Chapter Nine
MUCH LATER THAT EVENING, Caius returned to a quiet and darkened apartment. A few low lights were on. No sign of Poppy. He’d sent her a message earlier to let her know not to wait up.
He slipped off his jacket and went to stand at one of the windows that displayed only the darkness of the park—a ring of lights in buildings around it.
He could still see Poppy’s worried expression on her face as he’d left earlier. She knew he’d been freaked. She’d believed that he wouldn’t want a girl. That had hit him like a punch to the gut, that she would put him in the same category as her toxic father.
And yet he got it. He understood. But for a second, he’d been hurt. And the realisation that she had the power to hurt him was more shocking than the scan experience and hearing that rapid heartbeat of his daughter. Or that image of her curled in the womb, utterly vulnerable and dependent.
Just looking at his daughter on that monitor earlier had roused a feeling like a balloon expanding in his chest, so much so that he could hardly breathe.
Until today the baby had been this abstract concept, but not any more. She was there. She existed. She would exist. He’d found himself wondering if she would have Poppy’s distinctive hair. Maybe his eyes?
He’d felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility and fear, which he’d felt only once before when he’d realised that his parents weren’t capable of caring for him or his sister, and that he was the only one his sister could count on, and ultimately he’d let her down.
Would he inevitably do it again to his own daughter? In spite of his best efforts?
He’d tried to be there for Cassie—no matter what Caius was doing or where he was in the world, he’d never let himself get so sidelined that he couldn’t be available to go to her if she needed him.
She was the only one who had seen through the carefully cultivated bon viveur facade.
She knew what lay beneath—the fear of his emotions getting the better of him.
Because they’d both seen what emotions gone out of control looked like—toxic chaos.
Screaming matches. A royal house reduced to a shell of itself.
All of your naked vulnerabilities laid bare for everyone to see.
Even now, the thought of such exposure made Caius cringe inwardly.
No one would ever have that power over him, he assured himself.
And yet, after today, the assertion rang a little hollow.
Because already the thought of a daughter was triggering all sorts of deeply buried emotions.
How could a daughter not see through him?
Like her mother? asked a little voice. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Poppy knew he was hiding behind a construct—he’d spilled his guts to her! The foundations upon which Caius had conducted his life for so long felt increasingly shaky.
It hit him then, the memory of how empty he’d felt at that party in Paris, in spite of being crowned king. And how, since the subsequent encounter with Poppy, he hadn’t felt that same level of emptiness. Not even during the scandal of his parentage and abdication.
He’d felt many other things—frustration, anger, shame, guilt. But not that awful clawing feeling of, is this it? And since Poppy had appeared back in his life, turning it upside down, the last thing he’d been feeling was empty or directionless.
Obeying an instinct stronger than the one he had to cut and run, Caius made his way through the apartment and up to the bedroom.
Poppy was in his bed. Something about that was immensely satisfying.
He told himself it was just because he wanted her and it was more convenient having her in his bed than not.
He stripped off his clothes and got into the bed. Poppy was on her side. She turned towards him sleepily. ‘Caius?’
Caius pushed down the maelstrom inside him. ‘Well, I would hope so, or you’d be in trouble.’
She opened her eyes fully and they widened when she took in that he was naked. She said, ‘It’s late.’
‘I stayed at the office, working. And… I needed a moment, after that scan.’ Understatement of the century.
Poppy reached up and touched his face, tracing his jaw. Caius felt something threaten to erupt inside him. But he ruthlessly pushed it down. He put his hand over Poppy’s, interlacing their fingers.
She said, ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
‘No,’ Caius said quickly. Too quickly.
Poppy huffed a little laugh and reached for him with her other arm, tugging him down so that all he could feel were her abundant curves and one in particular that cradled his child.
He kissed Poppy deeply. When he pulled back they were both breathing heavier and she said, ‘You still want me.’
Caius frowned. Was she mocking him? He wanted her so much he ached all over. ‘Yes,’ he said, sounding harsh. ‘Of course I still want you.’
He kissed her again, pulling away the sheet and helping her out of her nightclothes until she was gloriously naked and arching against him, making his blood boil over with lust.
This wouldn’t last, it couldn’t. And if he felt ruthless now for seeking out the physical to avoid thinking about everything else…well, wasn’t that his modus operandi? So nothing had changed at all really. Nothing.
The following evening a team of stylists and make-up and hair people were putting finishing touches to Poppy’s outfit. They were going to a charity function, part of the PR drive to be seen in public—the first official international public outing for the happy royal couple.
Poppy was wearing a black strapless dress with a structured bodice that dipped between her breasts and fell in long loose folds to the floor. It disguised but didn’t totally hide her bump.
Her hair was down and she wore a stunning emerald and diamond necklace that Caius had had delivered from one of the big jewellery houses. Apart from that and her wedding rings, Poppy was unadorned.
Caius was waiting for her in the reception area, wearing a tuxedo with a white jacket and black bow tie. The white made him look even darker. He took her breath away and she had to hold onto the bannister to stop tripping over her own feet.
It was only when she was standing in front of him that she saw how his blue eyes were looking her up and down, lingering on her midriff and then up, to where her fuller than normal breasts were showcased by the bodice of the dress.
She felt beautiful under Caius’s avid gaze.
And she knew she shouldn’t get used to it, but it would take the strength of someone far stronger than her to resist the lure to glory in it.
For so long she’d felt unseen and unwanted.
‘You are stunning, Poppy.’
‘Thank you, you look good too.’
His mouth quirked. ‘Just good?’
Poppy rolled her eyes as her face got hot. ‘As if you don’t know how good you look.’
He came close and cupped her face in his hand. She wanted to turn her face into it and purr like a cat.
Caius said, ‘You look at me in a way no one has looked at me before. Like you don’t want anything from me.’
Poppy’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Is that a good thing?’ Because she did want him, with a ceaseless craving.
He nodded. ‘Yes. I like it.’ He dropped his hand and caught hers, leading her out of the apartment.
The driver was waiting outside and the journey to one of Manhattan’s oldest buildings didn’t take long. There was a red carpet leading up the steps and into the building, lanterns along the way, illuminating the guests as they made their way in.
As soon as the media recognised Caius and Poppy they went wild.
King Caius! Queen Poppy! Over here, please, look this way!
The clamour was almost overwhelming. Poppy was more used to the media not recognising her because she’d always stayed below the radar—so this was intense.
But Caius had a strong arm around her and she unashamedly relished the sense of protection.
‘Caius! We’ve missed you! Will you be at the polo match?’
Poppy felt Caius tense beside her and then he said with a forced joviality, ‘I can’t say I’ve missed you too.’
There was laughter and then a more snide and pointed question. ‘They say leopards never change their spots—are you really a reformed man, King Caius?’
Caius stopped again and his hand tightened on Poppy’s but she didn’t say anything.
His jaw looked hard enough to crack. Then he faced the wall of paparazzi and pulled Poppy even closer, saying, ‘How could I not be reformed when I have this beautiful woman as my wife?’ He looked down at her and Poppy had only an inkling of what was coming when Caius bent his head and pressed a hard kiss to her mouth.
Then it was over and he was leading her into the venue, a museum that had been transformed into a magical setting featuring thousands of candles and the outdoors seemingly transplanted indoors with plants and trees and vines covering almost every surface.
Her mouth still tingled after that kiss. That hadn’t been a kiss. She’d felt the pent-up emotion that had nothing to do with her. She pulled her hand away and Caius looked at her. ‘Are you OK? Did I hurt you?’
Poppy shook her head quickly, terrified he’d see shades of the neediness and hurt she’d felt yesterday after the scan.
Caius had been caught up somewhere in his past just now, where she couldn’t reach.
Again. Another reminder of letting him in too deep.
She’d been so pathetically relieved last night when she’d woken and found him in bed.
Wanting her. Now she wanted to kiss him hard, to punish him for making her want him. Need him.
‘No, but don’t use me like that again to make a point.’
Caius cursed, and faced her. ‘I’m sorry. I just…hate them. They’re parasites but I let them feed off me for a long time and so I was frustrated because I hate myself for it too, for creating that monster. And now I’ve brought you onto their radar. They’re insatiable.’