Chapter Seven
The limo drove slowly through the streets of Kasimir’s capital city, with Tiberius gazing out through the windows at the crowds thronging the footpaths. They were cheering and waving Kasimiran flags, children were being lifted up by their parents to catch a glimpse of the King’s car.
It was gratifying to find the people so excited to see him. Certainly his aides had mentioned that the mood of the country was high—far better than it had been when the Accorsis were in power, which pleased him.
Of course there was still much work to be done, but this public appearance—a tour of the city’s main hospital—would be the start of many, and would hopefully provide the people with much-needed reassurance.
Guinevere sat beside him. She was in a yellow dress today, gauzy and pretty, wrapping around her curves lovingly, while her hair was piled on top of her head, with a couple of loose curls trailing around her ears.
She looked delicate and beautiful, like a splash of sunshine sitting beside him, and already anticipation was gathering tight inside him at the thought of showing this lovely, lovely woman to his subjects and introducing her as his new queen.
There would no doubt be some trepidation about the fact that she was an Accorsi, and he’d already anticipated that, but they would soon come to see that she was nothing like her father.
He knew that now for the truth, having spent the past week with her.
It had been a revelation.
He’d still been working every hour, closeted with his advisors and talking over things like taxes and elections, but every night he’d found himself hurrying back to the royal apartments and to Guinevere.
She slept in his bed every night, in his arms, languorous and sated as a cat after hours of extremely satisfying sex.
She was passionate and curious, responsive and generous, and he’d never had a lover like her.
It seemed the more he had of her, the more he wanted, and he certainly had no regrets about his decision to keep her as his wife.
Not that they’d spoken about the future of their marriage. He simply hadn’t had the time. And in the hours he did spend with her he preferred to pursue their physical hunger for each other over anything else.
She hadn’t argued, seemingly as hungry for him as he was for her.
A couple of days earlier she’d asked him if he’d have some time to talk about her role as queen, but he hadn’t yet followed that up. There always seemed to be more important, more vital things to do.
He glanced at her now, assessing her. She was looking out of the window too, her cheeks a little pale, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, lines of tension around her eyes.
Reaching out, he took one of her hands in his. Her fingertips were cold. ‘Nervous?’ he asked softly.
She glanced away from the window and back at him. ‘Yes, a little.’
‘What about?’
‘Oh…the crowds. I haven’t ever been among so many people at one time. And also…’ She let out a breath. ‘I’m an Accorsi.’
The protective urge he felt whenever he was around her stirred again, and he squeezed her hand gently in reassurance.
‘I will allow no one to hurt you, remember?’ He put the force of all his considerable authority behind the words.
‘And I will allow no one to show you any disrespect. You are my queen and I expect everyone to treat you accordingly.’
She looked down at where her hand was enclosed by his. ‘I don’t feel like your queen,’ she said. ‘I feel like your dirty little secret.’
The comment came out of the blue, and for a moment he could only stare at her in surprise. ‘What? What makes you say that?’
She didn’t reply immediately, still staring at her hands. Then she sighed. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out sounding that way. It’s just… You’re not around during the day, and I only see you at night, only in bed. And we don’t talk. We just have sex.’
He frowned. ‘Is that a problem?’
‘Yes. I would like to talk to you, Tiberius. I want to know what kind of marriage we’re going to have—especially since you were so demanding about it before we slept together. And I want to know what kind of role I’ll have in the palace, because at the moment I don’t have one.’
He was conscious then of a slight shock—because these were things he hadn’t considered. He’d been so consumed with getting his country in order that he hadn’t had the time to consider anything personal.
‘I sent an aide to you yesterday,’ he pointed out—because he had. ‘To prepare you for today’s appearance.’
‘Yes, you did,’ she allowed. ‘But…’
Annoyance was starting to creep through him—mostly at himself for not sparing a moment to think about her.
‘But what?’ he asked, trying not to let his irritation show.
‘I have had a great deal to manage, Guinevere. Naturally I apologise if I’ve neglected you, but the wellbeing of my country takes precedence. ’
She looked at him for a long moment, then abruptly pulled her hand from his.
‘I’m not asking you to ignore the wellbeing of Kasimir.
In fact, I want to be a part of helping you rebuild it.
But I don’t know how to be a queen and I don’t know what’s required.
I don’t know what your plans for the future are, or what my place is in that future.
’ Her chin came up. ‘It feels as if you’re ashamed of me. ’
Tiberius was conscious of not a little astonishment. ‘Ashamed of you?’ he repeated. ‘Why would I be ashamed of you?’
‘Because I’m an Accorsi,’ Guinevere said. ‘Because I’m sheltered and I don’t know anything. Because I’m not—’
Tiberius laid a gentle finger over her soft mouth, silencing her. ‘I’m not ashamed of you,’ he said. ‘I married you because you were an Accorsi. Because I wanted Kasimir to be whole, not divided.’
That hot blue flame of her temper had begun to burn in her eyes and she reached up, gripped his wrist and pulled his finger away.
‘I don’t want to be a symbol, Tiberius. I want to do something.
I’ve spent years being trapped in that damn palace, and if I’m to be your queen I need to know how.
I already know what it’s like to be forgotten and I’m tired of it. ’
Then, as if to emphasise her point, she nipped the end of his finger, sending a bolt of white heat through him and making his breath catch.
‘If you do not wish to give our people a ringside seat for what I do to you at night,’ he growled, ‘I would advise against doing things like that.’
She dropped his hand, but gave him an unrepentant look. ‘If you want your war prize ready, willing and eager every night, then I would advise giving me something to do.’
Stubborn little Accorsi!
She’s not wrong.
Looked at from her point of view, that was of course how she would see it. And, no, she wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t given her any time this past week, nor spared her a thought beyond what they did in bed together. Of course there were things they needed to discuss, he just…
You just don’t want to think about her. You don’t want to think about another person’s needs.
And how could he when the needs of his subjects mattered more?
Then again, if she was to be his queen, then not teaching her what she needed to know was shortsighted.
Especially if she could help him in his endeavours.
He wasn’t used to sharing the burden, it was true, but that wasn’t because he didn’t want to share it with someone.
He met her gaze and held it. ‘I see your point. For the record, I am genuinely not ashamed of you, little lioness. I have just been very busy with trying to fix everything that is broken in Kasimir—and there is so much that is broken.’
The sparks of her temper faded, her blue gaze turning softer. ‘I know,’ she said quietly. ‘I do know that. But the state Kasimir is in is not your fault, Tiberius. You understand that, don’t you?’
Another little shock went through him, as if she’d somehow found a vulnerable place inside him. ‘I know that,’ he said tersely, sounding far more defensive than he wished. ‘Of course it isn’t my fault. Why would you think I believe that?’
She ignored his tone. ‘Because of the way you’re trying to fix it. As if you alone are responsible for it.’
‘But isn’t it my responsibility? I am the King. It is my job to protect and care for my subjects.’ And before he could stop himself, he added, ‘If it hadn’t taken me so long to reclaim the crown, there wouldn’t have been—’
‘No,’ Guinevere interrupted, gently but very firmly.
‘You can’t think that. My father stole the crown and he is to blame for what happened—not you.
Also, you can’t take the burden of repairing an entire country upon yourself.
That’s ridiculous. Besides, how can you take care of anyone else if you don’t take care of yourself? ’
‘I don’t need taking care of,’ he said, again far too tersely.
‘Of course you do,’ she disagreed. ‘You’re working yourself to the bone and everyone else around you too. The burden can be shared, you know.’
It was as if she’d reached inside his head and plucked out that very thought.
Of course it could be shared. Except no one had ever offered to do so because they were worried about him …
as if his wellbeing mattered to them. His father had made sure he was fed and clothed, and had taught him all he needed to know about being a king.
But his father hadn’t been concerned for Tiberius himself.
All that had been important was being strong enough to take the crown and then to take responsibility for the country. His own wellbeing had always come last.
‘I do not matter,’ he said. ‘Only Kasimir does.’
Guinevere’s deep blue eyes were soft. ‘You do matter,’ she said quietly. ‘You matter to me.’
That softness, the way she was looking at him, rubbed against a raw place inside him—a place he hadn’t thought was vulnerable. ‘Why should you care?’ he demanded, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. ‘You barely know me.’