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With a grunt, she grabbed her cloth and swiped it over the bottom of the canvas, smearing the ocean she’d painted only the day before so it looked like a murky swamp, then dropping her head into her hands.
She was tired, that was all. She wasn’t sleeping well.
Her stomach rolled as her mind immediately supplied the answer as to why that was.
Matthias.
Her fingers dug into her hair, pulling it loose from the braid, and she made a guttural, groaning sound of impatience. For God’s sake, as if it wasn’t bad enough that her dreams were tormented by memories of her husband; now he was invading her waking world?
She’d tried so hard to banish him from her thoughts.
But every time she thought she’d done it—gone an hour or two without her mind wandering to damned Matthias—he was there, his handsome face in full Technicolor in her mind’s eye.
With another sound of impatience, she pulled her hands away from her face and stared at the painting, then grabbed her paintbrush, dipped it in the red oil paint and lifted it, striking a single angry line through the painting’s middle.
Maybe her gift was now destroying art, rather than creating it?
She lifted her hand to mark the canvas again.
‘Stop.’
His voice held her still instantly and she spun around, her eyes finding his in the doorframe. He was watching her with a stillness that made her heart do the exact opposite—it was pounding hard and fast inside her, so fast it made her knees shake. She hadn’t seen him since their wedding; she had no time to prepare for seeing him now.
‘Stop,’ he said again, and she realised she was still holding the paintbrush in her fingertips like a sword, with blood at its tip. She dropped her gaze to it, her heart pounding, her mind racing. She sucked in a breath and looked at him once more, her expression giving little away.
‘I wasn’t aware you were coming to the palace,’ she said, the words slightly stilted. ‘I presume you’ve come to see Leo. He’s asleep. But he’ll be...’
Matthias began to walk into the room and she held her breath then, watching him as he came right in front of her and slowly took the brush from her hand.
‘Stop,’ he said quietly, for the third time, his eyes roaming her face, his features symmetrical, both familiar and unfamiliar to her. He stood so
close she could feel warmth emanating from his powerful, broad frame, so close she could lean forward and touch him, so close she could inhale his intoxicating scent.
So close.
She shook her head slightly, taking a step backwards, and his hand shot out, steadying her before she could connect with the still-wet canvas.
His touch on her skin was like a thousand volts of electricity; it ripped through her and she clamped her mouth together to stop from letting out a groan.
Because she’d dreamed of his touch; she’d craved it to the point of insanity and despair. ‘Don’t,’ she whispered, pulling away from him, turning her back on him and staring at the wasteland of the painting.
He was no longer touching her, but her arm felt warm where his fingers had connected with her. She swallowed in an attempt to bring moisture back to her mouth.
‘Leo will be awake soon, if you want to wait in the lounge.’ The words were brittle, like a porous old seashell left out in the sun.
‘I came to see you.’
Her eyes swept shut at the declaration and she braced for whatever was going to come next. She had wondered how long she would be allowed to hide out like this, before being asked to return to some kind of normality, to the royal duties that accompanied her role. Only she’d expected it would be a lowly servant who would summon her back to the palace, back to her King’s side.
She hadn’t expected it to be Matthias.
She wasn’t prepared for this.
‘Why?’ A hollow whisper.
He didn’t speak. He said nothing and for so long that eventually she turned to face him, and now a spark of anger was igniting inside her. ‘Why?’ Louder. More demanding.
Because he’d invaded her sanctuary, and without any warning; he hadn’t given her any chance to raise her defences and it wasn’t fair.
