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Jasmine rose.
‘I’m going to bed.’
Reyes glanced up from where he’d been in deep conversation with one of his advisors. Rising, too, he tucked her arm through his.
‘I’ll escort you.’
She shook her head. ‘You don’t need to—’
‘Sí, I do.’ The implacable dominance behind the words shut her up.
As they mounted the stairs her heart began to flutter.
Everything had gone at such a fast and furious pace, she hadn’t thought to the wedding night.
Liar.
She’d thought of nothing but the wedding night since she woke this morning, and terrified herself with different scenarios, most of which had ended with her going to bed alone.
Now, as she walked beside Reyes...her husband...she allowed herself to believe everything would be all right.
They reached their door and he raised her hand to his mouth, kissed the back of it. ‘I’ve arranged for two of the servants to help you with your gown. Sleep well, querida.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
One month later...
JASMINE WAS EXHAUSTED. Her feet ached and a headache throbbed behind her left ear. Relaxing in the air-conditioned car that was taking her back to the palace, she massaged her nape.
The four hours she’d been scheduled to teach her mediation class at Santo Sierra’s municipal college had stretched to six. Not because her students were dying to learn everything she could teach them about mediation.
No. She’d been delayed because her young students had been fascinated about what it was like to be Queen.
Hysteria rose in her chest. She’d been Crown Princess for a pathetically short time before the King’s sudden decline in health and subsequent death had propelled Reyes onto the throne and her into being Queen.
Beyond that, nothing had changed in her world. Jasmine had wanted to rip the rose-coloured glasses from her students’ eyes. Tell them to find and settle for unconditional love and nothing else.
They wouldn’t have believed her, though, even if she’d managed to utter the words. They all believed she’d captured the world’s most eligible man and brought him to his knees after a whirlwind romance. Just as she, Reyes and his councillors had planned in San Estrela what felt like a lifetime ago.
What they didn’t know was that she hadn’t seen her husband for two weeks and she hadn’t shared his bed since the night they’d spent at the wedding-cake house.
He’d spent the days leading up to his father’s death in a vigil by King Carlos’s bed with Isabella. Jasmine had berated herself for feeling left out.
Then, after the King’s passing, they’d had to deal with the arduous protocol of the coronation. Reyes had accepted his duties as King with gravity and pride, but the result had been an even greater distance between them as he’d dived headlong into securing economic ties he’d fought so hard for.
Jasmine understood the duties that being King demanded. And yet she couldn’t help but think her husband was using them as a perfect excuse to stay away from her.
She had woken up one night two weeks ago to find him in bed with her, his hand spread over her flat belly. Choking back tears, she’d placed her hand over his and gone back to sleep, her heart lifting with the hope that maybe they’d turned a corner.
She’d awakened hours later to an empty, cold half of the bed.
Jasmine hadn’t thought a heart could shatter into tinier pieces until that moment.
The limo turned onto the mile-long drive leading to the palace.
Unable to face the palace and her lonely suite, she pressed the intercom on the armrest that connected to the driver. ‘Can you take me round to the other house, please?’
Her driver glanced sharply at her. ‘But, Your Majesty, it’s Thursday today, not Friday.’
Jasmine nodded. ‘I know, Raul. Take me there anyway.’
‘Of course. As you wish, Your Majesty,’ he replied deferentially.
She’d started going to the small house every Friday and staying the night. If she’d had a choice, Jasmine would’ve moved into the adorable little house. But considering she needed an armed escort wherever she went, she couldn’t subject her guards to nightly patrols in the cold. So she’d restricted her visits to once a week. But this week, she might make it two nights...
Reyes was off hammering out the last terms of the new trade treaty, and Isabella had left for Milan this morning to consult over her autumn/winter wardrobe.
