CHAPTER EIGHT
Daphne
The moment she’d won the Showing, Maximus had ushered her into a carriage.
The ride to the castle was spent in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
Daphne alternated between looking out the window and looking at Maximus.
She wondered what was going through his mind.
Was he still steadfast in their arrangement?
Or was he regretting it already? Her thoughts were occupied as well, but not with the prince.
Something had happened during the Showing—something Daphne could not explain.
She’d felt a sensation during the night—a tug toward the mountain, almost as if someone had been watching her.
It had occurred immediately after Benjamin spit on her mat, and the timing seemed significant.
At the thought of Benjamin, Daphne resisted the urge to cry.
It was bad enough that he humiliated her in private, but now he was doing it in public too.
She knew it was a way to wield his power, to assert himself after she rejected him.
She just wished it hadn’t been in front of the entire village.
“Your Highness?” The footman interrupted her thoughts. “We’ve arrived.”
Maximus opened the carriage door, stepping out before offering Daphne his hand. She took it, holding on only long enough to get both feet on the ground before dropping it. She lingered as the carriage drew away, her eyes on the horses.
“Do you like horses?” Maximus asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Daphne shrugged. “I like beautiful things.”
His eyes slid down her body. “So do I.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
Maximus was not deterred. “Have you ever ridden one before?”
Daphne shook her head.
“Would you like to?”
She might as well answer honestly: “Yes.”
“Very well. I’ll teach you on our next date.”
They entered the castle together. The moment the door shut behind them, a man appeared. With a jolt, Daphne saw it was the king.
“Maximus,” Augustus said. “What is she doing here?”
It took Daphne a moment to realize he was referring to her.
“She won the Showing,” Maximus snapped. “Can’t you see her wearing my coat?”
Augustus threw a cursory glance in Daphne’s direction. His frown deepened. “I thought we agreed that—”
“I agreed to nothing, Father.”
Augustus pursed his lips. It was fascinating for Daphne to see the consequences of their arrangement play out in real time.
She’d been doubtful of the impact at first. But now she saw that the king was furious they were together.
Part of her was hurt by his reaction. Another part savored it—Daphne didn’t agree with the way Augustus was trying to control his son.
“We will speak about this later,” the king said.
“I look forward to it.”
Augustus swept away.
Maximus turned to Daphne. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. He was rude to you, and you didn’t deserve it.”
Daphne didn’t know what to say, so she simply nodded. For some reason, the interaction with the king had unsettled her. She felt quite alone in this very large castle. “What now?”
“I thought we could have breakfast,” Maximus said. “Surely, you must be starving.”
“Oh.”
Concern tightened his face. “Don’t you wish to eat?”
“No, I do—it’s not that. I just…” Daphne trailed off. Why were the men in her life constantly trying to feed her? “I’m just…cold.”
It was true; even the prince’s thick wool coat could not undo the damage of spending an entire night outdoors in autumn.
“I see.”
There was a pause.
“Would you…care to take a bath?”
Daphne loved baths. But was he implying they would take one together? Her eyes narrowed.
At her expression, Maximus continued quickly. “You could use my bathroom. It is private.”
She noticed his use of the word you, making it clear she would be alone.
And if that were the case, what was the harm?
Even though the prospect of being naked in the prince’s bathroom was admittedly strange, this wasn’t sex.
It wasn’t anything. It was a bath, and Daphne could use one. “A bath sounds…nice.”
Maximus bowed his head before turning toward the staircase.
They climbed it together, and Daphne thought about how the last time she was here she’d climbed it alone.
When they reached the landing, Maximus opened the door right next to Lilly’s nursery.
His chambers were large and somehow exactly what she expected.
A four-poster bed stood at one end, a fireplace at the other.
An entire wall was filled with books, so many that the shelves were bending beneath their weight.
There was a marble swan in the corner. Daphne knew nothing about art, yet she knew that one statue was worth more than what her mother made in a month.
The rest of Maximus’s room was no different—every inch was covered in ornate fabrics and golden tassels.
There were oil paintings of various blond people who Daphne assumed were relatives scattered along the walls.
Beneath her feet was a rich, patterned carpet. Even the air felt thick with wealth.
“Would you care for a drink?”
Daphne turned to see Maximus standing expectantly at a bar cart. “Yes.”
“Very well,” the prince said as he turned to pour her a white wine.
Daphne watched him as he did, barely managing to suppress a gasp as he rolled up his sleeves to reveal forearms corded with veins.
A man should have no right looking like that.
She tried to look away, but it was impossible.
Daphne watched as his hands caressed first the wineglass, then the bottle, lifting them both in perfect tandem.
He tilted one, then the other, holding both of them steady.
Daphne couldn’t help but think that a man who held a glass that steady would surely hold other things steady as well.
Maximus handed her the wine. Daphne took it slowly, holding his gaze.
She studied his cheekbones, his white-blond hair.
It was unlike any hair she had ever seen before.
Anyone who was blond in the village was dirty blond—light brunettes dyed lighter by the sun.
But Maximus’s hair was practically silver, like a sheet of ice.
She had never seen anything like it. There was something intrinsically interesting about it, as much as that pained her to admit.
To the left of the bed was a door, which Maximus opened to reveal a spacious marble bathroom with gold fixtures.
“What’s mine is yours,” he said, pointing to a shelf filled with bottles of bath oil. “Feel free to use anything you like.”
It was luxury like Daphne had never seen. The bathroom alone was bigger than Daphne’s bedroom at home. She was struck by the same feeling she’d had when Augustus looked at her: inferiority. It was not a pleasant feeling.
“Thanks,” she mumbled.
“I can take this,” Maximus took his coat gently from her shoulders. “I will be out here whenever you’re finished.” He turned to leave.
“Wait,” she said suddenly.
He paused, turning back to her. For some reason, his apology ran through her head: He was rude to you, and you didn’t deserve it.
She liked the way he’d defended her against his father.
It was an action worthy of reciprocation.
They were supposed to be on a date. That could hardly happen if she was alone in the bathroom.
“You could…stay,” she whispered before she could talk herself out of it.
Maximus raised his eyebrows. The pause seemed to go on forever, and the suspense made Daphne almost regret her proposal. “Only if that’s what you want,” he said. He sounded awestruck.
Daphne nodded before she could talk herself out of it. “It’s what I want.”
“Very well.”
“But you’re not getting in the bath with me,” she added sternly. “And you’re not seeing me naked.”
Maximus let out a soft chuckle. “In that case, I would suggest the lavender bath oil.”
“Why?”
“It makes the biggest bubbles.”
Daphne shot him a skeptical glare. In response, Maximus crossed to the bath, turned on the water, and selected a purple oil from the shelf.
He poured a generous amount into the tub, and Daphne watched as it immediately began blossoming into bubbles.
They watched as the bubbles rose, filling the bathroom with the scent of lavender.
When the tub was full, Maximus shut off the water.
Daphne turned to him. “Sit over there.” She pointed at a velvet pouf next to the sink. The prince crossed to it slowly, holding her gaze as he did so.
“Close your eyes.”
Maximus did.
“And don’t peek.”
He smiled, his eyes still closed. “I wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”
Only once Daphne was quite sure his eyes were shut tight did she remove her dress, pulling it off and hanging it on a hook on the wall.
She dipped one toe into the bath before stepping all the way in, barely holding back a moan as she did so.
It felt heavenly. Daphne slid beneath the bubbles, finding that Maximus was right; they provided ample coverage.
She made sure her body was completely submerged before she said, “You can open them now.”
Maximus opened his eyes, a trace of a smile still on his face.
Daphne had been naked before many men, on many occasions, but never in a situation like this.
Never alone in a bathtub, half-concealed, while the other person was still clothed.
Despite the fact that her nudity should make her feel vulnerable, Daphne felt the opposite.
She felt powerful. It was clear Maximus was at her beck and call.
She doubted there was anything she could ask of him that he wouldn’t give her.
“Are you feeling warmer?” he asked.
It was a loaded question. Daphne was not just warm; she was turned on.
It was impossible not to feel like that in a situation like this.
There were too many pleasurable sensations—the hot water against her skin, the smooth bath oil, the heady scent of lavender.
It was all overwhelming. But she couldn’t tell him any of that.
“Yes,” she said simply.
“Good.”