Page 3 of Wicked Queen

Maybe Norris couldn’t bring himself to say it, but I knew what he was driving at. “You mean fucking? We fuck too much.”

“That you see that as a form of communication proves my point. You need to talk more.”

“Well, she won’t talk to me or fuck me,” I exploded.

“You should clean yourself up.” Norris directed his attention to the window, not rising to my bait. “You don’t have long before your day starts.”

I got the impression I was on his shit list, too.

The household was beginning to wake as I made my way upstairs to our family’s private rooms. Everyone was avoiding me. Housekeepers backed into walls, dipping into low curtsies and averting their eyes as I passed with a nod, but I felt their gaze on me as soon as my back was to them. Norris was right, something was going to have to change. There was no pretending that nothing was wrong. The air felt too heavy, the whole palace seemed to be weighed down by the trouble lingering between me and Clara.

I stopped at the door to my bedroom, wondering if this would be one of the lucky times that she was here. She seemed to have guessed my schedule and managed to skirt me most mornings. Norris would have realized that as well. Now I knew why he’d been late this morning. He was determined to force us together. I opened the door and found our bed perfectly made. Either the maids had already been here or no one had slept in this room. It was wishful thinking to even consider that there were two possibilities. I knew in my heart that Clara hadn’t slept there. I started to step inside, but my feet didn’t seem to work. I couldn’t stand it – being here near our empty bed. Instead, I turned and crept into the room across the hall.

Muted sunlight filled the nursery and fell over a rocking chair in the corner. Elizabeth was sprawled across her mother’s chest, angled to allow for Clara’s growing belly. My breath hitched at the site of my wife and child. Clara was beautiful in her sleep, her face glowing in the early-morning light. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head and her nightgown had slipped from her creamy shoulder. I thought of the freckles there and how much I wanted to press my lips to her pale skin. But the dark circles under her eyes drew my attention to a bigger problem. Had she been here all night?

I crossed the room quietly and lifted Elizabeth from her mother’s arms. Both of them startled but neither woke.

Gently rocking my little girl, I carried her to her crib and lowered her cautiously. Slipping my hands out from under her, I breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t wake up.

For a minute, I stayed there and studied her sleeping form. She had no idea the trouble between her mother and me. All she knew was love. I would never allow her to know anything else. Whatever problems Clara and I faced had to be dealt with sooner rather than later. I wouldn’t allow our children to suffer parents who were always fighting.

When I finally turned, Clara was watching me through hooded eyes. Silence stretched between us. This couldn’t be our new normal. Nothing to say to one another. Avoiding each other at every turn. Had I broken things past the point of repair? And how the fuck was I going to fix this?

She sat up and her nightgown shifted farther from her shoulder, dipping low enough to reveal the swell of her breast. I locked my knees, forcing myself not to go to her and rip the rest of the flimsy excuse for clothing off her. Clara shoved it up quickly as though reading my thoughts. I bit back a smile.

But there wasn’t even a glint of amusement in her face. When she spoke, her voice was cold. “She’s teething.”

“Why didn’t you find me?” I asked, keeping my voice low so I wouldn’t wake the sleeping baby. “She’s not your sole responsibility.”

Clara’s eyes flashed and I realized I’d said something wrong. Again. “You weren’t in our bedroom. I didn’t know where you were.”

It was a lie. She hadn’t checked our bedroom and she’d known exactly where I was. I wasn’t about to challenge her, though. Her lie was innocent and carved from anger over my own lies—lies that might have finally destroyed us.

“You have more important things to worry about.” I didn’t miss the sharp edge her tone had taken, but before I could respond she stood, stumbling a little as she yawned widely.

I knew what I had to do whether she liked it or not. I went to her, lifting her in my arms before she could process what was happening. Clara didn’t fight me as I carried her across the hall to our bedroom. Her arm looped around my neck as though she might fall—as if I would let her—and I could swear I felt her fingers trail softly down the back of my neck. No doubt that was wishful thinking again.

I brought her to the bed, wondering how far she would allow me to go. But she needed to rest and I needed to give her time to find her way back to me, even if it killed me to lower her onto the bed alone. I yanked the bed coverings down, drinking in her perfect body as she wiggled under the sheets.

Without thinking, I cupped her face, running my thumb along the curve of her cheekbone. I didn’t dare kiss her and it was taking every ounce of restraint that I had to keep the rest of my body to myself. My thumb strayed to her full lips, tracing them and remembering her taste. I missed her. I needed her. I had to find a way to tell her that.

Her lips parted slightly and a sigh escaped before she moved her face away from my hand. I reached for her again, unsatisfied. She belonged to me and if she’d only remember that, we would find a way to make it through this.

“Don’t,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep even though her eyes clenched shut a bit too tightly.

I yanked my hand back like she’d bitten me. I couldn’t blame her for saying no, but this time, unlike so many others, she meant it fully. There was no room for another interpretation, and as if to prove it, she rolled to her side, turning her back to me, before curling into a ball. Part of me wanted to climb into bed with her, take her into my arms, and force her to talk to me. Most of me wanted to climb into bed and take what was mine. I doubted she would stop me, but I couldn’t brush away the finality of her tone. Reaching down, I drew a blanket over her, allowing my fingers to brush over her shoulder softly before walking away.

She was back in my bed, but there was a wall around her—invisible but felt. She'd built it between us. I couldn't blame her. A good man would bring it down brick by brick. I found myself looking for dynamite.

Chapter 3

Clara

As soon as the nurse closed the door behind us, Belle turned her patented best friend glare on me. It went well with her crimson lipstick.

“Fess up. What is going on with you and Alexander?” she demanded.

I shrugged, painfully aware that she wasn’t going to buy any excuse I gave for his absence. She didn’t know about what had happened. No one did. I hadn’t even told Georgia what was waiting for me behind that closed door and she hadn’t asked. Because she understood sometimes a girl needed time to process having the rug pulled out from under her. That wasn’t a trait that Belle shared.