“In one of my homes,” he said, omitting the fact said home was a few hours away from his place in London.
“I don’t remember…anything.” It was weird to think she had been out for such a considerable amount of time. “But…this is not your Mayfair house, is it? Where are we?”
“Let me get you something to wear,” he hedged the question and climbed off the bed.
He reached for the two dressing-robes he’d laid over the foot of the bed—a kimono style that wrapped across the front—put one on and motioned with the other for her.
Siobhan slipped out of bed and allowed him to help her into it, trying to conceal herself in the process.
“You shouldn’t be shy, you’re gorgeous.” Charmed by her modesty, Angus tied the belt at her waist and proceeded to roll the sleeves back. His mid-calf length robe was three times her size, the hem pooling on the floor.
She looked around the room once more, wondering if she had been just so tired that she had slept through the trip, arriving at his house, and a few hours more. Not surprising. Jaxon always says I could sleep through World War III.
“Why don’t you put on some clothes,”—he waved a hand to an armchair where her dress, underwear and wool stockings were folded up and then to the walk-in dressing closet—“and we can talk more while eating something?”
Now that he mentioned it, yes, she was thirsty and hungry, and her stomach growled in response.
Angus gave her a tight smile and she wondered what was wrong with him. He looked, well, on edge about something—again. Was he worried about the baby, about her threatening the abortion? It was a bad thing to have said. “Angus, I—”
“The bathroom is through there,” he said, before she could continue. “You will find all that you need as well as some new underwear. Take your time.”
“Angus,” she tried again as he strode to the door. “I’m sorry.”
Angus stiffened as he heard her soft words, feeling like a bastard in the process. He should be the one apologizing. He turned and asked hesitantly, “What for?”
“For threatening abortion,” she responded. “I-I didn’t mean it.”
Regret shadowed her eyes. He’d never met a woman with such an expressive face. “I know.” He nodded. “I’m going to order a light supper and I’ll be waiting for you downstairs.”
Siobhan gave him a tiny smile as he walked out, sighing as the door shut behind him. She didn’t know what was going on, but she was about to find out.
The huge house was silent and shadowy, and no one seemed to stir as Siobhan crept quietly downstairs—she couldn’t have made any noise even if she had wanted to, the carpets covering the glimmering wooden floors and steps were so soft and deep. Angus was nowhere to be seen but a cheerful round faced, tall, plump woman with brilliant green eyes was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.
“Hi,” Siobhan said with a shy smile. “I…Angus said I should meet with him.”
“I am Esmeralda,” the woman introduced herself, in heavily-accented English and motioned for Siobhan to follow her. “Come, come.”
As she hurried to follow Esmeralda, Siobhan noticed an open living room to one side, where antler and iron chandeliers watched over snow-white long sofas settled over matching plush rugs, facing a towering rock fireplace, and at the far end, massive log timbers framed floor to ceiling windows, which opened to epic views of surrounding snow-peaked mountains. The décor of the cabin was quite simple but it exuded wealth, luxury, and old money, even if in a subdued and relaxed way.
Esmeralda ushered her into a dining room where a table which would comfortably sit twenty, was set for two.
“Sit, sit.”
She hesitated before choosing the place in front of a much less imposing chair than the one nearer her, which she judged was probably Angus’s, since it was more throne-like than the others. She sat, feeling very much alone and small in the somewhat cozy room, since the two places were separated by at least nine feet of polished mahogany. Royalty and their problems.
Two smiling young women bustled in and out and offered her juices, sandwiches, and any number of fruits, pastries, and other tasty delights.
Esmeralda ignored Siobhan’s questions and with a wave of her hand encouraged her to pick sandwiches and pastries—and she had seemed insulted when Siobhan had just taken one cucumber sandwich and one berry tartlet.
The tea bearer, a middle-age, strong man, was either ignorant of English and French—or had pretended to be—because he had looked benignly down his crooked nose at her when, first in English, then in her rudimentary French, she’d asked him where Angus was.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting so long, I had to get that phone call,” Angus said, as he entered the room and sat at the head of the table looking very much the king that he was. “How is the tea?”
“Fine, good. Thanks.” She wiped her mouth with the napkin and put it on the table. “Now, I have to go back. By the way, where did you say we are?”
“In Lektenstaten.” And when her mouth opened and she sputtered but nothing came out, he added, “In the mountains, not in Lekten, the capital.”
How the hell did I arrive in God-forsaken Lektenstaten anyway? The answer slammed into her with the vengeance of a punch. How can I have been so blind?
She rose to her feet, unable to sit still another moment. She stalked past a magnificent marble fireplace dividing the room from a bar, skirted a large and tall contemporary iron sculpture, to reach the window and looked out.
It was truly a lovely scene, a perfect night if the rain which started to fall hadn’t ruined it. From her vantage point—and with her myopia—she could only see woods beyond the manicured snowy grounds, with no glimpse to what lay ahead.
Angus watched as Siobhan stared out the window, feeling the tightness in his shoulders increase. Siobhan was smart—smarter than she gave herself credit for. It wasn’t going to be long before she realized what he had done and while she could not possibly understand his reasoning behind it, he had done the right thing. Or at least that’s what he had to keep telling himself.
Siobhan was sure Angus must be very proud of his beautiful home, but right now, she wanted to burn it to the ground. She didn’t want to think about what was already rapidly becoming the truth.
While the fragrant sweet tea settled her stomach, it would take something a lot stronger, if not a minor miracle, to settle her nerves. Her pregnancy nausea was nothing compared to how she felt now.
He wouldn’t dare. She was pregnant! No.
“You kidnapped me…and…” She turned and gaped incredulously at him. “Are you insane?”
His eyes narrowed.
“You drugged me, you bastard,” she hissed.
“Here in Lektenstaten, the usual form of address is King Angus, or Your Majesty, rather than bastard.”
“You kidnapped me, you drugged me!”
You threatened abortion. But he refrained from speaking his thoughts. “Don’t be unreasonable, Siobhan—”
Her eyes widened. “Unreasonable?”
“I told you I was taking you to my home and you agreed.” Even from across the vast room, his rich deep voice filled the room as if it was little larger than a shoebox. “I thought we could use a little time to get better acquainted, and to show you my country.”
“Better acquainted?” She shot him a look, and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “On the horizontal?” Why the hell have I given him any idea of the direction of my thoughts?
Her cheeks burned because the answer was she only had to look at this man and her thoughts turned horizontal, along with her wishes and desires.
Silence followed her words, so thick and heavy she wished away the thump of her heart lest he hear it and read into it too much.
He studied her face.
She was angry.
Furious.
It was in her leaf-green eyes, her steady gaze. It was in the fiery way she challenged him with words and her luscious body. He wanted her even more
, now she continued to defy him. It was strange his passions could be ignited to such scorching depths by her blatant insubordination.
And then, totally unexpectedly, he threw back his head and laughed, really laughed, deep and loud.
So deep it was too much and cut her right where it shouldn’t hurt, and yet still did.
She took advantage of his lack of attention and decided to make good on her escape.
There was one door into the room—one she figured led to the kitchens from where the tea and cakes had issued, so she ran past the living room, searching for the hall.
Faced with the large wooden double doors, she didn’t think twice and yanked one open, running into the pouring, icy rain, not caring she still had her pumps on, which were not fit for running, much less on snow and rain, and she was not wearing a coat.
Shit! “Siobhan!” Grabbing a fur blanket from an armchair, he jogged in pursuit, his long legs covering the ground quicker than hers. “Siobhan!”
She turned around, put her palms up, and shouted, “Leave me be.”
“Can’t we discuss this somewhere less wet?” he called.
For every step he took toward her, she made one in reverse. “What is there to discuss?”
“Siobhan, don’t play games. I know you’re distraught.”
“I’m fine, Your Majesty. That’s what you’re called, right?”
“You’re clearly not fine. Come, let me cover you.” He held up his hands showing the blanket which was already getting wet, too. “I was not laughing at you, and I didn’t mean getting better acquainted on the horizontal. You have no desire at all to resume our relationship?”
She shook her head, her soaking hair plastering on her cheeks. “We never had a relationship!”
“No?” He slowly took one more step in her direction. “What would you call it, then?”
“A fling. A one-night stand. And I would have thought given that night is long since over, then so too is any kind of relationship we might have shared.”
“You think it’s over?”
This time it was her turn to laugh. “Oh, I don’t think, I’m sure.”
The rain became a downpour. Angus tried to get close enough to wrap her in the blanket, but she only retreated further, staying out of his reach.
“Siobhan.”
She hugged herself tight. “It’s my own fault, I shouldn’t have trusted you. But somewhere along our talk, I stupidly allowed myself to dream a little. To hope it would work…that there might be more.”
She was standing in the rain in the middle of his country house garden, weeping and distraught. Angus should have felt remorseful. Instead, he smiled. Knowing she once hoped it would work was already more than he had hoped.
“I called, I tried to go to London but…” Not the time to explain terrorist bombings or election issues. He walked toward her, slowly, as if afraid to scare her and stopped a few short paces from her, his head tilting, his gaze delving deep into her. “And you wish it could have turned out differently. I let you down but it wasn’t on purpose. Is that why you are angry with me?”
“No way!” That would imply she actually cared one way or the other. “I think we both got what we wanted that night. I’m over it.”
“Are you?” one side of his mouth turned up as he moved still closer, “I wonder.”
She scoffed, and continued to stare pointedly toward him in an effort to disguise the backward movement of her feet. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I think you’re afraid of what might happen if you do stay.”
“I’m angry, is what I am.” She lifted her chin defiantly, her frustration mounting as his words struck too close to home and his physical presence came too close for comfort. She stepped back more quickly. “Because you think you can ride roughshod over anyone and everyone. Because you drugged me—the pregnant me, and—”
The rain suddenly stopped soaking her when her shoulders hit something solid and she looked around to find herself against the outer wall of a small house and under its eave. She backed up tight against the corner, thankful for the solidity of the centuries-old walls.
He was close enough now to put the blanket around her but she wouldn’t budge from the corner.
“Look, does this cabin actually have telephone service? I really need to go back, I need to call Jaxon. Sunny is alone, and there—”
“Stay. Please,” he rested one hand on the wall beside her head with his elbow bent, now so close she had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes. “Let’s go back to the house. Dry ourselves off and we will talk calmly.”
She shook her head, wishing the action would also negate the intoxicating scent of the man that came with his proximity. “Not a chance. I have to get back and you know it.”
“I’m a lonely king in a cold, small, and very chaotic country. Indulge me.”
“Indulge you?” She attempted another laugh—there was no way she was feeling sorry for him—but this one came out all brittle and false so she switched to words instead, remembering the blonde draped all over him. “Besides, what about your Caroline Marine? Won’t she be expecting you to dine with her? Or are you planning on abandoning your latest plaything in order to slum it with the help?”
“My latest plaything? Oh, now, that is interesting.” His eyes took on a feral gleam. “Are you jealous, Ms. Faulkner?”
“I don’t know the meaning of the word. I’ve never been jealous of anyone. Besides, to be jealous, I would have to care.”
She tried to press herself even deeper into the corner but he used her motion to pull her to him and envelope her with the fur, not letting her move away from his arms.
He bent his face so she could see the truth in his eyes. “Caroline Marine is just one of the prospective brides my mother was trying to foster on me.”
Her mouth dropped. “Just one of them?”
“Yes, she’s—”
“How many do you plan to have? What number will I be? If you think I’m going to be in your harem of wives with Carolines, Marines, and who knows her name, you’re insane.”
“You’re being irrational again.” Angus sighed and shook his head. “My mother was trying to find me one wife. She doesn’t intend for me to marry all of the prospects. Just one. But I’m not interested in any of them. There is, and never will be, a harem.” He paused and did a double take on her. “How do you know about Caroline?”
“I saw you with her…”
Angus squinted his eyes at her, seeing the flush that stole across her cheeks. “You did?”
Siobhan swallowed hard, giving a sharp nod. “I saw you with her the night of the dinner party. You two seemed to be very cozy.”
Angus laughed. “You were there?”
“I was working.” She squirmed in his arms annoyed he was laughing at her again. “Let me go.”
“No,” he whispered softly, gently brushing a hand over the water dripping from her hair onto her face. “Angel, I can assure you. She did nothing but annoy me all night. If you had stayed to watch, you would have seen me leave her side and never return.”
Siobhan was embarrassed, more so that Angus had seen the jealousy come out of her. She had no reason to be jealous. Caroline was the type of woman that a king should be with.
Not her, never her.
Yet here they were, arguing about whether or not he was going to have one wife or a harem. She took a long, deep breath and let it out. “I’m ready to go back now.”
“Thank God,” he answered.
She ducked under his arms as soon as he opened them and back out into the rain, feeling the cold and wet starting to seep through her bones.
Angus followed Siobhan back toward the house, his chest blooming with warmth as he tried to digest Siobhan’s jealousy. It has to mean she cares.
A servant watching their approach from the open door, took the blanket from Siobhan as she entered and then handed them each a warm towel. Their dripping clothing and hair formed puddles on the wooden floor and soaked
the pristine carpets.
“You should take a warm shower, change clothes,” he suggested as he put his own towel around her and used hers to dry her hair. “Before you catch a cold.”
She ripped the towel away from his hands and wiped her face before glaring at him. “It cannot be any worse than being drugged.”
“Siobhan,” he sighed, seeing the anger still simmering in the depths of her expressive eyes, before she turned and stomped upstairs—as much stomping as could be done over plush rugs—and into the bedroom.
“My intentions were quite honorable, I assure you.”
“You could have asked,” she said over her shoulder as she walked to the spa-like bathroom.
He stopped just shy of entering the bathroom. “Would you have come?”
Would I have gone if he had professed his undying love to me? Perhaps.
But like this… She was unsure just what this was leading up to. They barely knew each other and now she was carrying his child—their child—but he was treating her as if she had no say in the matter.
Her dejected expression tore at his chest and an unfamiliar anguish overcame him. “Would you?”
She shrugged and angrily slammed the door in his face, satisfied with the loud bang the wood made as it shut.
Once upon a time…a king fell in love with a pauper. She threw the towels on the floor and kicked away her ruined pumps. And then he got her pregnant and kidnapped her, locking her in a gilded cage in a faraway land.
She entered the shower stall, wet dress and all, turned it on and broke down crying under the hot water. Such a fairytale you found yourself in, Siobhan.
14
Instead of breaking the door open, Angus walked off to a guest suite, pausing briefly to pick up clean clothes.
Perhaps it would be best if he left her alone as she asked, at least for the moment. Their tempers were too hot, and they’d be best to let them cool before attempting, yet again, to figure out how to communicate.
He needed to think. He needed to take control of this situation once more.
He shed his wet clothes and threw them in the hamper of the guest bathroom, disgusted by the turn of events.
Royal Love Page 11
