Chapter Eleven
The ballroom was full of people. Royalty and nobility from other European nations, as well as heads of state. Music played, and the interior of the old castle on Lake Geneva, where the international meeting was being held, lit up.
Tiberius had had a satisfactory few days, meeting with other leaders, making valuable political alliances. He and Guinevere were due to fly back to Kasimir the next day, and he was almost sorry about it.
Not far from where he stood, chatting with some other leaders, was Guinevere, resplendent in a ballgown of pale silvery-blue silk.
It was strapless, revealing her slender shoulders and pale throat, the fabric cupping her breasts lovingly.
Her curls were piled on her head with a few loose, artfully tumbling around her ears, held in place with a couple of diamond combs that glittered and sparkled in the light.
He’d given her the necklace she wore of pale sapphires and diamonds, circling the slender column of her throat, and that glittered too. She seemed even more fairy-like tonight, sparkling like a delicate snow crystal in the lights of the ballroom.
He watched her, unable to take his gaze from her.
She needed a tiara, he decided. Many of other ladies present were wearing one, and after all she was a queen, even if she hadn’t been formally crowned.
For the past two weeks he’d been thinking and thinking about what he could do for her—something as special as what she’d given him in those two hours he reserved for her every day.
Those two hours that he’d begun to crave more and more with every day that passed.
They were special, those hours. They were sacrosanct.
And he’d even begun to wonder if he could afford to stretch them to three.
He wanted to reciprocate—show her that he appreciated what she did for him, that he admired and respected her, that she was everything he’d ever wanted in a queen and more. But he hadn’t thought of the perfect thing…until now.
A coronation—that’s what she should have. He didn’t care that his own had been perfunctory, but for her… She should be feted. She should have all the attention she deserved. His fairy princess should be made into a queen with all the pomp and ceremony at his disposal.
It would be a good thing too, for the people. A happy event to boost their spirits after the long years of Accorsi rule. He would decree a public holiday and Guinevere would be crowned in the cathedral in the central city.
He watched as she laughed at something someone had said to her, her smile lighting up her face, making her even more lovely than she was already.
Yes, she should wear a silver gown, or pale gold, and she would look impossibly beautiful in the Kasimiran Queen’s crown, all diamonds and sapphires.
He would invite the world’s media, livestream the whole thing to the rest of the globe.
It would be a major event and she would finally get all the attention she deserved.
Impatient to tell her of his plans, he moved over to where she stood, slipping an arm around her waist and drawing her close. ‘Spare me five minutes, my queen,’ he murmured in her ear.
She glanced up at him, smiling, and his chest tightened. Her smiles were truly the loveliest he’d ever seen.
‘As long as it’s only five,’ she said, teasing, before excusing herself from the little group she’d been chatting with.
‘What is it?’ she asked, as he drew her over to one of the windows that overlooked the magnificent lake.
‘I have an idea,’ he said. ‘You’ve been such a delight over the past couple of weeks, and I’ve been very remiss as a husband. I have not given you anything in return.’
‘You’ve given me your time, Tiberius,’ she said. ‘That’s the most important thing. That’s all I need.’
‘But you deserve more, little lioness. So much more.’ He took her hands in his and held them. ‘I’d like to hold a formal coronation for you. In the cathedral. With the world’s media looking on, and naturally all our people. A symbol of what our union and you being queen means to Kasimir.’
Her smile flickered momentarily, though he wasn’t sure what that meant. ‘A coronation? I don’t need a coronation, Tiberius.’
‘Perhaps not, but I’d like you to have one all the same. Don’t you think our people and the world should see the lovely woman who is Queen of Kasimir?’
She squeezed his fingers, then let them go. ‘They already know who I am. Besides, it’s a lot of money to spend. Money that could better be spent on the hospital, for example.’
Irritation caught at him. This was not the response he’d expected, he had to admit. He’d thought she’d be pleased, at the very least.
‘The people could do with a happy event.’ He tried to keep the annoyance from his voice. ‘And I will decree a public holiday, which should boost morale even further. It will be for them, not just you.’
Her smile seemed strained now. ‘Oh. That does sound like it could be something…worthwhile, then.’
They were in a crowded ballroom, and he didn’t particularly want to cause a scene, but her muted reaction had got under his skin.
‘You don’t like the idea?’ he asked, trying to keep his voice level. ‘I wanted to do something nice for you.’
Her lashes fell, veiling her gaze. ‘If you want to do something nice for me, you could give me another hour of your time. It doesn’t need to be anything else.’
Instantly he felt defensive. ‘This will be for our people, Guinevere.’
Her lashes rose again, her blue gaze meeting his. ‘So it’s not really for me at all, is it?’
A curious anger was growing in him—part defensiveness, part disappointment and part an odd pain that his suggestion had been rejected. Yet it seemed ridiculous to be so angry about that. Why should he care?
‘Of course it is,’ he said curtly. ‘But it will help our people also.’
‘So you’d rather organise a hugely expensive coronation for me than give me another hour of your time. Is that what you’re saying?’
Frustration joined the mix of emotions inside him. He had no more time to give, and she should understand that. ‘Why is that a problem?’
Her blue gaze darkened, her smile just a memory. ‘You don’t understand, do you? That I might enjoy spending time with you and want more of it.’
‘We’ve talked about this,’ he said, trying to mask his impatience. ‘Kasimir is the most—’
‘Important thing. Yes, I know,’ she interrupted, the blue sparks of her temper beginning to show.
‘But it’s possible to do both, Tiberius.
You can rule your country and be a husband at the same time.
’ She gestured at the crowded ballroom. ‘There are plenty of people here who are great examples of that.’
His anger built and he was conscious of it being out of proportion to what she’d actually said, and yet he seemed to be powerless to ignore it.
‘Those people do not have the same history we do,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘And neither do their countries.’
Guinevere’s gaze came back to his. ‘You mean me being the daughter of your enemy?’
‘No,’ he snapped, forgetting himself. ‘Our marriage being one of convenience.’
‘Yes, until you made it real.’ She turned to face him fully now, standing small and indomitable before him. ‘You were the one who didn’t want a divorce, Tiberius.’
‘And you agreed,’ he shot back.
She looked away abruptly, her hands clasped in front of her now, a sure sign of her distress.
You are ruining this for her.
Pain threaded through him at the sight of her small hands, holding on to each other so tightly.
It was a pain he didn’t understand. Because it hurt him that she was distressed.
It hurt him to think that he was ruining this evening for her, too, especially when he’d been trying to make things better.
‘Little lioness,’ he said softly, taking her hands once more and drawing her behind one of the columns. ‘I don’t want to fight with you. If you don’t want a coronation, then we won’t have one. I only thought you’d like it.’
She stared up at him, her gaze luminous, and much to his shock he saw tears in her eyes.
‘Guinevere?’ He drew her closer. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s not the coronation,’ she said after a moment, her voice thick and shaky. ‘I don’t…don’t need any of that. What I need is you, Tiberius. More of your time, more of your company, just…more of you.’
‘Lioness,’ he murmured, tightening his grip. ‘You know I can’t—’
‘I need it because I’m in love with you.’
* * *
The stunned look on his face told her everything she needed to know about how he felt. There was no joy, no happiness. Only shock.
She’d known it would be a difficult thing to tell him, but she hadn’t been able to mask her feelings about his coronation offer well enough.
His offer to do something for her, that she’d hoped would be about spending more time with her, only for it to be about a coronation had been too sharp a disappointment.
It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate it, it was that the thing he’d chosen wasn’t really about her at all. It was about what she represented as his wife, his queen, and their marriage as a symbolic union for all of Kasimir.
It wasn’t about her.
It wasn’t about Guinevere, who was in love with her husband and who only wanted to spend time with him.
But of course time was his most precious commodity, and he didn’t have enough of it to spare for her and her alone.
She shouldn’t have told him the real reason for her disappointment, but not telling him the truth would only cause more trouble between them, especially when she wasn’t good at hiding her feelings.
But she’d said it now, the the truth that had been sitting there all this time since that moment under the stars in the orchard.
She loved him, and over the past two weeks spending more time with him, and now coming to Switzerland, had only made it more clear to her.
She loved being with him, talking to him, arguing with him, having him at her side whenever they were in public and then being held in his arms at night in their bed.
She loved him and she didn’t know what to do. Because while she’d realised she was in love with him that night, he’d made it very clear that love would not be a part of this marriage. That Kasimir would always come first and there was no room in his heart for anything else.
There was no room in his heart for her.
He was a king, and his first responsibility was to his country. Not her.
She could give him an ultimatum—tell him she was leaving him if he didn’t put her first, but that was something she’d never do. It would force him into an impossible position and that felt terribly unfair.
‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, pulling her hands from his. ‘I know that’s not what you want to hear. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it.’
Slowly the shock ebbed from his expression, leaving his eyes hard, cold chips of diamond. ‘Guinevere. That is not what our marriage is about—you know that.’
Her throat felt tight. ‘Yes, I know,’ she forced out. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you for anything. I only wanted you to know that that’s how I feel.’
‘It’s not something I’ll ever be able to reciprocate.’ Now his voice sounded hard too. ‘You know why.’
‘Yes.’ She couldn’t quite mask her bitterness. ‘You have to sacrifice yourself on Kasimir’s altar and that of your parents’ deaths.’
Anger leaped in his eyes, as she had known it would since it had been a terrible thing for her to say.
‘Their deaths have nothing to do with this.’
She shouldn’t argue. They were in a public ballroom, for God’s sake.
And yet she couldn’t stop the words that spilled from her.
‘Don’t they, though? Isn’t that why you can’t afford to take your eye off the crown?
Not even for a moment? You’re so desperate to prove you’re worth your mother’s sacrifice—and your father’s too. ’
His expression became forbidding. ‘How is that wrong?’ he demanded. ‘She died protecting me and my father sacrificed his wife for me. Shouldn’t I prove to them that they didn’t die for nothing?’
At that, her eyes filled with tears. ‘You’ve already proved that, Tiberius. You’ve reclaimed the crown and you’re getting Kasimir back on track. You have some wonderful plans for the future. And they’re gone now. What more do you need to prove?’
Tension had begun to roll off him like a wave. ‘Everything,’ he said harshly. ‘My father was clear that a king couldn’t have anything else in his life but his country…that anything else was a distraction. And that doesn’t end simply because I have a wife and a family.’
She blinked, her throat getting tight. ‘There should be room in your life for happiness as well, Tiberius. There should be room in your life for love. Don’t you think that’s what your mother would have wanted?’
‘You know nothing about what my mother would have wanted.’
‘No,’ she said softly. ‘But neither do you. I’m sure she would want what’s best for you, and running yourself into the ground for a country that doesn’t care about you isn’t it.’
‘So what are you saying? That I give up everything? Give up the crown I worked for so long to claim just for you?’
That hurt, as he must know it would.
‘No, that’s not what I’m saying.’ She pulled her hands from his, swallowing past the unbearable tightness in her throat. ‘You’re a king, but don’t forget you’re also a man, and one doesn’t cancel out the other. How can a king make his people happy if he doesn’t even know what happiness feels like?’
His expression shuttered. ‘I don’t need to know. Happiness is irrelevant.’
‘It’s not,’ she said, unable to stop a tear from sliding down her cheek. ‘It’s important, and it’s only been in the past couple of weeks with you that I’ve realised how important.’
But he ignored her, glancing down at his watch. ‘I’m sorry, Guinevere. But this is a pointless discussion. I suggest we have it at a later date, and not in such a public place.’
He was right. Of course he was right.
Another tear joined the second, falling to stain the silk of her gown. ‘I don’t care if you don’t love me back.’ She had to say it so he knew. ‘I don’t care about me. I only want what’s best for you.’
Just for a second the cold diamond of his eyes flared as his gaze tracked her tears. ‘But you should care,’ he said suddenly, low and fierce. ‘And you should have someone who can give you what’s best for you too.’
She brushed away a tear, not caring where it fell, not understanding. ‘What do you mean?’
Tiberius muttered a low curse, that muscle in his jaw leaping. ‘I mean that I should never have married you, Guinevere Accorsi. You’d have been better off if I’d just let you go.’
Guinevere stared up at him in shock, her heart feeling as if it was full of broken glass. ‘But I wouldn’t,’ she whispered. ‘I would have been still hiding in the walls, too afraid to come out.’
He said nothing to that, only stared at her for one long, aching moment.
Then he turned on his heel and left her standing alone by the column.