Modern Romance November 2016 Books 5-8. Rachael Thomas

MUCH HUMILIATION could one person take?

      Catalina blinked back the tears that had been threatening all day, mortification ravaging her.

      Nathaniel no longer found her attractive. Whether it was because she was pregnant or because he’d had her once and had no wish to repeat the experience, she didn’t know and she didn’t care. It was the final indignity to add to what had been an awful, horrendous day.

      She could already imagine the headlines of the La Belle piece and knew that at some point the text would say the immortal words, ‘best day of her life’.

      And yet it had to rank as one of the worst; certainly the worst since the day she’d said goodbye to her mother.

      She spun around in this strange room that was to be hers alone. There wasn’t even the pretence of a real marriage. She was going to live as Nathaniel’s wife for a year and he wanted nothing physical to do with her.

      Being rejected by Helios had been bad enough, but this...

      It was infinitely worse. She hadn’t had any feelings for Helios, whereas her feelings for Nathaniel were all over the place. One minute she wanted to hit him, the next she was yearning to feel his warm, firm lips upon hers again and to rediscover the touch of his hands upon her skin.

      She’d prepared herself for emotional distance between them, especially since the opera, but it had never entered her head there would be physical distance too.

      A celibate marriage? To one of France’s most notorious playboys?

      She could only imagine Dominic’s crowing if he were to discover Nathaniel found her so unattractive he wouldn’t even share a bed with her.

      The nausea that had been kept at bay all day suddenly hit her with a vengeance. She only just made it to her bathroom before she brought up the remnants of the little food she’d managed to eat.

      Afterwards, she sat on the heated floor tiles and clutched her head. There was a buzzing in her brain making it hard for her to think straight, but think she must.

      This apartment was her home for the next year. She couldn’t spend that time sitting on the bathroom floor feeling sorry for herself. Self-pity never changed anything.

      Dragging herself to her feet, she looked from the inviting freestanding bath to the walk-in shower section of the bathroom. As she debated which to take, she noticed the toiletries that had been neatly placed on the tray by the bath. They were the exact brands she used at home.

      In some small way, Nathaniel was trying to make this easy and painless for her.

      She took the lid off the bubble bath and sniffed, feeling better with the familiar scent in her nose. And then she caught sight of her reflection.

      She wouldn’t be able to have a bath or a shower if she didn’t get out of her wedding dress. The only problem was how she would do that.

      For a fortnight she’d let her secret thoughts dart to places she should never have allowed them to go; to a place where Nathaniel had been the one to take the dress off for her. She had imagined the scenario in detail.

      Did helping her out of her wedding dress count as something Frederic was supposed to deal with? Surely not. Her companions had always been the ones to help her. She could never ask a man.

      Should she ask Nathaniel?

      Absolutely not. She didn’t have to give him another excuse to reject her.

      And just like that, the calm she’d found with the scent of the bubble bath evaporated and anger pushed its way through.

      She was a fully grown woman but as helpless as a child. She’d been raised this way. It hadn’t been her choice.

      Well, she decided, she was going to have to learn to take care of herself. Starting right now.

      Returning to the bedroom, she hunted through drawers and opened cupboards until she found what she was looking for.

      She took the scissors into her hands and carefully placed them at the sleeves of her dress. And then she snipped. She snipped her dress until the fabric fell away and she could step out of it.

      It felt like shedding skin.

      * * *

      ‘Are you sure this is all the stuff that was sent from the palace?’ Catalina asked Clotilde, who was watching her anxiously. They were in her dressing room. It wasn’t even a quarter filled.

      Clotilde nodded. ‘Two suitcases. Were you expecting more? It doesn’t seem very much for a princess.’

      Catalina pasted a smile to her face, fighting hard not to let her anxiety show. ‘Thank you for helping me look. I’m sure it’s just an oversight. I’ll call my father and have the rest of my possessions sent on.’

      Nathaniel had said she could trust his staff’s discretion but he hadn’t been the one who’d spent a lifetime living with spies and turncoats. Clotilde had introduced herself twenty minutes ago when she’d brought Catalina breakfast in bed, proudly informing her that she would be her dedicated companion. Her eagerness was touching.

      A few years younger than herself, Clotilde was a breath of fresh air and reminded her of Aliana, her favourite of her palace companions.

      But, however nice and eager to please Clotilde appeared to be, Catalina didn’t know her. It was far too early to trust anyone in this household. She couldn’t rule out the possibility that her father had already bought them and that every word or deed made under this roof would be reported back to him.

      Clotilde nodded brightly. ‘What shall I do for you now?’

      ‘Can you show me how to use the shower?’ She’d been desperate for a shower once she’d cut off her wedding dress but hadn’t been able to work out how to turn it on. Now, after discovering what her father had done, she wanted nothing more than a few minutes of peace to wash it all away and gather her thoughts before the stinging behind her eyes turned into tears.

      She followed Clotilde into the bathroom, where her new companion opened the shower door.

      ‘Turn the left side for your temperature...’

      ‘Does red indicate hot?’

      She nodded. ‘The right side one is the pressure.’

      ‘And how does the bath work?’

      The look Clotilde gave her made her feel like a child.

      ‘I’ve never run a bath for myself or turned a shower on before,’ she said quietly, wishing she didn’t feel the need to explain herself.

      Clotilde’s eyes resembled an owl’s. ‘Never?’

      ‘Never. My companions have always done everything for me.’

      After showing her how to turn the taps on, Clotilde said with a theatrical sigh, ‘I would love to be a princess, and be waited on all the time.’

      Catalina gave a wry smile, biting back the retort that being a princess wasn’t all it was made out to be. ‘I’ve never even brushed my own hair.’

      ‘I am very envious of your hair. Would you like me to brush it for you now?’

      How hard could brushing hair be? ‘I think it is time I learned how to do the basic things for myself, don’t you agree?’

      From the look in Clotilde’s eyes, she most definitely did not agree.

      ‘I thank you for all your assistance but I can manage on my own now.’

      ‘I don’t think Nathaniel will be pleased if I leave you to look after yourself.’

      Was that because he wanted reports on her behaviour like her father had always insisted on from her palace companions?

      ‘Then don’t tell him.’

      ‘But he said I was to stay with