His Defiant Desert Queen(28)
And then the maid knocked on the door. She’d returned to escort Jemma to lunch, leading her through the maze of hallways and halls to a door that led outside to a beautiful walled garden shaded by palms with a tiled fountain in the center of the courtyard.
Mikael was already there, waiting for her.
“I recognize those clothes,” he said.
“It’s all I have with me.”
“I had some gowns put in your wardrobe.”
“I didn’t see them,” she answered, aware that she hadn’t looked, either.
He was silent a moment, studying her. “We need to talk, but you also need to eat, so we shall sit, and eat, and talk and hopefully become better acquainted so this wedding night will be more...comfortable...for you.”
She made a soft sound of protest. “I don’t think eating and talking will make anything about tonight comfortable. I can’t believe this is real. Can’t believe any of this is happening. I didn’t say any vows. I didn’t agree to anything.”
“You didn’t have to. I claimed you and that was all that was needed. My word is law.”
“That makes for a very quick and convenient ceremony.”
“The ceremony might be quick, but the honeymoon isn’t. We will stay together here for sixteen days before we return to my palace in the capitol.”
“You don’t even like me. How can you contemplate bedding me?”
His lips quirked. It was as close to a smile as she had ever seen from him. “You are not an unattractive woman, Jemma. And I’m sure you are quite aware that a man can desire a woman without engaging one’s emotions.”
“So when you bed me tonight, it will be without tenderness or passion.”
“If you are worried about the act itself, you needn’t be. I am a skillful lover. I will take my time and be sure to satisfy your needs. It wouldn’t be a proper honeymoon if I didn’t.”
A proper honeymoon.
A proper honeymoon was the trip to Bali with Damien. They’d already booked their air and hotels when he’d broken it off. She’d planned a wedding that hadn’t taken place. And now she was married without a wedding and trapped here for a honeymoon she didn’t want.
Her eyes burned. Her throat ached. Jemma blinked and looked away, across the courtyard, to the splashing fountain. The water danced and trickled and it amazed her that the water could be so light and tinkling when her heart felt so heavy and broken.
“I don’t want to be pleasured,” she whispered, reaching up to brush away a tear before it could fall. “I don’t want any of this.”
“You will become less resistant to the idea as time goes on.”
She choked on a hysterical laugh as she glanced at him. “You think?”
He shrugged. “I imagine for you, being from a Western culture, this is terribly strange, but it is not as strange for me. I hadn’t ever expected to marry for love. I’ve known all along that my bride would be from a different tribe. I just didn’t expect it to be...yours.”
“The despised Copelands.”