Chapter 33
“Do you want to take a shower?” I ask when she wakes up to the sound of the doorbell.
I know it must be whatever I asked Athol to arrange, so I’m not that pissed about them waking her.
“I don’t have any clothes here,” she says, her face still buried in my chest.
I can tell she’s embarrassed about what happened, and maybe I should feel guilty, but I’m not a liar—I enjoyed every single moan she gave me.
“I want to take you out to dinner. That’s why I asked.”
“In that case, we’ll have to stop by my apartment. I can’t show up in public like this.”
“Like what, princess?” I tease. “Satisfied, after coming so hard?”
“Are we really going to talk about these things outside the bedroom?”
“We’re not in a bedroom.”
Her temper flares, and she sits on top of me, apparently forgetting the modesty she had two seconds ago.
With her tanned thighs exposed, her skirt wrapped around her hips, and her hair messed up by my hands, Jazmina is a feast for the eyes.
“Are you going to mock me because I don’t know how to express myself in sexual terms?” she asks, hands on her waist, looking ready for a fight.
“No. I don’t want you to change who you are. But like I told you before, the only noble thing about me is the title,” I remind her, letting my fingers slide up and down her waist.
Her breathing turns uneven again, and I pull her into a wet, dirty kiss. She shivers.
“You’re very sensitive, princess. If you keep this up, I’ll spend entire days inside this beautiful body until I satisfy you completely. Until you barely remember your own name.”
Despite what I say, I don’t go beyond caressing her back. For a first day, she’s already had a lot. On top of that, I’m not that strong. As addictive as it is to give Jazmina pleasure, resisting her is a challenge.
“Who rang the bell?”
“Probably someone Athol sent. Lamar must’ve answered the door.”
“Oh! We’re not alone?” she asks, burying her face in the curve of my neck, embarrassed, as if the head of my security team might walk in at any second.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. In ten days, you’ll be my wife.”
“So soon?”
“Yes. My lawyers will file the marriage license first thing tomorrow morning.”
“You’ve already spoken to them?”
“While you were talking to Adeela, I took care of the practical side of our marriage.”
“Besides the license, what else would that involve?”
I bite her chin. “Curious.”
“I am.”
“Go to the bathroom if you need to, Jazmina. Then we’ll stop by your place so you can get ready for dinner.”
Ten minutes later, I’m holding what I had sent for, waiting for her to return from my suite and nervous as hell.
I’m not formal. I don’t follow conventions.
As if perfectly timed, she walks into the room.
I notice the sway of her hips, the roll that has always hypnotized me. Jazmina is incredibly sensual and has no idea of her own power.
She doesn’t smile, but she seems certain of what she wants as she comes toward me without hesitation. “What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Because I don’t know which script to follow.
“You asked if we were engaged. We made a commitment, but you don’t have a ring yet.”
She smiles, as if she wasn’t expecting that. “I have hundreds.”
“Not one that ties you to me.”
“Yes, I don’t have your ring, my fiancé.”
Is it normal that hearing her call me that makes me feel ten feet tall? Invincible?
I could blame my barbarian ancestors, but the truth is that the mix of impertinence—thanks to her strong, fiery personality—and submission, shaped by her upbringing, drives me insane.
“Yes, you don’t have my ring, princess.” I pull the small box from my pocket and open it in front of her.
She looks at the piece and then at me.
I loosen the solitaire from the silk ribbon holding it in place. “It belonged to my mother. I’d like you to wear it.” It never crossed my mind to take it out of the safe for anyone else, but it feels right for Jazmina to have it.
“Should I?” she asks, hesitant, and I understand why.
“Yes. You’ll be the only woman I ever marry. I want it to be yours.” I turn my palm upward so she can place hers in it.
Her bones are delicate, but her nails are painted a bold red. Like her—boldness and purity mixed inside the woman who drives me mad.
“I don’t know if it’ll fit, but I can have it resized if needed,” I say.
But when I slide the ring onto her finger, it fits perfectly, as if it were made for her. In a way, it feels like the mother who was only with me for such a short time is giving us her blessing.
“It’s beautiful, Rodrick.” Without warning, she throws herself into my arms.
“I didn’t kneel to propose. I assumed you were mine and that I already had your yes.”
“My yes is completely yours. You’re unbelievably contradictory, Rodrick, and I think I like that.
Rough and harsh with words, yet capable of sending for your mother’s ring even after a day as crazy as today.
As for kneeling, I think we already had a failed attempt at a proposal like that. I didn’t do very well.”
I pull back slightly to look at her. “I disagree. We’re getting married. From where I stand, your unusual proposal worked out perfectly.”
Her face turns serious. “Maybe we’re not doing this for the right reasons, but as long as we’re together, I’ll give it my best, duke.”
“Will you stop running from me? That would be a good start.”
“You’re my fiancé now, not my guardian. I have no reason to fear restrictions. We’re equals in this relationship, aren’t we?” She sounds insecure, and I know it’s because she’s confused. She was raised to be sweet and obedient.
“Yes. Equals, my princess. Don’t change your essence. I can handle a little madness.”
We stop by her apartment so she can shower and change. I wait in the living room, trying to ignore the fact that she’s naked in the shower and within reach of my hands.
I'm taking her out to dinner for two reasons.
To give the public what it wants—going out together on the day the engagement is announced makes it obvious the article was true. A kind of confirmation.
The other reason is that I don’t trust myself alone with my future wife for too long.
Once we’re seated in the restaurant, she looks at the ring on her finger and says, “Tell me about her. Your mother must have been very special. This stone is uniquely beautiful. Cushion cuts don’t appeal to extravagant women, only refined ones.”
The diamond is two carats, modest for a duchess, but the cut enchanted my mother, according to a servant who lived at our castle.
The woman had been her nanny, and almost everything I know about the woman who gave birth to me came from her stories.
My father never spoke about the past. It’s as if, when he remarried, he erased his history with his first wife.
I’ve taken that ring out of the safe many times and stared at it, wondering whether my life would’ve taken a different path if my mother hadn’t died so young.
“There isn’t much to tell, because I didn’t know her. When she passed, I was barely two years old.”
“I’m sorry, Rodrick. But your father married again, right?”
“Can we talk about that another time?”
“I didn’t mean to pry. I was just curious about the woman who owned such a beautiful jewel.”
“When we go to Kindubh to get married, I’ll give you a tour of the castle and tell you everything I know about her. It’s not much, but maybe it’ll satisfy your curiosity.”
“Is there a portrait of your mother at the castle that I can see? I like putting faces to names.”
Knowing she won’t let it go, I take my phone from my blazer pocket. “Her name was Eilidh, which means radiant in Scottish Gaelic. I had her photos digitized some time ago.” I hand her the phone and watch as she scrolls through the images.
“She was beautiful. So you inherited the red hair from your mother.”
“Yes. My father was blond.”
“And him—do you have photos?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“There’s nothing good about him worth remembering.”