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“Frank?” Eleanor called after him. Didn’t he have anything he wanted to say? Hadn’t what they’d shared meant anything to him? The look in his eyes had made her certain that he felt the same pull that she felt. How could she have been so mistaken?
“I have a job to do,” he said, glancing over his shoulder “It was nice meeting you.”
That was it? Nice meeting you?
That was all he had to say?
“The pleasure was all mine,” Eleanor said with a tight smile, managing to keep it together until the door closed behind him. She listened as the men loaded into the elevator and all too quickly, the parlor was as silent as a Sunday morning.
He was gone. Just like that.
Eleanor felt her face crumple, but struggled to keep from losing it. She hadn’t cried either of the two times she’d had a gun held on her tonight; she wasn’t going to cry a second time over Big Baldy. So he had made her feel more alive than she had in years, and more treasured than she had even in the arms of her first husband.
But those feelings had been nothing but the product of deception. Frank was a man looking to entertain himself, nothing more.
“No. He listened, he really did,” Eleanor murmured, refusing to believe she’d been that mistaken.
He’d told her about his son, worried about her safety, and looked at her as if she were the most sexy, desirable woman in the world. Surely she hadn’t imagined all that.
But whether she had imagined it or not, he was gone now, and she was alone.
Frank had left, taking with him one regulation slave loincloth and a piece of her heart.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Three days later…
Eleanor
Eleanor sighed and shifted uncomfortably on the throne-like chair that dominated the corner of her new sitting room. The space was easily twice the size of her old house, and only part of the large castle suite she now occupied. Every amenity was provided, and she had wanted for nothing since her arrival—from food to entertainment to a full-body rubdown from the royal masseuse.
The digs and service were fantastic, but Eleanor would have preferred to be back in her own home.
It had been two years since she’d had the luxury of puttering about her house in the daytime. She’d had to sleep through the morning and early afternoon to be rested for her nightly Wicked Stepmothering. Now that all of that was behind her, she couldn’t imagine anything more fabulous than hanging out in her breakfast nook with a cup of coffee and the morning paper and watching the sunlight move across the wall.
Instead, she was here, a pampered captive in the guest quarters of the castle while the media frenzied around her house and former place of business. She’d had no choice but to accept Cindy’s kind offer of accommodation for her own protection. The sensation caused by the revelation that King Robert had been in love with his stepmother-in-law and planned to keep her captive as his sex slave was more than the average reporter could handle and still keep their manners about them.
Eleanor had nearly been trampled on her way from her front door to the car Cindy had sent to take her to the castle. She hadn’t ventured out since, and was beginning to feel the opposite of agoraphobic—whatever that was called.
But it wasn’t all bad. Cindy had been remarkably sweet the past few days, since Parliament had decided to allow her to remain on as ruler until her son or daughter was old enough to rule. Come to find out, Cindy was already four months pregnant, a condition that had no doubt contributed to her despair at finding out her husband was an insane lech. It had also contributed to Parliament’s decision to be lenient with her stepdaughter, so Eleanor figured the situation evened itself out rather well.
Impending motherhood had also increased Cindy’s empathy for Eleanor’s position. They’d had several long, mother-daughter-type talks and come to a tentative reconciliation. Cindy had apologized for her horrible behavior, and Eleanor had finally convinced Cindy that marrying her father hadn’t been Eleanor’s cunning way of ruining Cindy’s twelve-year-old life.
For her part, the new queen seemed eager to make up for the years of hostility between them. Eleanor was open to being friends, but would rather have begun their new relationship from the safety of her own home. No matter how well behaved, Cindy was still Cindy, and there was only so much Eleanor could take before her stepdaughter started to try her patience.
All she could hope for was that the craziness would fade soon, and she’d be able to return to some semblance of a normal life. Not that she would know what that was at this point. It had been years since Eleanor’s life had felt normal. It was kind of scary to think of what she would do with herself now that her name had been cleared and a generous sum paid to her by her stepdaughter in restitution for the king’s attempted kidnapping.
She was finally a free woman. Now, she had to figure out what to do with that freedom.
A sudden knock on the door gave her at least one idea—breakfast. A woman had to eat, and the castle chefs did their best to tempt her appetite.
“Come in,” she called, fighting the urge to spring from her chair and open the door. The castle staff didn’t like her opening doors or in any way facilitating their work. They weren’t used to the people they served lifting a finger and it made them nervous.
“Come in!” Eleanor called a bit more loudly. She kept forgetting how thick and solid the castle walls were.
“Hello?” A deep male voice sounded from the other side of the door.
Speaking of solid…
