Page 2 of Highland Ruse
“I bid you good day, Your Majesty.” Delilah rose and tucked her hands behind her back to tease him with the strain of her breasts against her bodice. “You needn’t have cleared out the room on my account.”
James tilted his head. “I thought it the best course in preserving your pride.”
Delilah’s confidence stumbled for the briefest of moments. “That was kind of you, Sire, but entirely unnecessary—”
“Yes, well, I’m a kind sovereign.” His cold gaze did not reflect any such kindness. The subtle spice of his exotic perfume wafted toward her and brought back memories of the sweaty, frantic mash of their bodies.
It hadn’t been entirely unpleasant, and she heard it got better over time. Such knowledge was heartening. Even now, the private place he’d claimed throbbed with the dull aching reminder of what she’d done.
What she’d given him.
“You were especially kind last night.” Her cheeks flamed hot as the embers in the hearth, and the words felt foreign on her tongue. She offered him a pretty smile, the one she practiced in the mirror regularly.
James regarded her a moment before glancing away. “I was also especially libidinous last night, and you filled the role I needed quite well. It need not be repeated; however, I do appreciate your having consented.”
Delilah stared at him dumbly. Her heart crumpled in her chest, but her mind refused to accept what her ears had heard.
Surely he hadn’t meant…
“Is there something else?” Irritation played over his apathetic features. “Did you expect coin?”
He might as well have slapped her. “No, of course not. I came willingly. I thought…” Her body was on fire, and her throat clogged with the threat of tears. She would not cry. Not in front of him. “I thought you wanted me.” Speaking was difficult around the tightness in her throat, but she forced the words out. “You said I was lovely.”
A betraying tear rolled down her cheek before she could blink it away.
“Of course you’re lovely.” James gave an exasperated sigh. No, not James—the king. He was the king to her again. And he was staring at her as though he thought her daft. “Do you think I’d be with a homely woman?”
Delilah swallowed the sob trying to claw free from her throat.
The king touched her cheek. His palm was cold as ice and dry as parchment. “If anyone admonishes you for your absence the prior night, send them to me. I’ll ensure you receive no punishment.” There was a tether of patience to his tone. He clearly thought he was being kind.
He patted her head as if she were a child being placated. “Take a moment to settle yourself, then return to your duties.”
His hand slipped from her hair, and he walked away. “I truly am sorry, Diane.” He offered his apology like an afterthought and the door clicked closed behind him.
Delilah stared at the door through the cobweb of hair he’d inadvertently pulled over her face. The knot in her throat was unbearable now, burning, aching, tearing at her to give in to the pressure. “It’s Delilah.” Her voice croaked out into the quiet room and melted into the lush upholstery as if her words had never been spoken, had never existed.
As if she had never existed.
Delilah wrapped her arms around herself, but it did not ease the chill clutching at her heart and slithering into her gut.
All she’d wanted was to stand out, for once. To mean something. To be someone.
But she’d sacrificed too much.
Oh God, what had she done?
She’d offered up the one bit of treasure on her person, the only thing she might somehow manage to use in scraping a marriage at court. Without her maidenhead or a dowry to speak of, no man would want her. Especially when the king would not step forward to declare her his castoff.
She winced at the word “castoff.”
But that’s what she was now, wasn’t she?
She gave in to the drawing squeeze at her heart. Her folded arms pushed to her stomach where a white-hot pain burned and curled into it, embracing it.
“You’re not going to cry, are you?”
The feminine voice broke through Delilah’s thoughts and shattered the intimately private moment with a bolt of fear.
