Chapter 11
Watching
“An aviary of rescues for my hen sounds lovely,” Rhys replies with an indulgent smile for me, but it’s gone in an instant. “Unfortunately, those plans will have to wait until tomorrow, but I would like to hear your thoughts on the drive tonight.”
“What drive?”
“I’m afraid we’re due at the opera in a little over an hour,” he replies, looking at the Phillipe Patek watch on his wrist with a sigh.
“What?” I ask. “But why? You’ve only just come home.”
“I know,” he replies. “And I’d love nothing more than to spend the evening with you at home but duty calls…”
“You can’t be serious,” I snap. “Not after a scare like this,” I add, waving my arm out toward the body of some poor thing meant to make me think it was my baby.
“That is exactly why,” he answers. “If we don’t go, they’ll know that they’ve gotten to you. Besides, those who perpetrated this scare are inside the castle right now… watching.”
“You can’t be serious?”
“Of course I am and if you stop to think about it, you know that I’m right, love,” he says gently. “You don’t trust them for a reason and rightly so. They’re dangerous.”
“What am I supposed to do?” I ask, hating the resigned tone of my voice.
He wraps me up in his arms again before answering as honestly and as gently as possible.
And when I think about all the ways this could be wrong, I guess I can’t ask for more.
“You’re going to go inside and act like nothing is amiss.
You overreacted and he was in our rooms all along.
Then you’re going to tell everyone to have a good night before you go dress for an evening at the opera.
Maeve was instructed to set out everything you’ll need.
Then we’re going to head out to a very boring performance—”
“Why?” I ask. “Don’t you like the opera?
“Absolutely no’,” he says, making me laugh. “It’s bloody dreadful. But we do what we must.”
“Then we come home and go to bed?”
“No,” he says with a sigh. “Then we go to some ridiculously overpriced restaurant where the upper-class love to be photographed and we eat a late dinner. Then we come home and you make me a peanut butter sandwich in the kitchens because whatever tiny fancy monstrosity the chef serves will be beautiful, but I fear no’ enough. Can you do that for me?”
“I can.”
“That’s my girl,” he replies, kissing my forehead. “Now, off we go. I feel it’s rather like a plaster and ripping it off is better in the long run.”
I scrunch my nose. “I hate doing that.”
“Why am I no’ surprised, hen?” He smiles before kissing my nose. Then he lets me go, only to take my hand in his and lead me back inside the castle. If it was just me, I’d probably scurry back to my room and avoid running into any and all people. Unfortunately for me, Rhys has other plans in mind.
He leads us right to the parlor where Saoirse, the earl, and the mystery man are taking tea. I steel my spine and hold in the sigh that I want to let slip past my lips, placing a bland smile on my face instead.
“Is everything all right?” Saoirse asks with a raised brow.
“Of course,” I smile politely.
“You did seem quite upset when last we saw you,” the mystery man says.
“That was my mistake,” I reply through gritted teeth. “It must be because I’m a bit tired.”
“Hardly behavior befitting a queen,” the earl comments.
“Like I said, I must be overly tired.”
“A queen cannot afford the luxury of being tired,” Saoirse inserts. “We must always be in top form.”
“Well, that must be my fault,” Rhys adds, making her face heat. I hate that he embarrassed her because the action is gross but also, I just hate her so it’s kind of moot. “I do love to keep her up late. We are trying for an heir.”
“And are you?” the earl snaps. “Pregnant?”
Rhys squeezes my hand silently. A quiet command to tread lightly. “I fear it’s too soon to tell. I’m sure you’ll be one of the first we share the news with when we can—after the appropriate people in government have been notified.”
“Yes, of course,” he replies blandly, but I can see that his thoughts are moving a mile a minute.
“Well, we just wanted to stop by and say goodnight,” Rhys says, angling me toward the door. “We’re off for the night.”
“Perhaps your new bride needs some rest,” Saoirse says. “I could accompany you.”
“Thanks for the offer,” I reply before Rhys can. “But I’m feeling much better.”
“Or you could both stay in for a quiet night,” Saoirse rallies. “Father loves the opera, don’t you? We could take your tickets and leave you two to… rest,” she says awkwardly.
“Some other time,” Rhys says before moving us through the door.
I don’t take a full breath until we’re down the hallway, well away from the parlor, and almost to our rooms with at least one door snicked firmly closed behind us. I move my shorter legs as quickly as possible to keep up with his fast pace.
Some of the tension finally bleeds from my shoulders when Rhys pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks our main door. Once we’re inside, he closes it behind us and locks us in. I feel like I’ve aged ten lives since this morning.
“You take a shower and wash off the day,” he says gently. “I’ll jump in after you.”
“Okay,” I answer but there’s a soft knock on the main door.
Rhys unlocks and opens it to reveal Maeve and Sammy. “And who’s this?” Rhys coos, dropping down to one knee.
“This is your new hound, your majesty,” Maeve says with a smile before handing the lead over.
“And what a great hound she is,” he says, petting her. “Let’s get you settled with Dahlia for the night.”
“I’m sorry,” I jump. “I didn’t know we had plans.”
“It’s fine, love,” he smiles. “Life will be different when it’s a baby, so why not a sweet pup.”
“Thank you.”
“I do believe I promised you a dog and a cat upon our engagement and I’ve held up my end of the deal,” he says.
“And what do I owe you?” I ask.
“Forever.”
And with that he opens the main door with my dog to make sure that she’s safe under Leo’s watch while we’re gone. And after today’s events, I can’t be mad about that. So I do what I can, and I head to the bathroom to wash off the day.
I turn the taps on and, while the water heats up, pin up my hair. Then I step into the glass and stone shower and quickly wash. Afterward, I towel off and wrap myself in a soft robe before sitting down at my vanity and brushing my hair, twisting it into a neat but simple updo.
While I’m swiping on makeup and mascara, Rhys steps into the shower.
I’m just finishing up when he makes his way through the bathroom to the dressing room, wearing nothing at all.
He winks at me as he passes and I realize I’ve been sitting here staring at where he was for far too many minutes before I shake off the way seeing him like that makes me feel.
I put the last of the finishing touches on my hair and face before passing my husband in the doorway of the dressing room as he heads out looking perfect in a bespoke tuxedo.
He pulls me into his arms tightly and kisses me deeply, swiping his tongue into my mouth. It’s over before it begins, but it still leaves me breathless and I already need to touch up my lipstick. I shake my head to clear it as I walk into the dressing room to the sounds of his deep, amused chuckle.
Hanging in the corner of the room is a gorgeous tulle dress made to look as if there is nothing but black lace lining the strapless gown and full tulle skirt.
While that’s not entirely true, the illusion is everything.
I strip off my robe and pull on a black silk thong and black stockings before pulling the dress off of its hanger and stepping into it.
I pull it up to cover my body before calling out for Rhys’s assistance.
“Yes, hen?” he asks from the doorway.
“Can you do me up?” I ask, gesturing to the corset lacing up the back of the gown.
“Aye,” he replies and his voice is deep and rusty. My body jerks as he pulls on the laces of the gown. “I rather like the idea of tying you up, but I think I’ll rather like the idea of untying you like a present later.”
“You’re a menace,” I reply with no heat as I step into my black Louboutins.
“Aye,” he growls.
He watches me pull on the elaborate diamond chandelier earrings and the matching wreath bracelets before grabbing my white satin wrap.
A large ruffle trim adorns the cuffs and collar, and I slide my arms into the sleeves, letting one shoulder slip down—like a tease from an old black and white movie actress.
“Who’s the menace now, hen?” he asks as his lips graze my bare shoulder.
I barely have a chance to grab my black evening clutch before he grabs me by the hand and races for the door.
“Are we late?” I ask.
“No, but if I don’t get you away from the bedroom, I’m in danger of saying fuck the opera and I’ll fuck my wife instead.”
I don’t say anything but snicker as we head for the main doors with Rhys’s protection team following us out.
We’re loaded into the car, and I fix my lipstick again, applying the pretty rose color to offset the stark black and white of my outfit.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Rhys growls from the seat beside mine.
“And why is that?”
“Because I’m just going to kiss it off of you again, or worse, picture it smeared around my cock.” He says it bluntly, making me blush. “Aye, but I love that blush on you.”
I don’t say anything else, but I do sit quietly for the rest of the ride to the opera house, worried that I might do something to prod this bull into action. The last thing I need is to show up on a red carpet looking like my husband just fucked me in the backseat of a car. A fancy car, but still…
I breathe a sigh of relief, making him chuckle, when we pull up to the ornate building and I’m unscathed.