by Heidi Rice
That sounded so good, but it could never happen.
She flattened her palms against his chest as he lowered his head. The misery helping to smother the knot of shame as heat bloomed in her core.
‘Stop, Leo. We can’t.’ She pushed him away.
‘No?’ he said, the confident, mocking tone making the knot in her gut grow to impossible proportions.
‘I told you, we can’t get married,’ she blurted out. ‘Ever. I told you that before I agreed to tonight.’
‘Why not?’ His lips twisted and the devastating smile did crazy things to her equilibrium. ‘We’re terrific together, in every way that counts. We just proved that beyond a doubt.’
You have to tell him. Now.
But how?
She’d screwed up so badly, she didn’t know if there was a way to make this right.
‘I need to take a shower.’ A cold shower. A very long, very cold shower.
‘Do you want me to join you?’ he said, in that too sexy voice that made her want to say yes, when she knew she couldn’t.
‘Maybe next time,’ she said, as she shot off the bed and made a dash for the bathroom.
She slammed the door and pressed her back against it. His confused look at her erratic behaviour imprinted on her brain.
She was a coward, as well as a liar, but she had to figure out the right way to tell him the whole truth and nothing but the truth—to minimise the enormity of her betrayal. And she couldn’t do that while he was looking at her as if he wanted to devour her, and her sex was still humming from the feel of him deep inside her.
She jumped as the door bumped against her back. ‘Jade, what’s going on? Can I come in?’
‘Nothing, really, I just need a minute...’ Or fifty. ‘I’ll be out soon.’
As soon as I’ve figured out how to defend the indefensible.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LEO RESTED HIS forehead against the bathroom door. He heard the shower and realised he had been dismissed. He frowned.
The woman was more capricious than a wild stallion, but while Jade’s unpredictable moods had been a major turn-on for days now—hell, ever since he’d seen her marching towards him at the Winter Ball a week ago with that bold, reckless light shining in her eyes—the trickle of unease had started to become a flood.
Something about this whole thing didn’t add up. Had never added up. He’d dismissed that gut instinct a week ago, and every day since, because he’d wanted her, more than he’d ever wanted any woman. She had captivated him, bewitched him even, and the sex they’d just shared had been... Frankly, mind-blowing.
But that realisation only made his uneasiness increase.
He’d never had a sexual experience like it... One so intense he hadn’t even remembered to use protection. He’d had a couple of condoms burning a hole in the pocket of his jacket all evening, but when he’d watched her body brace with pleasure, the need to bury himself deep inside her had been so overwhelming he hadn’t stopped to think.
She’d been artless and eager, responsive to every touch, every taste, every look, the chemistry between them as explosive as ever. And she hadn’t been experienced, but at the same time he wasn’t her first.
He had wanted to throttle the bastard who she had lost her virginity to—and wished that it could have been him—which didn’t make a lot of sense either.
The questions just kept coming—the inconsistencies, the surprises, the strange feeling of déjà vu that first time he’d kissed her.
Why had she seemed so naïve and insecure about her role as Queen? Why had she been so unconventional in her approach to their royal duties, when she had seemed to be so serene and controlled when he had met her on previous occasions? Why had she turned him inside out with lust, and longing, this week, when she never had before? Why had he trusted her so easily with the truth about his father, blurted out all that revealing stuff about his mother’s funeral? And why had the mention of marriage caused her to freak out, when she’d discussed the offer with such pragmatism less than a month ago?
So many questions. Questions he’d put to one side but which were bombarding him now. Questions he needed answers to.
He walked back to the bed, scooped up his boxers and trousers and put them on. The sound of pounding water from the power shower covered the click as he tried the bathroom door.
It wasn’t locked. He stepped into the room.
She stood in the shower cubicle, with her back to him.
Soap suds slid over skin flushed pink under the pummelling jets and the familiar heat pounded back to life. He sank his fists into his pockets and leant back against the door to enjoy the show. He needed to calm down before he quizzed her.
He’d always been a cynical man, but whatever was going on here, it probably had a reasonable explanation.
She went about the ritual of washing all those beautiful curves. And he had the strange thought he could happily spend the rest of his life watching a show like this every morning.
Strange, because, even though tonight had only confirmed for him how much potential a marriage between them had, he doubted even the stupendous chemistry they shared would lead to a lifelong commitment to his royal wife.
He just wasn’t built for that kind of emotional investment...
He had wanted this marriage, not just because of the diplomatic and financial benefits for both their monarchies, but also because a marriage based on expediencies would not require him to give more than he was capable of. This week’s events, though, had created something of a problem in that regard, because Jade intrigued and fascinated him enough to complicate his feelings towards her.
Not only did he want her more than expected, he was now even more invested in getting her to agree to the marriage.
She lifted her arms to finish rinsing the shampoo from her hair, giving him a tantalising view of her breast in profile, the puckered nipple still reddened by his attentions.
The heat spiked and he forced himself to banish the unhelpful thoughts. Just because he wanted her, in bed as well as out, theirs would still have to be a marriage of convenience.
‘We can’t get married. Ever.’
He recalled the panicked expression on her face when she’d refused him. Again.
Why couldn’t she marry him? She hadn’t given him an answer.
The flood of unease helped to dampen the heat as she switched off the jets and reached for the pile of towels on the vanity. The steam that had obscured his vision was sucked away, giving him a view of every luscious inch as she dried herself.
She bent forward to dry her legs, and he spotted something on her hip that he hadn’t noticed in the shadows of the bedroom.
What was that? A birthmark? No, a tattoo... A faded tattoo of a unicorn...
His heartbeat kicked up another notch, and the erection stiffened.
Jade had a tattoo... Of a unicorn? How had she managed to get that past her father?
‘I love unicorns, they’re a symbol of magic and freedom. I think I’m going to get a tattoo of one as soon as it’s legal.’
The passionate voice of another princess stabbed at his consciousness from eight long years ago.
What the...?
The shocking truth barrelled into him—and the knot in his gut became a nuclear bomb.
He shuddered so violently, the door behind him rattled against the frame.
She swung round, letting out a shocked gasp as she clasped the towel to her chest.
‘Leo? How long have you been standing there?’
Rage rose up his torso as he strode across the bathroom, positively shaking now. He’d been taken for a fool. Tricked, exploited and humiliated.
‘Long enough,’ he ground out, the rage all but choking him as he grasped her wrist and tugged her towards him, so he could re-examine the evidence up close.
> He swore, furious that the sight of her bottom—and the saucy mythical creature etched into her skin in faded colours—caused the inevitable rush of desire.
‘Leo, stop.’ She wrestled her arm free and scrambled to cover her backside from his inspection. But she couldn’t disguise the guilty flush burning across her collarbone and spreading up her neck. Or the panic darkening those emerald eyes. Panic he’d been so desperate to soothe five minutes ago, after they’d made love. Panic that suddenly made sense now too.
He fisted his fingers, stuffed them into his pockets, to resist the urge to throw her over his knee and give her the spanking she deserved.
Breathe, damn it.
‘Why?’ The one word came out on a broken breath, only humiliating him more. He fought off the twist of pain in his gut, forced the fury to the fore, to cover it. He’d told her things he should never have told anyone. She’d tricked him, manipulated him, lied to him, but he’d let her. ‘Why did you do it? Why did you lie to me for seven days straight? Is this some kind of sick joke?’
Kiss me, Leo. You know you want to.
The memory came flooding back, and with it the hurt that had shadowed her eyes when he’d told her he didn’t want her. And suddenly he knew. His fury became huge and all-consuming, but it still couldn’t cover the ache in his belly.
‘It was payback, wasn’t it? Because I refused to kiss you all those years ago. Well, congratulations, Princess Juno, you got me.’
The horrified guilt in her eyes gave him a grim sense of satisfaction, but did nothing to ease the pain in his gut.
It had all been a lie. Every damn thing. He’d been captivated, enchanted, overwhelmed... And she’d been laughing at him all along.
‘I... I’m sorry,’ Juno sputtered, but the apology felt weak at best. And no defence against his fury.
Her mind raced to catch up with her accelerating pulse and the anxiety threatening to close off her air supply.
His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re sorry?’ The scathing look burned into her skin. ‘You were always a spoilt, wilful brat, but this... This is something else.’
The insult cut through all her tough-girl bravado to the child she’d been, branded the Problem Princess and kicked out of the palace by her father.
‘I know I should have said something sooner.’ She wrapped the towel around herself, but how could she shield herself from his judgement, and how could she protect her heart from the great big black hole forming in her chest and threatening to suck away the last of her confidence and self-respect?
She deserved this. She knew that. She’d been a liar and a coward, he was right. But hadn’t any of it been real? Not one thing? Where was the man who had looked at her with such approval, such hunger, such tenderness?
‘I wanted to tell you, but I was scared you wouldn’t... That you wouldn’t...’
‘That I wouldn’t what?’ He sank his fists deeper into his pants pockets, making his pecs bulge and tense.
She could feel his fury pumping off him in waves. Unfortunately it wasn’t the only heat she could feel.
Fire flared through her oversensitised body, tightening her nipples into hard peaks and sinking like a heavy weight deep into her abdomen.
She edged back a step, her butt bumping into the vanity, disgusted and humiliated by her body’s response.
‘What?’ he barked, making her jump.
‘That you wouldn’t want me...’ she said, the broken sob of need impossible to disguise. ‘The way I wanted you.’
They were both breathing too fast, the vicious arousal darkening his gaze as real and vivid as the melting sensation going molten at her core. But she knew, even though she’d only just acknowledged it, this had never been just a physical need.
Why hadn’t she had the courage to admit that to herself until now?
‘It was never you I wanted though, was it?’ he ground out, stepping away as if she were contaminated. ‘It was your sister.’
The rejection lanced into her heart, cutting through every last one of her defences. Defences she had built up over years, to seal herself away from the pain.
She looked down. So ashamed now she felt as if her heart were being ripped out of her chest. ‘I know,’ she said.
Who the heck had she been kidding? How could what she felt for him, what she had hoped he felt for her, ever have been authentic when it had always been based on a lie?
‘Do you have any idea what you’ve done?’ he snarled.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again, her voice a whisper of pain.
He grasped her chin, dragged her gaze up to his. ‘Sorry isn’t good enough,’ he growled, the controlled fury in his tone making her flinch.
Her breath got trapped in her throat as the panic and pain roiled in her gut.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘But I’m still sorry that you hate me now.’
I don’t hate you. I wish I did.
The truth bounced into Leo’s brain, but he managed to stop himself from voicing it. Juno Monroyale had caused this crisis, with her asinine little charade, and he’d be damned if he’d let her get away with her thoughtless, reckless behaviour.
Maybe he didn’t hate her. How could he, when she had been so vibrant, so alive and intoxicating in his bed? When he still wanted her so much? And when a part of him couldn’t seem to get it through his head that the woman who had captivated him had never been real...in any of her guises?
Not the fierce goddess who had protected a freezing footman. Not the natural nurturer who had crouched down to charm a little girl. Not the compassionate friend who had comforted the lonely boy who still lurked inside him.
But even if there was some truth in there somewhere, how could those women make up for the one who lurked beneath all of those guises? The spoilt brat who had never had to give a damn about anyone but herself.
While the real Jade had stayed in Monrova and been groomed to become Queen, her twin sister—from what he could remember of what he’d read about her over the years—had swanned off to New York with her feckless mother and become the darling of Manhattan high society, carving out a niche for herself as the Rebel Princess on social media that was as vacuous and self-absorbed as she was.
Perhaps it was about time the Rebel Princess learned actions had consequences. That honour and duty meant something. And that being of royal blood gave you responsibilities, not a licence to do precisely what you chose.
Nobody knew that more than he did; he’d had that mantra literally beaten into him by his own father. And he’d be damned if he’d allow Juno’s latest prank to have any lasting impact on him or his monarchy—which meant keeping this disaster out of the public domain, by whatever means necessary.
‘Where is your sister?’ he demanded, disgusted all over again that he’d been forced into this position. How was he supposed to clean up the mess she’d made?
‘In New York, pretending to be me.’
‘So she was in on this too?’ he said, not sure whether Jade’s involvement made him even madder or not. ‘Whose idea was it?’
‘Mine,’ she said.
‘Figures.’ He stared. Why was he not surprised?
‘We swapped places on the afternoon of the Winter Ball. It wasn’t really planned, it just sort of happened. The idea was to give Jade a chance to spend some time thinking about whether she really wanted to go through with the marriage... To you.’
‘Uh-huh. And whose idea was it for you to sleep with me?’ he snarled, the fury starting to choke him again. How could he have been such a fool? To fall for their little scheme. Why hadn’t he questioned much more vigorously all the things about the new Queen of Monrova that didn’t fit?
Because you wanted her so damn much. That’s why.
‘No one’s.’ She gasped, looking genuinely shocked at the suggestion; why that should calm his racing heartbeat, he had no
idea. He’d still been taken for a fool, by them both.
‘I didn’t... I didn’t think we would hit it off the way we did.’
So that much at least had been real. His temper and outrage downgraded another notch. But her admission wasn’t going to solve their main problem. He’d trusted her before he knew who she really was; he didn’t trust her any more. And the only thing he cared about now—the only thing he could allow himself to care about—was preventing this mess from becoming a media scandal.
She sighed, drawing his attention to the soft swell of her cleavage over the towel.
The shaft of longing was echoed in the bright blush that seared her face.
He forced his gaze back to her eyes. He needed to figure out how best to handle this situation now. And he couldn’t do that when the basic elemental need was still echoing in his groin.
‘Does anyone but Jade know about this?’ he said.
She shook her head.
‘Are you sure? How the hell did you keep it a secret from Garland, and the rest of your staff?’ he asked, astonished all over again at her recklessness.
‘I suppose people only see what they want to see,’ she said, the blush flaring over her cheeks.
Wasn’t that the truth.
‘You need to leave, so I can think,’ he snarled.
She swallowed, her face a picture of embarrassment—which would have been oddly charming, given what they’d already done to each other, if the situation weren’t so dire. ‘Okay, would you mind staying here? So I can get dressed, and go back to my own rooms.’
He stepped back so she could pass him. ‘I’ll tell you how we’re going to proceed tomorrow,’ he said, just in case she had some idea he was going to let her run off without facing the consequences of her actions.
She nodded, but as she walked past him—her head lowered—he had to shove his hands back into his pockets, to resist the powerful urge to touch her.
