What had he said? Three days, recovering. Because he would have her deep and hard.
Recovery might take longer than that if he could shatter her equilibrium with a single nip of his teeth.
Zenobia fought for coherence. “Because I’ll warm your bed? That can’t possibly take precedence over the safety of your town.”
“No.” This time the nip was sharper, as if in gentle admonishment. “Because you’re my wife.”
Despite the painful clench in her chest, she had to laugh. “So we’ll continue telling everyone that? Why?”
Ariq didn’t answer.
Her heart gave a heavy thud. He didn’t answer and he’d been a solid presence behind her, but now his body felt like steel. Not just quiet, but rigid with tension.
“Ariq?”
Firm hands caught her hips and spun her around, pressing her back against the rail. Stunned, she stared up at him. Her hair streamed across her face and snapped in the wind. Trepidation tripped through her chest.
His expression had darkened but he didn’t look angry. Just intensely focused on her. He’d pushed the goggles up over his forehead, his brows drawn and his gaze like a blade. And calm. So calm. As he had been while freeing Cooper from the boilerworm’s jaws. As he had been after breaking Polley in half. As he had been when the admiral had first stepped into the vault. The calm that signaled he was ready for battle.
Against
her
?
Softly he asked, “Why
wouldn’t
you continue telling everyone that we’re married?”
Was she supposed to? Did they still need to pretend? She hadn’t thought so.
Uncertain, she clutched the blanket tighter and futilely tried to hook her streaming hair behind her ear. “Because we’re not.”
“No?” He leaned closer, gripping the edge of the basket at either side of her waist. “You agreed to be my wife.”
“Yes. But we were in a vault.
Alone.
”
As if that meant nothing, he discarded it with a shake of his head. “Do you need the approval of your family? You once told me that you don’t let others make decisions for you, so I didn’t think I needed to ask anyone else. Should I have approached your brother first?”
“No.” God, no.
“You were there. I was there.” The wooden rail creaked under his fingers. “Who else would we need?”
“A magistrate or a reverend, to start. And a witness.”
“You need an official?”
“Yes.”
“Then we’ll find one when we reach the Red City.”
“To
marry
us? That wasn’t what I— Wait.” Breathless, her thoughts in a whirl, she held up her hand. “Just wait.”
This was happening too quickly. He was far ahead of her, or she was far behind, and nothing made sense.
She drew a deep breath. Another. Silent, with his heavy arms caging her in, Ariq watched her.
Her confusion began to subside. But although her tumbling thoughts settled, her emotions would not. Disbelief still reigned.
“You married me?
Truly
married me?”
His chin dipped in a slow nod. “You are my wife.” The gravel in his voice was the only indication that his calm might not be as deep as it appeared. “But it seems I am not your husband.”
Her husband.
Hers.
Because he’d married her.
The realization filled her chest like laughter, light and warm and wonderful. It must have shown. Some of his tension seemed to ease.
“I thought it was a strategy,” she confessed. “Just a way to protect me.”
“It was strategy.” Gently, he pushed her hair away from her face, but the moment his hand returned to the rail it streamed between them again. “But not
just
strategy.”
“You didn’t have to, though.” Zenobia could still barely believe that he had. But despite the doubts that wanted to slip in, she was beginning to embrace the idea. “It’s a rather extreme tactic, marriage. Have you used it before? Is that how you won all of your battles? Do you have brides all across the Horde Empire, unaware that they’re married?”
Without a change in his expression he said, “Thousands.”
Her laughter bubbled out. “So what else has been a strategy? Stealing my hairpins? Telling me that I’m everything?”
Something flickered over his features. Her laugh faltered.
What had that been? Just a subtle tightening of his mouth, a flash through his eyes. So fleeting, she couldn’t describe the emotion behind it. But she felt the meaning in the sudden, painful clutch of her chest.
She stared up at him, at the clench of his jaw, at the resolve hardening his eyes, and knew she wasn’t mistaken. “
That
was a strategy—telling me that I’m everything?”
A frown darkened his face. “It was true.”
Pain sliced through her gut. That might as well have been a confirmation. “But was it a tactic? For what purpose?”
“You were pushing me away. I knew you were vulnerable to those who cared for you. So I bared my heart.”
In her bedchamber. When she’d learned that he’d read her letters and betrayed her trust. She hadn’t been pushing him away—she been trying to
get
away, because everything inside her had been hurting as much as it did now, and her chest had been tight and heavy, her throat aching with hot tears.
But there hadn’t been anywhere to go. There wasn’t anywhere to go now, either.
Except to turn away from him. Turn away and blame her tears on the wind.
She did, facing an ocean that blurred before her. At least she understood his reading the letters. He’d been protecting his town. But why had he taken aim at her heart? “You told me you were falling in love so that I would trust you?”
And she had. Fool that she was, she’d fallen straight into his arms.
Those arms flexed, his big hands clenching on the rail as if he wanted to rip it away. “And because you
are
everything.”
“How can I believe that?” Every word caught on the ache in her throat, shuddering as it emerged. “If you hide your reasons, how can I trust anything you say?”
“Dregs and hell! Because it’s the
truth
!”
“And only spoken because it served a purpose!” Chest heaving with sudden anger, she pivoted and met his thunderous gaze.
No longer calm, he loomed over her, his powerful arms braced at her sides. “But it was the truth. You cannot say the same of everything you’ve said to me.”
And she was supposed to be sorry for that?
“I lied to protect myself! I
never
used my feelings as a weapon against you. But you attack me with yours—as if I’m an enemy you have to defeat.”
“You’re not an enemy. But you build walls. You build them high and thick, and don’t allow anyone through. So, yes. I waged an assault against them.” Lowering his face to hers, he vowed through gritted teeth, “And I will do it again, Zenobia. Because you’re building them now. Next you will run and hide. And this will be the excuse you use to go.”
Wildly, she shook her head. Every wall she’d ever built stood for a reason. Now she had another one. Every time Ariq said he cared for her she would wonder what he really wanted. “It’s not an excuse—”
“Do you believe that I love you? Because if you know that’s true, then you’re just grabbing for stones to build your walls again—because if having a hidden purpose means you don’t trust me, you only have to say as much and I’ll never do it again. So do you believe that I’ve spoken the truth?”
The question seemed to shatter the anger inside her, breaking it into sharp edges that ripped and tore. She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to answer.
Mutely, she stared at him.
The skin across his cheeks drew taut. Hoarsely, he asked, “You don’t?”
She swallowed past the ache in her throat. “You don’t even know me. You concocted a story in your head to explain my presence here. And that’s who you thought I was when you were in my bedchamber, when you told me . . .” She couldn’t continue. Eyes burning, she turned her face away. “You thought I was someone I’m not. You loved her. And you married her.”
Silence. Was he realizing that truth? How could she bear it when he looked at her differently?
“Zenobia.” Strong fingers lifted her chin. His eyes were dark, and intense, and he was calm again. “I learned who you were
before
I married you.”
“All you learned was a name. I wasn’t who you loved.”
“And I never loved the spy as much as I did you last night when you bludgeoned me. Or today, when you told me good morning.” His thumb slipped across her trembling lips. “Is this why you’re pushing me away?”
Throat aching too much for words, she shrugged. How could she trust any of this? She felt foolish, and hurt, and certain that the second she reached for him, he would step away. No need to push him.
“You
are
my wife,” he said, and the rasp in his voice shredded her heart a little more. “Am I your husband?”
She wanted him to be. So much. But her heart was a selfish, stupid thing. Only an idiot would listen to it.
“It’s not at all sensible,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“We barely know each other.” Only two weeks. And they’d spent half the time apart.
“That’s true,” Ariq agreed, and the cold rushed in around her when he suddenly stepped away. He watched her from the center of the basket, arms folded over his chest. “So we can resolve this simply. You can be my wife now and when we reach the Red City. If you’re with me, living as my wife, we’ll soon know each other well. And when you’re satisfied, you can make me your husband.”
“But that’s so . . .” Practical. Eminently practical.
Yet would be so painful if what she feared was true—that Ariq would discover he didn’t love her.
He must have read her hesitation. “You would be certain of my feelings for you.”
So she would. And maybe the coming pain didn’t matter. It was already painful now.
“All right.” She stopped his forward motion with a lift of her hand. Her heart pounded, fear crashing with hope. “But if I’m not convinced, then I’ll leave with my brother when he arrives.”
His expression froze. Utterly still, he watched her. The kraken, waiting. “You’re already planning to leave?”
“No. Just planning.” So that she didn’t feel utterly lost when it happened.
His predatory stillness continued. “Are you afraid?”
The laugh that burst from her held no amusement. But if the point of the next few weeks was to learn about each other, she might as well admit this. “I’m always afraid.”
Ariq stiffened. “Of me?”
“No.” Oddly enough. “Not at all.”
“Good.”
He strode forward, tearing his tunic open. Sunlight rippled over sculpted flesh. By the time he reached her, he’d bared shoulders heavy with muscle, and her scattered wits had finally stitched together to form a complete thought. Then his tunic dropped to the basket floor and she had to gather her words again.
Ariq didn’t give her a moment to say them. “I have no hidden purposes. I’m taking this off because it excites you to look at me.”
The unbelievable arrogance. “No—”
“No lies.” Abruptly he caught her chin and tipped her gaze up to meet his. “If I’m to learn about you, do
not
block me by putting lies in my way. The walls you already have are enough.”
That was fair. She recanted her denial. “I do like looking.”
So much. Just a glimpse of his body kindled a fire in hers, heat licking over her skin.
Gaze dropping to her lips, he nodded. “Know this, too: Everything I do is to persuade you to stay. Every time I touch you, every time I look at you, every time I kiss you. Every time I get inside you I won’t stop until you’re crying my name. I intend to brand myself so deep into you that you could write a thousand stories but still not picture life without me. That is my purpose. If you put obstacles between us, I will use any strategy to tear them down. So that when your brother comes, you don’t think of leaving with him. Is that direct enough?”
It couldn’t be any clearer. Breathless, she said, “Yes—”
His mouth seized hers. Oh, God. Not a sweet kiss this time, but rough and possessive. His big hand clasped her nape, holding her still as he invaded her lips. The bold stroke of his tongue staked his claim. Staggering under the assault on her senses, she let her blanket fall from nerveless fingers and clung to him, his bare skin hot beneath her hands.
But this wasn’t a surrender. Even if he knew her most vulnerable points. Even if he could make her gasp when he cupped her bottom and lifted her against him, and cry out when the long ride over his rigid shaft transformed her arousal into raging, aching need.
At least she wasn’t the only one devastated. An agonized groan tore from his chest as he held her with only a few layers of clothing between them, her thighs wrapped around his hips. He buried his face in her throat. She felt the battle that shook through him, his every muscle taut from the strain of simply holding her.