Chapter Nineteen
Magnus waited impatiently in his chamber for Olav to return. When Selina had finished being prepared for bed, Margarite would leave her chamber and inform Olav that she was ready for him.
It was an awkward process but would ensure Selina had plenty of time to get undressed, take down her hair…and do whatever else women did before bed.
Magnus was ready. He waited in his velvet robe and slippers beside the fire, an untouched glass of brandy on the side table.
His personal copy of The Brief History of Thrudheim sat beside it.
Selina was right, it was an odd choice for a child’s bedtime story.
Hans and Helga had been treated to the exciting Norse sagas, or stories about fairies and sea monsters.
But Magnus had always listened to the history of Thrudheim, and had thought he was special because the others had been read to by nannies, while he’d finally been allowed time to spend with his mother.
Only now, as an adult reading it to Selina, did he realise how strange a choice it was for a child. His father had been obsessed with perfection and had regularly criticised all of his children in varying degrees, but Magnus had borne the brunt of it.
This one demonstration of love by his mother had also been spoiled by his father. He’d taken their only time alone together and insisted it become another lesson—one with consequences.
The gravity and duty of his position had been clearly outlined to Magnus from a young age. There was no room for mistakes, for emotion or weakness.
Helga had been cast out for her own weakness, falling for some mystery suitor who wanted to ruin her and Thrudheim.
But hadn’t Magnus also succumbed to his own baser emotions too?
His petty jealousy had added to his sister’s woes.
If he’d controlled his anger and outrage better, she might have been saved from his father’s wrath.
He couldn’t allow his emotions to rule his head again.
Which was why his reactions to Selina startled and worried him.
He had wanted to prove to himself that he hadn’t lost his way purely because of a pretty smile and an ample bosom. But he’d failed, becoming distracted tonight more than once, struggling to focus on any other conversation because he constantly fretted over her happiness. Was she bored? Sad? Angry?
In the end it had driven him mad, and he’d called for their bridal dance well before midnight, although he doubted Selina would have noticed.
She never appeared to realise the time or that people—he in particular—might be waiting for her.
How many times had he had to request the footmen hurry her along for dinner? Every time.
But neither did he wish to mention it, to see her face fall with embarrassment.
She was infuriating, but also as sweet as the strawberry ice she’d been eating, though she must have been hungry for more than that. He’d requested the servants ensure she ate something before he was called to her chamber.
Which had only prolonged his agony further. Damn his conscience!
At least he knew for certain she was happy for him to visit her bed. She’d even confessed to finding him attractive. In that innocent and oblivious way of hers, that had felt like a punch to the throat.
They were practically strangers, and yet, he ached for her with a severity that almost felt like pain. Longed to sink into her, to revel in her joyous curves, silly humour, and excessive smiles. Everything that he denied himself daily.
She had dazzled in the ballroom—at least to him.
Sweeping through the crowds, like a shimmering star, seemingly without thought or purpose.
Gliding from one dance to another, smiling at all of her partners, laughing, teasing and beguiling every person she met.
No wonder the other women didn’t like her.
She was so foreign to their rigidly insular and polite society that she only highlighted all of their flaws.
But he suspected they would warm to her eventually, when they realised she wasn’t a threat but a delight. They would be helpless against her charms, as he had been.
Even just thinking of holding her in his arms as they waltzed caused his body to thicken and stiffen in expectation of the pleasures ahead, and he was ashamed at his lack of control.
Yet, he could not avoid her. They were married, the country expected an heir, preferably two or three—for him to sell away, as his father had done with Helga, and he would soon do with Hans. But not with himself, it would seem. And he wondered why Hans hated him?
He took a gulp of the brandy, hoping it would dull his guilt and the storm of thoughts inside his mind.
The door opened, and Olav walked inside. Magnus had already stood before he finished informing him, ‘Her Serene Highness awaits you, Your Serene Highness.’
Magnus nodded and took another gulp of the brandy before walking through the open door.
A drawing room sat between the two royal bed chambers, and he crossed it quickly, a candelabra still lit on a table by the window.
He picked it up as he passed, and nodded to the footman who opened the door to the princess’s chamber.
‘That is all, Henrik. You may all retire for the evening now,’ he said, trying to appear calm and confident, and not as if he were blinded by lust.
The princess’s chamber was a mirror of his own except furnished in more feminine colours and fabrics.
Creamy damask with gold-fringed upholstery and rich gilt furniture.
He absently wondered if she liked it. Had she lied to him earlier about liking the décor?
Was she afraid to change it? He didn’t want her to be afraid of him.
The curtains around the four-poster bed were drawn except for the side that faced him.
The rest of the chamber was dark, a single candle on the bedside table.
Selina lay in the centre of the mattress, her gloriously dark hair pouring across the cream sheets in a cloud of dark curls around her head, a luxurious halo.
The bed sheets were pulled up to her neck, and she was staring up at the canopy above, her pale face the only part of her visible to him. She turned her head slightly towards him as he approached.
He placed the candelabra on a nearby table, the one she would have eaten her meal on this evening. ‘Have you eaten?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ she squeaked, and he had to forcibly stop himself from smiling at the nervous sound she made— at least he wasn’t the only one. ‘Margarite said you’d insisted I eat before…er…you came.’
‘Indeed,’ he said sardonically. He doubted she realised how true that statement was. The delay was killing him, but it was a sweet death.
There was little light offered from the candelabra, as it was farther away and the single candle by her bed was just as bad, which was probably a good thing. It would be easier to control himself that way.
He moved to the side of the bed and reached for the thick silver cord of his robe. Her eyes immediately flew back up to the bed’s canopy. He slipped the cord through his fingers, aware of each twisted ridge as it flowed through his hand.
Every one of his senses was heightened in anticipation.
Why?
He’d bedded women before, plenty during his youth as it was the only thing that seemed to relieve the pressure that weighed so heavily down on him. Enjoying the heady release to be found between a woman’s soft thighs had been his only vice.
But he’d always been grateful when he could leave the intimacy behind and go back to his work without any emotion or guilt.
He’d always thought it meant that he was stronger-willed than other men. But those women had simply never been Selina. Could he indulge in the pleasure of her at night and remain distant and in control during the light of day?
Being with Selina would be an intimacy that, until now, he’d never fully experienced with a woman. They were bound together for the rest of their lives and would have their own children one day. That future started tonight.
He removed his slippers and slipped naked beneath the sheets. As he did so, the fabric billowed slightly, revealing the ample, luscious, and very naked curves of Selina beneath. A body he had only imagined from glimpses of leg and bosom. His heart raced, and his throat tightened painfully.
He was a fool if he thought walking away would be easy.
* * *
‘You are naked,’ said Magnus, his voice as rich as velvet.
He lay beside her…naked, just as she was.
Oh heavens! How much had he seen?
Heat branded her cheeks, and Selina was sure her blush was brighter than the weak light from the measly candle on her side table.
‘Margarite said there was no point wearing a nightshift, as it would come off anyway…and…she said I might want to put it on after… I put it beneath my pillow. Should I put it on?’
‘No,’ rumbled the voice beside her, sounding more like a growl.
Magnus turned towards her, and the pesky sheet fell down to reveal his broad chest and shoulders. She immediately flicked her gaze back up to the canopy, half-afraid she would lose the ability to breathe if she didn’t.
‘Look at me, Selina.’ Magnus’s hand cupped her face and turned her towards him. The light was so poor she could barely see him, but the glow of the candles illuminated the curve of his shoulder like the glowing arrival of dawn.
Her heart leapt at the warmth of his hand against her cheek.
Skin to skin, no gloves, no clothes at all, just a thin sheet pooling in his lap, he was sat upright in the bed, turned slightly so that his upper body cast her in shadow.
It should have been intimidating to have him looming over her like that, but her heart skittered with excitement, and shivers of pleasure rippled across her skin in response.