I have no intention of going anywhere near the physician’s suite, nor do I have any intention of being alone in the presence of James.

If William had really read my journals—really understood them—we wouldn’t be having this most recent argument at all.

How can William not understand? James broke my heart. And he didn’t just break it, he crushed it. He ruined me. How could William think for even a moment that I would have any interest in the man?

As much as I might have enjoyed witnessing William punch the man, it was still going a little too far. And as much as I admire William for wanting to protect me, I don’t need my husband pretending to defend me against an innocuous threat—particularly when his protection is merely a ruse to cover up his jealousy.

Instead of going to the physician’s suite, I make my way back to the small guest room where I’ve been staying the past two weeks. Even after our brief reunion, William can’t honestly believe I’d want to spend the night with him tonight.

But I was certainly considering it before…

I push the thought out of my head. Even if I had thought about allowing William into my bed tonight, it’s out of the question now. Besides, it’s probably the wine putting thoughts like those into my head. The wine and the dancing. He seems to be able to put some sort of magical spell on me when we dance together.

I won’t let myself think about how that might translate to other things.

After I change into my nightclothes, I crawl into bed and turn out the light. I suppose I shouldn’t be too angry with William—after all, he was only trying to keep me safe. I can’t say there have been many people in my life willing to fight for me. It was nice feeling protected, if only for a moment.

I also suppose I shouldn’t expect him to understand me from merely reading my journals. It isn’t as though I’ve done much in the way of allowing him to get to know me at all—and I certainly haven’t taken much time to get to know him.

It’s because you only have eighty days left in this marriage, I remind myself. What’s the point of getting to know the man when everything is going to end before it starts?

Between the storm, preparing for the conference, and my undeniable attraction to my husband, I’ve allowed myself to forget about my arrangement with my father. Leaving Rosvalia is still the right thing to do, I’m sure. And none of the things William said to me tonight change anything—the people of Rosvalia despise the royal family. And of course, they have every reason to do just that. It isn’t as though anyone will miss my presence here—they’ll probably celebrate my decision to leave for good.

I’m not going to allow William to sweet talk me into believing anything else. Besides, when I leave Rosvalia he’ll have no reason to stay, either. I know the citizens have appreciated his help these past few weeks—I’ve heard he was exceptional in his work helping with the bridge reconstruction—but it doesn’t change the fact he’s from Montovia. It doesn’t change the fact that he’ll likely return there given the remotest of opportunities.

I haven’t even closed my eyes when I hear a soft rapping on my door. Surely James wouldn’t risk such a thing—and he wouldn’t know where to find me, anyway. With my father gone, there’s been little activity in the palace, and I’ve done a good job of keeping my presence in this guest suite known to only a few trusted staff members.

There can only be one person on the other side of the door. I hesitate before I turn on my light, waiting for another knock before I slide off my bed and go over to the door to answer it.

As I suspected, William stands on the other side. “Hello, Princess.”

I roll my eyes. “What is it?”

“I wondered if you would afford me the opportunity to come in.” He motions to the room behind me. “If only for privacy’s sake, you see.”

He isn’t wrong to suggest the walls in the palace have ears, so I step to the side to allow him through before I close the door behind him.

He clasps his hands behind his back, and it isn’t until I see him standing like this that I see his resemblance to his eldest brother, Andrew, the heir to the Montovian throne. William looks almost regal, no trace of his usual grin on his face.

He gazes into my eyes for a long moment, not quite frowning, but definitely not smiling, either. “Princess, I owe you my deepest apologies. I—”

I wave a hand at him. “You owe me nothing, Your Highness.”

“I do, though. You see, I was merely trying to protect you—”

“We both know it had nothing to do with protection. It had everything to do with jealousy.”

His gaze narrows, but it doesn’t appear to be anger in his expression. “You still love him.”

“I never said that. I would never say that—”

“You don’t have to say it. I’ve read it in your poetry. A person couldn’t write such things about a man she didn’t still love.” He nods. “You should have told me about him before we married—”

“As though you gave me the opportunity to do that, Your Highness.” I roll my eyes again. “Are we really to argue this point forever? We had an arranged marriage—an arrangement I did not agree to. You never gave me the opportunity to tell you if I was—or was not—in love with another man. Why should it surprise you so much to find that you didn’t know everything about me? Did you really see me as so vacuous that I had nothing in my head? Nothing that you might not know?”

“I didn’t know you at all. But I don’t think vacuous is a term I would have used to describe you, no.” He sets his jaw. “And I’ve apologized numerous times for the way our marriage was handled. I could have—I should have—included you in the discussions.”

I frown. “I suppose that is something you should remember for next time.”

The corners of his lips tick up. “For the next time I arrange my marriage?”

I try to hide the smile that I feel forming on my lips. “Yes. For the next time you arrange your marriage.”

“Hm. I’ll definitely try to remember that.” He takes a small step toward me. “Is there any way I might make it up to you, Princess? I do seem to recall there was something I was able to do for you that you quite enjoyed a few weeks ago…” He takes another small step toward me. “And I’d be remiss if I didn’t offer you some sort of proof of my regret in all that has happened this evening.”

The way he’s looking at me sends a jolt through me, and when he mentions the gift he gave me a few weeks ago after I begged him to fuck me… A jolt doesn’t begin to describe the sensation.

I don’t want to want him. But my body is begging to feel him inside me. And it almost feels like more of a need than a desire.

He takes another step toward me. “You’re my wife. I’m your husband.”

I take a step back, but it only moves me closer to the bed. “I…I don’t want to have to prove anything to you. I shouldn’t have to prove to you that I’m not in love with another man. If you’d actually read my journals—”

“I told you, Princess. I didn’t read your journals.” He grins. “Well, not most of them. I did read a few things about what you liked, however.”

My cheeks burn. I write everything—everything—in my journals, so he may very well know of my deepest desires. It doesn’t make this particular situation any easier, however.

“For instance, Princess…” He takes another step closer to me before he reaches out and draws a finger across my jaw, tracing it down my neck to my collarbone. “I do believe that this is a place you’ll enjoy being kissed.”

My knees almost buckle beneath me, and I’m not sure if it’s because I have a tendency to melt when touched where he’s pressing his finger or because he knows I’ll melt when he touches me there.

His finger only rests there a moment before he draws his hand down my side, pausing as he brushes over the curve of my breast. When he gets to my waist, he pulls me against his body, sliding his other arm around me. He dips his head to whisper into my ear.

“Shall I show you the other things I’ve learned about you, Princess?”