Modern Romance November 2015 Books 1-4. Trish Morey

on her hand, taking hold of her chin. “You will not leave me.”

      She was taken aback by the sudden intensity, by the growl in his voice. “No,” she said, not entirely certain she was telling the truth.

      “You dance fine,” he said, releasing his hold on her and stepping away from her. The chill between them was palpable, blown in on the words she had spoken, words that had carried a power she hadn’t been able to guess at.

      “Thank you,” she said, not really meaning it. Then she doubted he had meant what he said about her dancing.

      Already, she had learned something from him. Already, she was learning to hide.

      “I suggest you spend the next couple of days reflecting on the best way to present yourself to the public here in Petras. There is a traditional holiday feast at the end of the week, and we will be making our debut. It will be held here at the palace, and many of the prominent citizens here in Petras will be invited, while many more will be watching on television. My brother is going to make a speech. For some reason, the populace is very interested in what he has to say.”

      His mask was firmly back in place. It had slipped, only for a moment, but it had.

      “I don’t have to say anything, do I?” The thought had occurred to her suddenly, and had horrified her. She had never had to speak in front of people in her life.

      “No. In fact, it would be best if you didn’t. If you can manage to stand there, look lovely and not chew on any of the chicken bones, we should be fine.”

      She frowned. “I’m not going to chew on chicken bones.”

      “I can’t be sure with you.”

      “What sort of debut is this, exactly?”

      “You will be making your first public appearance with me. As I never bring women to such things, it will be seen as significant,” he said.

      She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, he turned away from her and walked out of the room, leaving her standing there in a formal ball gown, with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

CHAPTER SIX

      ZARA HAD A suspicion that her gown had been selected in an attempt to soften her appearance. Pale blue raw silk with a high neckline and a formfitting shape that ended just below her knee. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, her makeup much more restrained than usual. Perhaps they thought that if she looked sedate she would be less likely to eat her lunch with her fingers.

      Though in this case, appearances were certainly deceiving. She had reached the point of feeling quite desperate to escape this whole marriage bargain, stricken very much without her permission.

      She was beginning to think that playing nice would get her nowhere. If Andres wouldn’t take up her cause, she would carry it all on her own.

      With flourish.

      Her fingers were freezing. She was shaking a little bit, probably because she was cold. Snow had begun falling outside late last night, the temperatures plummeting. Petras bordered Greece, but was set deeper back into the mountains and had a climate that matched what she was accustomed to in Tirimia, more than their Mediterranean neighbor. Still, though she was used to the cold, for some reason it was getting to her at the moment.

      It certainly wasn’t nerves. It wasn’t going to be difficult to sit at a table and eat food. She could manage that without humiliating anybody.

      Whatever Andres thought, she wasn’t an animal.

      More people began to flood into the main doors of the palace, and Zara sank back into an alcove, her heart pounding heavily. She lifted her hands, clasping them together, holding her fingers tight in an attempt to warm them.

      Okay, maybe she was nervous. She didn’t know why. She had no stake in any of this. It had nothing to do with her.

      She looked across the growing crowd and saw Andres’s dark head, higher than the rest. Seeing him felt like grabbing a lifeline in the midst of the storm. She kept her eyes on him. He was familiar. A horizon line on a pitching sea.

      He looked up, and their eyes locked. He changed course, parting the mass of people with his mere presence. She lowered her hands, still holding them together, trying to get a handle on her nerves.

      “Where have you been?” he asked.

      “Here. You didn’t specify a meeting place.”

      “I didn’t expect to find you hiding in a corner.”

      “I’m not hiding,” she said, even though she had been doing just that.

      “Kairos and Tabitha are on their way. We will walk in just after them. But before we go in, I have something for you.”

      She blinked, freezing, well aware that she looked a little bit as if she had been slapped upside the head. “For me?” Stupid, she was basically repeating his words back to him. But she had never been given a gift before, and she didn’t quite know how to brace herself for it.

      Her chest hurt. She didn’t know why. She didn’t know what to do about it.

      It was a similar feeling to being alone in a caravan while everyone else sat outside around the fire. That, combined with the beautiful ache she felt when she was alone in the woods.

      “Come here,” he said.

      He didn’t wait for her to obey. Rather he wrapped his fingers around her arm and pulled her deeper into the corridor, around the staircase. Her breath caught as he reached into his jacket and brought out a small velvet box.

      The ache in her chest split open, harsh, tearing pain now. And along with it, fear.

      “No,” she said.

      “I never pretended this was anything but inevitable.” He opened the box, and revealed exactly what she had feared. “You’re acting like I’m presenting you with a tarantula, rather than a diamond ring.”

      She looked down at the beautiful, ornate ring. A platinum band with a large, square-cut gem at the center. She would have preferred a tarantula, frankly.

      “You know how I feel about all of this. I don’t... You didn’t say that you were going to be making any official announcements today.”

      “I am bringing you to one of the most important events we have here at the palace. It is not an ambiguous statement on its own. The ring is implied.”

      “Then perhaps we should keep it implied,” she said.

      “No. That isn’t how this works. I have made promises to you, promises that I intend to keep. Concessions have been made in order for you to feel as comfortable with this as possible. But you are not in charge. You are not conducting this show.”

      She found herself extending her hand, and she wasn’t quite sure why. He had issued no threat, and truly, what would he do if she said no? Still, she held her hand there, steady for him, as he took the piece of jewelry from the box, and slipped it onto the fourth finger of her left hand. It felt heavy. And that heaviness carried over to her chest.

      “Now it’s time for us to go in.”

      He took the hand he had just put the ring on, curling his fingers around hers, leading her back toward the entrance to the ballroom. And she went. Because she was numb, and putting up a fight when you weren’t entirely sure if your feet were still on the ground was difficult.

      No. This wasn’t what she wanted. She needed more time. She wasn’t ready.

       He said he would marry you by Christmas. By the end of the month. You only have a few weeks. What did you think?

      She hadn’t been thinking. She had been in denial of the fact that she had been brought here, given to Andres as though she were an object. A Christmas present for the man who had everything.