Page 9 of Slippers and Thorns
Irrationally, Michael felt himself grow angry with her. Hadn’t he given her everything a young woman could want? She was married to not just a prince, but a crown prince. She lived in a castle with servants, beautiful rooms, beautiful clothes, and beautiful jewelry. Practically anything she wanted was hers for the asking, and she didn’t have to spend her days working as she had before. She was the envy of every unattached female of the nobility. What more did she want?
What more could she possibly expect from him?
He continued to stew for the rest of the day, although he took care to keep his emotions hidden – just because he sometimes let them show in front of the servants didn’t mean he had to. Instead, he pasted a court smile on his face and pretended to admire the surrounding forest as he tried to keep from glaring at his wife’s back.
The caravan slowed to a stop as they arrived at the place where Arabella was to retreat to the carriage. Drawing his horse to the side, Michael turned his back on Arabella and motioned to Oliver. “How does the road ahead look?”
“My scouts report no issues,” Oliver replied smoothly, giving Michael a strange look. “Your Highness, shouldn’t you be dismounting?”
Michael shifted slightly so he could watch out of the corner of his eye as Arabella gracefully swung her leg over the back of the horse and lowered herself down without aid. In the back of his mind, he knew this was probably another sign of her scandalous behavior, but personally, he appreciated the sight.
Not that he was going to admit that right now.
“No concerns, then?” he asked Oliver as if nothing else was happening.
“Michael? Aren’t you coming?” Arabella asked carefully.
Michael pretended not to hear, keeping his focus on his guard captain and asking another inane question. After a moment, her lips tightened. Her back stiff, she turned away and marched to the carriage.
Oliver frowned at him, but Michael ignored that, too.
If he had been attending to his manners, he should have been standing next to the carriage to hand her in. Since he was still sitting astride his horse acting oblivious, he had to surreptitiously watch one of the guards hand her in, instead.
“Thank you, Charlie,” she murmured as she ascended the steps. A flash of jealousy shot through Michael at the sight of the guard touchinghiswife.
Of course, if he had only dismounted, it would have beenhimgently holding Arabella’s hand, but that only irritated him more.
For a moment, he repented of his temper. After all, it wasn’t Arabella’s fault that there were so many expectations of royals or that she hadn’t been raised to them. She had the right to be frustrated by her restraints, just as he sometimes was.
Yet he had let his foolish anger steal most of the day from them instead of spending it together as he had intended. Perhaps he could persuade the innkeepers to forego the standard separate royal rooms (it never hurt to have an extra for other patrons), and he and Arabella could have a quiet space to sit alone—
But no. He looked at her straight back and the way she was resolutelynotlooking his way and knew that she wouldn’t take kindly to the suggestion. His anger flared back up.Shewanted to leave.
By morning, Michael was ready to put his self-righteous anger aside and fix things with his wife. With this in mind, he tried complimenting Arabella’s hair when he ran into her outside their rooms. She simply put her nose in the air and swept away as well as any courtier, leaving him frowning in her wake.
When she entered the dining room a little later, she paused near the table where her maids sat as if she intended to eat with them. Michael twisted his fork in his hand, grinding his jaw as he watched. After a minute, though, she waved a gentle farewell and continued on to his table.
“Good morning again.” He smiled as she lowered herself stiffly into her chair.
Arabella didn’t respond. She didn’t even look at him as she picked up her silverware and began to eat.
The entire meal passed that way. He tried to make conversation, but she acted as if he weren’t even there, making no response and looking at her plate or staring frostily at the wall behind him.
As the servants shoved the last of the luggage into the supply wagons, Michael stood next to the carriage fiddling with his riding gloves as he waited for Arabella to appear. He didn’t know what to make of her mood this morning, but he wasn’t going to add to it with poor manners again.
After a few minutes, the front door of the inn opened and Arabella walked briskly out it, followed by her maids. Michael dutifully offered his hand to help her into the carriage.
Ignoring it, she charged right past him up the steps.
He gritted his teeth. Pasting on a smile, he launched himself onto Chief’s back. The horse pranced sideways, betraying him.
Before long, they pulled off to the side of the road so that Arabella could switch to horseback. Michael immediately swung himself down, but Arabella was out of the carriage and on Shadow before he even found a groom to hold Chief’s reins. He quickly remounted, planning to keep pace with her today despite her mood. The comfortable atmosphere of yesterday morning couldn’t be recovered if they weren’t in speaking range.
But apparently, she had other ideas.
He’d only just nudged Chief with his knees when Arabella settled herself next to one of the guards, preventing Michael from drawing even with her. If that wasn’t bad enough, her icy expression melted as she turned to the young man with a smile.
Michael ground his teeth and gripped the reins more tightly than usual; it was the same guard that had handed her into the carriage the previous day: Charles, the captain of her guard. An unfortunately handsome and young guardsman.
