Page 52 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
Polly stumbled toward them on unsteady legs, tears streaming down her bruised face. “Is she all right?”
Bris’s cheeks were flushed crimson, her fingers digging into his arms with desperate strength. “Yes, of course!” she cried, but her voice cracked with barely contained emotion. No, she definitely wasn’t all right. Achilles recognized all the signs—she was in shock and fighting back tears with every ounce of her stubborn pride.
Achilles fixed Polly with a withering glare. “What possessed you to leave palace grounds without security? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“I forgot it at the stables!” Polly’s voice shook with fear and guilt. “And I couldn’t just let her go alone!”
“Don’t blame her!” Bris shouted fiercely. “This was entirely my fault!”
Achilles studied the tearful lady-in-waiting who hung her head in shame, no longer daring to meet his eyes. Bris needed a companion with unwavering nerves, yet few people could successfully oppose her iron will. He knew from personal experience how impossible it was to make her back down from anything. He filed that problem away for later when he noticed Bris shivering. Achilles recognized all the warning signs of her emotional dam about to burst. “Call ahead for medical attention,” he instructed Peder. “I’m taking her home.”
Polly’s shoulders sagged with visible relief—probably because she hadn’t been fired on the spot, though Achilles knew there would be consequences when the palace staff got their hands on her. He didn’t envy her that interrogation.
He settled Bris on the ATV in front of him, her back pressed against his chest as he climbed on behind her. His hands found the handlebars on either side of her trembling form, effectively caging her in his protective embrace. Her face had turned to stone as she battled to control her emotions.
If there was one thing Bris hated, it was being vulnerable or out of control.
For now, he let her wrestle with the harsh reality of being human in a cruel, unforgiving world. Ruling a kingdom didn’t grant them freedom—it was the opposite. They had to take more precautions, follow more protocols, hide behind more barriers. They were prisoners of their own positions, slaves to the people.
Her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, the only visible sign of her internal struggle. He’d find a way to reach her once they were alone—he always had before. But now he was more than her childhood friend; he was her husband. Somehow that made gaining her trust more crucial.
The storm clouds finally opened up, releasing the rain that had been threatening all morning. It started as scattered droplets, then quickly became a downpour that soaked through their clothes within minutes. He glanced down at her profile as water streamed from her dark lashes and sharp cheekbones. She’d never looked more beautiful, and that was saying something since the sight of her always stole his breath away. A surge of helplessness overwhelmed him—he’d do anything to chip away at this statue that her father had tried to carve out of her.
Unable to keep back from her any longer, he touched her clenched fist with his fingertips. It was absolutely forbidden and probably stupid, but this time she didn’t pull away. He found her cold fingers next, wrapping his free arm around her waist to steady her through the bumpy terrain. She clutched at his arm, trembling against him.
A wave of fierce tenderness crashed through the murderous anger he still harbored for those kidnappers, emotions he’d never experienced before were now guiding him to pull her closer. Somehow, she was letting her guard down enough to lean back against his chest, rest her head on his shoulder as he brought her back to the palace… to their home.
The lavish Tirrojan architecture was nothing like what he’d ever imagined for his future, and this complicated woman was far from who he’d pictured filling the role of his wife. He parked in the circular driveway, allowing hovering servants to take charge of the ATV as he slipped his arm around her waist and helped her up the marble steps.
As soon as they entered the opulent foyer with its soaring ceilings and priceless artwork, they were surrounded by concerned security personnel, anxious servants, and high-ranking advisors all talking at once.
“What happened?” Phoenix demanded, pushing through the crowd.
Achilles stiffened at the sight of the man who’d delivered Bris to that predator like a sacrificial virgin to some bloodthirsty god. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and figure out who’s behind this attack? Peder is bringing in the prisoners. Make them talk! Freeze their assets, trace their fundings—I want names, and I want them now.”
He didn’t need to ask Phoenix twice. The chancellor rushed away with military efficiency—he might be a spy for Bris’s father, but at least he got results.
Other servants pressed forward with towels and blankets, but Achilles refused to let anyone else touch her. “Where’s the doctor?”
“On his way, Your Royal Highness!”
“I’m perfectly fine,” Bris whispered, but her voice was barely audible.
No, she absolutely wasn’t. He guided her through the maze of concerned staff and into their private suites, shutting the heavy door firmly behind them. The sudden quiet was almost jarring after the chaos outside.
As soon as they were truly alone, she made a heartbreaking whimper of exhaustion and collapsed against him. Her wet hair slid across his neck like cold silk, and he could feel her whole body shaking.
He held her as tightly as he dared, afraid she might shatter.
“I know I shouldn’t have gone,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest, “but the things I saw today… their schools, their living conditions? They’re surviving in absolute poverty.No wonder they hate me…” Her voice dissolved into broken sobs that tore at his heart.
Achilles had been expecting this breakdown—Bris could only contain her emotions for so long before they erupted like a volcano. He made soothing sounds and ran his hands down her back in gentle strokes, feeling her spine through the damp fabric of her riding shirt. The rain continued pounding against the tall windows, and the thick forest planted around their rooms for privacy swayed violently in the wind, revealing glimpses of the helicopter pad beyond. She shivered in reaction to another crash of thunder.
“The doctor needs to examine you for injuries,” he said softly.
She shook her head against his chest. “No, Achilles, I just want to be with you.”
His heart nearly stopped at her admission. He’d experienced playful Bris, teasing Bris, furious Bris, and lately even duty-bound Bris, but never had he heard her actually say she wanted him near her.
