Chapter 10

John held me even more firmly against him, amusement in his gaze. He was laughing because I was drunk.

"Get me out of here," I murmured, clinging to him.

He walked with me through the hall, and at every table we passed, all the guests stood up and the men began celebrating. Many of them shouted that it was time to consummate the marriage, laughing with satisfaction. Even though I was out of my mind, I found it embarrassing. At the end of the hall, John turned and waved to the king and queen. All eyes were on us, and there were many voices around us. He held me by the waist, supporting most of my weight, and led me into the corridor.

When we left the hall and found ourselves in the empty corridor, with only the distant sound of voices and music coming from the hall, he looked at me and, still holding me, asked:

"Do you want to walk a little in the night air? Or would you rather lie down?"

"I'd rather lie down." Considering that I could barely walk.

He nodded and, as if he had read my mind, lifted me into his arms and carried me down the corridor. I wanted to protest, to say that he didn't need to do that, that I could take care of myself, but I didn't have the strength to do so.

I had a vague memory of the room the queen had reserved for us. It was on the top floor, so John climbed several flights of stairs with me in his arms. My face was resting against his chest, and when I inhaled his scent, I caught a delicious fragrance I couldn't identify. After some time, he stopped climbing and walked down a corridor.

"I can walk," I murmured to him along the way.

"Yeah, right," he grumbled.

We finally stopped in front of a large door adorned with golden details. There were several flowers carved into its structure.

John took a key from his pocket and opened the heavy door. When he entered the room with me, it was dimly lit by several candles, and the scent of spices lingered in the air. The room was spacious and square, with a gigantic bed in the center covered with red blankets and topped by a canopy. On the other side stood a large mahogany wardrobe. I was vaguely aware that there were other pieces of furniture around the room and a window that allowed the moonlight to shine inside.

John Chase gently set me down on the floor, and while still holding my waist, he asked:

"Do you feel nauseous?"

I shook my head, indicating that I didn't, but my heart raced when he let me go and walked toward the door. He closed it and then locked it.

When he turned toward me, the moonlight reflected in his eyes, and I could have sworn they were a very light shade of gray, as if they had changed color. He seemed to realize that I had noticed because he walked across the room, turning his back to me. The commander stopped in front of a table and poured himself some wine.

Then he turned and sat in a cushioned chair, watching me from the shadows.

"Aren't you going to lie down?" His voice emerged from the silence of the room.

"Aren't you going to lie down?" I asked.

He leaned forward, stepping slightly out of the shadows.

"Do you want me to lie down with you?"

I gasped, blushing again. He had done it again, steering the conversation toward me and leaving me flustered.

"It's just a question, Helena. Just be honest."

I looked into his eyes in the dim light of the room, at the way they seemed to hold so many secrets, his irritating self-confidence, his skillful way of manipulating conversations, and the way he always ran his hands through his hair, leaving it in a beautiful mess, exactly as he was doing now while waiting for my answer.

"I don't love you," I murmured.

He set his wine aside and stood up. Slowly, he closed the distance between us, and with his fingertips, he touched my chin. His gaze wandered to my mouth before settling on my eyes.

"I don't love you either, princess, and I don't intend to."

He said those words with complete coldness and stepped away, sitting down again, and that infuriated me.

"Then why fight in a tournament for my hand? All of this just because I'm a princess?" I shot back.

"You're a Lancaster princess, and I need a worthy heir."

"I wish my womb would be as barren as the desert sands, Commander."

He stared at me, and I saw a flash of anger in his black eyes, but in the very next instant, he hid it and replaced it with his cynical smile.

"In that case, we'd have to try many times, darling, until your womb became less barren. I'd keep trying for the rest of my life," he retorted maliciously.

My hands trembled with anger at his audacity.

"Do you think you scare me, Commander?"

"I know I do."

I laughed.

"You're like a little rabbit when you're around the queen."

"I don't doubt that she has frightened you throughout your life, but the kind of danger I can offer you is the one you fear the most."

"And what is it that I fear the most?"

He stood up again, and this time there was something different about his posture. He moved like a predator, his eyes intense, seeming to burn.

He walked straight toward me, and his hand pulled me by the back of my neck. He pressed his lips against mine, his tongue parting my lips as he entered. It explored my mouth, and I realized I was doing the same to him, tasting his lips. They were warm and sweet like honey. His rough hand still held the back of my neck. He took a few steps forward, and I felt his other hand tighten around my waist.

With a possessive movement, he pushed me onto the bed, his heavy body falling over mine. As he claimed my mouth, his hands wandered over my dress. When his hand closed around my breast, I gasped in surprise at the intensity of his grip. He stopped kissing me and looked at me.

"Did I hurt you?" His voice was a whisper.

"You didn't answer my question," I reminded him. His heavy body was still over mine, his weight beginning to make it difficult for me to breathe, yet I didn't want him to pull away.

The intensity that had previously taken over his body and face seemed to leave him. He rose and sat on the bed, running his hands through his black hair before looking at me in the dim light.

"You're afraid of enjoying the touch of the hands that killed him," he revealed.

Those words struck me deeply and cleared my mind.

I was overcome with horror at what I was about to do of my own free will. A few days ago, I had been in Cristhofer's arms, making plans for the future, and tonight I was giving myself to his murderer, who happened to be my husband now. Avoiding sex with the commander wasn't something I had the power to control, but avoiding enjoying it was something I had to do... For him.

I was horrified to realize how much I was enjoying the warmth of his lips, the touch of his hands—the hands of a murderer.