Page 13 of Crown of Thorns
“Woof woof,” she teases me as I follow Ailsa out the door. I check to make sure no one is watching before I bend at the waist and tuck my hands up on my head like floppy ears and wiggle my imaginary tale. The intent works and I hear Dahlia’s boisterous laugh, her real laugh, just before the door shuts behind me.
I follow Ailsa through the residential wing of the castle and in toward the offices. Rhys must be in his office today. I have to admit, I don’t really come down here because it intimidates me. And if I’m being honest, I’ve kind of been avoiding him, not that it seems to be working anymore, if it ever did. I can still feel him inside of me. If I’d thought that Rhys would have been gentle and loving with me the first time after my accident, I would have been wrong.
She knocks on the heavy wooden door, and I hold my breath. I’ve never been one to like surprises and since I’ve been in this country, surprises have not ever been the good kind. I’m actually dreading whatever reason Rhys was looking for me.
“Enter!” he calls out, and Ailsa turns the handle, pushing the door open. I step inside and she follows me in.
“Anything else, Your Majesty?” she asks.
“No Ailsa, that will be all,” he says, joy woven through his tone of voice. Before I even see him, I know that he’s smiling.
“Thank you,” she says as she bobs a curtsey and backs away, leaving me all alone like a lamb at slaughter.
Rhys rolls his eyes. “Stop looking like you’re headed for the fucking gallows, Stella.”
My eyes go wide at being called out in front of Craig, his personal secretary, and Stuart, the national security advisor. I tip my head as I stare at him in anare-you-kidding-me?kind of a way.
He smiles the cocky smile that always ends with me on my back and him deep inside of me, and says in a gentle voice, “Come closer, hen.”
“I’m not sure that I want to,” I admit. “Am I in trouble?”
“No,” he chuckles. “If you’d relax, you’d only see that your present is here waiting for you.”
“My present?” I ask and then look around.
“Aye.”
I gasp when I see him. I can’t believe that I missed him. Curled up on the corner of Rhys’s desk is a fat, fluffy orange and white cat. “He’s mine?”
“Aye, love, he’s yours,” he says. “I believe you said you’d like a cat, and I agreed to get you one as an engagement present, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I believe you did.”
“Come here, hen.”
“Okay.” I make my way around the desk and barely hear the quiet snick of the door as Craig and Stuart see themselves out. Where they go, I have no idea. I can only look at the big, powerful man sitting behind his baronial desk with a fluffy kitten sleeping peacefully beside him. He’s such a complex mix of a man that I never know which way is up with him. And on days like this, I don’t want to try. I’m happy to let him sink me down into the deep with him and never come back up for air.
This is why I have to keep my wits about me. Losing my head to him is not smart nor is it safe.
He pulls me into his lap, his arms wrapped securely around me, and holds me close before asking, “Do you like him?”
“Yes. I love him.”
“Already?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“And what about me, hen? Do you love me?”
I could lie and tell him no. I could say something mean to make him mad, to make him want to leave me alone, and I still might sometime soon, but not today. Today he’s given me a beautiful gift, one I cherish more than big emerald and diamond rings, more than fancy designer dresses, and more than old, cliffside castles.
Today my feelings are too close to the surface to hold them back.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“You have to know that I’ll treat you well,” he says.
“It’s not that,” I tell him.
