“So you stood there and made vows to me this morning, thinking I was marrying you only so I could bed another witch? Put another notch in some tally board? Despite everything else that has happened?”
“You were the queen’s lover,” she spat.
“Yes,” he retorted. “I was. Before you and I had any inkling that any of this would happen. Before I had spent any time with you at all that didn’t involve guard duty, to be blunt. I’m not a monk, Sophie. I won’t apologize because it’s unfair that men get to do things before marriage that women cannot. And I won’t apologize for having a lover before you had any claim on me whatsoever.”
“You should have told me,” she said, hearing her voice go shrill. She couldn’t entirely dispute his point, but that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t told her the truth. That he’d kept her in the dark. She was growing very tired of being kept ignorant.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, where stubble was beginning to darken his jaw. “Perhaps. Honestly, I thought it was better if you never knew, given that you are one of her ladies and her friend. I never dreamed that she would tell you herself.”
“She’s the queen. She wanted me to be clear on that fact. On my position in this situation. On the fact that she had you first and that she could have you back anytime she chooses to crook her finger at you. After all, a royal witch and a queen has to be even more exciting than just a witch, doesn’t it?”
“She might think that,” Cameron said. “That doesn’t make it true.”
“She’s the queen.”
“So she is. And she’s beautiful. And she’s a witch. But she’s not my wife. She’s not the one I’m standing here with. She’s not the one I made vows to in the temple today. She’s not you,” he growled. “And I’ll thank you, wife, to have more respect for my honor than you appear to.”
“You expect me to believe that you’d rather have me in your bed than her?” She swept her hand down, gesturing at her body, which had nothing like Eloisa’s curves or grace.
This time it was Cameron who threw something at the fire. The bottle shattered rather more loudly, and red splashed against the wall and ran in streams over the mantel, hissing into the fire and making it flare wildly as the alcohol burned. “Yes,” he ground out.
“Why?”
“Because of this,” he growled. And he yanked her hard against him and kissed her. Kissed her hard. Savagely almost. It should have hurt, but instead, delight roared through her, sparking as wildly as the fire. She buried her hands in his hair, pulling him closer. His hands tightened at her waist, and he picked her up and carried her over to the bed.
Yes. Every fiber of her being shrieked it.
But then reason reared its ugly head. This was the power again. Magic. Not her.
“Wait,” she said, breaking their kiss with a gasp. “This isn’t real.”
He looked confused. “What are you talking about?”
“This. This is what she said. That it’s just the magic. Making us want each other. Admit it. You never would have touched me that first time if I hadn’t stepped into the ley line.”
He shook his head. “That may be true. But that doesn’t explain every other time we touched. And doesn’t explain why I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Did you think about her?”
“Did no one ever tell you it’s impolite to bring up such things on your wedding night?” he said, sounding half exasperated. “Yes. Sometimes I thought about Eloisa. But not the way it is with you.” He looked at her a moment, then set her down on her feet again, though he didn’t let go of her. His hands rested at her waist, heavy and warm. He stared down at her. “I’m not sure there’s anything I can say to convince you, is there?”
She shrugged, feeling a sudden sting of tears. Eloisa had been right. This was never going to work.
“All right, then,” he said, and this time he did step back. “Tell me to go and I’ll go. And I won’t come back into your bed until you ask me to. I can’t unmarry you, but I’m not going to force myself on you. So, wife, if you can stand there and honestly tell me you don’t want me, then I’ll go.”
She stared up at him, wondering if he really would go. Just like that? Just because she asked?
“Say it,” he said, reaching out to touch her cheek. “Say ‘Go away, Cameron.’ Say ‘I don’t want you, Cameron.”
Part of her wanted to. Wanted to keep her heart safe, as Eloisa had warned her. But a larger part knew that it was already too late for that. And that, magic or not, she didn’t want to let go of him. She shook her head. “I won’t lie to you.”
He breathed out a very relieved-sounding sigh. “Good. That’s one thing settled.” He moved closer again. “Now we’ll deal with the other part of the problem.”
“I don’t see how,” she said.
His hand settled on her hip. “Eloisa put nonsense in your head. Whatever her reasons—and believe me, if she weren’t queen, I would be informing her of the error of her tactics—she convinced you that this is just magic. Just fucking, driven by fire and fury and fever. All flash and speed until it burns out. Like it was by the ley line. That is what she told you, isn’t it?”
She nodded, mouth drying as she remembered, with unrelenting clarity, with him so close, with him touching her, how it had felt when he had slid into her. She swallowed. “Something like that.”
“Well, then, I believe I can prove her wrong.” He smiled at her, and this time the smile was intoxicating rather than infuriating.
“How?”
“By showing you there’s more than fire and fury here.” His other hand lifted, and he ran a thumb over her lower lip.
“How?” she repeated as her knees went distinctly wobbly at the touch.
“Well, firstly, I intend to take you out of that dress,” he said, voice rough again. “And then I’ll take you out of whatever you’re wearing under it. Then I’ll take you to bed and show you what it’s like when we go slowly.” He pushed her hair back, pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. Drew back with a smile when she shuddered.