Chapter Eight #2
She shook her head. ‘Nothing. He indulged them…told me that’s what brothers did.’
‘Guinevere,’ he said roughly, taking a step towards her to take her hand, offer her something—he didn’t know what.
But then she lifted her head and looked at him, her blue eyes clear.
‘I hid from them in the end, because that was safer, and then they forgot about me. It wasn’t all bad, though—and I mean that.
I had moments of happiness. Reading good books in my little room.
Listening to music. Watching movies. Learning about the outside world. I just loved that.’
He could see her as little girl. Long golden curls and wide blue eyes alight with the same joy he’d seen when he’d showed her the orchard. Her ready laugh and her smile, despite what she’d been through.
She was made for joy, he thought suddenly. Standing there in her yellow dress, she was made for sunshine and summer and moments of happiness.
You cannot give her that. You will never give her that.
The thought came out of nowhere, startling him, pulling at something painful inside him. It was true. He couldn’t give her that. He barely even recognised happiness, let alone would be able to give it to her.
Yet you have tied her to you for ever.
That painful thing tugged harder, and he almost growled at it.
Yes, he had made the decision to keep her—and he didn’t regret it.
She was a strong woman. She would find her own happiness, her own joy.
It didn’t have to come from him. That was one of the downsides of marrying a king: the work always had to come first. He’d given her a choice, anyway.
She hadn’t had to choose to stay married to him.
A part of him told him snidely that that was specious reasoning, but he didn’t want to dig into it any further. It was what it was.
‘Well,’ he said, when she didn’t say anything more, ‘is there something else you wish to discuss?’
She stared at him a moment longer, then said, ‘I want to take part in your meetings. If I am to be your queen, then I want to be more than just a symbol to the people. I want to actually do something.’
She had mentioned something similar in the limo that morning, and he’d found her desire to be involved admirable.
You will need to spend time with her, teaching her.
He didn’t have the time to show her personally, but he could spare an aide to show her the ropes.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I will have someone come to you tomorrow morning, if you like. They can spend some time with you and—’
‘No,’ Guinevere interrupted, for the second time that day. ‘I don’t want one of your aides. I want you to do it.’
* * *
By the set of Tiberius’s mouth and the flash of temper in his silver eyes Guinevere knew that he didn’t like that idea at all. But that was too bad. If that was the only way she could get her husband out of his meetings and spending time with her, then that was what she’d do.
The idea had come to her as they’d discussed his utter disdain for holidays.
Not that she’d expected anything else—especially given what he’d said about his father driving him and his mother’s death.
She felt sorry for that little boy whose only peace had been looking at the stars.
Such a heavy burden to put on his shoulders.
It made her understand him a little bit better, though. Gave her some insight into why he was so driven, why everything was of such vital importance, and why he had to be the one to fix it.
He was inured to fighting now, to struggle—she could see it in his eyes just as clearly as she saw his weariness.
He didn’t know what joy was, what happiness was, either. And for some reason that hurt. He was a prickly, driven man, who desperately needed some kind of surcease. More than what she gave him in bed, certainly.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have told him about what her brothers had done to her, because that hadn’t helped—she hadn’t missed the hot leap of rage in his gaze in response.
But he’d called her lioness, and that had made her brave, and while he might not have been aware of it, telling him the truth had been a gift of trust. And he’d reined in his protector’s rage, not burdening her with it.
He didn’t know what he’d given her—didn’t know why being able to tell him and not suffer any judgment was important.
She wasn’t sure he’d want to hear it anyway.
But she wanted to give him something in return.
If not happiness, then peace. Rest. A moment of lightness amidst the hard grind of his work.
But she was going to have to teach him. She knew it deep inside.
Because if she didn’t, this was what the shape of her marriage would be.
Seeing him at night only, with his country constantly taking and taking from him.
It wasn’t the kind of marriage that people had in the books she’d read, and it certainly wasn’t the kind of marriage she wanted to bring her children up in.
Why do you want that with him, though?
Because she’d married him. No, he hadn’t given her much of a choice in the beginning, but he’d given it to her the night they’d first slept together.
She’d told herself then, in a haze of desire, that she was fine with that—and she was still fine with it.
But she was starting to want more. More of him.
A chance to dig beneath the surface of the King and find the passionate man who lost himself in her arms every night.
And there was more there—she could sense it. He was like a fire burning in a cosy room and she was only looking at it through the window. She wanted to get closer to that fire…see how hot it really burned.
And even if those concerns were for herself, there were also potential children to consider. She wanted to give them a better childhood than the one she’d had, and certainly better than what Tiberius’s father had given him. Was that really too much to ask?
So, yes, she would have to teach him what joy and happiness looked like, and she’d likely have to do it by stealth. She’d have to make him give her some time every day, and if she couched it in terms of it being for Kasimir’s aid then surely he couldn’t say no.
‘No,’ said Tiberius shortly. ‘I do not have the time.’
‘I’m not asking for much. A couple of hours every day. Perhaps in the morning, when we wake up, or at night before bed?’
‘Like I said—’
‘It has to be you, Tiberius,’ she said insistently. ‘You’re so passionate about Kasimir and none of your aides could teach me about being a queen better than you could. We have to rule together, remember? So wouldn’t it be best for you to show me how you do it, so I can match you?’
His gaze narrowed, clearly looking for reasons to disagree, but she knew he couldn’t argue with her last statement. After all, there was no one more passionate about Kasimir than he was, and if there was one thing she knew about him, it was that he was a control freak.
Perhaps he just doesn’t want to spend time with you.
The thought made a sharp sliver of glass slide under her skin, cutting her in a way she hadn’t been expecting, but she ignored it. If he didn’t, he didn’t—but she was going to make him give her this despite that. This wasn’t about her and her needs. It was about him.
‘A couple of hours…’ he murmured, still eyeing her narrowly. ‘That’s not nearly enough time to learn how to be a queen. It took me many years before I fully grasped what being King meant.’
‘Yes, it might take time,’ she allowed. ‘But I’ll learn more directly from you than anyone else.
Also, I could get further instruction from your aides when you’re busy.
’ She gave him a sunny smile. ‘I’m a quick study.
I’ve been reading all I can about Kasimir—all the things that my father didn’t tell me—so I’m familiar with its difficulties. ’
He said nothing, still looking at her as if he was debating.
Guinevere moved over to him and placed her hands on his broad chest, loving the feel of him beneath her palms. He really was the most eminently touchable man…
‘If you like,’ she murmured, ‘we could do it bed in the mornings. Or, if you’d prefer, before we retire at night.
’ She looked up at him from beneath her lashes.
‘There must be more I need to learn about how to show proper respect for my king.’
As she’d hoped, the silver flames she’d become addicted to ignited, burned suddenly and intensely in his eyes. She really was getting the hang of flirting with him.
‘Perhaps,’ he said, his voice hot and rough. ‘Perhaps there are…certain things I can teach you.’
Guinevere rose up on her toes and pressed her mouth gently to his. A soft, butterfly kiss. ‘I’m sure you can, Your Majesty,’ she whispered. ‘I can hardly wait.’
His hands settled on her hips, holding her close. ‘How about I give you a few tips now? Here?’
A shiver ran through her. He was never physically demanding outside of the bedroom. He would be absent all day and only at night would her take her, often in a wild rush, as if his desire was a river he kept behind a dam and only at night would he open the floodgates.
It felt intoxicating to ignite his passion this way…to make him forget his never-ending workload with only a kiss.
‘I thought you had more important things to do?’ she said, teasing just a little. ‘Taxation, I think you mentioned.’
He frowned, his gaze dipping to her mouth and back up again. She could feel him hardening against her, and the hot press of his body made her feel dizzy, as if she’d had too much champagne far too quickly.
‘That can wait for a few minutes.’
A few minutes…
At night, when finally the day was done and they came together in bed, it was a flash fire.
But they never indulged in any lazy aftermath, any idle conversation.
Never simply enjoyed being together. He would take what he wanted, give her what she wanted, and then, inevitably, he would fall asleep. Because he was exhausted.
It would be like that now, she knew. They would take their pleasure, and it would be quick, hurried and intense, and then he would leave for yet another meeting, likely not coming back to bed until much later that night.
You are giving him everything he wants and he is giving you nothing in return.
That wasn’t quite true. He gave her as much pleasure as she could handle, and then some. He wasn’t a selfish lover by any stretch of the imagination. But she was starting to realise she wanted more than mere physical release. She wanted his time too.
Her own body was starting to wake, her hunger for him building, but she forced it away. He’d always been demanding about his own needs, but now it was time to give him a taste of his own medicine.
Guinevere reached down to where his hands gripped her hips and gently but firmly removed them. Then she forced herself to step back, her heart beating uncomfortably fast. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I want more than just a few minutes.’
She had never denied him before, and it was gratifying to see his temper flare, a bright burst of silver. It made her aware of her own power to affect him, and that was satisfying too.
‘What do you mean, more than a few minutes?’ His voice was calm, but a muscle jumped in the side of his strong jaw.
‘I mean exactly that.’ She stepped back again. ‘I don’t want a few hurried minutes of pleasure.’
The muscle at the side of his jaw leapt again, the lines of his face growing tight with annoyance. ‘We will have tonight also.’
‘You mean with you falling asleep because you’re exhausted?’ She shook her head. ‘I want more than that, Tiberius, and I think you owe it to me. I’ve given you everything you asked for. I haven’t denied you a thing. So don’t you think it’s time for me to ask something of you?’
‘I’ve just agreed to give you a couple of hours—’
‘To teach me about being a queen, yes. I’m talking about us being together as husband and wife. Not me being the mistress you come to every night and leave before she wakes up every morning.’
He did not like that, it was clear. His whole body was tense. His hands had dropped to his sides and were clenched into fists. A week ago the signs of his anger would have terrified her, but since then she’d discovered the steel inside her—and besides, she knew he’d never hurt her.
‘Guinevere,’ he said roughly. ‘You…make me unable to think. I cannot concentrate on anything else when you kiss me. How can I be expected to give the taxation system the proper amount of attention when all I can think about is taking you to bed?’
It was heady, having this power over him. In fact, it was surprising how much she liked it.
She smiled at him. ‘I’m sure you’ll think of something.’
His expression darkened. ‘I do not appreciate you using sex to manipulate me.’
Sometimes she could tease him and sometimes she couldn’t. Now was clearly one of the times she couldn’t.
‘I’m not trying to manipulate you,’ she said, letting her smile fade to show him how serious she was. ‘Marriage is a two-way street. This whole time it’s been about you, and now I want something for me. I want to feel like a wife, not a mistress.’
‘You already are a wife.’
‘Yes, but you don’t treat me like one,’ she said firmly.
‘I’m not your partner—I’m your comfort object.
Your toy. You play with me when you feel like it, then put me away when you’re done.
I’m tired of it, Tiberius. You were the one who wanted to marry me, so I married you.
Now I’m saying I want our marriage to be more than sex at night and public appearances. ’
His gaze was fierce, his temper flaming, but she only stared back at him.
She wasn’t afraid of him and she wasn’t afraid of his temper.
He would never do anything to hurt her, never do anything she didn’t want.
She knew that. In fact, the thing she was perhaps a little anxious about was that he might do something she did want—in which case her determination not to give in on this point might be undermined.
But he didn’t move. Then like a door being shut on a fire, the heat in his gaze vanished, the light, crystalline grey becoming frosty.
‘Very well,’ he said, his tone as cool as his gaze. ‘Perhaps we can discuss this during your instruction.’
Then, before she could say another word, he turned on his heel and went out.