Chapter Four
Tiberius paced before the fireplace in his office, restless, impatient and vaguely out of sorts. He’d spent all day in meetings with his aides and advisors, sorting through the difficult task of imposing a new government upon a nation that had been under martial rule for the last twenty years.
A parliament needed to be reinstated and elections held—because he had no intention of holding on to power. He was no dictator. Then budgets needed to be looked at and press releases drafted. And naturally there was the issue of a public appearance.
He needed to do that as quickly as possible, so that his people would be reassured that Kasimir was once more being governed by someone responsible.
There had been reports of unrest, which he’d expected, but that only made him even more impatient to get to the task of delivering reassurance to his subjects.
There weren’t enough hours in the day…that was the problem.
He came to the end of the long silken rug that lay on the parquet before the fireplace, turned around, and paced back to the other end of it.
There were other things that needed to be done too.
Such as the clearing up of the palace. The King’s office hadn’t been vandalised, as the other rooms had, and it hadn’t taken more than half an hour for a couple of the palace cleaning staff to get it in order.
Just as well. He needed a place to work with no distractions.
The room held an antique carved oak desk, a fireplace, oak bookshelves standing against the walls, and had a huge window behind the desk that looked out over the crags of the mountains that surrounded Kasimir.
A utilitarian room, with very little in the way of frills, but it suited his soldier’s temperament.
He came to the other end of the rug, turned, and paced back once more.
Then there was the other question. The one he’d been trying not to think about all day and yet had pushed to the front of his thoughts far more often than he’d wanted it to.
The little Accorsi. The mouse who was clearly not a mouse—as she’d demonstrated so admirably this morning.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the unexpected fury in her eyes when he’d confronted her about escaping. Or about how she’d shoved herself off the window seat to stand before him, curls spilling everywhere, dust on her cheek and anger blazing in her deep blue eyes.
Panic attacks, she’d said. Bad memories, she’d said. That was why she’d escaped from the royal apartments and into the hidden corridors.
Tiberius turned once more and paced another circuit in front of the fire.
Then the look in her eyes had changed…blue becoming violet as something hot and electric had arced between them.
She hadn’t been a beaten dog or a mouse then.
She’d been a woman.
He gritted his teeth, his muscles tightening once more in response to the memory.
Yes, he couldn’t deny it. The way she’d stood up to him, the way she’d blazed defiance at him and then the way her eyes had darkened had been…
exciting. It had been obvious to him that she’d felt the same electricity, and with her standing so close, all spirit and fire, he’d had the almost overwhelming urge to take that sharp little chin in one hand and cover her mouth with his, taste all that fire for himself.
You could. She’s your wife. You could make her yours in every way. You could make her want you…crave you. Put her on her knees before you. That would be a fitting revenge for what the Accorsis did to your country…
A growl escaped him as all the blood in his body rushed below his belt. Yes, Renzo Accorsi’s forgotten daughter on her knees, naked before him… She’d have all those pretty curls loose, giving him something to hold on to as he defiled all that innocence, all that sweetness—
No. No. Why was he thinking of this again? He’d dismissed those base thoughts this morning, back in that little library, so why they should be returning again he had no idea.
He wasn’t that type of man. He was a king. And a king didn’t indulge in anything as petty as revenge—still less with some innocent.
Perhaps she’s not innocent?
Perhaps so. But still their marriage was for Kasimir only, and that did not involve anything physical.
Besides, he preferred women less fragile, women who liked their sex hard and rough, and the little Accorsi was definitely not a hard and rough type of woman.
She’d mentioned panic attacks, for God’s sake, and she’d certainly been terrified of him, which rendered her immediately off-limits.
So no, even if she hadn’t been an Accorsi he wouldn’t have touched her.
And as for this…chemistry. Well, he’d ignore it. Physical attraction was easy to control—and besides, if it proved too distracting he’d find himself one of those women who liked it rough. It didn’t need to be his new wife.
Speaking of…
He stopped pacing for a moment and glanced at his watch. He’d sent her a message earlier that afternoon, instructing her to present herself in his office at six p.m. sharp. Dinner would be served and they would discuss their little…arrangement.
It was now five minutes past six and she was not here.
His restlessness intensified, eating at him, and he broke from his pacing, headed over to the door, intending to go and find her. He pulled it open only to see her standing on the other side of the doorway, her hand raised to knock.
Her eyes widened, her mouth opened, and much to his annoyance he found himself staring at it. Because it was a pretty mouth. He could think of many things he could do with that mouth…
Another growl almost escaped him at his own wayward thoughts, but he managed to wrestle them into submission.
Guinevere was not in the same dusty lacy dress she’d worn this morning, but a light blue one, with lots of frothy tiered skirts that made her look as if she had a fountain falling down on either side of her.
She had her hair tied back, curls cascading down her back in a more orderly fashion than it had been this morning, and the dust on her cheekbone had gone.
She still looked delicate, like a fairy, if a much more tidy one than she had the previous day, and despite the control he had himself under he found his gaze coming to rest on the neckline of her dress, which was low and scooped, providing a perfect showcase for the swell of her breasts.
She will be soft. How long has it been since you’ve had any softness?
Too long. His life had been nothing but hard, relentless action, always moving forward, always onwards to the next plan, the next strategy. There had been no time for rest, for anything gentle or light or soft.
There was still no time for it.
And he should not be thinking about this as constantly as he was.
Forcing his gaze away from the neckline of her dress, Tiberius stepped back from the doorway. ‘You’re late,’ he said tersely.
She blinked. ‘By five minutes.’
‘Five minutes is time enough for someone to lose their life.’
‘Really? I had no idea this meeting was a matter of life and death.’
Acid laced her words as she stepped into the room. So. It seemed the little mouse was definitely a thing of the past.
He shouldn’t respond. She knew nothing about what he’d gone through to get here and it wasn’t worth arguing about. That didn’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth, however.
‘You have no idea about many things, Guinevere Accorsi, and that is why you are here—so I can discuss them with you.’
Hot blue flames leapt in her eyes, turning her once more into the fiery, spirited woman who’d stood up to him in the library that morning. The polar opposite to the quiet, terrified girl who’d kept staring at her hands, too afraid to look at him.
Maybe she isn’t as fragile as you thought.
He did not need that thought in his head. No, he most certainly did not. Because now he was intrigued by the contrast, and by how, for all her delicacy and fragility, there appeared to be a fire burning in her. A fire he found fascinating.
She put her chin in the air and moved past him, going over to the chair in front of his desk and sitting herself down in it like the little Queen she was. ‘Well, then, Your Majesty,’ she said. ‘Here I am.’
Tiberius shut the door and walked over to the fireplace, where he’d been pacing not moments before. He stopped, folding his arms as he looked at her.
She had her hands once again clasped in her lap, but for a change she wasn’t looking at them. She was looking at him, anger still leaping and flickering in her deep blue eyes.
This evening she was a lioness, perhaps. A lioness in a pretty blue dress…
‘First,’ he began, starting with his most pressing concern, ‘I cannot have you disappearing again. The entirety of the palace was in an uproar this morning, because you’d decided to vanish without warning.’
‘I told you why I did,’ she said hotly. ‘I told you that I—’
‘Yes, yes,’ he interrupted, impatient. ‘However, you must understand that I’ve only recently taken power, and there is still unrest in this country. I married you to end division and create stability, and you vanishing without a word significantly undermines that.’
She glowered at him, her pretty mouth tight.
‘You do understand that, don’t you?’ he demanded insistently. ‘Or does the wellbeing of our country not matter to you?’
All at once her hands came out of her lap and she gripped the arms of her chair, shoving herself out of it in a furious movement.
‘Of course it matters to me!’ Her voice was so fierce it shook slightly.
‘But I didn’t know what was happening. I wasn’t ever allowed to leave the palace, and all my father said about the state of Kasimir was that everyone loved him as King. ’
Her vehemence took him by surprise, and for a moment he only stared at her. What did she mean, she hadn’t been allowed to leave the palace? And did she really not know what Renzo had done to Kasimir? How could she not?
Guinevere stood in front of her chair, fingers clenched into fists at her sides, her cheeks pink, fury blazing in her eyes.