Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
Jack
Ilie in the rumpled sheets, listening to the sound of splashing water from Dyfri’s bathroom, and try to process what the hell just happened between us.
The morning light filtering through the curtains seems different somehow. Softer. Or maybe that’s just the lingering haze of what we just shared, the memory of Dyfri’s lips on my cock, the way he’d looked at me afterward with something like wonder in his dark eyes.
Fucking hell. I’ve never had my world rocked so hard.
And I don’t just mean the mind-blowing blowjob.
Having him in my hand was just as incredible.
I swear he relaxed a little bit this time.
Enjoyed himself more than that time in the shower.
He nearly let himself go, he came close enough to it that I have hope for the future.
And then he demanded to blow me. Quite aggressively. Which was all kinds of hot.
I rub my hand over my face. Look at me discovering that I like being bossed around in bed. Though Dyfri is so frigging gorgeous and sexy, only a crazy person wouldn’t want to be bossed around by him. It’s an honour and a privilege.
Heavens, I can still feel the ghost of his touch, still hear the soft sounds he’d made when I...
Right. I need to stop thinking about that before he comes back and finds me grinning like an idiot at the ceiling.
But Christ, the way he stared at me. Like I was something special, something precious. I’ve never had anyone look at me like that before, with such naked amazement. As if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.
Which, to be fair, neither could I.
I drag a hand through my hair, trying to get my head on straight.
Whatever’s developing between us, I can’t afford to read too much into it.
We’re still virtual strangers, still finding our footing.
This morning was... intense, yes. But it doesn’t mean we’re suddenly madly in love or anything.
For him, it was probably just a necessity.
Even if the way he looked at me made me feel like I could conquer the world.
The splashing water sounds stop, and I force myself to get up and go shower and dress. By the time I’ve finished, I’ve managed to school my expression into something appropriately neutral.
Well. Mostly neutral.
By the time I make it to the dining room, I’ve almost convinced myself I can handle this like a mature adult.
Dyfri is already there, perfectly composed as if nothing earth-shattering just happened between us.
Immaculate in a navy jumper and grey trousers, his hair swept back in a simple ponytail with the wedding plait woven through it like a silver thread.
He glances up when I enter, and for just a moment, our eyes meet. Heat flares between us, quick and electric, before he looks away with what might be the faintest blush colouring his cheekbones.
“Morning,” I say, aiming for casual and probably missing by a mile.
“Good morning,” he replies, his voice perfectly controlled. “Sleep well?”
There’s the slightest emphasis on the word ‘sleep’ that makes my pulse quicken, but his expression remains carefully neutral.
“Very well, thank you.” I pour myself coffee with hands that are definitely not shaking. “You?”
“Adequately.” He takes a precise bite of toast. “Though I confess I found myself... reflecting on the recent events.”
The way he says ‘reflecting’ makes it sound like the most scandalous activity imaginable. I have to bite back a smile.
“Which part?” I ask, settling into my chair. “The diplomatic crisis or the...”
“The diplomatic crisis, naturally,” he interrupts smoothly, though there’s a telltale tightness around his eyes that suggests he knows exactly what I was going to say. “I’ve been considering the potential ramifications of your... spirited defence of my honour.”
“Spirited defence?” I raise an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“I prefer it to ‘diplomatic catastrophe,’” he says dryly. “Though I suspect your father’s advisors may have other terms in mind.”
As if summoned by his words, there’s a sharp knock at the door. Sarah enters without waiting for permission, her usual composed demeanour slightly frayed around the edges.
“Jack, we need to talk,” she says without preamble. “Both of you, actually.”
Dyfri and I exchange glances. His expression has gone carefully blank, but I catch the slight tension in his shoulders.
“Bad news?” I ask.
“That depends on your perspective,” Sarah says, settling into one of the empty chairs. “The good news is that Lady Morwenna’s complaints about last night have been officially dismissed by the fey court as ‘personal grievances unworthy of diplomatic consideration.’”
“And the bad news?” Dyfri asks, though his tone suggests he already knows.
“The bad news is that half of Westminster thinks you’ve started a war, and the other half thinks you’ve handed the fey court ammunition to use against us in future negotiations.” Sarah’s smile is razor sharp. “Quite the achievement, really.”
I feel my jaw clench. “So we’re supposed to just sit there and let them insult...”
“You’re supposed to be a diplomat,” Sarah interrupts. “Not a knight-errant defending your husband’s honour.”
“What a shame,” Dyfri murmurs into his tea. “I’ve always wanted to be someone’s damsel in distress.”
Sarah shoots him a look that could cut glass. “This isn’t a joke, Your Highness. There are calls for an official apology. Some MPs are suggesting the marriage arrangement isn’t working if Jack can’t maintain professional detachment.”
The words hit me like a slap. “Professional detachment?”
“They think you’re compromised,” Sarah says bluntly. “Too emotional to make rational decisions about fey relations.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Dyfri’s voice cuts across mine, cool and utterly composed.
“How fascinating,” he says. “And what do these MPs suggest as an alternative? Dissolving the marriage? Sending me back to the fey court with my tail between my legs?”
“Some of them, yes.”
The casual way she says it makes my blood boil, but Dyfri just nods thoughtfully.
“I see. And has anyone bothered to consider what the fey court’s reaction might be to such a public rejection of their chosen representative?”
Sarah’s expression shifts slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Dyfri says, setting down his teacup with deliberate precision, “that sending me back in disgrace would be interpreted as a deliberate insult to Crown Prince Rhydian personally. After all, he chose me for this role. Rejecting me is rejecting his judgment.”
“You’re saying they’d take it badly?”
Dyfri’s smile is sharp enough to cut. “I’m saying they’d consider it an act of war.”
The silence that follows is deafening.
“You’re certain about this?” Sarah asks finally.
“Quite certain.” Dyfri leans back in his chair with predatory grace. “Fey politics are rather unforgiving when it comes to matters of honour and status. Your MPs seem to think they can treat this marriage as a political convenience to be discarded when it becomes inconvenient. They’re wrong.”
Sarah’s face has gone pale. “Christ. We need to brief the PM immediately.”
“I’d be happy to provide a more detailed analysis,” Dyfri offers with deceptive mildness. “Though I should warn you, fey diplomatic protocols are rather more complex than human ones. It might take some time to explain all the potential ramifications.”
I watch this exchange with growing admiration. Dyfri has just turned what could have been a disaster into an opportunity, making himself indispensable while subtly threatening anyone who tries to undermine our marriage.
“That would be incredibly helpful,” Sarah says, and I can practically see her recalculating the political landscape in real time. “Could you have something ready by this afternoon?”
“Of course.” Dyfri’s smile is all polite cooperation now. “Though I may need Jack’s assistance with some of the human nuances.”
“Naturally,” Sarah agrees quickly. “Whatever you need.”
After she leaves, promising to reschedule the morning’s meetings, I turn to Dyfri with something approaching awe.
“That was brilliant,” I tell him.
He shrugs with studied nonchalance. “Elementary politics, really. Though I must admit, it’s refreshing to have someone so eager to dissolve our marriage. Makes one feel truly wanted.”
“I don’t want to dissolve our marriage,” I say before I can stop myself.
The words hang in the air between us. Dyfri goes very still, his teacup halfway to his lips.
“Don’t you?” he asks quietly.
“No,” I say, and mean it completely. “Do you?”
For a moment, something vulnerable flickers across his features. Then the mask slides back into place.
“I suppose it would be rather inconvenient,” he says lightly. “I’ve only just got used to your snoring.”
It’s deflection, pure and simple, but I can see the uncertainty lurking beneath the sarcasm. The fear that maybe I’m just being polite, that maybe I don’t really want him here.
“Dyfri,” I say gently.
“We should start on that briefing,” he interrupts, standing abruptly. “The sooner we can demonstrate our value as a diplomatic unit, the sooner these tiresome calls for dissolution will disappear.”
He’s already moving toward the door, but I catch his wrist as he passes my chair. He freezes, looking down at my hand on his skin with an expression I can’t quite read.
“I meant what I said,” I tell him. “About not wanting to dissolve this marriage. Whatever’s happening between us... I want to see where it goes.”
His breath catches, so softly I almost miss it. “Jack...”
“I know it’s complicated,” I continue. “I know we’re still figuring things out. But I want to try. We’re good together.”
For a long moment, he doesn’t respond. Then, slowly, he turns his hand palm up, his fingers threading through mine.
“Yes,” he says quietly. “We are.”
It’s not a declaration of love. It’s not even a promise. But it’s something. A beginning, maybe. A tentative agreement that what we’re building is worth protecting.
And for now, that’s enough.
“Right then,” I say, reluctantly releasing his hand. “Let’s go save our marriage by writing the world’s most intimidating diplomatic briefing.”
Dyfri’s smile is small but genuine. “Now you’re talking my language.”
As we head toward my office, I catch myself stealing glances at him, marvelling at how much has changed in just a few days. We’re not in love. But we’re something more than strangers now, something that might eventually become a partnership in every sense of the word.
And if this morning taught me anything, it’s that Dyfri is full of surprises.
I can’t wait to discover what else he’s hiding behind that carefully controlled facade.