Royal Seductions: Diamonds: The King's Convenient Bride. Michelle Celmer
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This didn’t make sense. He was turned on. All she had to do was look at the front of his pajamas and she could see how aroused he was. Why didn’t he want her? “Did I do something wrong?”
“Oh, no. You did everything right.”
“Then, why?”
He shook his head, dragged a hand through his hair. “I respect you too much to let you do this.”
She was so stunned, it took a second for the meaning of his words to sink in.
It was probably one of the sweetest, most wonderful things anyone had ever said to her.
And he was right. If they had made love tonight, she would have regretted it. She was feeling emotional and upset, and she was letting it cloud her judgment.
She wanted to feel close to someone. And she just naturally assumed that, by sleeping with him, she would bring them closer together. But as important as sex was in a relationship, it was still just sex. The other stuff mattered a whole lot more.
Like the fact that he cared enough about her to stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life. What more could she possibly ask for?
“Waiting one more week isn’t going to kill us,” he said. “Is it?”
She bit her lip and shook her head. Not after waiting twenty-six years. And she didn’t miss the irony that it had been her saying the exact same thing to him less than a week ago. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about. I should be more attentive.”
“You’re busy. I understand that.”
“But not so busy that I can’t have dinner with my fiancée occasionally.”
He touched her hair, brushing it back from her face. “So much has been expected of you, but you’ve received little in return.”
The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was ungrateful. “I’m well aware of the fact that my position will require a certain amount of sacrifice.”
“I’m just not used to sharing my time,” he admitted.
Or his feelings, she was guessing. And considering the environment he was raised in, it’s no wonder. With a mother that cold, and a father whose mistresses were common knowledge, who wouldn’t grow up learning to hide their emotions?
But she knew with time she would be able to draw him out of his shell. She would make him see that it was okay to trust his feelings, to let his guard down. It would just take time.
“I’ll try not to be overly demanding,” she said. Like her mother could often be. “I’ll try to give you the space you need.” Phillip nodded, although she couldn’t help noticing he made no promises in return.
She could see that making this marriage work was going to be a lot harder than she anticipated.
Eight
Phillip knocked on the door to her suite at exactly 6:45 p.m., just as he’d promised last night before she left his room.
When she opened the door and he stepped into her sitting room, she breathed a soft sigh of appreciation. As always, he looked perfect. Dark wool slacks that fit him just right, a long-sleeved, cashmere pullover sweater the same rich, smoky gray as his eyes, topped with a stately jacket.
“I’m just about ready,” she told him.
He eyed her with obvious appreciation. “You look beautiful.”
The compliment, the way his eyes swept so leisurely over her, left her feeling warm and fuzzy. The extra time she’d taken to blow her hair out smooth and straight, the care she had taken on her makeup, and her choice of dress—a red, clingy number that was sexy, without being too flashy or risqué—had been worth the effort.
“I’d have been ready sooner,” she told him, “but my meeting with the wedding planner ran longer than I anticipated.”
“No rush,” he said. “I doubt she’ll start without us.”
Still, she hated to be late for anything. “I just have to grab my shoes and a sweater.”
She scurried into her room to her closet. She yanked her cardigan from the hanger and grabbed a pair of sling-back, marginally sexy heels from the top shelf. Her totally impractical, just-for-fun shoes.
“How are the wedding plans going?” he called from the sitting room. And because she was sure he was only asking to be polite, she didn’t embellish. The important thing was that he was making an effort.
“Very well,” she called back, tugging the shoes on her feet. “Did you have a productive day?”
“Not really.”
His voice was close. She turned and saw that he was leaning in the bedroom doorway, watching her.
“Did I mention how beautiful you look?”
“I believe you did.”
He was wearing that hungry, I’m-going-to-eat-you-alive expression. Like the one he wore last night. And when she remembered what it felt like to touch him, to put her hands on his bare skin, she started to get a funny tickle in the pit of her stomach.
Exactly one more week until the wedding. This time next Friday, they would be legally married and probably at their reception. And after that, either his or her bedroom….
This week couldn’t go by fast enough.
“I’m ready,” she said.
“There’s a car waiting.” He stepped aside so she could exit the bedroom, but as she was walking past, he curled a hand around her upper arm, tugged her to him and kissed her. A deep, toe-curling, out-of-this-world kiss that she felt from her toes to her scalp and everywhere along the way. And it was over way too fast.
“What was that for?”
He grinned down at her. “Do I need a reason?”
Heck no.
But if he kept doing stuff like that, looking at her like a hungry wolf, this was going to be the longest week of her life.
The car dropped Hannah and Phillip at Sophie’s residence. When they knocked, a butler answered the door. He nodded and motioned them inside, just as Sophie swept into the foyer.
She wore a flowing, gauzy dress that complimented her long, willowy figure. She wore her long, dark hair up and off her face. She looked utterly elegant, if you overlooked the fact that she was barefoot.
“You’re right on time!” She pulled Hannah into a warm embrace and kissed her cheek. She smelled of honeysuckle and faintly of apples. Then she stepped back and looked them both up and down. “Aren’t you two the handsome couple.”
Phillip handed her the bottles of wine. “I hope these will do.”
She read the labels, then flashed him a bright smile. “Perfect.”
She passed them along to the butler. “Would either of you like a drink before dinner?”
Hannah shook her head. “No, thank you.”
“Me neither,” Phillip said. “Unless you think I might need a drink.”
She smiled sweetly, but with just a hint of sass. “Why would I think that?”
There was something going on, Hannah could feel it. Sophie was up to something. Or at least, Phillip suspected she was.
“Dinner will be a few minutes yet. Why don’t we wait in the study?”
Her residence was as richly decorated and furnished as the palace. More modern, but just as warm and inviting. And the scents coming from the kitchen were mouthwatering.
“Your