you could become. That’s why I had Johnny, that very first night, announce to the Great Hall—”
“That I’d been sent!” I popped my forehead with my hand. “That I’d been sent through the door, directly to you. It never even occurred to me what that might mean.”
“Yes. I did what I judged best for you and for Trusca and my people.”
“Does anything else matter to you?”
“Very little. I can’t allow it to.”
I was tired. Tired of dealing with this world, with this man, with the emotional seesaw of my feelings of rage and futility. I think he read it on my face. He stood up and offered me his hand.
“You’re tired. And so am I. I’ve had little rest for the past four nights.”
I wasn’t so tired I didn’t recall that I wouldn’t be going back to my comfortable, private chambers.
“Got a couch in your chambers?”
“No couch. A royal Truscan marriage is up for public viewing the next morning. We have to share the bed.”
Détente. It could have been worse. He escorted me back to my new quarters. Suddenly I was past tired, I was exhausted. Nothing about the rooms themselves had registered in my brain, but I’d explore tomorrow. I walked to the bed and stared in horror at the garment which lay across the right side of the huge bed. Trusca’s version of a bridal negligee, no doubt, which would leave little to the imagination.
“I don’t want to wear this,” I said.
“That’s your option. You don’t have to wear anything at all. I don’t.”
I swallowed. Hard. He jerked the covers back, opened the drawer of the small stand which stood by what he obviously claimed as his side of the bed, and picked up a small packet. Then he picked up a knife, held the packet over the center of the bed, and pricked its side. Blood dribbled out over the sheet.
“What are you doing ? We have to sleep on that!”
“I might think virginity is overrated, Green Eyes, but you were right on one point. My people don’t. And no one but Johnny knows of our private arrangement, or your past history. Now, I thought you were tired?”
He was disrobing even as he spoke, and the layered garments which formed the men’s wear of Trusca were hitting the floor. His chest was just as impressive as his huge shoulders would lead one to suspect, and I could see the beginnings of his hip bones as he pushed against the tight leggings.
I picked up the nightgown and turned away, glancing around the chamber, anywhere but at him.
“Is there a dressing room?”
“No, but if you would turn around, you’ll see I’m already in bed, which at this moment feels better than any woman could, although I’m certain I won’t think so in the morning. I’m going to turn over and close my eyes, and I don’t expect to be awake for longer than two seconds. So you’re quite safe for the moment.”
I did turn, and saw that he was facing the opposite wall. His breath evened out and the spaces between his breaths lengthened even as I watched, and I knew that he was, in fact, asleep. I considered grabbing the pile of his clothes and going through the garments for his key, but decided that would really do little good. I couldn’t run. I had nowhere to run to.
I looked at the nightgown I held in my hands. I could go to sleep in my finery, but it certainly wouldn’t be very comfortable. And the royal Truscan marriage chamber was up for public viewing in the morning. He would not be pleased for his serving maids to find me fully dressed after going to the trouble to be certain my virgin blood stained the sheets. And he had said he wouldn’t touch me, and in any event, he was out like a light right now. I was sure four days on night patrol would be exhausting. I shrugged, took off my finery, and put on the damned nightgown, which in fact, was cut so low it barely covered my breasts. It was long and sheer and hung to the floor, but as the sides were both slit up to my waist, its length was somewhat irrelevant. But I was tired, and
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