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“What?” I ask in a voice that is unfamiliar, even to me.
Did he want to be the one who undressed me? Or is he unhappy with what he sees? I look down to be sure nothing is amiss, and nearly lose my balance.
Einar catches me with steady hands, careful to only touch my arms and nothing else.
"Is something not to your liking?" The whiskey has made me bold and reckless.
"Just put your clothes back on." He clenches his jaw.
I narrow my eyes at him.Surely, he doesn’t mean it.That would be too much to hope for. And it makes no sense.
His frame towers over mine, and I can feel the heat emanating from him once again.Is that why he keeps the fires so low? Because he is his own source of furious, unyielding heat?
I fight down a shiver as my gaze moves from his piercing blue irises to his full, parted lips.
We stand there for a moment, and not even my rapid breaths dare to make a sound. He leans in, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from leaning right back into him, stealing some of his warmth for my own.
But he doesn’t tilt his head downward. Instead, he grabs one of the heavy gray furs piled atop the bed and dangles it next to me.
“If you were freezing earlier, you must be ice by now.” Not unlike his tone.
I stand there, puzzled, abruptly aware of how very exposed I am. Holding the fur in front of me, I back up to brace myself against the tall, plush mattress.
Is he turning me down?
I war with feelings of relief and something else I can’t quite figure out as I voice the question aloud.
"Isn’t this why you chose me?” If Madame’s alchemy hadn’t come into this, my beauty is the only reason anyone would have picked me from a sea of eligible ladies.
I had been called beautiful my entire life. My light brown skin and my wide, almond-shaped, honey-colored eyes were rare in these parts of the world.
Exotic.
I didn’t take any pleasure in it. That’s why Madame had taken me to be part of her macabre family. It’s why I was sousefulto her.
And I suspect that’s why the king chose me as well.
Of course, that would mean his features are all his, genetically.I try not to stare at his perfectly chiseled jaw and the unnaturally straight line of his aquiline nose.
He sizes me up with a glance that is almost cursory, crossing his colossal, muscled arms before giving me his answer.
“I didn’t choose you. My ambassador did.” He could be reading a shipping ledger for all the inflection in his voice.
No malice. No anger. Only a calm, collected, factual tone that has me steadily losing my grip on what’s real and what isn’t. Trying to gather my thoughts and utterly unsure why I’m staring this gift horse so directly in the mouth, I speak up again.
“Regardless of what either of us wants,” I begin, my voice going even colder than this stone floor. “Surely, we have to...consummate, at some point?”
I stop just short of saying “produce heirs,” though that’s really what I mean. It’s the main reason I was sent here.
His eye twitches infinitesimally, the first outward sign of emotion I’ve seen from him. I tuck it away for future me to think on, though I’m observing it through my swimming, inebriated vision.
“Tempting as it is to spend this evening — or any — in your delightful company, I’m certain I could find a more appealing prospect elsewhere.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to decide how to respond, but when I open them, he has vanished. There hadn’t been a creak or the clink of the door latch shutting. He was simply gone.
I’m left naked on my bed, confused and unsure, and worst of all, completely unable to escape the dawning horror that this is my life now, chasing after a man who clearly hates me for reasons I don’t begin to comprehend.
Andnotchasing him isn’t an option I have. Things stand to get much, much worse if I fail to produce an heir.
