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“They eat sweetness for breakfast,” Griffin agreed, trying to shift to make himself comfortable. But she was still sitting there before him, looking every inch the Princess, and he was undone. And uncomfortable. “And regurgitate it as a scandal whenever possible.”
“Then I already have a leg up,” she said, almost merrily. “As, being your foremost work of charity, I’m already scandalous.”
There was nothing specifically untrue about that statement. There were many reasons that Melody was the right choice for him, forcing him to keep the promises he’d made to his brother in more ways than one. Married, settled, scandal-free and bonus, yes, his choice of the hidden Skyros sister had instantly made him seem far better than he was.
There was absolutely no reason that should sit on him, a heavy weight he couldn’t seem to dislodge.
“What you are,” he said, with more temper than should have been involved, surely, “is my wife. A royal princess. Should anyone treat you as something less than that, whether or not your tone is something less than polite will be the least of their concerns.”
Melody smiled and this time, sadly, without that wickedness. “Can you imagine? A royal prince charges forth to defend his wife from passive aggressive comments... I can see the papers now. It would cause a terrible ruckus and neither one of us would look good at the end of it, would we?”
He considered her for a moment, realizing that this was yet another version of his wife. Every time he saw her, it was as if she was someone else.
If he was any kind of a man, that should probably not excite him as much as it did.
But he found her fascinating.
“I did not marry you to force you into society battles,” he said, because though she sat there looking as if she was perfectly happy to let the silence between them drag on forever, he found he was not. “There are no winners. Only Pyrrhic victories if you’re very lucky. And everyone walks away stained.”
“Are you stained, then?”
Griffin was glad she couldn’t see the bitter twist to his lips. “Unto my soul.”
Melody inclined her head. “That sounds unpleasant. You must know that there are solutions to that problem.”
“Are there indeed?” He could think of several things that would feel like solutions. To him, anyway. “And what would you know of stains—or society, for that matter?”
“Only that it is the women who bear the brunt of both,” she corrected him softly. “Men are allowed to be stained, aren’t they? It gives them a certain appeal. Women, by contrast, must make certain they are spotless and beyond reproach. Or appear so.”
She sounded as if she was parroting a hymnal. “We are not so medieval in Idylla these days, Melody.”
“Perhaps you are not, Your Royal Highness,” she retorted. And once again, he was sure there was more to her than manners and innocence. It was that flash of something like temper. It was the hint ofmore—but no. He merely wanted her, that was all. He needed to get used to that novelty. “You can act as you please. And do. Had I been in any doubt on that score, a number of your admirers came here today for the express purpose of letting me know exactly how many stains your soul bears. But naturally I cannot behave in a similar manner.”
“Because you are a married woman, Melody.” He told himself that wasn’t temper that worked its way over him. Through him. Griffin did not lose his temper—ever, and certainly not around women. “My wife, in case you forgot.”
“I didn’t forget.” Her expression was polite. Mild, even. And if he wasn’t mistaken, faintly amused. He had no idea what to do with that. Or with her. “I was only making a point.”
She turned her head away from him then, and he had the odd sensation that he was watching her...change. Especially when she seemed to cower where she sat.
“I only hoped to...not embarrass you,” she said in a wispy voice. “I’m sorry if I failed. My father could have told you that was inevitable.”
Griffin told himself he should feel nothing but the urge to protect her. From the world. From her odious father. From himself.
But instead, what he wanted most was to touch her. To feel her beneath his hands. To see the truth of her the way she’d seen him—because he couldn’t quite believe what he saw before him. He couldn’t make sense of it. Of her.
If she was as frail and beset as she looked just now, how could she possibly have fended off the fangs of so many society women?
You only wish she was secretly strong and capable,a voice in him chided.So you could stop pretending to be good.
He cleared his throat. “I regret that you were put through that. I apologize if you found it an ordeal.”
“You have a past. I understand that.” She turned her face back toward him. “Should we pretend that you do not?”
He had been about to say something similar. And found he didn’t like it much when it came out of her mouth.
“I would prefer that you not be confronted with anything you find unpleasant,” he managed to say.
“Goodness. I didn’t realize that was on offer.” Again, she smiled, and he began to understand how she’d held her own today. “I rather thought that this was a life we were going to have to lead, together. For who among us lives a life devoid of unpleasantness? Even in a palace?”
