She stood before him, naked except for pale blue panties.
He drew in a breath. She was more beautiful than he had ever imagined.
She arched her back and, reaching up, released her hair from its coil. It tumbled down over her shoulders.
He undid his bow tie. Pointed to the buttons of his dress shirt. ‘Your turn.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CRUSHED SHEETS. Aching and deliciously heavy bones.
Kara grinned and twisted onto her side. Sleep called to her, but just out of reach gorgeous memories wound their way through her dazed brain.
She sighed.
‘Your sighs of pleasure when I touch somewhere tender...’
Her eyes shot open. The room was in darkness. Water was running in the bathroom.
She curled the top sheet over her head and groaned.
What had she done?
Had she really done those things with Edwin? She flung the sheet back, struggling for air.
Everything was going to be okay.
This was still a marriage of convenience. Their relationship might have shifted off centre from friendship but the roller coaster of emotions, the power play, the constant threat of heartache that came with a full-blown relationship wouldn’t apply to them.
The water was switched off. Shadows moved on the white marble floor of the bathroom.
She sat up in the bed, yanking the sheet up to her shoulders. Would she have time to dash into the dressing room? No! She couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing her naked.
Why didn’t you care last night, when it mattered? Because you were lost to the joy of seeing him again? Lost in the intimacy of his words, his touch? Lost to the chemistry that experiencing the powerful act of marrying had unleashed on you?
She had to play it cool. Not freak out. Not overthink all of this.
The bathroom door swung fully open.
Edwin stood there, a towel tight on his narrow hips, beads of moisture on his chest.
He gave her a devastating, satisfied smile that slowly morphed into a tender, almost bashful grin. He tilted his head, ran a towel over his hair and walked towards the bed. ‘Good morning, my lovely wife.’
A storm of panic passed through her.
‘We made a mistake.’
His smile evaporated.
‘What?’
His hair was all tousled and sexy. But his expression was one hundred per cent perplexed.
She shivered despite the fact that her insides were scorching, churning chaos.
‘We shouldn’t have slept together.’
He flicked a hand over his hair, fixing it into position, his mouth tightening. ‘Why?’
She didn’t know why. She just knew she was drowning in panic. What was the matter with her? Why was she saying these things? Her panic rose like a tide that would never recede. ‘You know why. It’s just going to make our divorce more complicated.’
He flung the towel towards the bathroom. It hit the door frame and smacked onto the wooden floor of the bedroom. ‘Are you saying you regret sleeping with me?’
She closed her eyes. ‘No.’
‘So what are you saying?’
Put some clothes on. I can’t think straight, remembering how my hands, my lips, touched every inch of you. How I refused to stop even when you begged me to. I needed to know every inch of you. I wanted to know you... I’ve spent a decade wanting to know you. I’ve spent a decade wanting to love you.
Unable to breathe, she blinked.
I love you. Oh, God, I love you. This can’t be happening. I’m messing everything up. And if you find out I’ll just want to die. Will you feel sorry for me? Will you find excuses to walk away? Or will you, like Nick, use it against me?
She lifted the sheet even higher, gathering the edges around her neck. ‘Don’t you think it was a mistake?’
His mouth tightened even more. He turned away, grabbed the towel from the floor, disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, returned and then went into his dressing room.
An agonising time later he emerged, flicked on her bedside lamp and studied her. He had changed into a dark grey suit, silver tie and white shirt. Brooding and hacked off.
He knows! Her cheeks flamed. ‘I’m sorry.’
His mouth tightened. And then with a sigh he sat down on the bed beside her.
She wanted to leap out of the bed, escape from him, but she was naked, and she and her shredded dignity couldn’t handle the thought of him analysing every imperfection of her body as she wobbled towards the bathroom.
He dipped his head, his hand moved as though to touch her leg beneath the sheet but he grabbed it back. They had made love endless times during the night, drunk on physical release. Drunk on whispered words of discovery, of tenderness between two people who knew each other but whose souls, whose secret internal selves were a mystery they were just discovering.
He looked back up, his expression closed. ‘Last night wasn’t a mistake. We’re attracted to one another.’ He paused and shrugged as though that fact was of little significance. ‘These things happen when two people are in close proximity. Let’s keep it in perspective. It was one night.’ He stood up, his expression emotionless. ‘It doesn’t have to happen again.’
She faked a smile, while her heart was on the floor. ‘I guess we got it out of our systems.’
He shrugged again, and, taking his phone from his pocket, he checked the screen and frowned. ‘I have a cabinet meeting I need to attend.’
Halfway towards the bedroom door, he turned around. ‘Will you be okay?’
She heard the concern in his voice. She nodded. ‘Of course.’
He left the room and she closed her eyes, curling onto her side, inhaling his scent on the sheets.
She was in love with him. She was in love with her husband.
She closed her eyes, hating the vulnerability of that. Hating that it weakened her, made her susceptible to so much pain and humiliation and disappointment.
She jerked the sheet back, sprang out of the bed and in the bathroom switched on the shower. Her diary was full for the day. If Edwin could walk away from last night so easily, then she sure as hell was going to do the same thing. How many times had she seen her dad reach out to her mum, only to be rejected and humiliated? How many times had she tried to please Nick, only to encounter a snide comment or whatever mind game he had decided to indulge in that day?
She was not going to humiliate herself. She was going to behave with dignity and pride both within this marriage and when it was time for them to separate.
And just maybe, with the passage of time and aided by Edwin’s interpretation of last night as having been of no particular consequence, she might be able to stuff her feelings for him so deep inside of her, even she would be able to disregard them.
* * *
Edwin’s father glared at the organisation chart he had just distributed to the cabinet so intently Edwin wouldn’t have been surprised if it spontaneously combusted.
‘These changes aren’t necessary. You’re overcomplicating things. Why on earth do we need a social-media team, a technology minister?’ His voice growing ever louder, his father added, ‘A diversity and equality minister? What on earth will his contribution be?’
‘Her contribution, you mean. I have already selected a candidate for the role—Sofia Dati, Professor of Equality Studies at Monrosa University.’
Pausing, he studied the cabinet he was inheriting from his father, the majority of whom were men who had been in their roles for far too long.
‘It’s my intention to reshuffle this cabinet too. Reassign roles. Change the nature of each department’s responsibilities to reflect the challenges we face as a country—our need to be more responsive and responsible to the environment, the changing diversity of our population and the need for a more advanced
communication infrastructure that will attract even more companies to our business hubs.’
His patience thin, his ability to concentrate even thinner, he cut across his father before he could utter a word of objection, ‘We’ve covered enough ground for today. I’m calling an end to this cabinet session.’
The ministers were regarding him with a variety of expressions from nervous to aghast and outraged. He couldn’t afford to alienate them, not with their experience and influence within the country, which he would need in the coming months. He had to bring them with him on this journey of change, even if it meant dragging some of them kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century. ‘I will meet with each of you individually to discuss aligning your experience and interests with the new structure. Change can be daunting, but we have to embrace it to ensure we are meeting the needs of our people. We have an exciting future ahead of us.’
At least a few of those around the table smiled at his words—albeit nervously.
He left the cabinet room, his footsteps the only sound. Even his father seemed to have been stunned into silence.
He walked in the direction of his offices. He had a call with the Swedish Trade Minister in an hour. Then a meeting with his own Finance Minister and his team, where discussions on budget reallocations would undoubtedly get heated. A meeting after that with the succession-ceremony logistics team.
He needed to remain focused and present. And not give in to the disbelief pounding through him.
He entered his outer offices, Victor’s team all turning in his direction. Maribel, his travel coordinator, stood up, holding a pile of documentation in her grasp.
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t discuss his trip next month to Washington.
He backed out of the room.
Out in the corridor he flung open the nearest door into the gardens.
He bolted down the terraces, ignoring the curious glances from the gardening team, until he came to the waterfront.
He sucked in air greedily but the tightness in his chest refused to give.
He cursed, the thin layer of denial that had got him through the cabinet meeting melting. To be replaced by the sharp kick of shame.
He had let himself down. He had let his country down. And, most importantly of all, he had let Kara down. She had agreed to their marriage in good faith. She hadn’t signed up for him to seduce her.
No wonder she had immediately regretted it, considered it a mistake.
What had he expected? That she would have been happy with the fantasy he had imagined in the shower this morning of them sleeping in the same bed every night and fulfilling each other’s needs?
He had walked out of the bathroom intending to wake Kara by kissing the length of her spine, and instead had faced her bruised eyes and horrified expression.
Maybe he should be grateful that at least one of them was thinking straight and saw it for the mistake that it was rather than feeling as though someone had punctured his ego and kicked it down the street like a rusty old can.
He had to make this right. Do the correct thing after a night of making the wrong decision over and over again.
He found her in her office, staring out of the window towards the internal courtyard.
Was she thinking of their engagement announcement out there? Their first kiss?
He called out her name.
She startled and whipped around. Wearing wide-legged pink trousers and a white blouse, her hair tied back in a ponytail, the crispness of her appearance was in sharp contrast to the tiredness in her eyes.
He worked his jaw, hating the unease between them.
‘We can separate.’
Her head jerked back. ‘Is that what you want?’
No, what I want is to kiss you, to bring you back to my bed and lose myself in you like I did last night. I want to go back in time to when our relationship was easy and straight forward. When I hadn’t been pulled under into a world of chaos by the chemistry that our first kiss, out there in that courtyard, unleashed.
‘What I want isn’t of importance.’
Kara’s expression tightened. ‘I asked you a question Edwin, do you want to separate?’
‘If it will make you happier.’
She folded her arms. ‘It was a yes or no question.’
He cleared his throat, frustration bubbling up inside of him. Why was she making this so hard? He should lie, make all of this easier. But the least she deserved was his honesty. ‘No I don’t want us to separate but after last night—’
‘Why?’
He swallowed and blurted out, ‘Because I want to somehow make this right, and if we separate now it probably won’t ever be right between us again.’
She winced and on a long sigh she considered him. Her eyes were so terribly sad.
He had really got this all so wrong.
‘What do you mean by “make this right”?’
‘I want things to go back to where they were, when we were friends.’
Seconds passed. She studied him with a perplexed expression. She went and stared down to an open diary on her desk. ‘I have a teleconference call in ten minutes with a Greek mental health charity who are interested in rolling out the Young Adults Together model as part of their work.’ Her gaze swept up to meet his, her expression cool. ‘I’d like to think we are both mature enough to put the importance of our work before any regrets.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE SCRAPE OF a door handle turning. Silence. Eyes closed, she waited for the mattress to compress. But there was only a stillness. She opened her eyes. The bed beside her was empty. She darted a look at the door, listened for a sound from the bathroom. Nothing. Had she imagined the door opening?
Her hand moved out, patting the cool sheets, the vast emptiness.
Where was he?
Disorientated but knowing it was some time in the early hours of the morning, she grappled to turn on the bedside lamp. Then fumbled for her phone in the bedside locker drawer.
Her hands shook. He had never not come to bed in the two weeks since they’d slept together.
She typed out a message.
Where are you?
Waiting, desperate for the phone to ping, she imagined him in an accident. Had he gone out on his motorbike? What if he was with another woman? No. He wouldn’t do that.
Her phone pinged. She jolted, the chime an invasion of the silence of the room.
I’m in my office.
She hurled the phone across the bed. The bed where they had explored each other’s bodies. She sprang off the mattress and, pulling on her dressing gown, she bolted out of the bedroom and across the corridor.
Her dress, on a silk padded clothes hanger, hung from the dark wood freestanding mirror of her old bedroom, which nowadays functioned as her hair and make-up room. Later this morning a team would once again magically transform her from Kara Duffy to Her Serene Highness, Princess of Monrosa.
Transform her on the outside. Inside she knew she was a fraud. Pretending to be a princess. Acting out, in an ever so careful and measured way her love and devotion for her new husband, desperately hiding the truth of her real, visceral love for him. Especially from him.
And today was what it was all about. His enthronement. The first day he would reign as Monarch of Monrosa.
She eyed her dress for the ceremony again. It was a dress that simply was. It made no demands. No statement. Below-the-knee length with cap sleeves, the ivory cotton tweed shot with threads of gold, it was elegant and understated. It conformed. It was a grown-up’s dress in the serious world of power and politics and duty and service.
It represented everything she had to become.
She touched the soft tweed, tiredness washing over her. She should go back to bed. Today was going to be exhausting with both the enthronement and the celebration ball afte
rwards to attend. An entire day of public scrutiny where she had to act the dutiful and proud wife and hide her constant heartache, her real, authentic, frantic, soul-destroying love for her husband.
She turned, her steps immediately faltering.
Edwin was standing at the door.
She pulled the lace edges of her dressing gown together, feeling exposed in her nightwear while Edwin was dressed in black trousers and a lightweight black cashmere jumper. Gorgeous in a tired and crumpled way.
For a nanosecond she felt tenderness for him. She wanted to hold his hand and lead him to their bed. Hold him while he slept.
But then a wave of anger, of fear, of raw vulnerability swept through her. ‘If you decide not to come home, at least have the courtesy to tell me.’
He blinked at her fury. ‘We need to talk.’
He wasn’t only exhausted, he was also nervous. Was he about to end their marriage? Their friendship? Was he too worn out by the pretence of their marriage?
She lifted her chin. Determined to be dignified. She would never let him even glimpse her devastation.
He held up the ivory sheet of paper in his hand, the crown’s gold insignia on the top. ‘My enthronement pledge. I’d like to read it to you.’
Where was this conversation going? She wanted to say no. She was in no mood to talk about his enthronement but, seeing how his hand trembled as he held out the heavy page towards her, appealing for her to say yes, she nodded.
‘I do here solemnly swear to govern the people of Monrosa in accordance with the laws and customs of our country. I promise to rule with fairness and integrity, serving to the best of my ability, always with the utmost honesty.’
With a sigh he lowered the paper. ‘With the utmost honesty.’ He grimaced and inhaled another breath as though starved of oxygen. ‘How can I promise to serve with honesty when I’m not honest with either you or myself?’
His voice was husky, as though it was taking a huge effort even for him to speak.
She swallowed hard, her fingernails biting into her closed fists. It was all over, then.
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