morning.’ Alyse stared at him, her face white. Then she rallied, a spark of challenge firing her eyes so Leo felt a reluctant surge of admiration for her spirit. ‘So we had a honeymoon of all of two days. How do you think the public—the press—will react to that?’
‘It’s up to us, isn’t it? If we return to Averne with faces like a wet weekend then, yes, they might suspect something. But if we smile and present a united front—royal duty must come first, after all—then I don’t think we should have a problem.’ He raised his eyebrows and smiled coolly. ‘I trust that after six years your acting ability is up to the challenge.’
‘And what about our scheduled visits to London? Paris? Rome?’
‘We can fly from Maldinia. They’re not until next week.’
Alyse just shook her head. ‘Why do you want to return to Maldinia?’ she asked quietly.
‘Because I’d like to get our marriage on its proper footing,’ Leo answered, his voice coming out in something close to a snap. He strove to level it. ‘And that doesn’t involve romping around on the beach or playing at being friends on a boat.’
Alyse gazed at him thoughtfully and it took all of his effort not to avert his gaze, to hide from it. ‘You’re scared,’ she finally said, and Leo let out an abrupt, incredulous laugh.
‘Scared? Of what?’
‘Of me—of what was happening between us. Intimacy.’
‘Please.’ He held up one hand. ‘Spare me your fanciful notions. I had enough of them last night, when you tried to convince me you loved me.’
‘I thought I loved you.’
‘You’ve since been disabused of the notion? How convenient.’ He felt a flash of hurt and suppressed it. ‘I’ll go tell the staff to come fetch our bags.’ And without a backward glance he stalked out of the hut.
ALYSE SAT ON the jet across from Leo. In the seven hours since they’d left St Cristos he hadn’t spoken to her once. They’d flown overnight, sleeping in separate beds, and now it was morning with the sky hard and bright around them, and cups of coffee, a platter of croissants and fresh fruit set on the coffee table between them.
Leo was scanning some papers, his expression calm and so very collected, while she felt as if she’d swallowed a stone, her insides heavy and leaden, her eyes gritty with exhaustion, both emotional and physical.
They hadn’t spoken since that awful exchange in their hut, when Leo had told her they were returning to Maldinia. She had no illusions about what would happen there; in a huge palace, with all of his royal duty beckoning, he would find it entirely easy to ignore her. They would see each other only for royal functions and occasions, and live separate lives the rest of the time.
Just like their engagement.
She swallowed, a hot lump of misery lodging in her throat. She couldn’t go back to that. She couldn’t live like that, not in Averne, where she wouldn’t even have the comfort of her studies and her own circle of friends to bolster her, the way she’d had in Durham—a little bit, at least.
She supposed, like Leo, she could focus on her royal duty. She had a service to perform as a princess of Maldinia, a duty to the country’s people, and she’d enjoyed and looked forward to that aspect of her royal life. Yet the thought of making it her entire purpose depressed her beyond measure.
She wanted more.
You’ve always wanted more. You gambled on this engagement, this marriage, in the hope of more—and now it looks like you’ll never have it.
She felt a hot rush behind her lids and blinked hard. She would not cry. There had to be some way to salvage this, some way to reach Leo again, to make him understand and open up to her once more. But how?
Closing her eyes, she pictured his unyielding face, the grim set of his mouth and eyes as he’d spoken to her that morning. He’d seemed colder than he ever had before, almost as if he hated her.
How had it all gone so disastrously wrong so quickly? They’d been making steps—baby steps, true, but still progress: drawing closer to each other, enjoying each other’s company. And then in one terrible moment everything had splintered apart. Everything had become worse than before because, instead of being merely indifferent to her, Leo was now angry.
Emotional.
Alyse stilled, realisation and hope trickling slowly, faintly through her. Why would Leo be so angry, so emotional, unless...?
Unless he cared?
Thoughts tumbled through her mind, a kaleidoscope of emotions and hopes. Maybe he’d enjoyed their brief time together more than he wanted to admit. Perhaps he was angry because he’d been hurt—and of course he wouldn’t like that. He’d hate it.
Knowing Leo—and she was knowing him more and more every day—he’d fight against feeling anything for her. She didn’t understand exactly why he resisted emotion and denied love so vehemently, but she knew there had to be a deep-seated reason, something most likely to do with his family and upbringing. And, when things got sticky, difficult and painful, of course he would revert back to his cold, haughty self. His protective persona, his only armour.
So how could she slip underneath it, touch the heart hidden beneath? How could she breach his defences, crack open his shell?
Sighing, Alyse opened her eyes and stared at the man across from her, his focus still solely on the papers in front of him.
‘Leo,’ she said, and reluctantly he lifted his gaze from the papers, his expression chillingly remote.
‘Yes?’
‘Are you really going to ignore me for the rest of this flight? For our entire lives?’
His mouth tightened and his gaze swept over her in unflinching assessment. ‘Not ignore, precisely,’ he answered coolly. ‘I don’t, for example, intend to ignore you tonight.’
Shock blazed through her, white-hot. ‘Are you saying,’ she asked in a low voice, ‘that you intend to—to consummate our marriage tonight?’
Leo’s expression didn’t change at all. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’
Alyse licked her dry lips. Even now she could not keep a tide of longing from washing over her. She still wanted him, cold and angry as he was. She would always want him. ‘Even though you can barely summon the will to speak to me?’ she observed and he arched an eyebrow.
‘Speaking won’t be involved.’
She flinched. ‘Don’t be crass. No matter how cold this business arrangement is, we both deserve more than that.’
An emotion—she couldn’t quite tell what—flickered across his face and he glanced away. ‘As long as you realise that’s exactly what this is,’ he answered. ‘A business arrangement.’
‘Trust me,’
