‘We can’t.’
His mouth moved higher, pausing when it tasted the salt of her tears.
‘I want you as you were,’ he demanded, only for Effie it was impossible.
‘You want me to fake it?’
Enraged, he ceased unfinished.
‘You are my wife,’ Zakari roared. ‘I accept you have been upset, but enough now. This has gone on long enough.’ Zakari checked himself, conceded that perhaps it wasn’t long enough and, though he couldn’t quite believe he was doing it, he offered an extremely rare apology. ‘I am truly sorry for all that I put you through, but as my wife you will have everything your heart desires. Why, then, can you not put things aside? Why can’t you be the same woman you were when it was only for one night?’
‘I trusted you then!’ Effie’s roar matched his. ‘And I can never trust again!’
‘So this is how it will be?’ Zakari demanded.
‘This is the only way it can be,’ Effie sobbed.
‘So, I am expected to masturbate into my wife—I am supposed to imagine that she is writhing beneath me as she once was.’
‘Yes!’ Effie answered, tears coursing down her cheeks, hating that it was so, but accepting that was all it could now be. ‘If you want heirs—then yes!’
He was furious.
Always—always there was a solution, with women at least.
But not with Effie—or Stefania as she was now known.
She was the perfect wife—demure in public, and in private she did not tire him with senseless questions. In fact she made no demands on him at all.
But it was as if the fire had gone out of her.
No matter how expensive the gowns that she wore, she looked ill dressed.
The make-up did nothing to accentuate her features.
Everyone assumed he had married his fat, plain bride just to get the diamond.
Everyone including his fat, plain bride.
Everyone including himself—and yet…
Lying alone in his vast bed each night, knowing she was a door away, he would ball his fists at night beside him, tempted to summon her, but knowing it would be pointless.
He could arrange a mistress.
He didn’t want one.
He wanted what they had once had.
Wanted everyone to see the beautiful Effie he had once witnessed, and Zakari wanted to meet her again too. He missed her chatter, missed her pretty eyes dancing as she spoke, those little jokes they had shared, and, God, he missed what he once had tasted, what they had once been.
There would be no heirs, till she changed her mind.
He would not take her dregs.
He would hold firm until she came to him, Zakari decided each night, before finally falling asleep.
Only to wake with a jolt before sunrise—realising it was hopeless.
Yes, Zakari was furious…
Only it was with himself.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘WHAT will you do today?’ Zakari asked, peering at her over his paper.
‘I have to prepare for the opera tonight,’ Effie answered, her cheeks burning at the thought of what lay ahead. A Greek prince was here with his fiancée and the Calistan royals were to be out in force tonight—a night at the opera, then dinner and dancing, away from the cameras on the royal yacht. For Effie it would be just another night of smouldering embarrassment, with cameras popping and everyone staring, knowing the ill-concealed smirks that would follow her along the red carpet as, yet again, the King’s new wife got everything wrong. ‘And there are my lessons, of course.’
He knew she found it humiliating being taught how to walk, how not to answer, how to greet dignitaries, but it was, of course, essential.
A rare smile flickered on his tired face as he imagined the Effie of old, laughing and chatting with a visiting royal, adding a little ‘Don’t be silly’ when they paid her a compliment.
Not that she noticed his smile as, with her eyes down, she drank her coffee. She had been made up and dressed for breakfast, yet she felt awkward and cumbersome in yet another vast creation.
In an effort to play down her curves, the dressmaker just hid them in one shapeless piece of satin after the other. This one was exquisitely hand-embroidered, of course, but she didn’t want rosebuds opening or butterflies fluttering on her bosoms, and Effie hated this latest design with a passion. She wished she had the nerve to ask Zakari if she might head to Aristo for a few days to visit some of the designer shops or even just send someone over, to give her some more modern, up-to-date advice.
Not that she should trouble him with something so trivial.
He had enough on his mind.
Since the explosion about the missing Stefani diamond had hit, Aristo had been in turmoil. That the Calistan King would now rule them had sent shock waves of fear, not just through the palace, but through the people, and the shock waves were being felt on Calista too.
The people of Calista were becoming increasingly convinced that the King’s loyalties would now be divided, and there was considerable unrest that at every turn Zakari was trying to play down. But when yesterday some tribesmen elders from the desert had made a rare visit into town to voice their concerns, and had camped outside the palace to quietly register their protest, she had watched her husband falter. As Hassan had delivered the news Effie had seen the muscle pound in his cheek as he had glanced out of the palace window and witnessed his most beloved people, perhaps turning on him.
Zakari had dealt with it swiftly, of course. He had invited the elders into the palace and had met with them, had tried at length to appease them, but from his grim face when he had joined her for dinner last night Effie was sure that the meeting had not gone well.
He was grim-faced now, as he refused breakfast and just sipped on a second cup of coffee. Dressed in Western clothes, he had this restless energy about him this morning and, for Effie, his beauty had never been more savage.
In a black linen suit, he was a picture of suave elegance, his white shirt accentuating his olive skin. Though he was outwardly cool and unruffled, Effie could feel his tension, could hear the drum of his fingers on the table, the occasional hiss of irritation as he skim-read the papers. Today he was flying to Aristo, where he would meet with the current royal family who were also still reeling from the shock that, not only was the precious diamond now in the hands of Zakari, but Aegeus had had a long-term lover, who had produced a child.
Her.
‘Today will be difficult…’ she said, trying to offer some dutiful support.
It wasn’t needed!
‘Why?’ Zakari shrugged. ‘Christos’s Legacy will be fulfilled—the diamond and the islands will be reunited. There will be one ruler now—a strong ruler! Surely that is better than Prince Alex who does not even want to be King?’ His eyes challenged her to dare dispute.
‘Still…’ Effie gulped ‘…it will be hard for them.’
‘I disagree,’ he said through tight lips. ‘Sebastian relinquished his right to the throne for love.’ His lips sneered around the word as if he found it offensive. ‘Alex would only be a reluctant King. His wife, Maria, has only recently had their baby.’
‘Little Alexandra.’ Effie smiled because she had read the news herself. ‘After her father.’
Zakari didn’t indulge in sentiment; he merely shrugged. ‘Maria is passionate about her work—she would rather be designing crowns than wearing them. I am doing them all a favour.’
He tossed down his newspaper and stood. He would not kiss her goodbye; Effie knew that. Since she had refused to feign rapture at his lovemaking, there were no false displays of affection and no further attempts at lovemaking. Zakari was like a coiled spring, though, and she knew he wouldn’t hold out for long, knew his sexual appetite was legendary. Each night she dreaded that it might be the night he gave in to the call of his body, that this might be the night when he finally took a mistress, but better that, Effie thought with sadness, than that she relent.
He had hurt her at her very core.
His lies, his deceit, the way he had toyed with her emotions for his gain, still chilled her to the marrow.
Yet still she loved him.
Yet still she was angry with him.
Hated that this beautiful, powerful, passionate man could at times be so void of emotion, could be so ruthless in his quest for power.
‘Be gentle with her.’
She watched him stiffen at her words, and Effie held her breath as he turned around.
‘With who?’
‘With Queen Tia.’ Effie took a deep breath. ‘Please, be gentle with her.’
‘This has surely been no great surprise to her,’ Zakari said dismissively. ‘Kings often take mistresses! Tia was deemed a suitable bride years before they even met. There was a long betrothal—it was about duty, not love. Tia knew from the start that it was a marriage of convenience…’
‘No,’ Effie whispered. ‘No.’ She said it again, only more strongly this time. ‘Even if it started as duty for her, even if it was a marriage of convenience…’ She swallowed hard. ‘They had five children together, Zakari.’
‘So might we—’ Zakari shrugged ‘—when you stop this little game that you are playing.’
‘It isn’t a game,’ Effie said. ‘Men can detach, men can have sex, women can’t.’
‘You make no sense.’