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There were too many scores he needed to settle to lose himself this time.
He took his place at the head of the table, waved his staff away, and waited. The table nearly groaned under the weight of the so-calledlight supperthe kitchen had prepared to honor his return. Ilonia delicacies, mixed liberally with the usual Portuguese and Spanish influences. Yet he did not help himself. He continued to wait as Madelyn glared down at her plate, glared at the platters before her, and then, at last, glared at him.
“Was I bad in bed?” he asked idly. “Is that why you are so opposed to this union?”
And then he watched, delighted, as Madelyn...turned pink.
It was a creeping sort of pink, one that clearly came with heat. It rolled over her cheeks, down her neck, and then disappeared into the bodice of her dress. It made him highly interested in discovering exactly how far the tendrils of that pink heat reached.
If memory served, and he knew it served him far too well and too often, he could trace it all the way down to that sweet furrow between her legs.
She stared back at him, looking nothing short of mortified.
Paris Apollo felt his mouth curve as he helped himself to a fragrant heap of the roast pork stew that had always been his favorite, simmered for days in a spicy tomato mixture with a hint of cloves. “Not bad in bed, then, I gather. I am so relieved.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re focused on sex,” she said, angrily taking a seat at last, then glaring down at her empty plate. “As if such nonsense could possibly matter. We’re not talking about a roll in the sheets, Paris Apollo. We’re talking about a marriage. And I understand that marriage doesn’t mean much to you. Maybe it’s all dynasties and bloodlines and whatever else it is kings concern themselves with.”
“No, that’s it. There’s certainly no governing or anything of that nature. That would be so boring.”
She sniffed, still glaring and, sadly, much less pink. “The very idea of ruling anything once had you collapsing in laughter on the floor. Yet here we are. Do you really want me to believe that the most reckless, careless man I’ve ever met is suddenly deeply concerned with the legitimacy of a child? Because I don’t believe it. I don’t believe you care. And I know you don’t care about me.” She lifted her gaze then and when it settled on him, it made him feel something he couldn’t understand at all. Small. When he had done nothing to earn that, save love her far too much and to his shame. “You never did. Why on earth would I shackle myself legally to that kind of misery?”
She still would not put food on her plate, so he did it for her. And if busying himself with the serving was a way to avoid addressing what she’d just said to him, well.
He was only a man, after all. As human as the rest.
Even though she looked at him as if his serving her the island’s traditional food was a trick.
“Once again,” he said when he sat back and shrugged as if he could not quite bring himself to care, “the dies are all cast.
“Then uncast them,” she snapped. “Aren’t you supposed to be the King here?”
Paris Apollo didn’t respond to that. Because it was becoming clear that there was only one possible way to respond to this woman, and tonight was too soon to take things to that level. He had everything planned out. Every last thing that would lead him where he wanted to go, and he had stayed up all of last night factoring Madelyn Jones and her unexpected child into the equation.
Hisunexpected child.
He had decided that it could only benefit him to have an heir. Once he presented Troy to the kingdom, he would in many ways already have won the battle that loomed before him. His cousin Konos would lose a great many of his pet arguments then and there. Because it was easy to come up with reasons to discount Paris Apollo, the libertine or Paris Apollo, the tabloid staple. Paris Apollo, forever drowning in a particular kind of sin and scandal.
His cousin had made a cottage industry of whispering into this ear and that about how unlikely it was that the Paris Apollo everyone knew could ever step up to his responsibilities.
But the existence of a five-year-old heir and a queen to go with him was afait accompli,and Paris Apollo knew it. The hint of scandal would surprise no one, but the end result would benefit him all the same.
Because he had gone up to the Hermitage a liability and come down settled and ready to rule. There was no way his treacherous cousin could have predicted such an outcome. Paris Apollo could not have predicted it himself.
He did not need Madelyn to be enthusiastic about her new role. This was Ilonia. He didn’t even require her consent to marry her. All it required was his will.
But he did not think it necessary to clue her in to the finer points of Ilonian law.
Not yet.
He merely sat as the air turned soft around them. The pink in the sky was not unlike the heat that had suffused her skin, inching its way toward the horizon.
“This is ridiculous,” Madelyn said crossly. “You truly expect me to sit here and share a meal with you? I thought it was above and beyond the call of duty to fly across the planet and inform you that you had a son. At no point did I ever indicate that I wanted to marry you.”
“I have traveled quite a bit of the world and never found any bread I liked as much as Ilonian bread.” Paris Apollo tried to sound helpful. He even smiled. “No need to take my word for it. There’s some on your plate.”
She shook her head, bristling again. “You don’t even take this seriously. It’s all one act or another.”
He picked up his wineglass. “Is there acting? I do like a show.”
