naked beneath her thin...
‘You should think about wearing a robe with that nightdress,’ he snapped with an unintended brusqueness.
Her pretty brows drew together. ‘Why?’ Then she looked down, looked up at the light, looked down again, and turned the colour of a radish.
This was the moment he should retire to his bedroom. He should be far away from her, not fighting the urge to pin her to the passageway wall and strip that nightdress off her.
‘I think you must use brighter light bulbs than we use in the palace,’ she whispered after moments of painful silence. Strangely, she made no effort to cover herself or step out from under the light and her eyes held his.
It was only Clotilde appearing from the left, a bone china cup and saucer in hand—someone in his household must have bought them in especially for the Princess because, as far as he was aware, everyone in his household drank from mugs, himself included—that broke the tension between them.
Catalina stepped immediately out of the light bulb’s glare and, with only the smallest of catches in her voice, thanked Clotilde.
Clotilde, blissfully unaware that she had walked into anything—nothing, he reprimanded himself sharply; she hadn’t interrupted anything—beamed and turned to Nathaniel. ‘Can I get you a hot chocolate too? Or fix you a nightcap?’
‘I’ll fix my own when I’m ready.’ Nodding at them both without making eye contact, he bid them goodnight and disappeared to his bedroom.
* * *
Catalina sat in her bed, flicking through one of the magazines that Clotilde had left after sitting in the bedroom while Catalina had had a bath. Starting from tomorrow she was going to start easing Clotilde’s attempts to win a Companion of the Year Award and start learning to do things for herself. So far, any attempt at independence other than brushing her own hair had been neatly sidestepped.
While she read, she tried to focus her mind on things she could do to fill her time. As her royal engagements were cancelled until after the baby was born, she would need to find something to keep her occupied. The long days stretched ahead of her interminably. She needed to broach the subject with Nathaniel. But not in her nightdress.
Heat flamed her cheeks as she remembered standing before him and the stark realisation the passageway’s lighting had caused her nightdress to become see-through. Then heat flamed a more intimate part of her as she remembered the look in his eyes. That had been hunger there. She’d recognised it. She’d seen it the night they’d conceived their child.
It was that hunger that kept her eyes flickering to the door and her senses alert for any approaching footstep.
Would this be the night he came to her? Would he knock on her door, intent on the consummation of their marriage?
Would she let him or would she say no? Royal wives of Monte Cleure were not supposed to deny their husbands. She might have married a commoner but she was still a royal princess. Legally, she was Nathaniel’s property and would remain so until their divorce was finalised. Unless her father actively cast her out and stripped her of her HRH title, she remained bound by her palace’s constitutional laws...
It occurred to her that the constitutional laws only applied while she was on Monte Cleure...
She heard a noise and stopped breathing, her heart setting off at a canter.
After long seconds of silence she lay back against the headboard and closed her eyes, willing her pulse to slow.
No, she couldn’t swear that if he came into her room and climbed into her bed she wouldn’t open her arms and welcome him.
And neither could she swear that she wouldn’t freeze him out and demand he leave.
She never got the chance to find out what she would do.
Three hours later when midnight was but a distant memory, her tired brain finally switched off and went to sleep.
Her weary but aching heart still hurt when she awoke the next morning.
CATALINA MADE HER way from her bedroom to the dining room, Clotilde hot on her heels, opening doors for her.
To her surprise, Nathaniel was sitting at the dining table drinking coffee and reading a newspaper, an empty plate to his side.
Usually he only deigned to spend time with her at evening dinner when he would make polite enquiries about her health, exchange idle chat until their plates were clean and then excuse himself. It had been the same for the ten whole days of their marriage.
He stood to greet her. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
She took the seat Clotilde pulled out for her. After a pot of decaffeinated tea was brought to her and her breakfast order taken, she found herself alone with her husband.
‘It’s a surprise to see you here,’ she said. ‘You’re normally in your office by now.’
‘I shall work on the flight.’
This was the first she’d heard of a flight. ‘Where are we going?’
‘I’m going to Shanghai. There’s land for sale that I’m interested in buying.’
‘Am I not coming with you?’
‘It’s a business trip. You’d be bored.’
Knowing a snub when she heard one and too well trained to argue further, Catalina smiled graciously and took a sip of her tea, but inside she seethed. ‘How long are you going for?’
‘A couple of weeks.’
‘That long?’
‘Purchasing land there isn’t easy, especially for foreigners.’
She couldn’t help herself. ‘You’re leaving me for two weeks?’
‘My staff will take care of you.’
‘I know they will but that isn’t what I meant. Will it not seem strange you leaving your new bride for a business trip?’
Thinking of herself as a bride was a joke in itself.
How was it possible to be a bride when your groom went out of his way to avoid you and ensured zero physical contact? Forget her thoughts that he might come to her; the distance he enforced had only grown.
‘Not for anyone who knows me,’ he answered with a shrug.
‘When do you leave?’
‘In an hour.’
He was so blasé that for the first time in her entire life, Catalina wanted to hit someone.
Not even throughout all the verbal and physical abuse she’d had
