She clearly knew damn well that Orlann had nothing to do with the move.
“The final decision was mine.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means that I authorized your move. I allotted the space. I arranged for your things to be transferred, while you were out with Malac.”
“My things.” She huffed. “You mean the five short robes and three skimpy dresses you’ve allowed me?”
“Four, now.” He nodded at the new dress she wore: an off-the-shoulder ankle-length fall print—white with delicate rust-colored blooms—that clung to her curves. “And that one isn’t ‘skimpy.’” In fact, it was gorgeous, made even more so by the woman beautifully filling it out.
“Who picked out the dress?”
“Malac,” he admitted. “And I have to say, he has great taste.” Jude reached for her, and Maari backed away from him until her back hit the balcony railing hard enough to make it creak. Alarm sparked deep in his chest, and he lurched forward to pull her away from the railing, before she could fall over it. “If you’re too careless for a two-story suite, I’ll put you back in your old room right now,” he growled.
“I’m not—” Her mouth snapped shut as she pulled free from his grasp, but he heard the part she’d bitten back.
She wasn’t careless. She was afraid of him. Of what he would want from her today, after what he’d said to her the night before. After he’d fucked her ass raw.
“Whose idea was this?” she demanded, leaning with one hip against the back of the small sofa. “And I’m not asking who authorized it. I mean, whose idea was it to give me so many windows. And a garden? It wasn’t yours, was it?”
Jude scowled. “It most certainly was.” In the sense that it was his idea to allow Malac to “seduce” her, on behalf of all three of the Camden brothers. And since this suite was part of Malac’s seduction, the credit ultimately belonged to Jude, for giving him the leeway to spoil her so thoroughly.
Her skeptical frown irked him. “You thought of the windows? The balcony? The garden?”
“I haven’t come here to split hairs with you, Maari.”
“Then why have you come? If you want what you took last night, you’re going to have to take it by force. I’m not— I can’t—”
Yet, as her current blush would imply, she’d enjoyed it, in the end. As Orlann had been certain she would, even with the pain. Perhaps because of the pain.
Jude sighed. “I’ve come to give you a tour.” He held out his arm, crooked at the elbow, as if to escort her into a formal ball. “Will you let me?”
“Do I have any choice?”
“Why do you have to make everything so difficult?” He dropped his arm, when it became clear she wasn’t going to take it.
“You mean, why won’t I just give you everything you want? Every little bit of me, until there’s nothing left? Is that what you’re asking?”
“Yes!” he snapped. Why was that so difficult for her to understand, when he’d outright told her as much? He wanted all of her. Every smile and every tear. Every cross word, angry pout, and blushing orgasm. And he would have them all from her, one way or another. Eventually. The only part that could not wait was her first pregnancy. “Why don’t you want children, Maari?”
Her eyes widened, disbelief swimming in the golden-brown depths. “I do want children. I just don’t want your children. Or theirs. I don’t want to be made to conceive against my will.”
“And you think that would have been different, if you’d married the Edgar idiot?” Jude demanded. “Well, I suppose for you, it would have been. Because of your gift. But wives are intended to be bred. Most of them want that. That is no different for you here than it would have been if you’d married Elan Edgar.”
“The difference is that I would have been married.” Unspent tears shined in her eyes, and Jude hardened his heart against them. Tears were a woman’s greatest manipulation, and foolish men felt them like a spear straight to the chest.
But Jude was no fool.
“And was that your choice? Did you choose the Edgar heir for yourself?”
Surprise flickered behind her eyes for an instant, then her frown deepened. “Well, no. There were meetings, and offers, and negotiations, and—”
“And were you part of these negotiations?”
“No, that was Gareth. And Elan Edgar. And Elan’s father. Royal marriages are very complicated, as you well know.”
“I do know. I also know that you chose to accept Elan, after it was decided for you that you would marry him. And you could choose to accept this too.”
“To accept you?”
Jude nodded. “And, to a lesser degree, my brothers.”
“You are aware, are you not, that Elan’s courtship of me included two years of gifts, and visits, and meaningful demonstrations of his affection? Whereas you began this ‘relationship’ by severing my brother’s head from his body and biting me, so that I couldn’t resist when you took my virginity.”
Anger pulsed through Jude. “I did that for your pleasure. If I’d wanted to take you against your will, I could have. Right there on the floor of the great hall, in front of the council and your one remaining brother.”
“I am fully aware of what you’re capable of.” She stood straight, her chin held high, but her stiff posture wasn’t quite enough to disguise her shudder of fear at the thought. “And if that’s what you’ve come here for, then let’s just get it over with, so I can skip straight to the part of my evening that inevitably includes tears, analgesic creams, and a long hot bath.”
Jude spoke through clenched teeth. “What I have come for is to give you a tour of your new suite.”
“Of course. Okay then, let’s do that.” She spread her arms to take in the small second-floor foyer. “This, I assume, is some kind of sitting area. The sofas are a dead giveaway. And through there?” She pointed at the darkened doorway of the room where he’d hidden in waiting. Foolishly believing she’d be so thrilled with her new surroundings that she would fall willingly into his arms. “That’s the bedroom?”
Maari stormed past him and shoved the door open. She slammed her hand down on the pad on the wall, and light shone from above to illuminate a large room beautifully decorated in rich shades of taupe, and bronze, and gold. Jude watched as her gaze roamed over the settee standing at the end of the bed, upholstered in gold and white jacquard. Over the matching chaise lounge next to a broad, floor-to-ceiling window overlooking an area of the palace grounds she’d never seen before.
Maari took in the lamps, and vases, and the huge chandelier hanging from an asymmetrically vaulted ceiling. Her gaze skimmed rugs, and small tables, and another beautiful, hand-carved fireplace.
Jude knew this stunning room rivaled the private spaces where she’d grown up, in the palace at Bannon. He’d seen the pictures Jaarod had sent, at Malac’s brusque request. And for just a second, as he watched her, he saw a flicker of joy dance across her features at the beauty surrounding her. At the familiar luxury. At the generous, rose-hued wash of fading daylight he knew she valued above all else.
But then her gaze hardened as it landed on the massive four-post bed he’d had moved from her old room. “So, is this the only spare bed in the whole palace? Is that why I’m evidently saddled with it, for the rest of my life?”
“I like this bed,” Jude informed her.
“What does that matter, if you’re not going to sleep in it?”
“It fits the scale of the room.”
“It is beautiful,” she conceded, without a drop of warmth in her voice. “The whole room is beautiful. You must be thrilled that you and your brothers have such a nice space, now, in which to fuck your whore. Only that’s not what I am, is it? Because whores have a choice.”
“You were given a choice,” Jude growled. “This is what you chose, before the gods and the council. You agreed to this. You gave yourself to me.”
The anger in her eyes faded into a profound sadness. A heartache that
made his erection fade and his chest ache. “That wasn’t a choice. That was an ultimatum. A threat.”
“Just because a choice isn’t between options you like doesn’t mean it isn’t a choice.” No one understood that reality better than a king.
“Well, I can hardly argue with that, can I?” Maari crossed her arms beneath her breasts, physically closing herself off from him, and trudged past Jude out of her new bedroom into the foyer, headed for the door on the other side.
And suddenly he understood that if she opened that door, her mood would grow infinitely bleaker.
He charged across the small space after her. “Wait, don’t—”
But she beat him to the door and threw it open, slamming her hand down on the light panel. The room lit up, and she sucked in a sharp breath as she took in the lavish nursery, decorated in shades of white and a soft, clean gray.
Jude’s staff had worked all day to make it perfect, flying in purchases the decorator had assured him would put a smile on any mother’s face.
“I assure you, it rivals my daughters’ nursery, in the family quarters,” Jude said. In fact, the elegant white round crib—the centerpiece of the room—had cost a small fortune all on its own, with the coordinating round canopy mounted from the ceiling, spilling sheer, gauzy material all the way to the floor, to cradle one half of the bed.
“It’s stunning,” she whispered, her hands clenched around both sides of the door frame. “Of course it’s stunning. Everything here is gorgeous.” She turned to him, fresh tears standing in her eyes. “I suppose I should be happy that the crib my children will die in is so very, very beautiful.”
“Maari…” Jude pulled her close, enveloping the tiny princess in his thick arms. Clasping her head at his breast, while he stroked her hair down her back. The source of her tears moved him far more than the tears themselves; no woman under his protection should ever have to fear for her child’s safety. “Nothing will happen to your children. You have my word.”
She wedged her hands between them, trying to free herself, and he only let her go when he realized that she would hurt herself straining against him, if he didn’t. “Your word means nothing!” she shouted as she launched herself away from him, stumbling backward into the nursery.
He refused to acknowledge the bruised feeling deep in his chest. “That’s not fair. I’ve never lied to you.”
“You withheld the truth. About your wife. Your children.”
“My marriage is common knowledge. But you withheld from me,” he pointed out. “You’re still withholding.”
“That isn’t true. I told you from the beginning that I wouldn’t have your children, and that hasn’t changed. It can’t change, because if I give you a baby to put in that beautiful crib, your wife will have it smothered, right in front of me.”
“She won’t—”
“She will. You didn’t see her, Jude. You didn’t hear her. She will do anything for her children, and she believes that my theoretical children and I are a threat to them.”
“She will see that that isn’t true.”
“Isn’t it, though? Even if there’s never a challenge to succession, my children would rival hers for your affection. For your attention.”
Jude sighed. There was no good way to answer that question, because, of course, she was right. He would love all of his children, no matter who birthed them. And if Geneva wasn’t willing to let her children share his paternal affection… “She doesn’t have access to your rooms, Maari.” Jude reached for her again, but she backed away from him, farther into the nursery, because she had nowhere else to go. “There’s no way—”
“Rosa.”
“What?” The king bristled at the sound of his daughter’s name coming from his concubine’s mouth. “What about her?”
“Your four-year-old daughter got access to my room. Twice. You can’t possibly know that my quarters are secure from your wife, if a small child can breech them.”
Yet another valid point. “You have my word that that particular security oversight has been remedied. Neither my daughter nor my wife has access to your new quarters. They don’t even know where you’re staying now.”
“And what about the staff? Geneva said she has friends here. Loyal servants who will do anything for—”
“Maari.” Jude lunged forward and grabbed her arm, then hauled her back into the cage of his embrace. “I will do whatever needs to be done to keep you and yours safe.”
“And when our children are older? When they’re too big for the crib and should be out running around in the sunlight? Going to school, with your other children? How will you protect them then? What if Geneva hires an assassin? Will you lock us up? Is this beautiful apartment really just a bigger cage, in which to keep your concubine and her children? Your spare family?”
“You are not my spare anything,” Jude growled into her hair. “But you’re going to have to trust me, Maari. I will protect you.”
A single sob broke free from her throat, as her tears wet his shirt. “I don’t believe you,” she whispered, and for just a second, she clung to him, gripping handfuls of his shirt.
Then she pried herself free from his grip, straightening her dress. Swiping her cheeks dry with both hands.
“None of that matters.” She lengthened her spine, holding her chin high, a regal pose that somehow made her look almost tall, though she hardly reached his shoulders. “I’m ready for that tour.”
Jude nodded and offered her his hand, but Maari looked at it as if he’d just offered her a live plasma grenade. He sighed. Loudly. “It’s just a hand, princess. An olive branch, of sorts. Let’s have a truce, for the moment. Let me show you this lovely apartment in peace.”
“Fine.” She took his hand, and he rewarded her with an actual smile as he tugged her close.
“Since we’re already in here, would you like to hear about the nursery?”
“I don’t—”
“Please.” Jude squeezed her hand. “I don’t say that very often. But please let me tell you about this room. Malac stayed up most of last night, working with a decorator on your bedroom. But this room… This one I did myself.”
“With a decorator, you mean.”
“Well, yes. She showed me a lot of options, but I made the final selections. I picked out every last thing in this room myself.”
“Everything?” Maari arched one skeptical brow at him, then she turned to give the room a closer look. “You picked out that elephant?” She pointed at the giant, fluffy stuffed animal propped up on the floor next to an overstuffed white armchair.
“I did. It was cute, and it matched the decor.” The intricate gray paisley wall covering, above crisp white paneling. The white crib with gorgeous dark gray bedding. The white claw-foot armoire, with scallop-framed mirrored doors.
Maari actually smiled as she looked around the room again, her gaze lingering on the rabbit and wolf arranged on the changing table, then on the whale and the koala in the crib. “That’s why all the stuffed animals are gray and white? You think everything has to match?”
He frowned, suddenly unsure of his choices. “Doesn’t it? The decorator assured me that this was a classically beautiful yet whimsical arrangement.”
Maari laughed, and Jude was suddenly startled to realize he’d never heard that sound from her before. Amusement. She sounded happy. Standing in the nursery.
He indulged a brief moment of pride that his effort had succeeded over Malac’s.
“Yes,” Maari said. “It is indeed ‘classically beautiful, yet whimsical.’”
“Yet you would clearly prefer more color.” That would be an easy fix. Jude released her hand and dug his com device from his pocket. “Tell me what you want for the baby, and it will be here tomorrow. Maybe a duck? A yellow one. And a green frog? What animals are red?” He’d already ordered half a dozen brightly colored stuffed toys before he realized that Maari had gone silent. “What’s wrong? Did you want to select them yourself?” He held the devi
ce out to her, and she stared at it as if it were a phantom. A relic from her past life. And, Jude supposed, that’s exactly what it was.
Maari’s smile was gone, and her golden-brown eyes now looked…haunted. “No. Thank you, but no.” She pushed his hand back, with the device still cradled in his palm. “There isn’t going to be a baby. So I won’t need any more toys.” She stepped past him into the sitting area, and when Jude followed her, she closed the door firmly behind him, and the click of the latch sounded eerily final.
“Nonetheless, a dozen more stuffed animals will be delivered tomorrow.” He took her hand again and led her toward the balcony overlooking the lower floor. “There are only a handful of apartments like this in the palace. The largest of them is in the family quarters, where Geneva and the girls live. Orlann and Malac each have something similar, but on a single floor.”
“And you?” Maari asked. “You don’t stay with your family? What is your apartment like?”
Jude hesitated, and he could practically feel her pulling away from him, mentally. Emotionally. “Small,” he said at last. “I don’t need much space.”
Maari nodded. “Because you want to be alone. I understand.”
She couldn’t understand, in truth, but it was best to let her believe her assumption. So Jude led her down the broad, curving staircase to the first floor, where she ignored the large living area and a small but well-appointed kitchen in favor of the two-story wall of windows.
“Would you like to go out?” He gestured toward a window panel that looked like all the others, except for the steel frame and the sleek silver handle set into it, identifying it as a door. “The garden walls are too high to climb, so there’s no need to lock this door. You may go out whenever you like.”
“Because I can’t escape, you mean?”
“Yes.” No sense tiptoeing around that issue. “And because no one else can get in. It’s secure.”
“It’s beautiful.” But she made no move toward the door.
“In the spring, you may work with the gardener to pick out plants and design a new layout. Malac mentioned that you might like a fountain. That can be arranged, as well.”
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