face.

  “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Don’t play the victim. You did this to yourself.” With a flick of his fingertips, he pops open the button at his collar, exposing a triangle of golden skin, the notch of his collarbone. I swallow through the dryness in my throat. Why, why, why does he have to be so sexy? My body is already thrumming in anticipation of sex.

  “I suppose you’re going to say I locked myself in this suite, too.”

  “A man can’t be too careful with his possessions.” He kicks off his shiny black dress shoes before dropping his hands to his belt. I struggle to breathe through my nose and calm the frantic heave of my chest. The belt hisses through the loops of his waistband. He folds it in half and smacks it against his palm. I flinch, knowing just how delicious the leather would feel against my bottom.

  “Do you think I’m dangerous? Is that why you locked me in here?” I elevate my eyebrows to demonstrate just how ridiculous this idea is, and to hide my excitement at the prospect of being spanked. “Are you hiding something?”

  “Trust works both ways, Everly. Until I know you better, I intend to keep an eye on you.” He drops the belt to the floor then unbuttons the rest of his shirt. Each new button reveals luscious chest hair, not too much but enough to verify he’s all man. I bite my bottom lip and try not to gape at the ripples of his abdomen or the deep cut of muscle below his hip bones. Judging by the cocky smirk on his face, he knows the effect his body has on me. “I’m less concerned with your escape than I am with someone getting to you.”

  It takes a second for his words to register. Fear chills the heat of desire. I’ve escaped one dangerous situation and landed in another. “Shouldn’t you have brought this up—I don’t know—say, yesterday? Before I married you?” My shout bounces off the elaborate crown moldings. Good thing the walls are eight feet thick. Otherwise the other occupants of this floor, if there are any, would hear every word.

  “I have enemies, Everly, the same as you. Until the crown is officially on my head, I can’t let down my defenses.” One of his hands covers his heart. “On my honor, you’ll be protected.” He sweeps aside the drapes giving a view of the castle walls. Spotlights illuminate the whitewashed stone. “There are guards outside our apartment and outside the castle. You’re safer in here than anywhere else.”

  His statement reminds me that my father lurks in the world outside the palace walls, ready to end my life or, at the very least, make me pay for betraying him. My mouth goes dry. Many trusted people have lied to me in the past. I have no reason to think Henry’s an exception. Once again, I’m backed into a corner with nowhere to go. “How can we ever trust each other?”

  The muscles in his jaw tick as he studies my face. I can tell his patience is wearing thin. “We don’t have a choice.”

  Damn him. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. My options are limited. I cross my arms over my chest, wishing I could shield myself from danger. “I’ve really fucked myself, haven’t I?”

  “I never said that.”

  A glance out the window reveals men in military uniforms pacing along the castle parapet, rifles slung over their shoulders. Their presence reminds me of days spent with my father at the White House. The Secret Service was always hovering at his elbow, melting into the background, following me to school. I’m accustomed to being watched, but never like this. Not to this degree. I draw in a deep breath before facing Henry. “If you lock me up, this isn’t going to work. I understand your worries, but you need to understand mine. I don’t know you. I don’t understand your motives. And I don’t understand the ways of your country. I’m willing to learn, but you need to work with me. If I can’t have some degree of personal freedom, I will walk out this door, and then you’ll be the one who’s fucked.”

  Henry rolls his lips together, eyes narrowing. The bedside clock ticks, echoing the beat of my heart. Have I pushed him too far? Just because I let him dominate me during sex doesn’t mean I’m spineless. “And that’s your lesson for tonight, Henry Von Stratten.”

  His laughter booms off the walls, making my face heat with irritation and embarrassment. “You’re backed into a corner with no options, no friends, and nowhere to go, and you stand there with your claws out and your blue eyes blazing, ready to fight me to the death.”

  “Don’t laugh at me.”

  “I’m not poking fun. On the contrary, I’m thrilled by your fire.” The deep rumble of his voice vibrates in my ears—low, soft, and seductive. His concentration drifts to my lips, down my body to the tips of my feet before returning to my face. There’s no mistaking the heat and desire in his eyes or the bulge behind his zipper. “Your points are valid. We’ll figure something out.” He leans forward until I can feel the heat from his chest and see the fine stubble beginning to show on his clean-shaven face. My body reacts to his nearness. I close my eyes to gather my composure. When I open them, his lips are hovering next to mine. “In the meantime, you need to work on that temper of yours.”

  “You need to work on not pissing me off, and it won’t be a problem,” I reply, lifting my chin into the air.

  The tip of his nose slides along the length of mine. “Are we having our first fight?”

  “Let’s call it a lively discussion.”

  “Did you know that your lips tremble when you’re angry?” He brushes the pad of his thumb over my mouth.

  “No.” I try to put space between us, but he splays a hand over the small of my back and presses me to his hard, bare chest.

  “They do, and it’s so damn hot.” His soft mouth burns against the tender flesh below my ear. The kiss is delicious and unexpected and unravels my self-control. “I can’t wait to piss you off some more.”

  Judging by his chuckle, he’s enjoying this way too much. I want to be taken seriously. And I’m so over his mind games. I’ve had enough of that with my parents and Nicky and my ex-husband. Thinking about the way people have walked on me in the past makes my temper stir again. I put a hand on his chest to push him away. “Let me go.”

  “Go where?” He holds me tighter. There’s amusement in his voice, which makes me even angrier. “Haven’t we been over this already?”

  “Don’t be an ass.” I push on his chest again and try to wriggle out of his arms.

  “Too late.” His hands go to my bottom and squeeze, pressing me against the rigid erection behind the fly of his slacks. Knowing he’s turned on makes my panties wetter. A certain kind of power accompanies the knowledge that he desires me. The rush is new and unique and the headiest form of foreplay. He pushes his hips forward, rubbing his hardness against my belly, and my body thrills. “You know what I think? I think you like it.”

  “Spoken like a true misogynist.” My nipples harden, poking through my dress an
d into his pectorals.

  “You wouldn’t have me any other way.” Large hands cup my breasts, their touch gentle, reverent. I sigh when his thumb rubs over my left nipple. His lips nuzzle along the column of my neck, leaving a trail of gooseflesh. I tilt my head to give him better access. The tension and uncertainties of the day dissolve. Why fight it? I’m good at this—flirtation, innuendo, sex. He drags the zipper of my dress down my back and slips the sleeves over my shoulders. His hands caress each inch of my bare flesh. “Tell me you don’t want this, and it ends here.”

  I have an idea of what’s to come, and I’m equal measures of thrilled and fearful. If it’s anything like last night, he’s going to use me, break me, and pleasure me beyond measure. Inside, I’m a mess. I don’t want to enjoy this. But I do. And I hate myself for it. “I might like it a little. Don’t let it go to your head.”

  His laughter rings through the empty room. “I love it when you talk back to me.”

  “Good, because I have no intention of stopping.”

  Strong fingers thread into the hair at the nape of my neck. He holds my head in place and leans back to look into my eyes. My stomach flutters at the darkness and heat in the depths of his blue-green irises. “What shall I do with you?”

  It’s a rhetorical question, but I answer anyway. “You could start by letting me go.”

  “Oh no. I’m just getting started.” His blond hair brushes my chin as he bends to place a kiss on the top of my breast. A hot shiver of anticipation races through my body. His next words reverberate against my skin. “Shall we begin?”

  8

  Everly

  Shall we begin? Those three little words turn my world upside down. Tremors of anticipation vibrate through my body. I place a hand on a nearby chair to steady myself and prevent Henry from seeing the reaction he’s stirred.

  “Go lie on the bed and spread your legs for me.” He leans against one of the bed posters, head tilted to one side in challenge. His broad chest rises and falls with each measured breath.