Page 11 of Falling for the King

She glanced across the seat to find his gaze stuck to where she rubbed her thighs, getting some much-needed warmth flowing into her limbs. Her black dress and jacket were chosen for the expected temperature and were no match for the current one. Immediately she stopped, clasped her hands in her lap and watched the screen behind the driver and bodyguard glide up, enclosing the two of them in the back. Alone. For the first time that day. A shiver of something other than the cold raced down her spine.

‘I didn’t expect it to be this cold,’ she said feeling the need to fill the space with words. Automatically her fingers went to twist her rings, then stopped. She’d finally taken them off two weeks ago. Neither fact would be lost on Xavier as he tracked her movement. ‘Was it like this last time you were here?’ she continued in a rush.

‘It was summer, it was hot for the whole tour.’

‘I hope it doesn’t stay like this; those people were freezing. Although I don’t suppose waiting in the heat would be much better.’

She was babbling about the weather! Although anything was better than discussing what was really on her mind. The image of him remarrying. Which she hadn’t been able to shake from the moment Mrs Bessette had mentioned it. Of course he would get married again. He had to. She knew that, everybody did.

‘People fainted last time, it was during a heatwave, the air-conditioning couldn’t cope with the high temperatures … It was a tough tour.’

She turned to him. Never, in all the time she’d known him, had he called anything out as tough, hard or a challenge. He sat there in a dark suit matched with a pale blue shirt, gold cuff links and a navy tie that set off his olive skin. He wore no overcoat as if the weather didn’t impact him. And if at any time this afternoon he’d felt the icy tentacles of the wind, he hadn’t shown it. With the ominously dark sky as his backdrop, there was an edge to him. It compelled her to reach out and tell him he wasn’t alone, it would be okay, that she had his back.

A flash of lightning lit the sky quickly followed by a boom of thunder. She’d never been scared of storms and she wasn’t going to begin today, but there was something both unsettling and comforting sitting with the king as the heavens erupted around them. She gave herself a mental shake and refocused on what he’d said.

‘Tough because of the heat, or because of other things?’

He paused as the sound of rain that started with a torrent lashed against the car.

‘Both. It was my first tour as king, my father had neglected almost all of his duties and had never visited any of the regions. There was a lot of dissatisfaction. I wanted to visit as much of the country as I could. From that time on, I decided no tours during summer. I never wanted anyone fainting again.’

‘Dissatisfaction? Surely not at you?’ She couldn’t wrap her head around the country being displeased with Xavier. Ever. Even if his people didn’t agree with him, they respected his decisions. Him.

‘It was a difficult time. My father hadn’t been well. I took over as much as I could, but in hindsight I should’ve left university earlier, done more.’

‘You were barely out of your teens when he died and you can’t blame yourself for your father’s actions.’ She’d heard about the late king’s obsession with his wife, utter devastation when she’d left him for someone else and his subsequent heavy drinking. And how the responsibilities had landed with Xavier, far before he was of an age that he could be expected to manage such a load. And he’d done more than manage through sheer hard work.

‘No, only my own.’

‘No-one could fault yours.’ She grabbed his hand where it lay in between them, resting hers on top and squeezed to emphasise her point. Instead heat exploded into her and chased away all traces of the cold.

Slowly, she raised her eyes to his. Something passed between them more profound than words and vibrated stronger than the raging elements outside the car.

Her breath hitched.

‘Couldn’t they?’ He turned his hand over and locked his fingers with hers and she glanced down, needing to break eye contact. Fearing what she thought she saw in his, what he might see in hers—a woman terrified of the feelings he was evoking that no longer had any place in her life and she’d learned the hard way to distrust. Feelings she wasn’t sure truly existed until this very moment. Temptation pounded through her, so she focused on her nails glistening with the palest of pink polishes on fingers and a wrist free of any adornment. Engulfed in a much larger, darker hand it made hers seem far smaller than it was.

She looked up. ‘You always do the right thing,’ she said repeating the words of the elderly lady. Why? To remind him, or her?

For a split second he looked sad, weary, vulnerable. None of which she ever associated with the king. He never looked anything other than in optimal health and strong and dependable. He was someone that people, the country, leaned on. But at what cost? Who did he lean on?

The car swerved. Jolted forward then back, the seat belt pressing into her chest as she gave an involuntary squeal.

His grip turned vice like.

‘Katerina! Are you okay? Are you hurt?’ he demanded the moment the car stopped. Freeing his hand he tugged at his seat belt before releasing it and flinging it away. With surprising speed he twisted around and wedged himself against her.

‘I’m all right. Are you?’ she asked her voice breathless not only from the screeching halt of the car.

‘Did you hit your head?’ His gaze roamed over her before returning to her face with an unsettling intentness.

Confused she brought her fingers to her forehead and rubbed them across it. Was she bleeding and didn’t realise it?

No, she wasn’t.

His eyes darkened turning almost black contrasting his suddenly ashen pallor.

Finally his reaction registered.