‘And the country?’ She’d found some new strength from somewhere, enough to challenge him. ‘Are you prepared for the civil unrest that will follow if you walk away now?’
That caught him up sharp. Took him back to the darkness of the night where his memories of his father’s dying words had forced him to face the prospect of a future in which the repercussions of his decisions, his actions, reverberated out into the coming days and years with the possibility of guilt and the dreadful responsibility of the wrong choices made in anger. He’d been there once before and it was a hell he had no wish to return to. He’d let someone—not just anyone, he’d let Belle—down because of that anger once and even after years the stab of memory, of guilt, was brutal. Was he going to do it again? Let down a whole nation? Thousands of families—hundreds of Belles?
He’d be letting down his father too if he let Ivan take over the throne, ignoring the warning Mikail had given him.
If he stayed angry, that was always the risk. But this, this was a decision he had made in cold blood. To defeat Ivan. And her father. And to have Ria at his side as his queen and in his bed.
‘There is one way to ensure that doesn’t happen. And to keep Ivan from the crown at the same time. Believe me, I feel the same as you do at the thought of him ruling Mecjoria.’
She should have expected this, Ria told herself. She knew how much he and Ivan had loathed each other back in the days when they had all lived at the court when the old king had been alive. She should have remembered how the other man had sneered at everything Alexei did, and had made appallingly insulting remarks about his mother—the commoner who had dared to think that she could become a member of the royal family.
A few moments before she had been afraid of the direction in which his thoughts seemed to be heading, but this... Was it possible that he meant that they could work together on this? The thought of doing something with Alexei rather than fighting him for everything made her heart twist on a little judder of excitement. She had hoped to have her friend Alexei back in her life. She had never dreamed it might actually happen.
But did her friend Alexei still exist? Did she want him to? That friend had never made her feel this way. This very adult, very female, very sexual way.
‘Exactly what terms are you talking about?’ Deep down, she feared she knew but she couldn’t believe it.
‘I told you. I will accept the throne on the same conditions as would have applied if Ivan was to inherit. The ones your father agreed—and it seems you were prepared to go along with.’
Ria’s head went back, her eyes widening. The ice-blooded statement slammed into her mind with the force of a lightning bolt, making her head spin sickeningly. It was like reliving the moment she had found the signed agreement amongst her father’s papers, but somehow worse. She had always known her father was an arch manipulator—but Alexei? She’d gone to him with such hope, but now it seemed that she was trapped even more than before. And her own impulsive declaration of just moments before had just entangled her further in this dark spider’s web.
‘Marriage.’ It was dull and flat, the death knell to the hopes she had only just allowed to creep into her mind. ‘The terms of that agreement were marriage.’
He didn’t respond; didn’t even incline his head in any indication of agreement. Just blinked hard, once, and then those black, black eyes were fixed on her face, as unmoving and unyielding as the rest of him.
‘You want me to marry you?’ The words tasted like poison on her tongue. ‘Just like that? I won’t—I can’t!’
‘Not what you’d hoped for?’ he enquired sardonically, the corners of his mouth curling into a cynical trace of a smile. ‘The prospect doesn’t appeal as much as being married to Ivan?’
‘It doesn’t appeal at all.’
The truth was that it was far worse.
She had never had any feeling except of fear and dislike for Ivan. Hadn’t once loved him. Had never dreamed of the prospect of a future with him. Hadn’t let herself imagine the possibility of loving and being loved by him as she had once dreamed of happening with Alexei.
So now to be proposed to... No, not proposed to—propositioned—so coldly, so heartlessly by him tore at her heart until she thought it must be bleeding to death inside.
She didn’t want to look at him, couldn’t bear to look into his face, and yet she found that she could look nowhere else. Those deep, dark eyes seemed to draw her in; the sculpted beauty of his mouth was a sensual temptation that she fought to resist. Once she’d dreamed of being kissed by those lips. Lying awake in her adolescent bed, she had imagined how it would feel, longed for it to be reality. Last night that dream had come true. She knew now how that mouth kissed, knew how it tasted, and the reality had been as sensually wonderful as she had hoped. It had left her with a hunger to feel those sensual lips on all the other, more intimate parts of her body. But all the time it had been tainted with a poison that threatened to destroy her emotionally.
And once she had dreamed of a marriage proposal from those lips too. But not like this.
‘You can’t really believe this is possible.’
‘Why not? You’ve already admitted that neither of us wants Ivan on the throne—but if we made a pact to work together we could ensure that never happens, ensure peace for Mecjoria. You say I am the rightful king—you would make a good queen. After all, that was what your father trained you for.’
‘I brought you that document because you are the rightful king!’
‘And because you didn’t want to marry Ivan.’
How could she deny that when it was nothing but the truth?
‘My father had delusions of grandeur.’ She tried to focus on his face but his powerful features blurred before her eyes. ‘That’s not the same as tying myself to someone I barely know.’
‘You would have agreed to just this with Ivan.’ Alexei pushed the point home. ‘You said yourself that the royal family doesn’t expect to marry for love.’
No, but they could dream of it—and she had dreamed... Dreams that were now crashing in pieces around her.
‘You’d simply be exchanging one political marriage for another. What if I promise your father’s freedom too?’
‘You’d do that?’ It was something she’d thought she’d have to give up on, no matter how much her mother had begged her to plead for Gregor’s release.
‘For you as my queen—yes, I’d do it. Oh, I don’t expect a wedding right here and now—or even one as soon as we land. I have the proclamation—the accession—to deal with first.’
He actually sounded as if he thought that he was making some huge concession. The truth was that in his mind, he was making that concession, obviously. He would give her a breathing space—a short, barely tolerable breathing space. But the ruthless, cold determination stamped on his face told her that was all she would get. And it would be only the barest minimum of time that he would allow her.
‘Well, that’s a relief!’ Shock and horror made her voice rigid and cold as she fought against showing the real depth of her feelings. Her shoulders were so tight that they hurt and her mouth ached with the control she was imposing on it. ‘Do you expect me to thank you?’
‘No more than you should expect me to thank you for cooperating in this.’
‘I haven’t said yet that I will cooperate!’
‘But you will.’ It was coldly, cruelly confident. No room for argument or doubt. ‘And you have to admit that we have far more between us than you would ever have had with Ivan.’
‘I— No!’
She didn’t know how she had managed to sit still so long. She only knew that she couldn’t do it now. She pushed herself to her feet, up and away from him. From his oppressive closeness, the dangerous warmth of his hard, lean frame, the disturbing scent of his skin that tantalised her senses. She wanted to go further—so much further—but in the cabin there wasn’t enough space to run and hide. And at the same time her need to get away warred with a sensual compulsion to turn back into his atmosphere, to throw herself close against him and recapture that wild enticement that had swamped her totally on the previous night.
‘Sit down!’
It was pure command, harsh and autocratic, flung at her so hard that she almost felt the words hit her in the back.
It took all her control to turn and face him, bringing her chin up in defiance so as not to let him see the turmoil she was feeling.
‘What’s this then, Alexei? Practising for when you’re king?’
His scowl was dark and dangerous, making her shift uncomfortably where she stood, the movement aggravated by the lurch of the aircraft so that she almost lost her footing. Stubbornly she refused to reach out and grab the back of the nearest seat for support, however much she needed it.