Royal Arrangement #2

by Renna Peak

  But this isn’t over yet.

  “Very well, Princess,” I say. “I’ll respect your request for separate suites, but on one condition—you answer one of my questions.”

  She crosses her arms. “Our little game is over.”

  “If you desire. But that will mean the difference between whether I make this whole ‘separate rooms’ thing easy for you or not.”

  She frowns. “Is that a threat?”

  “It’s simply a reminder of our bargain. This is a marriage, Princess. That means both of us get equal say in big decisions. My little game was, quite simply, a way to deal with our disagreements, at least until we find a more productive way to work together.”

  She shakes her head. “Fine—ask your question. I just want to get this settled.”

  I smile. “Very well. My question is—what is the name of the man who inspired your poetry?”

  I can see the very moment she realizes she walked right into my trap—her eyes go wide in surprise, then flash with anger.

  “You’ve already asked that one,” she says.

  “And you never answered, which means it’s still fair play.” I lean against the wall, grinning. “It’s an easy question, Princess. I just want his name, not his life story.” Once I have his name, I’ll figure out the rest on my own.

  “I told you I made all of that up.”

  “And I know you’re lying.” I pretend to yawn. “Stall all you want, Princess—I’m prepared to stay here all night if need be. And I will be staying in the same room as you until you tell me his name, even if it takes the rest of our lives.” Or at least for the next ninety-seven days, whatever that means.

  She turns away, probably trying to hide her flushed cheeks. “Why does it matter so much to you? It’s just a stupid name. From some stupid guy I knew a long time ago.”

  “I don’t believe for a moment he was just ‘some stupid guy’.” I step closer, lowering my voice. “I believe he was very important to you—and that’s why I want to know.”

  “Why do you care?”

  “Because I’m your husband.”

  She’s still not facing me, but I see her back stiffen slightly when she hears my footsteps just behind her. She doesn’t turn around. She seems to be trying very hard to focus her attention on a little marble statue sitting on a pedestal in an alcove on the wall. “You’re my husband in name only. We’re not in love. We don’t even really like each other.”

  “I like you.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, actually, I don’t. Yes, we’ve gotten off to a bit of a rocky start, but I’ve been doing my best to change that—to get to know you. Is there something so wrong about that?”

  She turns quite suddenly. “Maybe there are things I don’t want you to know. Is that so hard to comprehend?”

  The look in her eyes surprises me—it’s not anger, as I expected. Or even exasperation. Instead, it’s almost…sad. Pleading. There’s a profound pain in her expression, barely contained, and for the life of me, I don’t know how to respond to it.

  “Is there nothing in your life that you’d prefer to keep hidden from me?” she goes on. “Nothing that you want to keep to yourself, safe in your heart? Has your life been so carefree that you have no secrets?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. Instead, she rushes on. “Marriage—even an arranged one—means many things. But it doesn’t give you open access to my heart. The sooner you accept that, the happier we’ll both be.”

  For a moment, I’m stunned—and ashamed, for pushing her to this point, for dragging up such pain. But those emotions are quickly supplanted by anger. Who the hell did this to her? And what, exactly, did he do to cause her such pain? If I ever run into the bastard, I’m going to smash his face in. My questions about him suddenly seem a lot more urgent. I know she was trying to convince me to let it go, but instead, her words have had the opposite effect.

  “Princess, whoever this man was—”

  She holds up a hand, silencing me. “I’m not going to talk about him. Not now or ever.”

  “Then you’re giving him even more power. Whatever he did—”

  “I said I’m not talking about him.” She spins away from me again. “I’ve had enough of this conversation. And enough of this so-called date.” She starts down the corridor, not looking to see if I follow.

  I don’t know how to stop her. I don’t know how to handle any of this—Justine is nothing like any of the other girls I’ve had relationships with, and none of my usual methods seem to work.

  “Dancing,” I hear myself blurt.

  She pauses, then turns back. “What?”

  “Dancing,” I repeat, a little steadier this time. “Dancing is our common ground.”

  She’s silent for a long moment. “You can’t build a relationship on dancing, Your Highness.”

  “I disagree. Or have you forgotten our wedding dance already?” Slowly, I walk down the hall toward her. “For those few moments, we were perfectly in sync. Perfectly attuned to each other. We weren’t treating each other as opposition—we were treating each other as partners.”

  “Only because we couldn’t really argue, not in front of all those people.”

  “When we dance, there’s no reason to talk at all.”

  She raises an eyebrow quizzically. “What exactly is your point?”

  “My point is that maybe that’s where we should start. Dancing.” I stop a few steps away from her. “Since we can’t talk for five minutes without arguing with each other, maybe we should stop trying to talk at all. Maybe we should approach this a different way.” I hold my hand out to her. “What do you say?”

  She looks at me as if I’ve gone mad. “Right now? Here?”

  “Well, maybe not here. A ballroom might work better. Or anywhere, really, as long as we might play some music. I could pull something up on my phone.” I wiggle my fingers. “Come, Princess. Just one dance. So this date isn’t a complete failure.”

  Justine hesitates, and I can’t tell whether she’s exasperated or impressed. “You are…”

  “Charming?” I finish for her. “Irresistible?”

  “You’re determined, I’ll give you that. And annoying.”

  I laugh. “Well, that’s probably better than you would have said about me a couple of days ago. I’ll take it.” I push my hand a little closer to her. “So, Princess?”

  She almost smiles. Almost. And then she puts her hand in mine.

  “One dance.”

  Justine

  We make our way to the smaller of the two palace ballrooms in silence, my hand in his.

  This is idiotic, I think. He might have been a decent dance partner. We might have even shared something of a moment at our wedding. But to think this might be our common ground… I doubt it. We can’t be together for five seconds without arguing, and I’m sure the moment he opens his mouth on the dance floor, we’ll only be fighting while trying to remember the steps to a waltz.

  I’m not sure what he’s thinking, and it certainly doesn’t sound like fun. But if I give him his one dance, hopefully he’ll take me up on my offer to occupy a separate suite. He certainly seems amenable to the idea—perhaps more than I’d hoped he would have been. But if he wants me in my own room, so be it. I’ll be more than happy to do that for him. It will make things all the better for us—help the time pass more amicably, at least.

  It takes a moment to find the lights to the ballroom—the smaller of the two is rarely used, and the electrical system hasn’t been upgraded in some time. I search in the darkness for the switch and finally find it near the corner. As soon as I turn the switch, the antique chandeliers above us give off a warm glow.

  “You probably will have to play the music on your phone.” I glance at the doorway where William still stands. “This ballroom doesn’t have a sound system. When it’s used, we usually have a string quartet or a pianist playing music.”

  He says nothing—he just stares at me.

  “What is it?�
�� I feel my brow furrow, and I wonder if I have something on my face.

  He shakes his head. “Nothing. You’re just… You’re lovely.”

  I arch a brow. “Thanks.” I make a sweeping motion with my arm, inviting him into the room. “Are you going to come in? Or are you going to drag this out all night?”

  He smiles, but it isn’t his usual grin. He strides to me in only a few steps. “I have to say, I don’t think I’d mind dragging this out a while. If you wouldn’t mind, of course.”

  “I do mind, though, Your Highness. It’s the only reason I agreed to this.”

  He nods, but his smile never falls. “Very well. Perhaps we can make this game more interesting, then.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and begins tapping at it, likely looking for an appropriate musical piece.

  “I thought we agreed the game was over, Your Highness.”

  He looks up at me with another grin. “I never said anything of the sort, Princess.”

  I want so badly to roll my eyes, but I refrain. “I agreed to your dance to avoid playing your games, Your Highness.”

  He sets his phone down on a ledge on the wall, tapping at it before he walks over to me, holding out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

  I give him a small nod and allow him to take my hand. The music begins almost as if it’s on cue, and William pulls me into his arms.

  We glide around the dance floor a few times before he begins to speak. “You’re really a very good dancer.”

  “You aren’t bad yourself.” If I’m being honest, he might be the best dancer I’ve been with, though I’d never tell him that. His ego is large enough as it stands.

  “You flatter me, Princess.” He grins down at me.

  I’m not certain what it is—perhaps it’s the way we’re moving together in time almost effortlessly, or perhaps it’s the dim lighting. Whatever it is, the way he’s looking at me is doing something…strange to me. It’s sending some odd sensation through my body, and I’m hyperaware of where his hand rests on my back. It’s almost like it was at our wedding, but something has changed. It’s as though I could see us dancing like this for the rest of our lives.

  Of course, that’s impossible. We have only ninety-seven days left of this marriage, and that is more than enough. If I can somehow manage to make it through the next ten days, I think maybe I can learn to tolerate him enough that I won’t murder him myself before my three months of torture are up.

  He spins me around, challenging me to keep up with him. He has to know after the last dance we shared that I can meet him step for step. He changes directions unexpectedly and I move my feet in time, reading the slightest change in his body before he even moves.

  “I keep thinking I’ll surprise you, Princess.”

  “There isn’t much that surprises me any longer, Your Highness.”

  “Our betrothal surprised you.” His grin falls almost immediately as he realizes what he’s said. “That is to say—”

  “I know what you’re saying.” I don’t frown, but I don’t smile, either. “I should tell you, though, Your Highness, that I do not like surprises.”

  “Everyone likes surprises.” The corners of his lips twitch like they’re going to turn up into a grin, but they don’t. “Perhaps not the type of surprise I gave to you. But certainly some types of surprises.”

  “Not me—”

  “Not even presents? You can truly say you don’t like receiving a gift?” He changes directions suddenly, obviously trying to throw me off guard between the movement and his non-stop questioning.

  “No, not even presents. I’d prefer no surprises, ever.” I turn as I feel his body start to move in the next direction.

  He shakes his head. “I keep trying to throw you off and nothing seems to work.”

  “What is the point of throwing me off, Your Highness? To make yourself laugh?” He performs another similar move, but I sense what he’s going to do before he does it.

  “Certainly. But perhaps you would also laugh.”

  “You think I would laugh if I fell on my face?” I look up at him, even as he tries again to throw me off my rhythm. “Why would you think that would be funny?”

  “I wouldn’t think it funny if you fell. I would be there to catch you.”

  I sigh. “You make no sense, Your Highness. First you want to laugh at me for falling, then you want to catch me. I wish I knew what it was you wanted.”

  He smiles down at me, but it isn’t his usual grin. “I want you to be my wife.”

  “I’m already your wife, whether either of us likes it or not.”

  “Ah, but that’s just it, Princess. I want us both to like it.”

  The music ends, and I pull away from him. I smooth my dress down as I look up at him. “I gave you what I promised.”

  “You did at that.” The small smile still plays on his lips, and I find myself wanting to know what it is he’s thinking behind it.

  But I catch myself before I say something I might regret. “I’ll let you find your way back to the suite. I’ll find suitable guest quarters for myself. One of the maids can bring me my night clothes and something to wear for tomorrow.”

  He stares at me for a moment, the smile falling away from his lips. “Is that really what you wish?”

  No that is not really what I wish. But I glare at him instead of saying it. “It’s what you wish.”

  “I don’t actually recall saying those particular words, Princess.”

  My gaze narrows. “You said you wouldn’t be sleeping on the sofa again. And that is fine by me. You may have the bed. There are a dozen other rooms in the same wing—”

  “I don’t…” He lets out a huff of what sounds like exasperation. “This is not what I meant when I said I wouldn’t be sleeping on the sofa again, Princess.”

  I say nothing, just continue glaring at him. Of course I know he didn’t mean that—he wants us to share a bed. But I don’t trust him. He thinks me a liar, and he’s already humiliated me more than I ever should have allowed him. There is no common ground between us. We can dance together, certainly, and we can find something in common on the dance floor, but that isn’t something we can build a relationship upon. We can barely stand to be in the same room together. How am I supposed to stand being married to him for another three months?

  “We could… We could try—”

  “Sleeping in the same bed?” I scoff. “I don’t think so, Your Highness. After the last two nights—”

  “Yes, but I do believe we could say we are even after these last two nights, Princess.” His cheeks flush a color of pink I can’t even name. “Believe me, I do wish last night had gone a bit differently—”

  “As I wish our wedding night had.” I narrow my gaze. “This clearly isn’t going to work, Your Highness. We can’t even say ten words to the other—”

  “Then maybe we shouldn’t speak any longer, Princess.”

  I lift a brow. “You want us not to speak for the rest of our marriage? I think I could be amenable to that—”

  I don’t even finish my sentence before his lips press against mine, sending a bolt of electricity racing to every nerve ending in my body. My lips part despite my best effort and within another moment, his tongue is sliding against mine. His arms are looped around my waist, pulling me impossibly close to him.

  I’m not sure what comes over me, but I grab the front of his shirt and pull him toward me.

  And I kiss him back.

  William

  I can feel the exact moment she lets go, giving herself over to the kiss. It’s the same moment I lose all control.

  I squeeze her even tighter against me, unable to get close enough to her. It’s overwhelming—the scent of her, the taste of her, the feeling of her body against mine—but I can’t get enough. Not nearly enough.

  This desire for her is nothing new. But it’s one thing to desire her from a distance and quite another to have her in my arms, responding to me. Desire doesn’t even begin to describe the n
eed coursing through me at this moment. If I thought I had any power in this situation, such ridiculous notions are gone now.

  One of my hands moves up her back, pressing against her spine, keeping her close. I’m dimly aware of moving—of backing her up, nudging her toward the edge of the room. When we reach the wall, I push her up against it then continue my assault on her mouth.

  She seems as desperate and frantic as I am. One of her hands digs into my back, her nails sharp even through my clothes. Her other hand is curled around the back of my neck, keeping my face close to hers. Her lips attack mine, her tongue teasing me with delicate strokes that send surges of blood toward my groin.

  She wants me. She wants me just as much as I want her.

  A small voice in my mind reminds me of the little stunt she pulled last night, warning me that this might be another ploy…but I can’t bring myself to believe it. Not with the way she’s kissing me. Not with the way she clings to me as if she’s afraid to let go.

  My hand moves to her waist, then slides slowly up her side. The slinky gown she’s wearing does little to hide her body, and it’s so thin I can feel every curve of her through the fabric.

  My fingers brush against the bottom of her breast. She gasps against my lips, but she doesn’t pull away. Slowly, I curl my hand around her, letting my thumb brush across her nipple.

  She moans softly, leaning into my touch. Her lips tighten on mine, as if she’s suddenly dependent on me for air.

  Maybe dancing was all we needed. And I’m more than ready to try a very different kind of dance with her…

  “Honestly,” comes a voice from behind us, “don’t you two have any manners?”

  I nearly jump out of my skin, jerking back so fast that Justine stumbles and has to catch the wall to keep from falling.