Page 18 of Vows to a King
Her core gave a spasm at the silky taunt, not that she would ever admit it. “I thought you weren’t interested in touching me,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t notice the stiff peaks of her nipples. The barest contact of his chest and they were all attention.
“I’m not interested. But it doesn’t mean I don’t want to tease and torment you, Jemima. Doesn’t mean I won’t make you melt and writhe and beg for me. After all, I have to feed my monstrous, kingly ego and my wicked reputation.” He snuck his finger under the ruffled collar of her dress, until the tip landed on her fluttering pulse. Distaste speared itself across his lush lips. “Why is it that you hide yourself in these bag-like dresses?”
“I’m not hiding.”
He must have heard the conviction in her voice for he nodded. Though one thick brow raised with lordly majesty, as if to sayI’m waiting…elucidate.
“I’m in half-mourning.”
“Not anymore,” he bit out. “You’re my fiancée and I find it insulting that you continue to act as if you’re being led to the sacrificial altar.”
Jemima swallowed at the thin thread of anger in his voice. And beneath it pulsed something more. It was the same shadow that came over his eyes when his father was mentioned. Neither had she missed the fact that he had refused her offer to accompany him during his visits to the King, nor that Queen Isadora actively encouraged him to abstain from visiting his father too often.
Whatever the rift was between them, it hurt this man still. And that in itself was a major puzzle piece to him.
“I did not mean to insult you, Prince Adonis.”
“Then prove it. This is our first public appearance and I refuse to show up with you looking like…that.”
She smacked his arm, pricked by his poking. Which she had a feeling he was doing on purpose. “What is that you would have me do?”
“Open your wardrobe, put on something else.”
She frowned. “My wardrobe only has…”
“Go, Princess. Look inside that antique piece.” His fingers landing on her shoulder and turning her around left her with no choice.
She felt his eyes on every inch of her as she made the trek to the hand-carved wardrobe that she had fawned over ages ago in some wing of the palace. On her shoulder blades, the cinch of her waist, and then lower, on the swells of her bottom.
Heat seared her as if he were tracing a finger over the highs and dips of her flesh.
She opened the antique wardrobe doors with their filigreed handles to find a rack of glittering new outfits. A soft gasp escaped her as she fingered the soft silks and bright colors.
Nothing this man did anymore should surprise her but it did. And she was beginning to think it had to do with her and her low expectations—of himandherself, rather than him.
Over her shoulder, she cast a look at him. “When did you arrange for these?”
“Try one and show me. Hopefully, we’ll get to see more of that smooth, silky honey-gold skin.”
Her core fluttered at the compliment, as if now in tune with his every word and touch. “Is it that important that I should look glamorous next to you?”
“I think it’s important to you too, Jemima, but you don’t want to admit it. Nor do you want to look like you care about it. Intellectual snobbery is also snobbery.”
“I was raised to not make a splash,” she added, her throat tight suddenly. How had he known something she was only now discovering—that she had hidden her true self under layers of camouflage?
“And this is a gentle nudge to remind you that that time is over. If we’re to make a success of this whole stopping the kingdom from burning down into ashes, you need to stop hiding and step up.” Sudden steel entered his tone. “And if your father says or does anything remotely threatening, you will immediately bring it to my notice without hesitation.”
Now, it was tears that clogged her throat.
“I mean it, Jemima. You’re not just his daughter anymore. In fact, it is the most insignificant of your roles now.”
She managed to say yes without letting the sniffle that threatened, out.
“You continue to surprise me,” she said, once her breath was steady again, pulling out a seafoam-green dress in a soft linen blend that was perfect for the sunny day. The rich fabric had a slight sheen to it, elevating it from being too casual for their first outing.
Grabbing the dress and the thin, woven belt in gold that came with it, she ducked behind a hand-painted privacy screen.
His mocking laughter made honey drizzle down her spine as she shrugged off the heavy dress. The lace of her bra felt far too tight against her nipples. It took her two tries to pull the dress over her head, as trembly as she felt.
