Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
T HEY LANDED AT the airport in the Cartanian capital, San Mirabet, and just like in Paris were whisked away by a sleek helicopter with the Royal House of Domene crest etched boldly into the paintwork.
Unlike in Paris, though, their arrival was orchestrated in streamlined secrecy, the red carpet leading to the covered walkway devoid of any people bar the pilot, the flight attendants and Azar’s guards.
Azar noticed her puzzled look as he buckled Max into his seat. ‘Until the announcement is made, there’s no point in inviting a circus to disturb us,’ he told her. ‘It’ll happen soon enough.’
‘When?’
He shrugged. ‘That depends on my father. Once we’ve visited him this afternoon we can take it from there.’
She thought he was hedging now, on the very thing he’d been pushing for—until three hours later when, showered and styled by her new personal staff, helmed by a no-nonsense woman named Silvia, she clutched her son’s hand outside a soaring set of doors, gilded in what she suspected was solid gold filigree. They’d been escorted here by Silvia and Gaspar, who stood behind them like the efficient sentinels they were trained to be.
Curbing the wild emotions rampaging through her wasn’t easy. The sheer magnificence of the Domene Palacio Real, poised on top of a hill at the northernmost point of San Mirabet, gave it a forceful presence in and of itself. Stepping over its splendid threshold, feeling the weight of its history, and an opulence literally built from the ashes of its vanquished enemies, had started a cascade of sensations she was still grappling with as solid, steady footsteps approached.
She surreptitiously passed her sweaty free hand over the ruched silk midi dress she’d chosen for its warm, comforting dark caramel colour as the doors were swept open.
Azar had showered and changed since she last saw him. His dark hair gleamed in the mid-afternoon sunlight and the white shirt and dark suit highlighted his deep, vibrant vitality.
He held her gaze, then nodded a dismissal at the staff behind her.
Max peered up at Azar, then his face broke into a smile. ‘Papá.’
Azar’s eyes darkened, and a trace of the bleakness disappeared.
Still wondering at what had caused it, she watched him scoop up his son, then rasp, ‘Come.’
She followed him through an elaborate private living room, down a corridor with doors on either side, then through another set of double doors, which were swept open as they reached it.
Eden’s steps faltered momentarily.
When Azar had told her his father was unwell with a heart condition, she’d assumed it was serious, but manageable.
The man propped up against a mountain of pillows in pristine bedding was a far cry from the man she’d searched on the internet, when she’d realised their meeting was inevitable. The once-vibrant, commanding King of Cartana had notably lost weight, his figure shrunken in the antique four-poster bed with elaborate hand carvings that spoke of a bygone era.
Azar lightly grasped her arm and led her to the two armchairs placed close to the bed.
‘Papá, meet your grandson, Max. And Eden, his mother.’
King Alfonso’s direct gaze landed on her son, examining him thoroughly, before he exhaled deeply. He reached out his hand to Max and her sweet son immediately offered his.
The King swallowed as he took another deep breath. ‘Maximiliano.’
His voicing of her son’s name seemed almost like an affirmation. A blessing. An acceptance Eden had never felt for herself from either of her parents—especially her father. She hadn’t even been aware of that problematic knot in her belly until it eased, helping her breathe that little bit easier.
‘Is he calling you Papá already?’
King Alfonso smiled at his son, who shrugged.
‘He’s mine. There’s no point dancing around the truth of it.’
The old man’s gaze rested on Azar for a moment, then shifted to her, the signature silver-grey eyes he’d passed down to his sons pinning her in place. She accepted then that he was far from diminished. That while his body might be failing him, his centuries-old warrior spirit was very much present.
‘And you, young lady? How are you to feature in the great and elaborate landscape that is my family?’ he asked, his rich accent inflecting the words.
She executed the shallow curtsey Silvia had taught her. ‘It’s an honour to meet you, Your Majesty.’ Swallowing around a dry mouth, she hesitated momentarily, then responded. ‘My priority will always be Max, no matter what. As long as he’s happy and healthy, everyone who cares for him will have my utmost co-operation.’
His stare remained direct. ‘And if they don’t care for him?’ he prodded.
Azar’s gaze lanced her where she stood, his own interest in her response almost feverish.
‘Then I’m afraid I won’t be very easy to live with. And I won’t be averse to taking whatever steps are necessary to change that.’
Truth and purpose shook through her voice, but the notion that she was standing up to a king didn’t escape her. Trepidatious shivers raced under her skin, but she ignored them as best she could, knowing that this wasn’t the time to show weakness.
King and Crown Prince exchanged indecipherable looks, the corners of their mouths twitching in almost identical motion.
And when the oldest man in the room looked at her again, a layer of that formidable willpower had been replaced by something approaching approval.
He watched them, his eyes still pinned on Eden as Azar waited until she sat down, then sat himself, leaving one hand propped against Max’s back, where he was perched on the bed next to his grandfather.
‘You’re not afraid to express yourself. An admirable quality that will prove useful in the position you find yourself in, I think.’
The warmth around that loosened knot inside her expanded, pushing hard at her need to remain fortified against any misleading inclinations. The scars from her father’s rejection remained a real, horrifying reminder.
Hell, she was in this room only because she’d had Azar’s child. She didn’t doubt that Azar Domene might have sought her out as he’d promised the night of his party, to seek whatever passed as payback for her slights against him three years ago. But beyond that? To go as far as to put a ring on her finger? That was all for Max’s sake. And while that was a good thing for her baby, she needed to leave her emotions out of it.
‘…abdication and your coronation…must bring it forward even earlier.’
Shock reefed through her and her head jerked up. ‘I’m sorry…what? Even earlier?’ she blurted. She was cringingly aware she was breaking several protocols by not using the right form of address, but she couldn’t bring herself to backtrack.
King Alfonso’s gaze returned to her, then narrowed at his son. ‘Your intended doesn’t know?’
Again, Azar shrugged. ‘It’s only been two days, Papá, but yes, she knows. I didn’t think it prudent to bombard her with too much though.’
Her hands clenched in her lap. ‘Stop talking about me like I’m not here. You said the coronation was a matter of months away, and now it’s earlier? Explain what’s going on.’
Azar waited a beat. Then exhaled. ‘My father has decided to abdicate earlier than planned. I’m to take the throne in two months instead of three. One month after our wedding. And you, by ordination, will become my queen.’
* * *
And that was just the first of many left-field episodes that peppered the most dizzying weeks of her life.
Contrary to her expectations, she didn’t meet her future mother-in-law for another whole week. Azar’s mother cited one excuse after another until two Sundays after they’d arrived. And when the moment eventually arrived it was a frosty reception that couldn’t have made it more patently obvious that Queen Fabiana Domene believed her son was marrying far below his class.
To her credit, her dismissiveness didn’t stray into cruelty when it came to her grandson, which meant Eden didn’t need to unleash her mama bear claws. And Max was oblivious to the disparaging remarks during the Queen’s icy quizzing of just how Eden had happened to cross paths with her son, and the vapours of disdain that positively oozed from her pursed lips.
It was for the sake of her son that Eden withstood that seemingly interminable meeting. The moment it was over—the second she returned to her suite and saw Azar standing at the window in her living room, the epitome of regal composure, power and unruffled magnificence—everything she’d been holding inside for the last two hours frothed over like boiling milk.
‘How did the meeting with my mother—?’
‘Badly,’ she interrupted. ‘She doesn’t like me, and thinks you’re marrying far beneath you, but I don’t give a damn about that. She’s entitled to her opinion.’
His eyes narrowed, a film of tension weaving over him. ‘And yet something is bothering you?’
‘Yes! This is all going too fast.’ She dragged her fingers through hair that had been painstakingly styled and layered for her audience with the Queen, relieved that it was the only appointment on her schedule today. ‘We need to postpone. Everything.’
Azar’s eyes narrowed, then his tension thickened. ‘No. Absolutely not.’
‘Absolutely, yes. I’m—I’m not ready.’
He’d gone so still she wondered if he’d stopped breathing. And when he shoved his hands forcefully into his pockets she was almost certain she saw them trembling.
‘Look, the announcements haven’t gone out yet. And I’ve seen how the palace machinery works. It can come up with a good enough reason for moving the wedding.’
‘And my father? You want him to put off his abdication for your convenience?’ he bit out.
A twinge across her temple jostled her breathing, and the sensation that she’d felt this tic before sparked the usual frustration over her lost memories.
‘No, of course not. But maybe we can switch things around. Coronation first, then wedding…later.’
‘It’s the first time I’ve seen you in any way fazed,’ he rasped, and there was a faint, peculiar note in his voice. It sounded almost alarmed .
‘Trust me—it’s not the first time I’ve wanted to throw up. I’ve only held it together because it wouldn’t be a pretty sight.’
‘The thought of marrying me makes you feel ill?’ he growled, molten eyes lasering into her.
‘Yes!’ A nanosecond after she blurted that she realised what it had sounded like. ‘No… I don’t mean it like that. It’s just…’
She stopped, words failing her as she shook her head.
Her insides clenched as something deadened his eyes. ‘Well, you’ve hidden your abhorrence well. The staff are all impressed with your poise.’
‘The staff, huh?’
‘You want a more personal opinion?’
No, she didn’t. She absolutely didn’t.
‘It wouldn’t hurt to hear what the man I’m to marry thinks.’
He sauntered closer, and it was only because she was watching him so closely that she saw that he wasn’t as cool and confident as she’d thought. His probing eyes were a little too fevered. He was putting extra effort into the confident stride that commanded the entirety of her attention.
‘You have handled every interaction and interview as if you were born to the role. Almost as if you’ve been practising for years instead of weeks.’
A twinge tugged hard at her chest, and the notion that this had taken a sour turn was sobering.
‘Are you insinuating something? If you are, I’d like you to spit it out, please. I’m not in the mood for guessing games.’
Something gleamed at the back of his eyes and the quiet storm brewing within his aura crackled like the distant rumble of thunder.
‘Only that it seems you’re surprised at what you’ve been capable of. I’m saying perhaps you needn’t be.’
‘Because you think this is what I’ve secretly wanted all along?’ she demanded. ‘An elevation to some higher status in life?’
‘I’m saying hold your nose if you need to. The rewards for this slight bump in the road will be worth your while.’
Her eyes narrowed, and a peculiar feeling expanded in her chest when she realised that, in his own enigmatic way, he was talking her round . That he was perhaps even quietly desperate for her to go through with this marriage. Which was…mystifying. And strangely warming after being locked for so long within the desolation of cold rejection. But…what if this was an illusion?
‘Why are you so hellbent on this happening quickly? I’ve already accepted that Max is yours. And I’m sure whatever DNA test you did has confirmed it?’
‘ Sí , it did.’
‘Then what ?’ At his tense silence, she pushed harder. ‘You want something else? Tell me what this is really about!’
His eyes darkened, dropped to her mouth, and a new sensation started in her chest. Spread throughout her body. That chemistry he’d touched on—the one that had become buried beneath the hectic schedule of readying not just the palace but the entire kingdom for a royal wedding—was suddenly awakening into stinging life, bringing with it an unexpected surge of feminine power as she read his desire loud and clear.
The laughter that spilled from her was just as unexpected as it pulsed with that power and with her own surfeit of need.
‘ That’s why you’re pushing for this to happen? You’re sexually frustrated? Or is it just that I happen to be the unwanted woman fuelling that sensation?’
His nostrils flared and his eyes glinted in that way she was coming to recognise as Azar Domene priming himself for a skirmish. Why that sizzled her blood was a circumstance she wasn’t going to wrangle just at this moment. She fought to remain still as a head-to-toe tingle took hold of her. As he closed the gap between them, bringing the forcefield of his magnetism and that terrifying intoxicating scent of man and sandalwood with him.
Molten eyes raked her face. ‘You think I don’t want you?’ he breathed, disbelief tingeing his deep voice.
‘You’re a king-in-waiting and I’m the woman you’re stuck with because I gave birth to your son. It isn’t a stretch to imagine you’re just making do with what’s in front of you.’
She realised she’d been backing away while he advanced, and gasped when her back touched the wall.
‘A sound deduction,’ he said. ‘But you’re forgetting one thing.’
The boost of confidence made her tilt her chin in challenge, to meet his blazing gaze full on. ‘What?’
‘The first time we met I was just a crown prince and you were a hostess. None of this…baggage was between us. And yet you felt strongly enough about me to give me your virginity.’
Her mouth dropped open on a hot gasp. ‘You were my first?’
Of course he was.
Didn’t he only need to enter a room for her temperature to soar to insane levels?
His lips parted and she witnessed legions of emotions cross his face in a split second. Then that iron control was back in place.
‘Yes. Freely given,’ he elaborated hoarsely, ‘enthusiastically accepted. Thoroughly celebrated.’
Evocative images surged to life in her head.
‘Tell me about it…please,’ she whispered, ignoring the shrieking voice demanding to know what she was doing.
Again, his gaze raked her face. Then his eyes narrowed. ‘When was the last time you had one of those headaches?’ he bit out.
‘Not for a while. Please,’ she pleaded.
He planted his hands on either side of her head, caging her in. His body bore down closer too, and the steel pipe of his erection pressed against her belly as he breathed in deep.
‘Every nerve in my body tells me this is a bad idea…’
She waited, breathless with anticipation.
After a long moment, he exhaled. ‘You were headed to the table next to mine in the cigar lounge. You stopped in your tracks the first time you saw me,’ he rasped in her ear. ‘Your incredible eyes went wide and these luscious lips parted…’ He passed his thumb in a whisper-light brush over her lower lip. ‘A beautiful creature caught in headlights.’
‘And let me guess…you laughed?’
His digit continued to slide back and forth, weakening her with his sensual magic. ‘On the contrary. Your effect on me was equally acute, and troubling, and puzzling in the extreme.’
‘Why?’
He hesitated for a full second. ‘Because until that moment I’d never experienced anything like it.’
Her breath shuddered out. Common sense screamed at her that it was impossible. That this man, soon to exit his position as the most eligible bachelor in the world, surely would have experienced a raft of sexual experiences. But his unwavering stare insisted he meant it. Or maybe because she craved that crumb of possessive knowledge, she believed him.
‘Is that why you…hate me?’
He stiffened and his jaw clenched, but he didn’t move away. He only examined her face thoroughly, as if he yearned for some insight that she remained clueless about and he sought desperately.
After a moment, he exhaled. ‘I don’t hate you.’
‘Are you sure? Because my every instinct screams otherwise.’
He pinned her beneath his gaze for an eternity before he rasped, ‘Do you need me to prove it?’
She licked her lips, a sizzling craving piling into the mix of sensation flaying her. ‘Maybe…’ she hedged.
Because…heavens, she was much too weak where His Royal Hotness was concerned.
And because to him it might be a refresher, but to her it would be a first kiss. From a real man. The man she’d given her virginity to.
His fingers speared into the hair she’d ruffled, further dishevelling it as he used the pressure to tilt her head up. Then, taking the true answer she was too stubborn to provide, he slanted his mouth over hers.
Warm—no— hot . Supple. Electrifying. Possessive.
In an instant she was transported. Dizzy with need. Desperate for more . A helpless moan ripped from her soul as she surged towards the exhilarating sensation of being kissed by Crown Prince Azar Domene. And, oh, how he mastered the art.
A brief sweep of his tongue, tantalising and tempting hers to play, was deceptively coaxing, and the moment she parted her lips, ventured a taste of her own, he swooped, seizing control as effectively as his magic alone had kept her pinned against the wall.
The fingers in her hair merely supported her, so she didn’t crumple into an erotic mass at his feet. Then, as if he knew how weak she’d grown, his other hand grasped her hips, holding her as he ground his hips into hers, moulding their bodies together as his mouth and tongue and teeth drove her towards a fevered edge that left her utterly breathless.
Dear God, she thought hazily. If he could do this with just a kiss, what could he do with—with…?
Thoughts dissolved as he increased the tempo, his hand sliding from hip to waist and then to her breast, cupping one mound and toying with her nipple. The cry smashed between their lips made him groan. Made him mutter thick words before he delved back for a longer taste.
‘You see what you do to me?’ he rasped against her mouth after they came up for breath.
The sound she emitted was nowhere near coherent. She was about to seize his nape, beg for another taste, when a firm rap on the door knocked some sense into her.
Her hand dropped to her side, just as his dropped from her breast. But he didn’t move, leaving her flushing anew at the thick evidence of his need pressed against her stomach.
‘It’s just…ch-chemistry,’ she stuttered forcefully.
He didn’t even raise that imperious brow to mock her. They both knew otherwise. The potency of their attraction to one another defied reason and he wasn’t going to waste his time debating the issue.
Instead he peered deep into her eyes, and that not-so-quiet storm wrapped around her, lashing her with urgent electricity. ‘The wedding will proceed as planned. You will marry me and let me place a crown upon your head. Yes?’
Eden frowned. Wondered why he kept pushing rewards and crowns at her as if it was the culmination of a goal for him. But his proximity was addling her brain. And, really, her fundamental reason for doing this hadn’t changed. Max. Wouldn’t it be better to get it over and done with so she could spend precious time with her son?
‘Yes. Okay.’
Again, she only saw it because she was staring as intensely at him as he was at her. The flash of relief before he stepped back, issued a command for the visitor to enter.
She wasn’t even upset by Gaspar’s interruption with more reams of protocol that needed to be studied and mastered before the big day.
She threw herself into it, because otherwise she would have spent far too much time dissecting that look. Stressing over just how much of herself she’d given to Azar Domene once upon a time in Arizona.
* * *
They didn’t speak about feelings again—his or hers. She’d walked that tightrope and avoided plunging into an emotional landmine. And in the weeks that followed she was thankful for that distance, she told herself.
Even thankful for her decision when she saw how Max thrived beneath the attention of his father, his grandfather and the endless relatives who arrived in a steady torrent to satisfy their various curiosities about the future King and his newly discovered heir.