Page 17 of Cross Me

Alexander glanced down, his eyes landing on the unmistakable bump, and a slight smile twitched across his lips.

“I think you’re bigger than this morning,” he said. There was no mistaking the love in those words. It soaked through me like a warm ray of sunshine. We were in this together. He finally took a seat, his hand stretching across the table in invitation. I took it without a thought.

Henry rounded the table and sat next to me. Edward sat next to his grandmother as planned. I felt safer having her surrounded by my husband and his brother. At least, it was safer for her.

“You two are very affectionate,” Mary noted, glaring at our entwined hands. “It isn’t dignified. No king holds his wife’s hand.”

Henry laughed, which earned him a sharp look from his mother. “You seem to forget how Albert and Elizabeta were when they were together.”

“How were they?” I asked before I could stop myself. I knew so little about Alexander’s parents and this was a surprise. Albert hadn’t been the affectionate type.

Henry leaned closer to me and lowered his voice. “I swear that I caught them shagging in the hallway.”

“That is quite enough!” Mary said. Her hand flew to her chest as though she was in danger of a heart attack.

One could hope.

I made a note to ask him about it another time. The conversation at dinner faded into small talk and safe conversations about a variety of parliamentary measures that Alexander had been briefed on today. We avoided anything that might inadvertently cause someone to lose their temper. It felt like walking on eggshells, and it was the most uncomfortable dinner we’d had in a long time, even worse than the time my parents had practically gotten divorced before the salad had been served.

It all changed over the dessert course.

“How long will you be staying in London?” Edward asked his grandmother.

It was a simple question. I’d asked Edward to wait until everyone had finished eating before he brought it up. There was a reason I had planted it amidst the conversation so carefully. I needed them to have this discussion now, even knowing it might devolve into a fight.

“We will be here through the end of the games.” Mary moved so the server could place a small plate of fruit in front of her. She looked at it and sighed with disappointment. “Fruit?”

“I sent along your dietary restrictions,” Henry told her reproachfully. He glanced over me and rolled his eyes. “Thank you for seeing to them. We appreciate it.”

I nodded. I wasn’t going to win over Mary with a plate of strawberries, but seeing to her health seemed to be a priority of Henry’s. He was the one I had a chance to impress, and I seized my opportunity.

“Who have we appointed to work on the games?” I asked my husband.

He abandoned his fork, his eyes narrowing and his mind translating my simple question. “That’s not our concern.”

“It was your father’s pride and joy,” Mary said coldly. She speared a strawberry violently and waved it on the end of her fork. “I would think you could muster a shred of respect for him after what he did for you.”

“If you mean dying for me, I haven’t forgotten.” The temperature in the room dropped another ten degrees at his words. This was spinning out of control, and I needed to take the reins.

“Of course we want to support Albert’s legacy,” I broke in, ignoring how every head at the table swiveled in surprise. Well, except for Edward’s. He was trying to hide a smirk. “That’s why I’m going to do it.”

“Do what?” Alexander and Mary asked at the same time. They were both staring at me as though I had grown a second head.

“Host the games,” I told them. This time, all of them went completely still. I hadn’t discussed this part of the plan with anyone, not even Edward.

It was time I stopped allowing all of them to criticize and control me, which meant taking charge. I waited a second to make certain they were paying attention. No one could leave here with any doubt of my intentions. “I will be the host. After all, it is the Sovereign Games, and I’m the queen.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Clara

We made it back to the bedroom before the argument began. I kicked off my heels as soon as I was through the door. Taking off my earrings, I flinched as Alexander slammed the door closed behind us. I’d expected this. I’d mentally prepared as best I could. Now I had to face him, it was hard not to have second thoughts. Alexander’s hands grabbed my shoulders and spun me around. His lips crashed into mine, his strong body backing me toward the wall. His kiss was rough and hungry, but, more than that, punishing. I gasped as his teeth nipped at my lower lip. His hands were everywhere, shoving up my skirt, gripping my ass, tangling in my hair.

“I thought you were mad at me,” I said, barely containing a whimper as his hand delved past the neckline of my wrap dress. He caught my nipple with his thumb and forefinger and began kneading it roughly.

“I’m not mad, Poppet, I’m furious.”

“Then why—”