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Even now, he still couldn’t believe his behaviour in the orchard, when he hadn’t been able to control himself, letting go the leash and gripping her so tightly, holding him to her as if he wanted to cover himself with her softness and sweetness and warmth…
No, he shouldn’t be thinking about this. At all.
The meetings went on all day and he was surly to everyone, no matter how hard he tried to keep his temper under control.
He should have found himself a lover, of course, but that was impossible now. He’d told her the truth—that he’d never intended to be celibate—and she’d made her wishes very plain. Now, if he took a lover, not only would it be an admission of weakness he couldn’t allow, it would also hurt his new wife, and he didn’t want to do that.
How he was going to last until the time came for a divorce, he had no idea…
It was very, very late by the time his last meeting of the day ended and he finally let all his exhausted advisors retire to their beds. Tiberius considered visiting the palace gym, to work off a little of his agitation, but he was tired too, and he’d be useless tomorrow if he didn’t get at least one full night of sleep.
He strode through the dark palace hallways to the royal apartments. His guards were the only people still awake. He wouldn’t encounter Guinevere, he was certain. She’d have long since gone back down the secret corridors to her little nest in the room where she slept every night.
Sure enough, when he entered the apartments and shut the doors behind him they were dark and silent. He could smell the lingering scent of her, though, all sweet femininity and delicate musk that made his body tighten with want.
Ridiculous to be pushed to the edge by one woman. He couldn’t understand it.
In his private bathroom, he pulled off his clothes and showered. Then he towelled himself dry before heading into the darkness of his bedroom.
Only to stop in the doorway, every one of his threat senses going into high alert.
Someone else was in the room, he knew it. And there was that scent again, sweet, feminine…
He stilled for a second, then reached out and hit the light switch.
Kneeling in the centre of his bed, wearing nothing at all, was his queen.
Guinevere.
Blonde curls cascaded over her pale shoulders, the ends caressing the most beautiful pair of rounded breasts he’d ever seen. Soft pink nipples, creamy skin, the delicious curve of her hip and the pale expanse of her thighs. And between them the sweetest little thatch of curls…
His body went instantly hard, every muscle drawn tight.
Her deep blue gaze met his and there was absolutely no fear in it, only sparks of the passionate fire he’d seen earlier that day when he’d kissed her.
‘Guinevere,’ he said roughly. ‘What are you doing? I told you nothing could happen between us.’
She lifted her sharp little chin. ‘I’ve been in the dark for a long time, Tiberius. Hiding in the walls. But I’ve decided I don’t want to do that any more. What I want is my husband. What I want is a wedding night.’
It had been a very long day, and he was tired, and all of a sudden it felt as if he’d been doing nothing but fighting. Fighting for his throne, his crown, his country. Fighting for years without a break. And fighting himself most of all.
He was weary of it.
She was his wife. No one would know if they slept together—in fact everyone would be surprised that they hadn’t already. And he’d given her a taste of his own passion back there in the orchard and she hadn’t pulled away. He’d told her that he wasn’t the man for a sheltered virgin and she hadn’t cared.
What was he trying to prove anyway? And who was he trying to prove it to?
Yes, he was supposed to be setting an example, to be better than Renzo Accorsi, but what went on in his bedroom had nothing to do with his country, and both his father and his mother were gone.
It was only sex. Sleeping with his wife wouldn’t destroy his throne.
Anyway, she’d made the decision to put herself in his way, naked and on her knees. She wanted him and had made no secret of it. So now she’d have to accept the consequences.
He kicked the door shut behind him and walked over to the bed. It was gratifying to see how her gaze roved over his naked form, as if she liked what she saw as much as he did when he looked at her.
‘You want me to be your husband, then?’ he asked, pinning her with his gaze. ‘In every way?’
She nodded, the pulse at the base of her pale throat beating frantically. ‘Yes.’