Page 47 of A Vow of Embers

The prince said, “I’m doing what you need to do. Disrobe. Right now.”

Chapter Sixteen

“I will not!” I said, clutching my blanket to my chest.

“We had an agreement,” he said as his hands stilled, leaving his garment only partially undone. “Nothing will happen. I have no desire to—”

He cut himself off and shook his head. He didn’t have to finish his sentence. I knew what he had meant. His words wounded me, even though I didn’t want them to. I knew I wasn’t beautiful like Chryseis, but he didn’t have to constantly remind me of it.

He let out an exasperated sound. “We are running out of time, princess. The matron has to believe that this marriage was consummated.”

“Isn’t that why you killed the chicken?” Wasn’t that enough evidence?

“Undress now, or I will do it for you.”

My eyes widened as he added, “I won’t look.”

He turned around, and although he was a liar, I very much believed that he would tear off my clothing if I didn’t do it myself. I could hear him finish removing what he still had on as I untied my makeshift belt with trembling fingers. It took a bit longer to get my undergarments off but I managed it. Then I tugged my nightgown over my head, tossing it onto the floor. It landed next to his feet.

I pulled the blanket over me. “Done.”

He said, “Turn on your side, facing the balcony.”

My heart had lodged itself into my throat and was pounding so hard that I couldn’t breathe.

And it only got worse when I felt him lift the blanket and slide in behind me. I tried to protest when his chest pressed against my back, scalding my skin, but then he threaded his left arm underneath my head while putting his right arm around my waist and my senses exploded. He was so warm ... so firm ...

So naked.

I began to wiggle, trying to move away from him. “You said nothing about—”

“Quiet,” he said, pressing his warm hand against my bare stomach while his words tickled and teased my ear. “Hold still and pretend to sleep.”

I wanted to shout that I would not, but I had agreed to participate in his ruse. I closed my eyes but I couldn’t soothe my heartbeat. It had taken up residence in my chest again and was thundering and pounding while his own remained steady against my back. It annoyed me that he was so unaffected while I felt as if I were about to burst out of my own skin.

This is not a dream,I had to remind myself so that I wouldn’t get caught up in it. As if he suddenly realized where his hand was, and that it might not belong on my stomach or any other place nearby, he moved to rest it on my outer thigh.

But it wasn’t a better location and I had to focus on not reacting to the feel of his slightly calloused and large hand on my leg.

Especially not once he started moving his fingertips across my thigh, creating tingles that raced along my skin. I fought back a shiver.

“What happened here?” His question was cool, as if he didn’t care one way or the other why the skin was scarred, but I heard his curiosity and another tone I couldn’t interpret.

Had he forgotten his own admonition to be quiet?

“I shredded it when I slid on the ground before I stabbed a man who was standing in my way during the tribute race.” I meant for it to be a warning but it came across as breathy.

His fingers continued to trace the ridges in my healed skin. “I saw you do that move. It was—”

The more he touched me, the harder it was for me to remember that I hated him. “Could you not—”Exploreseemed like the wrong word choice, so I settled on, “Could you not touch me like that?”

His hand immediately stilled, going flat against my thigh. “You are not as much of a temptation as you seem to imagine yourself to be.” He sounded indifferent, bored. Annoyed.

I wanted to squawk in protest. I hadn’t said anything about being a temptation, only that I didn’t want him to touch me! It seemed entirely unfair that I was burning up and he was unbothered.

Why had he stroked my skin? Were his actions intentional? Perhaps he thought he might bring me under his control, find a way to use physicality to bend me to his will. I would not be so easy to manage.

Nor would I allow my husband to ignore me. Maybe I wasn’t beautiful but I was strong and loyal and clever and a thousand other good things.

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