Читать книгу The Mills & Boon Ultimate Christmas Collection - Мишель Смарт, Kate Hardy - Страница 110
ОглавлениеZARA HAD A suspicion that her gown had been selected in an attempt to soften her appearance. Pale blue raw silk with a high neckline and a formfitting shape that ended just below her knee. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, her makeup much more restrained than usual. Perhaps they thought that if she looked sedate she would be less likely to eat her lunch with her fingers.
Though in this case, appearances were certainly deceiving. She had reached the point of feeling quite desperate to escape this whole marriage bargain, stricken very much without her permission.
She was beginning to think that playing nice would get her nowhere. If Andres wouldn’t take up her cause, she would carry it all on her own.
With flourish.
Her fingers were freezing. She was shaking a little bit, probably because she was cold. Snow had begun falling outside late last night, the temperatures plummeting. Petras bordered Greece, but was set deeper back into the mountains and had a climate that matched what she was accustomed to in Tirimia, more than their Mediterranean neighbor. Still, though she was used to the cold, for some reason it was getting to her at the moment.
It certainly wasn’t nerves. It wasn’t going to be difficult to sit at a table and eat food. She could manage that without humiliating anybody.
Whatever Andres thought, she wasn’t an animal.
More people began to flood into the main doors of the palace, and Zara sank back into an alcove, her heart pounding heavily. She lifted her hands, clasping them together, holding her fingers tight in an attempt to warm them.
Okay, maybe she was nervous. She didn’t know why. She had no stake in any of this. It had nothing to do with her.
She looked across the growing crowd and saw Andres’s dark head, higher than the rest. Seeing him felt like grabbing a lifeline in the midst of the storm. She kept her eyes on him. He was familiar. A horizon line on a pitching sea.
He looked up, and their eyes locked. He changed course, parting the mass of people with his mere presence. She lowered her hands, still holding them together, trying to get a handle on her nerves.
“Where have you been?” he asked.
“Here. You didn’t specify a meeting place.”
“I didn’t expect to find you hiding in a corner.”
“I’m not hiding,” she said, even though she had been doing just that.
“Kairos and Tabitha are on their way. We will walk in just after them. But before we go in, I have something for you.”
She blinked, freezing, well aware that she looked a little bit as if she had been slapped upside the head. “For me?” Stupid, she was basically repeating his words back to him. But she had never been given a gift before, and she didn’t quite know how to brace herself for it.
Her chest hurt. She didn’t know why. She didn’t know what to do about it.
It was a similar feeling to being alone in a caravan while everyone else sat outside around the fire. That, combined with the beautiful ache she felt when she was alone in the woods.
“Come here,” he said.
He didn’t wait for her to obey. Rather he wrapped his fingers around her arm and pulled her deeper into the corridor, around the staircase. Her breath caught as he reached into his jacket and brought out a small velvet box.
The ache in her chest split open, harsh, tearing pain now. And along with it, fear.
“No,” she said.
“I never pretended this was anything but inevitable.” He opened the box, and revealed exactly what she had feared. “You’re acting like I’m presenting you with a tarantula, rather than a diamond ring.”
She looked down at the beautiful, ornate ring. A platinum band with a large, square-cut gem at the center. She would have preferred a tarantula, frankly.
“You know how I feel about all of this. I don’t... You didn’t say that you were going to be making any official announcements today.”
“I am bringing you to one of the most important events we have here at the palace. It is not an ambiguous statement on its own. The ring is implied.”
“Then perhaps we should keep it implied,” she said.
“No. That isn’t how this works. I have made promises to you, promises that I intend to keep. Concessions have been made in order for you to feel as comfortable with this as possible. But you are not in charge. You are not conducting this show.”
She found herself extending her hand, and she wasn’t quite sure why. He had issued no threat, and truly, what would he do if she said no? Still, she held her hand there, steady for him, as he took the piece of jewelry from the box, and slipped it onto the fourth finger of her left hand. It felt heavy. And that heaviness carried over to her chest.
“Now it’s time for us to go in.”
He took the hand he had just put the ring on, curling his fingers around hers, leading her back toward the entrance to the ballroom. And she went. Because she was numb, and putting up a fight when you weren’t entirely sure if your feet were still on the ground was difficult.
No. This wasn’t what she wanted. She needed more time. She wasn’t ready.
He said he would marry you by Christmas. By the end of the month. You only have a few weeks. What did you think?
She hadn’t been thinking. She had been in denial of the fact that she had been brought here, given to Andres as though she were an object. A Christmas present for the man who had everything.
He had certainly taken possession of her as though he had every right. And he had made her feel as though perhaps they had a connection, but clearly they didn’t. Or he could never force her into this. And he was forcing her. He was.
She was amazed at the way the crowd parted for him. No one touched either of them as they wove their way through the knot of people. They walked into the ballroom, toward the most opulent and beautifully appointed table. She recognized King Kairos immediately. You could hardly forget the man you’d been trotted out in front of as one of your country’s desirable exports. Sitting next to him was a woman she hadn’t seen yet. Blonde, poised, beautiful beyond measure. She was polished until she nearly glowed.
Suddenly, Zara could see why Andres thought she was feral.
In comparison to this woman, who had to be Queen Tabitha, almost anyone would appear feral. Her movements were fluid, her posture impeccable. Even her facial expressions seemed easy, smooth. She smiled at everyone with ease, looking perfectly genuine at every moment. Even when she rested, she simply looked serene. Never bored. Not tired, or upset.
Andres pulled her chair out for her, and she sat.
Tabitha turned her focus to Zara, and Zara saw for the first time the ice beneath the crystal-blue gaze. Tabitha was made of stronger stuff than she first appeared to be.
“Tabitha,” Andres said, “this is my fiancée, Princess Zara. I’m not sure if Kairos filled you in. He played matchmaker.”
Zara nearly choked.
Tabitha turned to look at her husband, her expression bland. “No. Kairos didn’t tell me. I’m a bit surprised that he’s responsible. He’s not usually one for romance.”
“Who said anything about romance?” Kairos asked.
Zara had no experience with these kinds of relationships. But she could recognize when people were circling each other. When they were holding back anger, spoiling for a fight. It was happening here.
Tabitha smiled, and this was the first time Zara could see how forced it was. The facade didn’t hold up as well under close scrutiny.
She felt as though she was looking into her future. Shackled to a man who couldn’t possibly be more bored with her existence. Pretending to be happy and serene when inside she wanted nothing more than to stand up and scream.
Manipulated by fate. Living a life beside someone who was entirely set apart from her.
The more she faced the possibility of a life without choice, the more she saw just how unhappy she’d been for a long time.
She’d been able to ignore it because there had always been a glimmer of hope for the future. A different future. One that was what she made it, rather than one she was forced into. And so she’d endured the silence. The distance. Because she’d imagined there would be something more later.
She looked again at Kairos and Tabitha, at the yawning gulf that was so clearly between these two people who sat right next to each other.
And then she picked up her fork. And dropped it back onto the plate. The clatter, loud and satisfying, startled everyone seated at the table. Zara smiled. “Sorry.”
She wasn’t sorry. Not in the least.
She wasn’t going to go quietly. She wasn’t going to accept this blandly. She had choices. And this was clearly a moment she had to seize. If Andres wouldn’t listen to her, then she would use Kairos and Tabitha and their clear need for decorum above all else.
If he was only marrying for Kairos’s sake, then she would make Kairos want her gone.
As long as they didn’t return her to her captors, she would find her way.
She felt the hard, warm pressure of Andres’s hand on her thigh and she turned to look at him. His eyes were hard. Warning.
But she wasn’t so easily intimidated.
She returned his glare with one of her own, and a slow smile she knew he wouldn’t believe sincere. “Is there a problem, Andres?”
“Not in the least,” he said, his tone soft. Deceptively so.
Just as he didn’t believe her smile, she did not believe his calm. “I’m pleased to hear that.”
He squeezed her thigh. “You’re quite docile.”
She looked up at him again, fluttering her lashes. “I am. Quite.”
“You had best remain so,” he said, lowering his voice.
“Of course, my dear.”
Moments later the waitstaff swept into the room, carrying trays laden with food. They set the small salad plates down on the larger plates. But they had to pause over hers as the fork was still sitting in the center of it. She moved it, smiling sweetly at Andres, who was eyeing her with suspicion.
He had every right to be suspicious. She was going to misbehave.
She ate the salad with very little ceremony. Not pausing in her attack of the lettuce to make polite conversation as everyone else at the table did.
She noticed Andres watching her out of the corner of his eye and lifted her thumb to her mouth to lick up a drop of dressing that wasn’t really there.
Rage flared in his dark gaze, but he could do nothing. Not here. The realization sent a surge of power through her. She was unpredictable, and in this setting, that was probably quite unsettling.
“Oh,” she said, watching the next trays approach. Her voice was low, and only Andres could hear her, as Tabitha and Kairos were talking to other people. “Chicken. That’s delightful. I really could gnaw on the bones if I chose...”
“Do not test me, Zara,” he said, his tone matching hers. “You will not like the result.”
“Is that so?”
“Very.”
“It seems to me,” she said, eyeing her food as it was placed in front of her, “that you did not think before testing me. Putting a ring on my finger right before we entered the room, when I told you I wasn’t ready to commit to marriage.”
She reached down and picked at the piece of chicken with her fingers, keeping her eyes locked with his as she did.
He picked up her plate and in one swift movement, lowered it from the table and dumped the contents into a potted plant by the table.
“Bastard!” She whispered the invective.
“Terror,” he shot back.
“I’m hungry.”
No one seemed to notice what was happening, which was very annoying, since she’d intended to make a small scene. But one that looked...accidental. Not standing on chairs and causing a ruckus. She wanted to look as though she was trying to be suitable but couldn’t manage it because she imagined if she made it clear she was being contrary on purpose Kairos—were he anything like his brother—would only dig in harder.
“You ate your salad fast enough.”
“I am not to be trifled with.”
“And you think I am?” he asked, leaning in, his breath hot on her neck. “I am a monster,” he said, keeping his words so soft no one else could hear them. It would look to anyone else like lovers lost in conversation. “I drove my own mother out of the palace with my behavior. Do you truly want to test me? You have nowhere to run.”
He moved away from her, straightening in his chair and flashing a charming smile. “Clearly you were very hungry, agape,” he said, drawing attention to her empty plate.
Everyone looked at her and she looked down at her plate. “I ate it so quickly you’d think I’d just...dumped it into a potted plant,” she said.
“We can pass on your compliments to the chef,” Tabitha said, clearly trying to smooth things over and make it so everyone wasn’t staring at her.
Tabitha was blessed with social graces that Zara would never have. Even if she tried. And right now she was very determined not to try.
A war was declared between herself and Andres. A quiet, determined war. One she had a feeling could get quite messy.
“Thank you,” Zara said.
“You will enjoy dessert, I think,” Kairos said. “We’ll serve it after my speech.”
“Excellent,” Zara said, smiling widely while mentally calculating her next move.
The plates were cleared and Zara’s stomach growled. Andres would pay for that.
Kairos stood, and so did Tabitha. They both made their way to the front of the room, and as they did, the rest of the room stood too. Some sort of sign of respect, she imagined. She followed suit, but as she did, Andres took hold of her arm and started to lead her away from the table.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He didn’t respond; he only led her through the crowd, using them as a shield to make their exodus less conspicuous.
They slipped through a side door in the ballroom and out into the corridor, and he pushed her back into the alcove they’d been in before, pressing her back against the wall.
“Do not test me,” he said, his voice low, hard.
“Why not?” she asked. “You are intent on testing me.”
“But I am the one with the power, little one, and you are not.”
Zara didn’t think about her next move until it was too late. Fueled by anger, by frustration, she allowed herself to be led by instinct. She reached down, cupping the most vulnerable part of Andres’s body. “Is that so? Then perhaps I should find ways to seize some of my own control.”
Her pulse thundered in her ears, blood roaring through her veins like a beast. Rage, and something else on the heels of it that she couldn’t readily name. Something that made her shake. Made her ache.
“Is that a threat or a promise?” he asked, his voice deeper suddenly, huskier.
She leaned in, her teeth scraping his neck. “Both.”
He held her tightly, keeping her close, his dark gaze intense on hers, his grip like iron. “You bit me, you little monster.”
“Your concerns were not unfounded. I may bite you again, and rest assured, unlike yours, my threats are not empty.”
“I do hope that your current threat isn’t empty.” He rolled his hips forward slightly, emphasizing just what threat he meant.
Heat flooded her face, but she didn’t release her hold on him. She would not allow him to see that she was affected. She was issuing a threat to his person; she was not touching him for the sake of a thrill.
Still, she became incredibly conscious of the heat of his body. Of the fact that he was growing hard beneath her touch.
How was that possible? How could he possibly be aroused by this?
She realized her breaths had grown shorter, faster, that she ached in places that had never been touched by another person. That she was aroused, as well. And that, more than anything, made her want to squeeze down on him. To hurt him. To make him sorry for putting either of them in this position. She didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to be stuck in the palace, engaged to a man she didn’t know. Trapped in another life that wasn’t of her choosing.
She found herself tightening her fingers around his arousal. She looked down, caught the glitter of her engagement ring on the hand that was squeezing him. Then she looked back up at his face. A mistake.
She barely had a chance to register the hot, angry glitter in his dark eyes before he closed the distance between them, his mouth crashing down onto hers.
The force of him pushing her back against the wall shifted her hand, her palm sliding over his hardness before coming to rest on his flat stomach, crushed between their bodies as he angled his head and slipped his tongue between her lips.
He proved then what he’d said before. He had the power. She could do nothing, not in this moment. Nothing but simply surrender to the heat coursing through her, to the electrical current crackling over her skin with a kind of intensity she’d never even imagined existed.
His hands were firm and sure on her hips, his body pinning her to the wall as he sought restitution for her attempt at claiming control.
He shifted, grabbing hold of her wrists, freeing her trapped hands for just a moment before lifting them, pinning them back against the wall and pressing his body more completely against hers. “You want a fight?” He growled the words against her mouth. “I can give you a fight, Princess. We don’t have to do this the easy way.” He angled his head, parting his lips from hers, kissing her neck. She shivered, fear and arousal warring for pride of place inside her. “But if you want to test me, you have to be prepared for the results. I do not know what manner of man you have been exposed to in the past, but I am not one that can be easily manipulated.”
He rocked his hips against hers, showing her full evidence of the effect she was having on his body. She should be angry, disgusted. Instead, she felt all the more powerful. She hadn’t hurt him, but she had succeeded in making him react. She not only enraged him; she turned him on. She had spent so much of her life being ignored that eliciting such a powerful response from such a man gratified her in ways she never could have anticipated.
She didn’t know a kiss could be so many different things. That it could serve so many purposes. That it could make her feel hot, cold, afraid, enraptured. But it did. It was everything, and nothing she should ever have allowed to happen between them.
But it had happened. And it was too late to stop it. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to stop it.
Her heart was thundering so hard she was afraid it might crack through her chest, before attempting to beat straight through his.
She was furious. With him, with this. She wanted to punish him. Wanted to make him pay. For making her feel helpless. Even when she had been captive in the palace in Tirimia, she thought there was hope. But here, she wasn’t kept in bondage and chains, wasn’t made to stay put with threats. Here, she was simply stripped of options. Shown how small she was in the vast context of the palace, of a country she didn’t know. She couldn’t go back to her own country, and Andres knew that. Couldn’t return to the only home she knew for fear of the safety of her protectors.
He had made her famous now. Putting a ring on her finger and parading her in front of all those people. Had stolen her anonymity. And beyond that, she had no money, no clothes beyond the far too formal princess wardrobe that had been procured for her upon arrival in Petras.
She wanted him to understand that helplessness. To feel it too.
If he was going to take her choices from her, then she would make certain he felt the weight of that. She would be a millstone around his neck. His punishment.
She flexed her hips against his, pushing back, changing the angle of her head and leaning in, claiming his mouth with her own before biting his lower lip. He growled, pressing her hands more firmly against the wall, deepening the kiss, consuming her as if she were the dessert they were missing in the ballroom.
She had spent very little time imagining what it would be like to be kissed. She had craved kind smiles and closeness more than anything physical. But she had thought about it a small amount. And when she had, it had been gauzy. Soft. She had imagined slow, gentle touching. Something sweet and slow-building. She had expected to feel a kiss only on her lips.
She had not expected this explosion. Had not expected a knot of emotion and need that she couldn’t even begin to untangle. Had not expected to feel the kiss in every part of herself, over her skin, beneath it, in the deepest, most secret parts of herself.
But he was too protected. And this was nothing new for him. He was a self-confessed playboy who practiced no decency or restraint; he had told her himself. He was shielded by that. By his experience. By his perfectly tailored suit that kept him separate from her.
Without thinking, she reached out, tearing at his tie, loosening the knot. His mouth was still fused to hers, his tongue sliding in deep, tasting her, tormenting her. She couldn’t separate out her feelings anymore. Couldn’t work out what was arousal, what was rage. It had all grown into a ball of intensity in her chest that was threatening to burst from her if she didn’t do something. If she didn’t find a release for it.
She was being driven by something else entirely now. There were no thoughts. There was no strategy. She gripped the sides of his shirt, tugging it open, buttons popping off and scattering onto the floor. She put her hand on his chest, gratified when he pulled away, air hissing through his teeth. Yes, she was getting to him. She had affected him. She had broken through the wall. They were in a fight. A fight for control. And beneath that, a fight for something else entirely.
Rough hair covered hot skin, the sensation beneath her fingertips foreign, enticing. Beneath that, he was hard. She looked down, admiring the definition of his muscles. He was a man. So very different from her. She had spent a great deal of her life around men, but she had never experienced a man on this level. Had never truly appreciated what it meant that men were different from women. She appreciated it now.
He released his hold on her, cupping her chin, holding her face steady, keeping his eyes on hers as he reached between them, his hand on his belt buckle. He started to work the fine leather through the silver clasp, before undoing the button on his pants. All the while watching her face. She knew he was checking to see if she was frightened. To see if she wanted him to stop. She didn’t know if she did. She had a vague idea of what they were headed toward. Of what was coming next. Nothing about it frightened her. Nothing about it made her want to say no.
He let go of her chin, putting both hands on her hips, slowly gathering her skirt, drawing it upward, exposing her legs. He moved one hand between her thighs, his touch a sharp, unexpected shock. His fingertips slipped slowly beneath the edge of her underwear, a feeling of white-hot pleasure streaking through her as he rubbed the bundle of nerves there. She was slick, and he used it to great effect, creating a ripple of pleasure that threatened to overtake her.
This wasn’t a struggle anymore. This was a surrender.
She couldn’t even regret that. Couldn’t even spare a moment to be angry.
He kept his eyes on hers as he touched her, as he stole her breath and pushed her closer toward heights she hadn’t known existed. He was touching her. He saw her. In that moment, they weren’t warring. They were connected.
She didn’t feel afraid that she was so close to another person. That she felt as if she needed him. As if he mattered.
He tugged her panties to the side, pressing his pelvis against hers, the heat of his bare arousal shocking, exhilarating.
He flexed his hips, the blunt head of him pushing up against the slick entrance to her body. She wondered, just for a moment if she should fear this. She didn’t. She couldn’t. She wanted him closer. Wanted to capture this one moment of fighting on the same side as him. Of pursuing the same goal. Of being connected to another person in a way she had never been.
This moment of not being alone.
He thrust upward, a sharp, shocking pain lancing her as he did. A shocked cry escaped her lips, swallowed up by his harsh groan. He buried his face in her neck, withdrew slightly from her body before pushing in deep again. She gasped, biting her lower lip, squeezing her eyes shut tight, trying to keep tears from falling as the tearing sensation receded.
He wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her steady as he began to move inside her. The pain faded into the background, replaced by a strange feeling of being claimed, invaded. Filled. But with that was a sense of security, of being a part of another person in the way she never had been before.
He filled her, and as he did, he filled that void in her chest that had been there since she was a girl, taken from the only home she’d ever known. Alone in the world.
She wasn’t alone now.
He found his rhythm, and as he did, she found hers. Not fighting against him, but moving with him. Not the same as he did, but to complement. Their differences fit here. Her softness working with his hardness. Her body yielding as his advanced. And she learned quickly that surrendering here gave her power that she’d never imagined she possessed.
He kissed her, rocking hard against her body. She barely had time to grab hold of his shoulders before she was sent straight over the edge into oblivion. Left spent, shaking and dependent on him to keep her from sliding onto the floor.
Wave after wave of sensation she was unprepared for. She had no defenses against it, because she’d never seen it coming.
She’d had no idea it would be like this. None at all.
As he growled out his own release, his body pinning hers harder to the wall, she wrapped her arm around his head, holding him steady, her fingers laced through his hair. He stayed there for a moment, breathing hard before wrenching himself away from her. Leaving her cold, empty.
And no less connected to him.
That should have eased, shouldn’t it? Now that he wasn’t inside her, shouldn’t she feel the change?
She looked up into his eyes, dark, blank. And she knew that for him it was over. She knew that no part of her lingered inside him, as he did her.
And then, as if to prove her suspicion, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her standing there against the wall shivering and changed.
