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His thumbs rubbed gently over the back of her hands, causing a cascade of sparks to echo through her and making her breath catch. ‘Oh, yes, you’ve really dragged me kicking and screaming into a proposal.’ His rich voice was warm with a very real amusement. ‘Let it be known that I, a very powerful and important king, was forced into marrying my pregnant PA.’
She glanced at him, wanting to pull her hands away from his addictive touch and yet not finding the will to do so. ‘Don’t joke about this, sir.’
‘Sir,’ he echoed, his voice dropping into the deep, velvety purr she so loved. ‘Really, Freddie, what did I say about that? My name is Augustine.’ There were such fascinating sparks in his eyes as he looked at her. ‘Say it.’
Her mouth dried, her heartbeat getting louder and louder. He was so sexy, and she was so weak when it came to him. Yet she never let herself say his name. It was a luxury she couldn’t afford.
You said it just before.
Yes, when he was giving her the most intense pleasure. It was a slip and she couldn’t do it again.
‘I...can’t,’ she managed.
‘Of course you can. I can hardly have you sayingI, Freddie, take you, sirduring the ceremony, can I?’
He was being so nice to her, so warm. And it wasn’t fake. But she didn’t deserve this treatment. She didn’t deserve his kindness.
‘Winifred,’ she said coldly, pulling her hands from his. ‘My name is Winifred.’
It wasn’t of course. But she could never think of herself any other way now.
The warmth died out of his expression and she hated herself for rebuffing his efforts, but she had to distance him somehow. She couldn’t let him in, not emotionally. Not even a little.
He didn’t reach for her hands again, yet he didn’t look away either. ‘Winifred,’ he repeated, lingering over the consonants in a way that made the name she’d chosen for herself sound unbearably sexy. ‘Your turn.’
Damn him. He wasn’t going to let her put that distance between them, was he? She knew that look on his face. She’d challenged him and he never let a challenge go. Which meant she’d have to give him something otherwise she’d never get out of here.
She steeled herself. ‘Augustine,’ she said, hating how much she liked saying it and how badly she wanted to say it again.
Those sparks in his eyes leapt. ‘There. That wasn’t so hard was it?’
That attraction was starting to build between them again, the electricity that should have been released seeming to spark again without the slightest provocation.
She had to get out of here. Get away from him before she made any more mistakes.
‘May I be excused?’ she asked woodenly, carefully avoiding the issue of his name. ‘I’m not feeling very well.’
For a second she thought he might protest, that he might keep her here, holding her hands and saying her name in that purring, sexy voice of his. Looking at her with those sparks in his eyes and making her hungry, so hungry, yet again.
But after a moment, he nodded. ‘You may. In fact, take the rest of the day off.’
‘I won’t need all day, sir,’ she said stiffly, telling herself she wasn’t disappointed.
‘You might not, but you’ll take it anyway. I want you to get some rest today and a good sleep tonight.’ The look on his face hardened. ‘Tomorrow we will begin planning our future.’
Winifred nodded—what else could she do but agree?—then fled the room before he could say anything else.
Augustine couldn’t sleep that night. He was that terrible combination of exhausted and wired. Everything that had happened with Freddie kept replaying in his brain, first the incredible sex on the floor, then her behaviour afterwards. Shocked—which he’d expected—but also afraid. There had been no mistaking her white face and the way her hands had shaken as she’d picked up her teacup. She was afraid, but she was trying to hide it, and it was causing her distress.
He didn’t know why. What was she so afraid of? Was it his insistence on marriage? The idea of being a mother? Of being married to him? Or was it the prospect of being queen, because she would be?
It was imperative he find out. Because if he was going to try to be a good father to his child, he needed to try to be a good husband to her. Regardless of what she’d told him and what she hadn’t, she wasn’t to blame for this.
Yes, having both the vasectomy and the condom fail was bad luck, but they wouldn’t be in this situation now if he’d stopped instead of taking the opportunity she’d given him that night.
Anyway, a king always took responsibility for his actions and he would do so here too. He wouldn’t allow her to do this on her own.
Look at you, trying to take care of her when you know you can’t.
