“Never fear,” she said. Calmly. Softly. Because he was making things up in his head to cater to his sex. He knew that. “Whether you make your library accessible for me or not, I have no intention of parading a selection of lovers in front of you. I think we both know that would be frowned upon by every last citizen of the kingdom.”
Innocent. Pleasantly intelligent. In no way the sort of wicked, fallen woman that he considered his real type. She deserved better than him, better than the man he really was. He had vowed to give her the Prince he ought to have been instead.
And he would do that, even if it killed him.
He would.
“I am a man with a rich and complicated past,” Griffin told her, because she ought to hear that from him as well as in the form of a thousand inevitable barbs from others. “If your past is also rich and complicated, I can hardly complain.”
Something he had always believed in, as a matter of fact. Fervently.
But saying those words...hurt. It was like the syllables curdled his mouth.
“You are so progressive, so open-minded and modern,” she murmured. And if it had been anyone but Melody, he would have been sure that note he heard in her voice was sarcasm. But she smiled at him, beatifically, and he tried to shake it off and accept that she was who she was supposed to be—not who he wanted her to be. “My great loves are not men. You have nothing to fear. I come before you untouched and virginal, because nothing will please the crowds more than a man of great experience with a woman of none. Is that not so?”
Griffin was becoming increasingly tired of the way she did that. Ripping the ground out from beneath him when he was used to being in control of his surroundings. Spinning the world around and around on its axis until he was dizzy. He studied her as he lounged there opposite her on an uncomfortably spindly piece of furniture that he suspected had been deliberately chosen to make the parade of overtly curious society ladies ache a bit as they flung their daggers at the new Princess.
What he didn’t know was whether Melody herself was responsible for that sort of thing. Or if she was simply being guided, lamb to the slaughter, straight into the heart of the schemes and scandals of Idyllian society.
More than that, he couldn’t tell which he wanted it to be. Did he want a fragile innocent who he truly believed would bring out the heretofore unknown decency in him? Or did he want what the fire in him wanted—a far more complicated creature, capable of defending herself from the onslaught of would-be rivals and all manner of wickedness with what looked like carefree ease?
He knew what he should want.
But that seemed to do absolutely nothing to cure the way his blood pumped hot. Or the erotic images that poured through his head the way they had last night, with the same results.
Griffin was burning alive.
“I’m afraid that your long day of torture will extend into the evening,” he told her when he could speak. “We have an intimate dinner party to attend. And by intimate, I’m speaking in terms of the standards of the palace. Twenty people, or so. Thirty at the most.”
“Just a few friends, then.”
Was he smiling—a real smile? Extraordinary. “Never make the mistake of thinking that any of these people are your friends. Especially if it feels like they are.”
He meant that as a throwaway remark. To go along with this surprisingly uncomfortable discussion. Because that’s what it was, he admitted. That feeling clanging around inside him. It was pure, undiluted discomfort. He didn’t like the idea of vipers like Lady Breanna—who he’d had the misfortune of seeing as she exited—sitting here and sniping at his bride.
Across from him, Melody tilted her head toward him in that way that made him feel more examined, more visible, than the regard of any other person he’d ever met.
“I had no idea,” she said. As if she pitied him.
Griffin wanted to run from the room, and that was so uncharacteristic it rooted him to the spot.
“About what?”
And he was not pleased that he sounded gruff. Bothered.
“I take loneliness for granted,” Melody said quietly, and again, something...shifted.
They were sitting in the formal reception room of his residence. It was among the prettiest rooms in the whole of his house, which was not a mistake. It had been designed to let in the light and the sea, so anyone who entered felt instantly steeped in the glory of Idylla.
He certainly did. It was as if the sea and the sky surrounded her like a halo and lifted her up, making her something celestial.
Griffin had taken advantage of this room himself, upon occasion, but Melody somehow made it look natural. As if the room had been built specifically to showcase her glory.
And he did not think that it was a trick of the light that made the staff waiting against the wall seem to disappear. It was the huskiness of Melody’s voice.
She sounded as if she was telling him a deep truth rarely spoken.
Griffin found he was very nearly holding his breath. His heart pounded. He did not know what to do with himself.
“I don’t mean to suggest that I didn’t enjoy my childhood, because I did.” Melody toyed with the delicate teacup in its saucer, held neatly in her lap. “Yes, my father was unpleasant, but as we’ve already established, life is not meant to be a parade of pleasantries. Still, I did not make friends the way my sister did. It was not encouraged. I grew used to my own company at an early age. But this cannot be a surprise. You know
