Page 2 of For the King


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I nodded even though I wasn’t an alcohol drinker, and that one glass would probably make me lightheaded. But to be honest I needed a little bit of liquid courage to get through whatever this was about.

Once he had my glass filled he walked over and handed it to me. “Thank you, Your Highness,” I said as I took the glass, my fingers brushing against his much larger ones. Electricity shot up my arm and right to my core. I held in the shiver that threatened to escape. He stood only a foot from me, and as he drank his scotch he stared at me.

I had to crane my neck back in order to look into his face, this man so tall and strong I felt wholly feminine in his presence. I brought the glass to my mouth and tipped it back, the liquid burning as it traveled down my throat. Sputtering as I took another drink, I could see the smirk he gave me behind his glasses.

I wanted to just come out and ask him why I was here, but I didn’t dare overstep the bounds. I was a mere commoner, which made this whole situation even more confusing.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve asked for an audience with you, Willow?”

He knew my name? I was shocked to hear that, given the fact there were many people that lived in our village. I was one amongst many. But he knew me?

I nodded, not able to actually say anything. I watched him, wondering what he would say next, nervous how things would play out.

“I’ve seen you at your flower shop, watched you smile as you hand customers their floral arrangements.”

He saw me, watched me?

“For a year I came to see you daily, even if you had no knowledge that your king couldn’t take his eyes off of you.” Oh, God. Was this reality? “For that year I had my self-control in check, knew restraint was what I needed. But the reality was I wanted to throw you over my shoulder and carry you to my bed, tell you with my mouth, tongue, and hands that you would be mine no matter what.”

I grew wet instantly, all nervousness vanishing as my desire climbed higher. “You want me as what?” I didn’t know if this was stepping over lines or disrespectful, but I had to know. “You want me as what, a consort?”

He didn’t speak for long seconds. But his gaze was intense, trained right on me. “My proposition is this,” he said and took a step closer to me. For a moment he said nothing else, just stared at me, his gaze dipping to my lips on several instances. “I want you as my wife, to be the mother of the next in line for the throne.” His face softened and it was such a strange thing to see. I’d always seen King Victor with this stern, intense expression, one that surely scared the hell out of anyone who thought to go up against him.

“I…” The lone word spilled from me but nothing else followed.

“Your mother is sick,” he said matter-of-factly but I could hear genuine care in his voice. It was a strange combination, especially coming from him to a commoner like myself. “I want to bring her to the palace, want my personal physician to start looking after her.”

I didn’t know what to say. His offer was worth more than he’d probably ever know.

“And this is contingent on if I marry you?” I wasn’t a fool.

He didn’t speak for long moments. “No. If you say no to the marriage proposal your mother will still be looked after by the royal physician.” My heart was thundering behind my ribs. He took a step closer and I held my breath.

“But make no mistake that if you decline my offer I’ll only try harder to make you mine.”

I knew my eyes were big, felt them widen at his declaration.

“There’s no one else I’d rather have by my side.”

“I’m a commoner.”

“You’re perfection.”

Could he see how fast I was breathing? Did he realize what his words did to me?

“Marriage, Willow. I offer you the throne by my side, to be the mother of my children.” His voice got lower, deeper. His gaze dropped down to my lips and I couldn’t help but lick them, an involuntary act.

Everything in me went still. I swore even my heart stopped beating. I had no idea what to say, how to respond. “I’m nobody. You have dozens of aristocratic women to choose from.” My throat was so dry, and the lump lodged in the center of it refused to go down.

He grew very serious. “None of them hold a candle to you, Willow.”

I felt my eyes widen, knew I probably looked shocked. But hell, I was. King Victor wanted me? As his wife? As the mother of his children?

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