On any given day, she begged him to let her move into town with him, but he simply didn’t want the distraction or the responsibility. He didn’t feel guilty about this, either, because he had always been truthful with his boundaries and the limits to what he could offer. Ultimately, they had settled into a relationship that seemed to work for them both, although Bastien knew she still pined for more.
The door to the cottage swung open, and Merrilyn rushed out to greet him, delight evident on her face. “Bastien, what a surprise!”
He didn’t try to stop her from launching into his arms, and he graced her with an embrace. He had hoped to extricate himself before she pressed for more, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid her arms around his neck and her mouth hot on his.
It was with true sadness he gently pushed her back, for he did indeed have very fond feelings for her. She was a great beauty with long, curly, raven-black hair and pale skin. Curvy in all the right ways, she’d warmed his bed for the past few years, but that was all she’d ever be to him.
Bastien held her by the shoulders to keep distance between them. “We need to talk, Merrilyn.”
“Of course,” she replied, ducking her head coyly, her lips pursed. Her hands went to the waistband of his pants, and she tugged playfully. “But first… let’s do something more fun.”
Bastien realized with a small pang of regret that she had just summed up their entire relationship in one word.
Fun.
At least that’s all this was to him. She might feel more, and that’s why he had to come to her now and not later to talk.
Taking her hands in his, he led her into the cottage. He’d commissioned to have it built a little over two years ago when they first started “having fun,” and then they became exclusive. He met her here several times a week, sometimes staying over.
But he always kept his house in town, and she was never invited there.
Merrilyn sashayed sexily as they entered her home, having no clue that Bastien truly did come to just talk. When the door closed, she started unbuttoning her dress while biting her lower lip, usually a surefire way to get him to throw her over his shoulder and take her to bed.
But that wasn’t going to happen again.
“Don’t,” Bastien said, reaching for her hands again and stilling them. He pulled her over to the small table that sat by the window and pulled out a chair. “We really need to talk.”
“Bastien,” she crooned with pouty lips, “you’re scaring me.”
He sighed as he took the chair opposite her, because Merrilyn could be dramatic at times. Oh, she was beautiful, sexy, and witty, and gods, she kept him satisfied in most ways a man could be satisfied, but it was never more than that. Thus, he couldn’t understand why the mere mention of needing to talk should scare her.
There was no way to sugarcoat it. “Princess Thalia has returned from the First Dimension.”
Her face drained of color, but she tried to act indifferent. “And what does that have to do with me? Or you, for that matter?”
“It has nothing to do with you,” Bastien replied neutrally. “But my loyalties lie with the crown, and my primary duties will now be her protection and reinstating her to the throne.”
Merrilyn’s face pinched and her cheeks reddened. “I know what you mean when you say your loyalties ‘lie with the crown.’ You want to fuck her, don’t you?”
Bastien’s head dropped, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He’d been afraid this would happen. Merrilyn could be exceedingly jealous, although he’d never once given her any reason to be. When he was with her, he was with her and no one else.
Sighing, he brought his gaze back to her. “The princess is of no interest to me other than putting her back on the throne. She is imperative to our success in defeating Ferelith. My time now belongs to no one other than the princess and Vyronas, and as such—”
“You still love her,” Merrilyn cried as she pushed up from her chair and pointed an accusing finger at Bastien. “It’s impossible, but you still love her. I just know it.”
“I most certainly do not love her,” he replied indignantly, for Merrilyn was correct—it was impossible. Every bit of his love, emotion, feelings, and care for Thalia as a person had been stripped. He wasn’t even left with a little nostalgic fondness of their time together that might gentle him into being a nicer man these days. As it stood, the nominal things he had to offer Merrilyn were the best he could do.
His denial of loving Thalia seemed to appease her, and she settled back in her chair. “Then what do we need to talk about?”