by Renna Peak
“I did hear your proposal, Your Highness. At the Salt Festival, remember? Though, it wasn’t so much a proposal as a proclamation—”
“As I said, I think we need to call a truce, particularly to that. I’ve apologized to you—”
“Have you?”
“I…” His smile falls again and his forehead wrinkles. “I believe I have. But if I haven’t to your satisfaction, then I will again. I am sorry, Princess. Truly sorry.”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t still be calling me Princess that way.”
“It’s a term of endearment, I promise you—”
“No. It’s no more a term of endearment than my calling you Your Highness. You may as well be calling me Spoiled Bitch. Which, come to think of it, I might prefer to Princess.”
He looks at me for a moment. “I’m sorry. Truly sorry. Particularly if I’ve offended you.”
I make a shooing motion toward the door. “Fine. I accept your apology. Now please leave.”
“I…” He frowns before he finally stands. “I’d like you to hear my proposal. My…idea.”
“I don’t have time for this, William. I…” My mouth hangs open as I realize I’ve called him by his given name. “I—”
“If dinner is truly canceled, it makes my idea all the more viable.”
“There is nothing viable about any of this. Now if you’d please leave—”
“I’d…I’d like us to have a date.”
My brows rise. “A…date?”
He nods. “A date. And I’d like us to start it now.”
William
Justine gapes at me as if I’ve just told her I’ve decided to run off and join the circus.
“I just thought it would be good for us,” I say. “A way to get to know each other a little better.”
“We already live together,” she says. “We sleep in the same suite.”
“And yet we’re still strangers. And we will continue to be if we continue going on as we have.”
Justine crosses her arms. “You’ve read my journal. I’d say you already know a lot more about me than you should.”
“Would it help if I let you read my journal?”
Her lips quirks. “You have a journal?”
“Well, not exactly. But talking to me is the next best thing.”
She shakes her head. “You’re not exactly selling this.”
“Then how about this—it’s important to me that my wife is happy. The way this marriage came about was…less than fair to you. I can’t change the past, but what I can do is try and make it up to you. And I’d like to do what I should have done the moment I realized marriage to you was even on the table—I want to court you.”
“Court me?”
“Yes. Is that so novel an idea?” I grin down at her. “Come, Princess—just one date. If you have a terrible time, then we don’t have to have another.”
She leans back in her chair, her arms still crossed. “What exactly are you proposing we do on this date?”
“I’ll admit that my ideas are limited, considering I’ve only been here a couple of days and don’t know fully what this palace or Rosvalia have to offer. But at the very least, I thought we might acquire some food and talk.” I shrug. “Perhaps we might order something from the kitchens and have ourselves a picnic—I noticed a lovely conservatory not far from this room. Perhaps we might eat there.”
“That might not be the best idea,” she says. “That’s the aviary. It’s beautiful, but as soon as the birds see food, they’ll be all over us.”
“That sounds like an adventure.”
“Trust me—it won’t be. Unless you want to be dive-bombed by tropical birds, we should probably eat elsewhere.”
My smile widens. “Does that mean you’re agreeing to a date?”
She closes her eyes. “I’m agreeing to dinner. You can call it a date if you want.”
“I do want.”
She shakes her head, opening her eyes. “There’s a spot in the gardens that might be nice. Over by the south gate.”
“Then I’ll have the kitchen send our food there.” I stride toward the door. “Let’s say…eight o’clock? And Princess, dress nice.” I give her a wink that probably doesn’t help my case, but I’d swear she’s fighting a smile as I close the door.
This is my chance, I think cheerfully as I hurry back to our suite. And I don’t intend to waste it.
At ten to eight, I’m standing in the small courtyard Justine suggested. She’s right—it’s absolutely lovely. Large hedges surround the stone patio on three sides, giving it a cozy feel. The fourth side is open, facing a small but charming little pond.
The night is chilly—I didn’t think about the season when I suggested a picnic—but the lanterns that line the courtyard give off a comforting warmth. When I get closer to one, I realize it’s an electric heater designed to look like an ornate, flickering lantern. Despite the autumn chill, we’ll be quite warm here.
There’s a table and chairs set up next to the pond, and when the staff appears with the food, I direct them there. I ordered far too much for us to eat—pheasant and pastries, scalloped potatoes and buttered vegetables, exotic cheese and fruit. I was impressed by the scope of the palace’s kitchens—though my heart belongs with our chef back home, I imagine I’ll eat quite well here.
Tonight, though, it is more important to show Justine that I’m trying.
I straighten my jacket. My motivations aren’t entirely unselfish—I wasn’t lying when I told Justine I felt the need to make things up to her for the way this marriage was arranged, but everything is far more complicated than that. There are too many secrets in this place, and I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life pretending I don’t notice.
Or even the next ninety-seven days. My first order of business is to learn once and for all what Justine was referring to with that little slip of the tongue. I’m not a fool, and I don’t intend to be played for one. Perhaps, once the wine is flowing and she sees I’m not as terrible as she thinks I am, she might be honest with me.
A footstep on the cobblestones makes me turn. Justine has appeared, and the sight of her takes my breath away.
She actually listened to me when I asked her to dress up—she’s put on a simple gown of pale yellow that shines like gold in the lamplight. Her dark hair hangs in loose waves, and it too shines in the flickering light. In fact, everything about her glows—she looks absolutely enchanting.
It takes me a moment to find my voice. “Good evening, Princess.”
She starts towards me, and the silk dress moves as she walks, sliding over her curves like water. I swallow, trying to ignore the sudden rush of blood to my cock.
“Good evening, Your Highness,” she says when she reaches me. Her eyes shift past me to the table of food. “You must be hungry—that’s enough food for eight people.”
“Well, I always like to be prepared,” I say with a grin. “Besides, I have no idea what your favorite foods are yet—only that you’re allergic to shellfish and can’t eat raspberries. So I thought I’d play it safe and order everything.”
“How conscientious of you.”
I can’t tell whether she’s being sarcastic or not—but I see a flash of humor in her eyes.
Maybe this is working, I think. Maybe I’m finally getting through to her. You can never tell with noblewomen, though.
I lead her to her seat, pushing her chair in behind her. Then I take my own chair.
“Wine?” I ask, holding up the bottle.
Instantly, something flickers in her gaze—suspicion?—but it’s gone as fast as it came.
“One glass,” she says.
“One glass it is.” I pour some for each of us, then raise my glass. “To our very first date.”
She raises her glass to meet mine. “To our first date.”
“And to a long and happy marriage.”
I can see immediately that I’ve pushed things too far, too fast. Her smile falters, and she doesn�
�t immediately try to hide it. She lowers her glass.
“Tell me the truth,” she says. “Why did you ask me here tonight?”
“I’ve already told you, I want to start fresh and—”
“That’s bullshit, and we both know it. I don’t trust you, Your Highness.”
“I don’t trust you either, Princess.” I shrug. “But the way I see it, that just makes us even.”
“Why did you ask me here?”
“Why did you come?”
“I asked you first, but I have a feeling you’re just going to keep us talking in circles. I came because I wanted to know what you were up to.”
“As you can see,” I say, spreading my hands, “I just wanted us to have a pleasant dinner together.”
She sighs. “How long are we going to keep up this game, Your Highness?”
“You tell me. You have yet to tell me what happens in ninety-seven days, even though it obviously affects me.”
“Nothing happens. I’ve already told you—”
“Lies. And every time you open your mouth, you lie again. I—”
The sounds of approaching laughter cuts me off. I glance around. Someone’s approaching the courtyard—two someones, judging by the murmur of voices.
Justine stands. “I think that’s my cue to go.”
Before she can take a step, though, her brother walks into the courtyard—with the absolute last woman I ever want to see on his arm.
Lady Clarissa. I thought I’d left her behind in Montovia. When my brother decided he wouldn’t marry her—for good reason, since she’s certifiably insane—my father charged me with the task of “courting” her for an appropriate amount of time to avoid offense. Even a fake, political courtship with the woman was far, far too much. She represents everything I despise about noblewomen.
The pair stops in surprise when they see us—apparently they thought they’d have some privacy out here. Slowly, though, Reginald’s look of surprise shifts into a wicked grin.
“Well, well, well,” he says. “What have we here?”
Justine
My brother stands across from us, tapping his foot as he slides his arm around his companion’s waist. “Whatever are you doing out here, Sister?”
I glare at the two of them. While Lady Clarissa and I were both “contestants” in the pageant put on by William’s eldest brother, she did nothing to make me feel as though I was worthy of being in her presence during my time in Montovia.
My chin juts out the slightest bit. I don’t dare lift my nose at her—she would likely attack me. “I wasn’t aware the courtyard needed to be reserved, Brother. My husband and I were going to have dinner—”
“It looks like you’ve more than enough food for the four of us.” Reginald smiles. “Why don’t we join you?”
William strides to my side. “Actually, we were just leaving.” He slides his arm around my waist, matching what Reginald is doing with Clarissa.
“Ah, yes.” Reginald chuckles. “The newlyweds. Can’t keep your hands off him, Justine?” The tone in his voice makes me cringe—it’s almost as though he knows about the arrangement I have with our father, which may well be true by now. “You’ll have those four boys before you know it if you keep going at it like that.”
His words draw a cackle from Clarissa. “That’s not what I heard. I heard William couldn’t satisfy his wife on their wedding night.”
They both begin howling with laughter at her comment.
I pull away from William but only far enough to take his hand in mine. “Come, William. I—”
“Oh, as if that’s going to happen.” Reginald and Clarissa howl even louder at my inadvertent innuendo.
I tug on William’s hand. “Let’s go.”
His face is flushed and he’s frowning, glaring at the couple. He opens his mouth to say something, but I tug on his hand again.
“Let’s go,” I repeat.
He blinks a few times before nodding, and we walk back into the palace. As soon as we’re inside, I pull my hand away from him.
“We don’t… We can hold hands, can we not, Princess?” He arches an eyebrow at me.
I try not to roll my eyes. “After you take me on a ‘date’ to do nothing but accuse me of being a liar?” I give him a small shake of my head. “I think not.”
We walk down the corridor for a few moments before he speaks again. “Thank you.”
I don’t even glance over at him. “For what?”
“For defending me to your brother. I—”
“I did nothing of the sort. I was only defending myself.”
“No. You were defending me. Like it or not, Princess, you stood up for me.”
“Well, never fear. It won’t happen again.” Something twists in my gut, but I can’t really name the feeling. It certainly can’t be guilt at knowing at least something of the plans my father has for the man. Perhaps if he had treated me better, I would at least tell him our days of marriage are numbered. Of course, I did let my tongue slip last night, but William has no idea what it meant.
“We could continue our date, even without dinner—”
I stop walking and turn to face him. “So that you might insult me further? I think I’ll pass, Your Highness.”
“We could call a truce for the evening, then. So that we might enjoy each other’s company.” His playful smile returns. “I think that if you would give me a chance—”
“I’ve given you far more chances already than I should have, Your Highness.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps not.” He tilts his head. “I think—”
“I think that you do not trust me. And I certainly do not trust you. I believe we are at an impasse.”
“We don’t need to be at an impasse, though. There are ways we can learn to trust the other—”
I interrupt with a sigh. “Yes, like you did to me on our wedding night? I really do think I will pass on your offer, Your Highness.”
He frowns. “I hope you know this is not the way I envisioned this night.”
“Oh?” I lift a brow. “How did you envision this night?”
“I thought…” His brows draw together. “I thought we might get to know each other better over dinner. And perhaps find some common ground. Something on which to build our relationship.”
“Ah.” I nod. “But I believe we’ve established we have no common ground, Your Highness. We—”
“We have that.”
My brow furrows. “We have what, exactly?”
“We’re both royals—noble people.” He nods. “We grew up in similar circumstances.”
I shake my head as I begin walking again. “I can assure you, Your Highness. We did not grow up in similar circumstances.”
He catches up to me in a few strides. “Something, then. There has to be something—”
I stop walking again and turn to him. “Why are you so certain? Why do you even want there to be something? Isn’t it better if we’re just civil to each other? If we learn to tolerate each other?”
“Yes.” His smile falls. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“Good. Then we’ve come to an agreement on something. There—you have your common ground.”
“Our common ground is that we’ll tolerate each other for eternity?” He frowns. “That doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“Welcome to Rosvalia, Your Highness. No one said it was going to be any fun.”
He works his jaw for a moment. “I’d like to see the aviary.”
I motion with my arm down the corridor next to us. “It’s down there. Have at it.”
“With you.”
I lift a brow. “I’ve seen the aviary on many occasions, Your Highness.”
“We haven’t seen it together.”
A strange pulse of electricity rushes through me, but I push the feeling aside. “I don’t need to see it with you, Your Highness. I’ve—”
“Then the ballroom. There are two, are there not? One grand ballroom and another smaller one. I thought—�
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“Also two rooms I’ve seen on a number of occasions, Your Highness. You’re welcome to go there yourself.” I fake a yawn. “I’m feeling rather tired—I did work all day. I think I’m going to retire—”
“I’m not sleeping on the sofa again, Princess.” There’s no trace of a grin on his lips. “And I rather thought we might—how did you say it? Find some common ground on that issue?”
“I can arrange to stay in my own suite, Your Highness. Though it isn’t going to do much for your image with my family if I do.” I motion to the courtyard where my brother and Lady Clarissa are now eating our food. “Though, if you don’t care what the likes of those two think of you, it might be more appropriate—”
“It’s not more appropriate, though. I—”
“Your mother has her own suite. I spent enough time in your palace to know that. It isn’t that unusual for wives to have separate suites.” I nod, mostly to myself. “And then we’ll never have to see each other.”
“Is that what you want?”
I think back to the kiss we shared this morning and how it took every bit of my will to pull away from him. No, it isn’t what I want. But it is what I need. If I allow him to get too close to me, I might accidentally care about him, and then where will I be in three months? Heartbroken again. After what happened to me the last time, there is no way I will ever let a man get that close to my heart. I don’t care how beautiful his blue eyes are, or how good he smells when he holds me in his arms, or how looking at him now sends another pulse of electricity through me that centers itself right where it should not. I will not care for this man. Not today and not ever.
I stare at him for another long moment, trying to push away the wrenching feeling in my stomach. “Yes, Your Highness. That is what I want.”
William
This wasn’t how this night was supposed to go. I was hoping to bridge some of the distance between us. Instead, I’ve somehow convinced her that we need separate bedrooms.
What’s wrong with me? When did women get this difficult? I’ve had a number of relationships throughout my life—nothing serious, of course, but enough to give me plenty of experience—and I’ve never bungled any of them like I have this thing with Justine. Women love me—I’m as charming as my brother Leopold without any of his recklessness, and as responsible as Andrew without being brooding or serious. I normally don’t have to work nearly this hard to earn a woman’s affection, much less her respect.
