A Christmas Vow Of Seduction

She lowered herself deeper beneath the surface of the water, until her chin was submerged, her large, dark eyes pinned on his. “Of course I am. You are very large. Much larger than I am. You have invaded my space.”

“Begging your pardon, Princess,” he said, moving closer to the bath, bracing his hands on the edge of the marble tile and leaning in. “It is you who have invaded my space. I did not invite you here. I did not get down on bended knee and propose to you, nor did I at any point surrender my own personal space to you for your continued use.”

She squirmed, and he could see her crossing her legs beneath the water, raising her arms to cover her breasts as best she could. The details of her body were indistinguishable as it was, and her belated show of modesty only drew attention to that which she was trying to hide.

She was beautiful. He could not deny that. Acres of smooth golden skin, wide, dark eyes that were just as pronounced now with all her makeup washed off as they had been when they were rimmed with black and gold. Her lashes were long and thick, her lips full, her cheekbones high, giving her a proud, sensual look that would certainly turn heads wherever she went.

When it came to appearance, she was everything he might have wanted in a wife, in a princess. It was her manner that left much to be desired. In fact, her manner left everything to be desired.

He had not often thought of what sort of woman he might take as his wife, because he had put off thoughts of a wife, even though he knew he would someday take one. Still, in the back of his mind he had thought he would probably marry a woman who exuded a kind of serene sophistication. One who would make his life easier. The perfect accessory to all events. As necessary and yet understated as a nice pair of cuff links.

Zara was no more a cuff link than she was a fruit basket.

“I’m distressed,” she said, her tone growing more arch by the second. “I was rooted out of my home only two months ago, held prisoner in the palace—”

“So I have heard. And while I do possess a small amount of sympathy for you, I am unsure what you expect me to do about it. You said yourself, I cannot return you to your family. You do not wish to marry me. You have told me that, as well. So here I have a short list of the things you cannot do, and the things you do not wish to do. If you could tell me one thing that you do want, that might be of greater use to me than hearing everything I am unable to do.”

“I find myself quite comfortable in this room, in this bath, at least I was until I acquired your company. With that in mind, perhaps you might let me stay here, as it is somewhat familiar.”

“Are you so fragile that moving down the hall will disrupt your sensibilities?”

“I am quite fragile!”

He had a feeling that, had she been standing on dry ground, she would’ve stamped her foot to add punctuation to the statement.

“You are a great many things, but I would not characterize you as fragile.”

“Leave me,” she said, issuing orders like a queen.

“No,” he said, “I think not.”

He reached beneath the water, uncaring if the sleeves of his shirt were soaking wet. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and the other beneath her knees, straightening, holding her naked and dripping wet against his chest. He did not look at her, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead as he strode from the bathroom back into the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” She began to squirm, surprisingly strong, and difficult to maintain a hold on as she did.

She was also, he noticed, very soft. Soft to the touch, soft the way a woman should be.

And joining the flame of anger in his stomach was a sudden burst of arousal that took him completely off guard. He tamped it down, ignoring it, his teeth clenched tightly together as he fought the temptation to look down at her naked body.

This was not about sex. It was about reclaiming the territory that she had attempted to stake as her own.

If he was to marry this little devil, he would have to show her that he would have the upper hand. That she would not be dictating to him.

That went for his body, as well.

He had to take utter control, of her, of himself. There was no other option. He would have to be firm with her. Starting now.

“Let us get one thing straight,” he said. “This is not a hotel. This is my bedroom. This,” he added, tossing her down with no gentleness whatsoever onto the center of his bed, “is my bed. I do two things in this bed. I have sex and I sleep. If you intend to stay in my bed, you will partake in both of those things with me. Otherwise feel free to find a more suitable accommodation.”

Again, he resisted the temptation to look at her body, though he imagined she was currently spread out for him like a particularly delectable buffet. But he intended to scare her off, not violate her in any way.

She wasn’t still for long. She scrambled across the mattress and buried herself beneath the blankets, shielding her body from his view. “You,” she said, her voice shaking, “are terrible.”

“We are to be married,” he said. “Nothing I’ve done or said should be all that shocking.” He knew full well he was being shocking; he just didn’t care.

“I don’t know you.”

“But you will know me quite well in only a couple of months’ time. We could start now.”

“We shall not!”

“Then you shall vacate my bedroom. I find that I am quite tired.” He reached up, grabbing hold of the knot on his tie and loosening it.

Her eyes went wide, her hands curling tightly around the white comforter on his bed, digging sharply into the material like claws. “You wouldn’t,” she said, her shocked tone spurring him on all the more.

He kept his eyes on hers as he tugged his tie off and cast it to the floor before undoing the top button on his shirt. “As I said, I find I am quite tired. This is my bed. I have already given you the list of activities performed therein.”

He undid a second button on his shirt and watched as her eyes grew even rounder. He undid another, then another, moving closer and closer to the bed. He found his own heart was starting to pound harder. He would not touch her. He knew this would end with her running away before he had to. Still, that didn’t stop the blood from firing harder and faster through his veins.

His mind might be well aware that he was a modern man who would never take advantage of a woman in such a way, but his body clearly hadn’t gotten the memo. All he knew was that he was a man, and she was a woman. A very beautiful woman.

And in that moment he started to forget exactly what he was doing here.

He undid yet another button on his shirt, and suddenly she rolled to the side, wrapping the blanket around her body and landing on the floor. She stood up, the blankets concealing her curves. Her dark hair was wet, stringy and partly covering her face. And with all that, she was still trying to look imperious. “All right. You may arrange separate quarters for me.” She turned to the side, kicking the excess fabric from the comfort her out of her way. “I am going to dress. When I return I expect for things to be arranged.”

He laughed at her retreating form, and her shoulders grew stiff, her frame all but vibrating with rage.

He took his phone out of his pocket and made a call to his brother’s chief of staff, letting him know that the princess was ready to be shown to her room. Zara returned before the staff came to escort her away. She was dressed in a pair of soft pink pajamas that looked as though they belonged on a much younger, much less venomous girl.

“Am I leaving soon?” she asked.

“Listen to you. Quite impatient to go now.”

“You make a very persuasive argument.”

He chuckled again, amusement at her open hostility irresistible. He was not used to this reaction from women. But then, he was not used to being engaged to a woman. A woman who clearly didn’t want to be engaged to him any more than he wanted to be betrothed to her. “Most women don’t run away from me when I start taking my shirt off.”

Her lip curled. “I am not most women, you will find.”

He rubbed his chin, eyeing her figure, certainly not displayed to any advantage by the flannel she was currently wearing. “This may be a problem, as I expect you to be very like a woman when it comes to our marriage. You must be both a wife to me and a suitable public display for my country.” And he had to be the prince his brother needed him to be.

“I am unsuitable,” she said, far too quickly.

“And yet my brother says you are suitable. The only suitable choice, in fact. So there we have a problem.” He regarded her even more closely. Her dark eyes were glittering, and for the first time he saw that there was quite a deep well of fear beneath her prickly exterior. For the first time he questioned the way he had handled her. He was angry at being maneuvered, and he was taking his anger out on her. But she was not a part of this, any more than he was. “You have nothing to fear from me. You have nothing to fear from Kairos, even though he can come across as quite the tyrant. Neither of us is going to hurt you.”

He saw no signs of relief on her face. “But you are going to use me,” she said.

“You are royalty, Zara. Had you not been thrown out of the palace as a child and spirited away to live with the Gypsies, you would certainly be facing an arranged marriage anyway. Just as I expected I would be one day, though not quite with such short notice.”