‘Enough!’ Lise bolted to her feet. Chin held high. Colour florid on her cheeks. Here was the magnificent woman they’d tried to train out of her. ‘I’m overjoyed to hear how faithful you profess to be. However, there will be no scuffles over the salt and pepper. No cosy dinners for four. In my experience, kings have mistresses, so you’re welcome to your own. All I demand is that you remain discreet.’
Her father had kept a varied group of women who catered to his every whim. Rafe wondered whether she was aware that her mother’s private secretary had done far more for the Queen than answer correspondence and post letters. Coming from a family where his parents loved each other in the same blinding fashion as when they first met, he found royalty’s convenient arrangements sickening.
But love wasn’t for him, the only game he’d played and lost. Learned that the daughters of the aristocracy wanted him for one thing, to irk their parents by flaunting the commoner. He’d always been an exercise in rebellion for those women. Rich enough so as not to be an embarrassment, but never enough on his own. He’d fancied himself smitten with a count’s daughter. Till he’d proposed and she’d mocked his audacity. He’d learned then, love was for fools. It had no place in his life, leaving him open to its own brand of ridicule. He would not deign to be scorned again.
Power was a currency he understood. It waseverything.
Love? It made you powerless.
‘What about you, Your Majesty?’ Propriety and protocol were the armour she wore, so he’d allow her to hide behind it for a little while longer. Time enough to start stripping her down, piece by tantalising piece, when the wedding ring was firmly on her finger.
‘I need a husband. I don’t need a lover.’
Her admission that there was no usurper lurking in the wings made the primitive creature curled inside him growl in satisfaction. Still, he played her game, for now.
‘That’s hardly fair.’
‘How generous of you to think so.’
‘I’m all for equality where pleasure’s concerned. In fact, I ensure my partner’s pleasure exceeds mine.’
Her dusky lips parted. He’d never kissed her, something he’d regretted. Perhaps he should have been more assertive in his approach. But he’d thought he’d have all the time in the world to seduce, not to conquer.
‘There’s nothing equal about a constitution which allows a king to rule in his own right whilst requiring a queen to marry.’ Her voice was soft, with a tone of defeat. He loathed the flatness of it. He wanted her to fight for what was hers. ‘But it’s what I face so I’m doing my duty.’
‘And when your duty comes to having an heir and a spare or two?’
‘You’re referring to children, not objects as the monarchy so often treats them.’ She raised her chin and stared him down with eyes as cold and brittle as first winter ice. ‘For that reason, there will be none.’
Lise’s frigid gaze threw a chill down his spine. She was brutally, bitterly serious. This was not where her hopes and dreams lay. He knew. She’d whispered her secrets to him when they’d seen each other, in carefully planned but seemingly spontaneous meetings. She’d begun to open the door to her deepest desires and now that door slammed in his face.
He stared at her, rigid in the chair opposite. Her eyes fixed on the wall over his shoulder.
‘What about succession?’
Lise took in a breath, her body shuddering. ‘The monarchy dies with me.’
Rafe reared back, the shock of her pronouncement like the frigid slap of a first winter’s gale. No.Never.He could not accept this. His children and his family’s blood should have been destined to rule the country in perpetuity.
‘Lise—’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘I haven’t invited you to use my name.’
She held herself as aloof as any royal he’d ever met. He loathed that she was directing this charade towards him.
‘Since you invited marriage, I believe we’re past honorifics.’
‘Only when I say so, and you haven’t agreed to my offer.’ Her skin blanched so pale it appeared translucent. The shadows under her eyes stood out, dark and bruised. ‘There are two choices, Mr De Villiers. Yes, or no.’
No meant she would be lost to him for ever. Yes, and by a quirk of the constitution he’d be in a cold and empty marriage, but he’d be King.
King.
He could never forget those who’d sneered at him, laughed at his heritage, bullied Carl from school leaving him in harm’s way, mocked his brother even in death. Thought he was beneath them because of his business interests rather than being born into the aristocracy. He’d have power over them all. His blood ran thick and hot at the lure of that thought.
‘Yes. I’d be honoured.’
Lise’s shoulders softened for the briefest of moments before her spine filled with steel. ‘The prime minister suggests a sensible date is a month away.’