Chapter Ten #2
His voice was edged like a sharpened blade. She should have known he’d take her words as a challenge. She had known, and struck out rather than admit he’d affected her. But she didn’t have the energy to deal with his ego. Not when her world was crumbling.
It had just been a kiss yet it felt like far more. Shockwaves reverberated through her and she wanted to curl up, alone in her room. Better yet, leave this place and never face him again.
A huff of laughter escaped as she tidied her hair. No chance of that!
‘You find this funny, Annalena?’
In the mirror she saw he’d moved to stand behind her, tall, broad-shouldered and compelling. Something turned over in her belly and her pelvic muscles pulled tight.
You really are in trouble.
He could use her susceptibility against her. She had to defend against that.
‘Not at all.’ Defiantly she met his stare in the glass. ‘I was thinking how much I’d give to be anywhere else.’
His expression shifted and she almost fancied she saw understanding in his eyes. ‘It will get easier, Annalena. I’m not your enemy.’
She wished she could believe it.
You have to believe it or this marriage will destroy you.
Was it possible their relationship might be like Oma’s marriage? Not that there’d be love, she wasn’t naive. But was friendship possible, or at least respect and cooperation?
Benedikt held her gaze. ‘Whatever you’re thinking, Annalena, this isn’t the end of the world. It will be tough but we’ll find a way.’
She pivoted and he was closer than she’d anticipated. So close her unrepentant heart thrummed in excitement. So much for gathering her tattered self-possession! Yet there was no glint of smugness in his eyes. Nothing but calm certainty.
Despite the gnawing hurt that he hadn’t shared her desperate yearning, his expression settled a little of her tension. ‘We’ll be partners, Annalena. Is that so bad?’
Strange how the idea drew her. For so long she’d strived alone, fighting her battles with only her beloved Oma in the background, urging her on. Day to day Annalena had only herself. The thought of a partner, even if just for her formal responsibilities, was strangely attractive.
If she could set aside her doubts and trust him.
‘Help me?’ He took a handkerchief from his pocket and held it out.
After a moment Annalena took it, avoiding his fingers. She held the fabric that bore the warmth of his body. Then stepped close and raised the fine cotton to the lipstick smudge beside his mouth.
Again his scent engulfed her, making her insides squirm in excitement. But she concentrated on the stain, trying not to think of how it got there. Refusing to notice how his lips looked fuller from their kiss, or the quick pulse throbbing at his jaw.
When she stepped back it was to discover he’d retied his bow tie. Of course he could do it perfectly without a mirror! She held out his handkerchief.
Benedikt retrieved it without brushing her fingers.
She was grateful, not disturbed that he understood her need for distance. But her movements were abrupt as she stepped away.
‘I’ll just be a moment.’
Annalena could have finished tidying her hair where she was. Her purse with her lipstick was nearby. But she needed more, needed something to shore up her courage.
Thirty seconds later she was in the bathroom, reaching for the other lipstick the make-up expert had suggested for tonight. A deep scarlet rather than the pink she’d initially worn, it smoothed across her swollen lips, creamy and soothing. The colour was darker and defiant.
No, she amended, not defiant. Assured. She looked like a confident woman unfazed by the stunning couture gown, the imposing man who’d be her companion or the pomp and glitter of a royal celebration. A woman at home among hordes of people who’d wonder if she had what it took to be Queen.
Fake it till you make it.
She grimaced at her reflection, then thought of the Grand Duchess of Edelforst who for thirty years had protected Annalena’s true identity and safety, while single-handedly ensuring their homeland wasn’t eviscerated by King Karl and his greedy cohort.
It’s your turn to step up, Annalena. No going back.
The grand ballroom had never looked more stupendous.
Rows of antique chandeliers glittered brilliantly after staff had spent a week polishing every crystal facet.
Enormous mirrors lined the walls, reflecting an infinity of light and the shifting colours of the formally dressed crowd.
On one side, French doors stood open to a terrace with views over the gardens where fountains played and spotlights turned night into day.
Everybody who was anybody in Prinzenberg, and for that matter Europe, was here.
And none, Benedikt realised as he escorted Annalena down the length of the room, outshone the woman beside him.
She took his breath away. Still.
The way she’d looked when he’d entered her room, soignée and alluring. But that was only part of it. The way she tasted . He’d kissed many women but none tasted like her. Delicious. Intriguing. Addictive.
When she’d clutched him, leaning up to take what she wanted, he’d rejoiced. Not because of how they’d look together at the ball, but because finally he had the real Annalena without artifice or caution.
It had been like holding a goddess in his arms, seductive and awe-inspiring, her passion so powerful it called to him at an elemental level.
What had begun as an exercise to make their partnership look convincing had escalated into a lust-fuelled adventure.
His one saving grace was that he hadn’t backed her onto a sofa and ravished her so thoroughly that neither of them would have been fit to attend the ball. She had no idea how close he’d come to lifting those silky skirts and having her there and then.
He could have because, despite her horrified reaction later, she’d been as swept away as he.
When he’d forced himself away and seen her, eyes slumbrous with invitation, hair tumbling about her shoulders from his urgent grasping, lips dark and swollen… She’d tempt a saint, something Benedikt had never aspired to be.
His stride now was shorter than usual. Not only because of the need to acknowledge greetings and make introductions, but because walking in his semi-aroused state was uncomfortable.
He glanced at the woman beside him, so composed, wearing the hint of a smile. Any concerns she mightn’t cope tonight disintegrated. She looked every inch the Queen she was about to become.
Except for that mouth. He swallowed, trying to ignore the increasing pressure in his groin. Those scarlet lips belonged to a seductress, not a monarch.
His gaze raked their audience and sure enough most of the men were gaping as if they’d never seen a woman before.
And she’s all mine…or will be soon.
‘Your Majesty.’
He paused, recognising Colonel Ditmar bowing before him.
‘Colonel, I’m pleased you could be here.’
‘Thank you.’ The old man shifted his attention to Annalena. ‘Princess, may I say you look ravishing?’
‘You may, Colonel. I’ll accept such flattery since you’re an old friend.’
Ditmar protested there was no flattery and Annalena’s smile grew wide. Benedikt was glad she had at least one friend here.
‘Your Majesty.’
He turned and there was Countess Heldenbruck. Her black hair shone like a raven’s wing, the deep blue of her dress highlighting her creamy complexion and dark eyes.
Regret slammed into Benedikt. Not because he couldn’t marry her as he’d once considered, but because he’d have preferred to tell her of his impending wedding in private. That hadn’t been an option. He couldn’t have risked a leak of the news he’d announce tonight before everything was in place.
‘Elise, it’s good to see you. You’re looking very fine.’
‘So are you, Your Majesty.’
They exchanged light pleasantries, but he was acutely aware of her questioning stare, almost hidden by her smile. And how, after one quick glance at Annalena’s ring finger, she hadn’t looked that way again.
Suddenly his collar felt too snug. Was Annalena right? He and Elise had never discussed marriage or a relationship. But had he inadvertently raised expectations?
He’d been so determined to identify a suitable spouse who wouldn’t demand too much, he hadn’t considered her perspective.
His gut tightened. He’d told himself he never used people the way his father had. But the lines between them were more blurred than he’d thought. He’d been as ruthless as Karl, fixated only on getting what he wanted without considering others.
Too late to worry about your conscience. You’re making Annalena marry you, even knowing she hates the idea.
‘Elise, let me introduce you.’ He turned to Annalena. ‘Princess, I’d like to introduce Countess Heldenbruck. Countess, I don’t believe you know Princess Annalena of Edelforst.’
After greetings were exchanged, Annalena surprised him by saying, ‘I believe I know your cousin Paul, Countess.’
‘Really?’ Elise’s smile looked less brittle than a moment ago. ‘He hasn’t lived in Prinzenberg for years.’
‘I met him on a field trip in Scandinavia.’ She continued with an amusing anecdote about a research trip that involved dog sledding into the wilderness. She painted Elise’s cousin as a saviour when the team ran into difficulties. Benedikt watched with gratitude as the Countess’s expression eased.
A few minutes later they moved through the press of guests towards a dais. The buzz of conversation grew loud with speculation. Some of those closest had noticed the emerald on Annalena’s finger and hurried to spread the word.
But no one broached the subject with him. Protocol demanded a royal announcement.
Between nods and smiles Annalena murmured, ‘That was her? The woman you mentioned?’
Benedikt’s pace faltered, his head snapping round. But Annalena’s expression revealed only the same mild pleasure she’d shown since entering the room.
She was even more perspicacious than he’d thought. Neither he nor Elise had uttered anything but social niceties.
He should feel embarrassed, introducing his fiancée to the woman he’d considered marrying. But he’d planned a convenient marriage, not a love match. Annalena could hardly be jealous.
‘It was.’
‘She’s extremely beautiful, and, I think, intelligent.’
She was right. Benedikt wouldn’t accept any less in a wife, but he couldn’t say that to the woman he was forcing into marriage.
‘Yes, she is.’
But no more than you.
Something else he couldn’t say.
‘Thanks for putting her at ease. I hadn’t realised…’ He shook his head. ‘I put her in a difficult position. It was cruel of me not to warn her about tonight.’
To his surprise Annalena’s expression softened. ‘I don’t see how you could. There was too much at stake. But I’m glad you realise it.’
At the end of the room he slowed his step, holding her gaze. ‘Ready?’
She nodded, making the crystals on her translucent cape shiver like winking stars. Her eyes were just as bright. He wished he knew what she was thinking.
Taking her hand, he guided her up the steps. The room hushed as they turned to face their audience.
He could have heard a pin drop when he made the announcements. First he introduced Annalena then explained they planned to marry and rule jointly.
Stunned silence spun out until someone nearby broke into cheers that were rapidly taken up until the ballroom swelled with the din.
There was no way of knowing how genuine the applause was. He saw stunned expressions, one or two heads shaking. But there were plenty of smiles too.
Meeting Annalena’s eyes, he saw a flash of something he couldn’t name. His conscience wavered and he realised with devastating clarity how much he asked of this woman. But he couldn’t pull back.
‘Shall we?’
He led her onto the dance floor. The crowd parted and the musicians struck up ‘The Emperor Waltz’.
Annalena’s fingers spasmed in his and he paused mid-step but she seemed to gather herself. ‘Let’s do this,’ she whispered.
They paced to the centre of the enormous room and as the music swelled, he slipped his arm around her waist and drew her into a slow-turning circle.
She was posture perfect, breathtaking under the blaze of lights, and their steps matched as if they’d danced together for years.
Benedikt pulled her closer for their sedate duty waltz under curious eyes.
But when the pace of the music accelerated the dance turned into something more.
The swirling music beat in his blood. The feel of Annalena, supple yet strong in his embrace, ignited an excitement, a mix of satisfaction and hunger that had nothing to do with the crowd or the crown.
Mysterious green eyes held his. Her breasts rose quickly and her lips parted as they sped down the room. The audience was a glittering blur.
His vision telescoped to the woman he held, the sensuality of her body against his and the heady, possessive beat of his blood.
Soon, soon, soon.
Suddenly he couldn’t wait for their wedding.