“I didn’t know,” I respond shakily, my own anger rising up in response to his. “We haven’t exactly had a chance to talk yet and go over all the rules I should be following,” I say sarcastically.

  “Rule number one, you are not a guest in the palace, you are a prisoner. Behave accordingly.”

  “A prisoner? For what reason?” I reply indignantly.

  “Treason to your country. Abandoning your king. Should I continue?” he asks, and my shoulders drop, and I turn away from him, hoping to hide the fact that tears are building in my eyes. I take a deep breath and turn back around prepared to fight for him to let me talk. But my words freeze on my tongue.

  It’s not because I don’t have anything more to say, it’s because of how he looks at me. The minute our eyes connect, he’s the lion on the hunt, watching and circling—hungry. Danger bristles along my nape. And then the mask falls, and he allows me in, a glimpse at the man behind the throne, and I find his vulnerability speaks to mine.

  A painful memory of my past tries to fall into place, but I’m quick to put it back on the shelf. Those are for another time, not this one, with James watching me as if he’s thirsty and I’m the only one who can quench his thirst. Not while his eyes rake over my body and a simmering ache makes me want something, I’m not sure how to ask for... something that I’m not sure that I even deserve.

  He suddenly walks towards me and we’re crushed together. Hot and demanding, just like him. He grinds against me and I melt into a pool of need. It’s perfection and I’m at peace. Feelings of inadequacy and insecurity from a past I can’t let go float away until there are absolutely no thoughts of them anywhere. I’m free, because there’s a chance he could forgive me.

  I’m free from pain, and it’s because James is where I’m meant to be.

  I suck his tongue, hungry for everything he offers. He groans and his tightly bound control slips as he licks and bites into my mouth, driving pleasure from the piercing sting until my cry rebounds against the walls. I’m at his mercy. With his silent insistence, I accept my fate and dive in. Wrapping my arms around his head, my fingers plunge into his hair and I pull him closer, matching him need for need. We’re stuck together in a frantic, pleading kiss. A knock on the door startles me and I make to pull away, but he holds tight. He continues to nip and pull at my lips, his tongue dipping to touch mine seductively. After another moment, he gentles, as if he can’t pull away cold turkey. It’s a slow, sensual descent from heaven to earth.

  Another knock at the door, more urgent this time, and he breaks contact. “I’ll be right there,” he calls in a grating voice. Glaring at the door, he turns back to me. His hands move to cradle my nape and his gaze softens when it finds mine. Holy hell. “I should go,” I pant, stunned by the intensity of what just happened between us. He straightens to his full height, releasing my body, yet his hold remains in place. Stroking his thumb over my bottom lip, he whispers, “So beautiful.”

  Another knock fractures the pull between us, the one that only seems to have grown in the years since I’ve been gone.

  I try to collect myself as he lets go of me to answer the door. I hear soft murmuring for a minute and then James closes it.

  “Who was that?” I ask, still slightly out of breath from our brief, but passionate, interlude.

  “Just a servant,” he responds and my heart sinks at his tone. Cold King James is back, my lover has disappeared. Whoever was at the door, they must have brought him bad news because his head is not in the room anymore, its somewhere else focusing on some new problem that is now plaguing him.

  “I need you at the banquet tonight. The Spanish Ambassador will be there, and I need you to keep his attention on you at all times,” he says to me sharply.

  I open my mouth to ask a question, but he shakes his head. “Later,” he says. “The servants will be in shortly to help you get ready.”

  “But don’t you need to get ready?” I ask, prepared to argue that I didn’t need servants again.

  “I’ll pick you up in three hours. Don’t leave the room until I come to get you,” he says, walking to the door, opening it, and leaving through it without another word to me.

  I feel like I’m suffering from an extensive case of whiplash. I touch my lips, sure that they are going to feel cool to the touch and our kiss, our explosive, mind blowing, out of this world kiss was just my imagination. I pull back like I’ve been shocked when I can feel the swelling that’s proof that I didn’t just invent that kiss in my head. There’s also the fact that my body feels as if it’s a live-wire, the slightest touch setting me off.

  There was once a time, a brief time, where James shared everything with me. We’re strangers passing in the night right now and that’s not going to change until I can give him my side of the story.

  I decide to take a nap since I have three hours to burn and it doesn’t seem like the right time to try and sneak out of the castle to find Isabelle in the village. If James was that upset over me just exploring the castle, I can only imagine how crazy he would get if I actually left the palace grounds.

  I curl up in James’ bed, inhaling the scent of him that’s all over the sheets. I’m soon fast asleep despite the heaviness of my thoughts.

  “Have you moved on?” asks Landon. We’re sitting on his yacht, and I’m in that crimson dress that I wore on our first date.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, not understanding his question.

  “I once asked you what you wanted most in life, and you told me it was to move on. Is that still true?”

  I savor his profile. The sun is just now setting, casting a soft glow on everything. It’s my favorite time of day, mostly because of him.

  “I’m beginning to think that there’s no such thing,” I say softly as he turns to look at me. His golden eyes seep right into my soul, uncovering all of my secrets, everything that I’m afraid to say. It’s always been like that with him.

  “I’ll never let you forget me,” he tells me seriously in that tone that demands obedience. I shiver as images of him ordering me around in other places fills my thoughts.

  “My days begin and end with thoughts of you,” I tell him seriously. And he nods like that satisfies him. But I know my Landon, he’s never satisfied.

  “How long?” he asks again, his hand reaching up to stroke the side of my face.

  “How long for what?” I ask breathlessly.

  “How long until you come back to me?”

  I want to fall into his arms and ask him to come to me. Maybe if I’m being honest with myself it was easier before I knew there was a chance that we could be reunited, because then I had a reason why I couldn’t be with all of them.

  What if I could?

  I could never choose.

  “As soon as I can,” I finally respond, turning my eyes towards where the day is rapidly fading.

  “Hurry,” he orders. And I just nod.

  I never could say no to Landon Torrio.

  “Milady,” comes a voice, and I’m roused reluctantly from my dream. I feel disoriented...and a little guilty. How is it that I can have such vivid dreams of one lover while in the bed of another?

  The seamstress from this morning is standing uncomfortably at the foot of my bed.

  “Your dress is ready, ma’am,” she tells me, wringing her hands nervously. “We only have an hour until the banquet starts and there’s much to do. I have your bath drawn,” she continues, gesturing to the room right off James’ quarters where his bath is, a luxury for sure in this day and age.

  I drag myself from the bed and stumble to the bathroom where I quickly strip and sink into the bath that she has filled with warm water. There’s no time to soak however since an hour using medieval forms of getting ready is very little time.

  After the bath, I’m primped and prodded to within what seems like an inch of my life.

  “This seems fancy for a simple banquet,” I tell her as I stare at myself in the mirror wondering if somehow, I missed the memo of this actually being a ball tonight instead of a banquet.

  As we discussed, I’m wearing blue for tonight as well. It’s a brocaded blue gown that cinches in tightly at the waist so that it’s extremely hard to breathe. I had forgotten just how terrible corsets actually were. I have to admit their effect is flattering however as my waist looks smaller than it has in years. The gown is quite low cut and I’m a bit afraid that one of my breasts is going to pop out if I move too fast. It’s so tight though that I’m not even missing the support of my bra.

  She put some exotic oil in my hair that makes it almost seem to sparkle in the candlelight. It’s done up in an elaborate set of braids that I could never replicate in a million years.

  “You look beautiful,” says the girl admiringly.

  “Well this is all your handiwork,” I tell her with a grateful smile, making her blush.

  There’s a sound at the door and the girl gives a small squeak. “That will be His Majesty,” she says frantically. “I was supposed to be gone already.”

  “It will be alright,” I tell her soothingly. “The King will be so grateful that you made me look like this that he won’t care about anything else,” I tell her jestingly.

  It’s close to the truth though.

  When James comes in through the door, dressed all in black from his breeches to his blouse, he has eyes for nothing else besides me.

  When I finally get the courage to look him in the eye, I can feel my whole-body blushing. That look that he used to get when he saw me—like he wanted to devour me—was there, only so much stronger than it ever had been before.

  I smile a big, wide smile as he looks me up and down, my first genuine smile with him since I had arrived. He holds up his finger and spins it in the air. I keep my head as high as I can and spin slowly around feeling the long layers of material slide against my thighs.

  “You’re a goddess,” he growls. I can hear the girl giggle on the other side of the room but neither of us look over at her, we only have eyes for each other.

  “You don’t look so bad yourself,” I say breathily.

  He continues to stare at me for another minute, as if he was imprinting the image of me in his mind. And maybe he was. It was obvious that James was still very much attracted to me, but all other feelings were very much up in the air.

  He seems to shake himself out of it after a minute and holds out his arm for me to take. “We should go,” he says, almost reluctantly. I take his arm and little electric shocks seem to go up my arm the moment we touch.

  I had been young when I had first fallen in love with him. And although I look the same in this moment, the feelings I’m having towards him are very much the feelings of a grown woman.

  We are quiet as we walk. I notice a few pieces of grey hair at his temples and a pang of regret passes over me. I had missed six years. Six years of seeing him grow into the man he was today. I would never get that back.

  We stop a few feet away from the doors that led into the banquet hall. He turns towards me and grips my arms softly, his gaze searing into me.

  “Do you remember what I told you earlier?” he asks, his tone serious and urgent.

  “About occupying the Spanish ambassador?” I ask warily.

  “It’s very important that you try and charm him the same way you charmed me,” he says.

  I bristle at the insinuation in his words. “What do you mean charmed you?” I say heatedly.

  He rolls his eyes in a decidedly unkinglike way. “You made me love you the second I met you,” he responds shortly. “You’re obviously a skilled seductress or I wouldn’t have fallen so easily. I need you to use those talents tonight as a favor to me and your country. You owe me.”

  My heart feels bruised. To think that he thought that our love story was some underhanded plot by me to win his heart…

  “I’ll do my best,” I respond, trying to sound cold but sounding more like a broken-hearted girl.

  His eyes soften at the agony that was obvious in my voice. He stares at me again, searching my eyes as if he was looking for something.

  I hope that he can find it.

  Without another word we walk to the door where a servant announces us as we walk into the banquet hall. The room is packed, every eye on us as we go to our seats. Him at the head of the long table, and me to the left of him, across from a very disgruntled looking Queen.

  I realize how bad this looks. Everyone in the room thinks that I’m his mistress. No wonder she’s so upset. He’s parading me around with no care for her feelings.

  I remember the scene I happened upon earlier. She really has no right to be upset. I resolve to talk to James about what was really going on later tonight. The James I had known would never have been so callous towards his wife’s feelings no matter whether there was no love in their marriage or not. There was definitely something else at play that was just outside my understanding.

  As I think about it though, why would I care what any of these people think of me? Somewhere between his bedroom and the banquet hall I had come to the decision that he was mine. He has always been mine. Whatever Francesca was, she wasn't in love. And I was determined to get James away from her no matter what it took.

  I had always known, probably ignored it for most of life actually, that there was something slightly wrong with me. The world could crumble, people could die, but these men… these men would always be mine.

  So, I ignore the looks of hatred and jealousy because I simply decide that I no longer care. I keep my head high as I sit next to James where technically the Queen should be sitting. People stare, but none of that matters to me.

  Chapter 6

  The Spanish ambassador is seated next to me. He’s a rat-like looking man, with a paunch belly signaling that he’s gone to seed. He looks like he's never had the honesty of a day’s work in his life. His hair is slicked back with so much grease that it was impossible to tell whether his hair color was actually that dark, or if it was just dirty. I have to stop myself from wrinkling my nose and showing how disgusted I was by everything about him. There was a slight smell wafting off of him of oniony body odor. All in all, not the most palatable dinner companion.

  “And who do we have here?" he asks in a high-pitched voice that I’m sure he thinks comes across as charming.

  “Juliet,” I respond, trying not to cringe as he brushes his lips across my hand.

  "What is your relationship with the King, beautiful Juliet?" he asks, continuing his flirtation with a flirtatious grin.

  I try to look coy even though I’m sure that I fail miserably. "I'm not sure what you mean," I respond with a wink. My answer seems to excite him. I have to make sure to keep my face clear of the revulsion I’m feeling. I had forgotten how bad dental hygiene was during this time period. The invention of toothbrushes should have been done much earlier.

  I spend the next few hours using all the charm I have in my possession, which granted I didn't feel was very much. Refilling his wine glass constantly is also one of my top priorities.

  But it actually isn’t hard work. He prattles on for most of the time, very interested in talking about himself. He also likes to talk on and on about how wonderful Spain is and how much better it is than England. He makes sure that his voice is just loud enough for James to hear.

  James for his part, politely ignores his statements. This makes me even more suspicious about what’s going on. At one-point James exchanges a look with Richard who is sitting a few seats away from us. Richard excuses himself and leaves the room. James shoots me a warning look that I need to continue paying attention to the Spanish Ambassador. I immediately begin to flutter my eyelashes prettily at him, which makes him seem to lose focus for a second on what he was talking about.

  Richard is gone for half an hour. When he finally returns, dessert is beginning to be served. I see Richard give James a small nod.

  And now I was even more intrigued.

  I see Francesca watching James intensely, looking back and forth between him and Richard suspiciously. She obviously has no idea what’s going on either. I feel a certain sense of satisfaction that she has been kept out of the loop as well even though I knew practically nothing too. It was petty of me, but again I had already started acknowledging I wasn’t exactly a saint. I’d never claimed to be such a thing.

  When dessert was done, James stands up, and the whole room quiets. Smiling regally, he holds out his arm for me to take. Apparently, my job was done for the night. I give my regard to the ambassador, who looks quite forlorn at the fact that I am leaving. Evidently, he had been under the impression that James had lent me to him for the evening.

  A revolting thought.

  We walk out of the banquet hall. James keeps silent until the doors close behind us and we can hear the room’s occupants start to talk again, most likely about me again. We begin to walk with some urgency in the direction of his quarters.

  Just then the door slams open from the room we had just left. It’s Francesca. Dressed in all of her Queenly finery, she looks stunning. But It was the beauty of a cobra just before it struck and gave you a fatal bite.

  "James,” she calls after us sharply, a look of hatred crossing her face as she glances at me. “How dare you embarrass me like that by bringing that...that slut to an official dinner,” she spits out, raising her hand to slap him across the face.

  James looks calm in the face of her rage, catching her wrist before she can strike him.

  "Why dear wife, wasn't it your idea for me to bring her tonight?" he says with a small, satisfied smile.

  “I have been understanding of your dalliances from the very beginning," she says. "But at no time have you ever brought them with you to a State function. What will my Father say when his Ambassador brings news of what happened tonight back to Spain? It could jeopardize the treaty. I’m sure the people would be happy to know that their Ruler is more interested in keeping his dick happy than keeping food on their tables and war away from their borders.”

 

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