Chapter Six #2
But it was a question, no matter how he put it. And it softened her when it shouldn’t. Like it might concern him that she was well. That this was not a totally one-sided connection, no matter how much he might like it to be.
“I am well. The baby is well.”
His gaze dropped, just for a fleeting moment, to her stomach. He could not see the soft swell of her belly under the draping of her shirt, she knew, but she felt seen just the same.
“We have much to discuss,” Alexandre said roughly, then made no move to discuss it.
“Yes, I suppose we do, but I am tired. And hungry.”
“I shall have a tray sent up. Some breakfast cake and tea. That’s usually what you prefer this time of day, yes?”
“Yes.” She stared at him, wondering if it was foolish to be touched that he knew that about her, or was it his robotic need to make everything correct? To know what she ate and when. Was it control? Interest? Concern?
Maybe it was all three. Maybe his feelings for her were as mixed up as hers were for him. Because she should be angry and defiant and contrary, and she did feel some anger. But she also ached to touch him.
She’d missed him. His steady presence. He was such an anchor, even when they were doing little more than sharing a meal, she felt safe with him. In ways that were new to her because growing up in her father’s house had always meant being concerned how she would be used next.
Alexandre didn’t use her. Even when he was controlling, even when he was so worried about their optics and his kingdom. She wasn’t a pawn so much as a useful tool, and that meant he valued her in some way.
But he frustrated her and concerned her and infuriated her and…
And he was standing close enough right now that she just wanted to kiss him.
To feel what she’d felt in his office all those months ago.
An uncontrollable heat—something so big, so important, so soul-deep that even perfect, controlled King Alexandre couldn’t resist.
Because now she knew there was some hidden Achilles’ heel to him.
Was it her? Was it anger? She didn’t know.
The only thing she knew for certain was that for a year she’d held back.
And when she finally hadn’t, she’d gotten what she wanted.
Because she wanted this baby with all she was—regardless of him.
But he was still a factor, because she wanted to touch him. And she was done pretending she didn’t. Done holding herself back.
Like Jonet had said back at the cabin, now it was about what she wanted.
So she stepped across the space between them, moved to her toes and pressed her mouth to his. Just because she could. Just because she wanted to.
She’d come back with no promises. Which meant this return was like…a fresh start. Not the clinical agreement they’d made when they’d married. No, she was someone else now.
So this time around, she was going to take what she wanted.
And for one sweet, blissful moment, he kissed her back with such desperation she could almost believe he’d missed her as she’d missed him. That there was something between them—an emotional connection they could work through, they could grow and tend to. Believe in.
A moment, a flash of that hope and joy, but he locked it down and away quickly this time.
His hands curled around her upper arms, and then she was being pulled away. Put back. His gaze was hard, even if she could see the unsteady rise and fall of his chest.
“You will behave yourself now that you are home, Ines.”
It made her angry, but there was something more than anger now. She looked up at him, feeling like crying. Why would he kiss her like that and then push her away? Why was it all push then pull? Why did none of it make sense?
“I don’t understand you.”
For a moment, so clear and intent, she saw exactly why in his eyes.
For a strange, disorienting moment—likely for both of them—she saw clearly that he didn’t understand himself.
But that was quickly swept away, into ice and distance and control.
“Get your rest, Ines. Your food will be up shortly. Try not to run away again. It will not be tolerated a second time, particularly while you carry my child.”
My child. How did he pull her in two totally different directions? Love and affection and care that he didn’t know himself, that he tried so hard to be good. And a cold, cutting fury that he could say things like that to her.
My child. When he hadn’t even wanted a child. He’d wanted an heir, until he hadn’t needed one. And then he’d…cut her off. Cut himself off. And she could believe that it was this simple. He didn’t want her.
But he did. He kissed her like a man starving. The way they’d come together, angry and wild, those months ago was not an uninterested man.
It was a tortured one.
The way he strode away now, quick and purposeful, was a bit like a man chased by something.
So maybe it was that… It wasn’t the child, the pregnancy. It was her. He wanted her but didn’t want to. He felt this thing between them but wanted to control it.
Because it was uncontrollable. Because it was unpredictable. Because it did not fit into the neat little order of his life he’d created trying to be the antithesis of his father, the savior of his country and his people.
But he was Alexandre, so he didn’t understand middle ground. He had been raised by a monster, and while he had somehow turned out good in spite of it, he didn’t understand his own humanity.
Which meant Ines knew what she needed to do now.