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Pulling away, Asher grins down at me. Low, warm light from a nearby lamp hugs his face, making me want to touch his broad cheekbones and commit every feature to memory. A tremor passes through my chest, and it feels a lot like…like an emotion I’m too scared to name.
He brushes his lips to mine again, softly, then lets out a low groan. “I missed you, Pen. I don’t want to keep things professional between us.”
As my heart speeds up, I close my eyes and melt into his touch. “I missed you too,” I admit in a low whisper. It feels like a naughty confession. Like a secret that should be said in a hushed voice.
Who am I to miss a man? Why would I deserve to have someone like Asher—all muscle and manliness and sex? Didn’t I already lose my chance at love? Hasn’t my body betrayed me time and time again, and I’ve been resigned to a life of loneliness? Why would that change now?
“Let’s forget about the Roston mines,” he growls. “Just for this week. Show me the Arctic Ocean and the Summer Palace. Let me see the real you, Pen.”
A shiver courses through my body. This is almost forbidden. Not because of the mining contract or the sale of the land near Roston. Not because of the press, or what people would say if they found out about this…relationship. Is this a relationship?
It feels forbidden because I haven’t allowed myself to soften for anyone. Even with my brothers, I’ve maintained my frosty exterior. I’ve hidden myself away beneath a layer of ice, never letting any vulnerabilities show.
Now, Asher wants me. All of me. He wants to see what lies beneath…and I want to show him.
His hand skates up my spine, curling around the back of my neck. His other arm sweeps around my lower back, so I’m completely encased in his embrace. I inhale Asher’s scent, feeling more at home here than I do in my own castle. I feel more like myself than I do when I’m alone.
That can’t be wrong…Can it?
Over the past three weeks, I haven’t spoken to Asher at all, but he’s shown me what it means to feel supported by someone. Whenever he’s been challenged in the media about me or my government, he’s responded with grace and tact. Singlehandedly, he’s made the growing unrest in Nord quiet down and improved my reputation.
I owe him so much, but he’s asking for nothing. For the first time in years, I feel like I don’t have to face this life on my own.
We leave for the Summer Palace in the morning, taking the royal jet up to a private airstrip, then driving over to the newly renovated palace sitting on the edge of the Arctic Circle. Last summer, construction was completed on the castle. The design was created by none other than Wolfe’s new wife.
This is the first time since the opening ceremony that I’ve been to the Summer Palace. The first time since the birth of Wolfe’s child that I’ve made a visit to my brother and his bride. I’ve dreaded seeing their happiness. My heart has clenched at the thought of seeing their baby. The newspapers call him the heir to the throne—something that in my heart of hearts, I know is true. I know when I die, there won’t be a child of my own to pass my title to. Still, it feels like a slap in the face.
I haven’t had the guts to visit them because of my own ego, my own failures, my own malfunctioning body.
Now, though, as the royal vehicle drives through the intricate wrought iron gates and onto the meadow of wildflowers leading to the Summer Palace, a smile drifts over my lips. Asher’s hand is intertwined in mine, and I find myself leaning my head against his shoulder.
We haven’t said much to each other this morning. There’s a calm sort of energy between us. An excitement tinged with a feeling that this is right. This is where we’re supposed to be.
When we drive up to the palace, Asher lets out a low whistle. “This is nicer than my place in Roston. I can tell you that without even stepping a foot inside.” He cranes his neck to look up at the two tall turrets framing the building, the whole place gleaming with the newness of the renovation.
I smile, squeezing his hand. A thought pops into my head uninvited—this place could be his, if he wanted it. All of it. All of Nord. I’d give him the kingdom if he’d accept it—accept me. Gulping the thought down, I pull away from him as the footman opens my door. Whatever is happening between Asher and me, it’s not that serious. It’s…it’s a break. A break from responsibility, not something everlasting. I need to remember that.
My brother Wolfe is waiting for us at the top of the steps. Somehow, he looks even wilder and more regal than he did before. His new bride is beside him, smiling down at me from the top of the stairs. She drops into a curtsy, her coppery hair ruffled by the breeze.
Anxiety pierces my belly, wondering if maybe my brother would have made a better king. Wolfe’s dark curls frame his face as he nods. With eyes the color of warm honey, he stands at the door as if he belongs on a throne. Head thrown back, a huge dog at his feet and a beautiful woman by his side, he looks like more of a monarch than I ever did. The corners of his eyes crinkle when he sees me, his gaze shifting to the child hanging off his neck.
My heart takes off. Anxiety ratchets up inside me at the sight of the child, and I know it’s irrational. I know it’s misplaced. I shouldn’t be jealous of my brother’s son, but I can’t help but feel the ache of my own losses.
Then, a hand on my lower back. A calming presence by my side. Asher’s soft voice in my ear saying, “You’ve got this.”
Squaring my shoulders, I paint a smile on my face and walk up to Wolfe. “Hello, Wolfe. Rowan.”
Rowan nods, smiling. Wolfe shifts the babbling boy in his arms, who unhooks an arm to point at me.
Wolfe grins. “Wren missed you.”
“Wren doesn’t remember me.” I laugh.
The one-year-old blinks, laughing, moving his head from side to side as he knocks into Wolfe’s shoulder. The smile on my brother’s face is unlike anything I’ve seen from him before. It’s pure happiness. It’s love like I’ve never experienced. Love I’ll never get to experience.
It makes me feel cold.
Asher’s hand reappears on my back, and his touch melts my anxious thoughts. I clear my throat, glancing at my brother and his wife. “Wolfe, Rowan, this is Asher. We went to school together.”
