Page 32 of Back to Claim His Crown
He didn’t answer. And that was an answer in itself. It came back to trust.
She leaned closer to him. ‘Until you’re able to talk to me, there’s nothing. Until you can allow yourself to indulge in pleasure—inallintimacy—then there’ll be none. At least not with me.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘Now, let me sit down. I refuse to let this delicious dinner get cold.’
There was a long moment when she really wasn’t sure what he was going to do. There was a wildness in his eyes and she felt like he was either going to storm out and slam the door, or tumble her to the floor and take her here and now.
He did neither. He stepped back and took his seat at the table. But that glittering emotion in his eyes heightened every one of her senses.
Too late she remembered that Lucian Monrayne had already proven himself a patient man. And one who always ensured he got payback.
Lucian had once prided himself on patience. He’d thought he could play a long game. In this case, he was utterly wrong. He paced through the palace, burning with frustration. Wanting her to say yes to anything he asked. Like a dictator. Like a selfish, lustful jerk. What was so awful about the proposal to be together yet remain within controllable, easily definable boundaries?
‘I’m going on a tour of the country,’ he told her the next night at dinner. ‘I need to be seen everywhere and by everyone. It is important for security and confidence in my return.’
‘How long are you going for?’
Her crestfallen expression demolished him even more.
‘Why? Will you miss me?’ he asked.
‘I doubt I’ll notice your absence, I’m far too busy.’
‘Is that so?’ he said drily. ‘I’m only taking day trips. I’ll return to the palace every night so you’re still stuck with my company for dinner.’
She looked at him for a long moment. ‘You’re ready to spend time with your people now?’
He stiffened because no, he wasn’t really. ‘I need to.’
‘You’re a good listener, Lucian. They love you already. Listen and smile and they’ll love you even more.’
He looked into her wide eyes and appreciated that she really meant that. She was too sweet.
Only she suddenly frowned. ‘You won’t tell anyone I’m still here?’
‘It amazes me that you doubt this, Zara. Please be assured Icankeep a secret.’
She smiled suddenly and he couldn’t resist nudging her chin up and stealing a kiss. It was hardly theft though, was it—when she softened in response, when she opened to him like a flower. When she lifted her hands and touched him until he growled in pleasure. He lifted away and gazed into her dazed eyes. But then they gleamed with something else.
‘Dare you to tell me one of yours,’ she teased.
Yet it wasn’t a tease. This was a battle. They wanted each other, yes, but he knew she was vulnerable. More than she wanted to admit. Taking her luscious offer now would be doing her a disservice. She was alone, feeling abandoned by her family and perhaps simply seeking comfort from him. He couldn’t take total advantage. She deserved more than that.
He liked her more with every moment he spent with her. There’d been too many of those moments already, when Monrayne needed his full attention. He’d made that vow to serve his country. It was weak to be side-tracked so soon. It simply served to remind him he still wasn’t worthy of his Crown—he was still putting personal pleasure ahead of duty.
Yet she was determined to crack him open emotionally. And while he tried to keep her at arm’s length, he ended up pulling her close and silencing her with his mouth after all. He couldn’t resist sparring with her—even if it were sometimes just silly double-entendres designed to make that dusky bloom appear like magic on her silky skin. She was extra delicious when she blushed.
At the end of the evening his usual cold shower no longer cut it. He went to the gym for a workout. Then to the pool. Then to the ice bath at the end of it.
He’d just immersed himself—cursing inwardly—when Zara appeared like the elusive shadow she was—haunting him even more than ever and making him forget every good intention he’d just managed to resurrect.
‘What are you doing?’ She halted.
She had a swimsuit in her hands. It seemed she’d taken his advice for some physical exercise seriously.
‘What does it look like?’ he gritted.
‘Torture.’ She stared in horror. ‘Your extremities will fall off. Which would be a shame. You have nice...’ she glanced at him archly ‘...fingers.’
‘You’re worried about my fingers?’
