DeButy & the Beast (30 page)

"Who did it?" Valerie asked, her cheeks flushing pink. "Who hired them?"

"I don't know," Julian said. "But I will find out." He turned his attention to Anya. "You didn't answer your grandmother's question, my love. Do you still plan to return to Puerta Sirena?"

"Yes," she said quickly.

"Why?" he whispered.

Her heart thundered. Her hands shook. "I belong there," she whispered. "I do not belong here."

All of a sudden her stomach roiled. She pushed her chair back and stood quickly. "I do not feel well. I am going to bed."

Sebastian and Julian rose in a synchronized motion. They both looked as if they intended to accompany her. She lifted her hands, one palm presented to each man. "No. Leave me alone, both of you."

When Angelo and Hector stepped up as if they intended to follow her, she lost her temper. "And you two! I am sick of turning around and running into you! Stay away from me!"

They looked to Sebastian, and with a wave of his hand he gave them permission to do as she asked. When they stepped back Anya turned and ran from the room, heading for the stairs and blessed solitude.

* * *

The royal guests had been put in another wing, thank goodness. The queen was in Valerie's old room, and the damned king was in a room near Seymour's. Guards had been posted at Anya's door, but they likely didn't know that the three rooms along this corridor were connected by inner doors. Julian slipped through the door from the shared sitting room into Anya's bedchamber.

A lamp burned low on a bedside table, illuminating the lump beneath the covers. Anya immediately sat up and twisted to face him.

"I see you're still wearing my nightshirt," he said softly.

She nodded and grasped the bodice with one hand. "What are you doing here?" Like him, she kept her voice low, so the guards in the hallway wouldn't hear.

He held the plate in his hand high, and offered the glass of milk. "You didn't eat. I thought you might be hungry."

"I am starving," she whispered.

Julian sat on the edge of the bed and offered her the plate and glass. He had put together a roast beef sandwich and cut it into four pieces, and he'd sliced an apple. Anya took one of the small sandwiches and began to eat.

"You must think about the baby," he admonished. "Skipping a meal is not a good idea."

"I know," she said between bites. "But I could not eat. Not with—"

"We're not going to talk until you've cleaned this plate and drunk all the milk," he interrupted. And then he wasn't leaving this room until he and his wife settled this... this thing between them.

Anya didn't look at him, not directly, as she ate and drank. Even when she was finished and he took the plate and glass and set them aside, she only looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He couldn't stand it. He took her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. Immediately, her eyes filled with tears.

"Don't," he whispered.

"I cannot help it."

He wiped away a tear with his thumb. "I don't understand," he confessed. "Do you really prefer a life with that... that Neanderthal king to a life with me?"

"Yes," she breathed.

"Why?"

Anya only shook her head in inadequate answer.

"I hate him," Julian said, refusing to release his hold on her. "Never in my life have I really wanted to kill, but when I look at him..."

"Stay away from Sebastian," Anya said, showing fiery emotion for the first time.

Julian dropped his hands. Had he been so wrong about her? He'd been so certain that Anya loved him, but the way she defended her bloody king made him wonder.

Anya was keeping a secret, and he couldn't figure out what it was. Did she love her king so much? Did she want to be queen so badly that she'd do anything to have that title? Had everything between them, everything that had come before, been false?

No, he didn't believe it. Couldn't. When he leaned forward to kiss Anya, she turned her head and presented her cheek. He wasn't deterred, but planted his lips there, kissed her, raked his mouth down to her throat.

"While I was gone," he whispered, "I thought of you every day. Every moment of every day. I dreamed of you at night. In the worst moments, I remembered the way you felt, the way you laughed, the way you smiled. When I lost hope, I thought of you and knew I had to do whatever was necessary to get home. To get home to you. And now that I am here, it seems that you don't want me."

She shuddered, long and deep. "Julian..."

"
Marido
, " he corrected. "You used to call me
marido
."

"But you are my husband no longer," she said, almost desperately. "Queen Carola has declared—"

"Queen Carola can kiss my ass."

"Julian!" Anya said, drawing slightly away from him.

"She can't undo what we've done." He raked his hand down Anya's side.

"It is best," Anya whispered.

"Best for whom?" Julian asked impatiently. "You? Me? King Sebastian? You can't tell me that taking my child to an island in the Caribbean to be raised as a savage is best."

"It is best for everyone," she said, not very convincingly.

Julian raised his eyes and met her watery gaze. "Do you love him? Is that what this is all about?"

"Sebastian?" She shook her head. "No, I do not love him."

"Then why—"

"I will never fit in here," she snapped. "Never."

"You are my wife. You will fit in wherever we are."

She shook her head in denial. "Did they hurt you?"

"What?" he asked, confused by the abrupt change of subject.

"The kidnappers," she explained. "Did they hurt you?"

"No, not really."

"Good." She reached out and brushed a strand of hair off his shoulder.

She had, at least, accepted the fact that he had not purposely deserted her. That was a step in the right direction, he supposed.

"I missed you so much," he confessed.

"And I missed you."

Julian smiled. Everything was going to be all right. He reached out and placed his palm over Anya's belly. "You've grown a little, I think."

"I know."

He placed his other hand on her breast. "Here, too."

Anya nodded.

With a gentle shove he laid her back on the bed and hovered above her, one hand on her belly, the other on a soft, yielding breast. "I want you," he whispered.

Anya shook her head, but she didn't move away or shove his hands aside.

"You're my wife, and I need you."

Again, she shook her head.

"Don't you want me?" She didn't answer, not even with a shake of her head. He kissed her throat again, laid his body against hers so she could feel for herself how he needed her. She answered, with a long, deep shudder.

His hand slid down from her belly. He grasped the tail end of the nightshirt Anya wore and lifted it slowly to bare her thighs. Enough talking. She would show him how she felt, as she always did. They would handle the king tomorrow. They would handle everything tomorrow. Tonight... tonight was for this.

He ran his palm up her bare thigh, cupped her hip, and drew her closer. He kissed the tender spot beneath her ear, trailed his lips down to her shoulder. She moaned and brushed an easy hand down his side, then slipped that hand between their bodies to caress the length beneath his trousers. A few buttons, a moment more, and he would be inside her.

"Show me you love me, Anya," he whispered.

It was, evidently, the wrong thing to say. Her entire body stiffened. "We cannot do this," she said, drawing away from him.

"What do you mean we can't?"

She scooted away from him. "It is too late."

"How can it be too late?" he asked, exasperated.

Anya drew her legs up and hid her body beneath the quilt. "Sebastian will kill you."

It was more than he could stand. "Sebastian again, son of a bitch." He left the bed and raked his hair back with the fingers of both hands. "So you really want to be queen, is that it?"

She shook her head. "No, but I am promised to Sebastian, now. Even if I did... want you, it would not be right."

"Anya, you're my wife—"

"No," she interrupted. "My grandmother bought you for me. You did your job well, and now our time is done. Go, Julian," she said softly. "Travel around the world, write your books... live the life you wanted before you met me."

"Our marriage might have started that way, but things have changed."

"Have they?"

"I love you." Let her argue with that!

"I know," she whispered. "Now, please go."

Julian threw his hands in the air and did as she asked.

* * *

Sebastian left his guards behind and crept down the stairs and into the kitchen. He was still hungry. They never fed him quite enough in this house.

A light still burned there. Good. If someone was about he might not have to fend for himself.

He saw her long before she saw him. Her back was to him as she bent over some menial task at a work table. Betsy, he remembered. Her name was Betsy, and she was a servant in this household.

As a servant, she would surely give him whatever he asked for, and at the moment his rumbling stomach was the least of his problems.

She was attractive, in an ordinary sort of way. Brown hair, green eyes, upturned nose. But her body... beneath those plain clothes she wore she had a magnificent body. She had breasts just the right size, a waist so small he could span it with his hands, he was certain, hips that swelled in invitation.

Betsy turned and jumped when she found him standing there. "I didn't hear you," she said softly. "Are you hungry?"

He nodded once and gave her a smile to still her nervousness. The smile did not work on her, as it usually did on females of all ages. It seemed to frighten her. "Why do you work so late?"

Betsy turned and resumed her task. "I have no choice. We're shorthanded, and have more guests than usual, and I can't get Hilary to do a thing in the kitchen. The part-time girl who was supposed to help me tonight was scared away by one of..." She stopped abruptly.

"One of what?" Sebastian prompted as he walked up behind her.

"One of your men," she finished crisply. "Alice had never seen a bare-chested man before, and she was quite frightened."

"Silly Alice," he said, coming upon Betsy and laying his hands on her hips.

She squealed, spun around, and pushed her small, ineffectual hands against his own bare chest. "How dare you?" she said, blushing a pretty pink.

"I want you," he said with a smile. "Come to my bed."

In answer, she lifted her small hand and slapped him soundly across the cheek. He was so surprised his head snapped back.

"I'll have you know I'm not that kind of girl," she said indignantly.

"What kind of girl are you?"

"I'm a... I don't... You shouldn't..."

"Ah," he said, suddenly enlightened and forgiving Betsy for her inappropriate striking of his face. "You are a virgin."

She huffed and turned away from him, but he trapped her against the table. His body touched hers, his hands reached around her and grasped the edge of her worktable. Yes, Betsy was trapped, and she trembled. "Do not be afraid. I like virgins, truly."

"Please go away," she said softly.

He had thought her trembling was caused by desire, but when he realized it was fear that made her tremble, he dropped his hands and stepped back. "You are very beautiful," he said. "Why are you a virgin?"

With some distance between them, she felt safe enough to turn and face him. Good. He liked watching her face as she spoke. It was more than ordinary, he decided. That face was quite beautiful. "I've spent enough time with Miss Anya to know that on your island things are different, but here nice girls don't sleep with men until they're married."

"So you are waiting for marriage?"

She scoffed and crossed her arms across her chest. "I'm never getting married."

"Why not?" Was she afraid? In love with someone she could not have? He found he wanted to know why such a woman would choose a life of loneliness.

"I have eleven brothers and sisters," she said. "Most of my life I've been more mother than sister to all of them. Why do you think I work here? I spent half my life wishing to get away from home. Why would I trade it for a bunch of kids of my own?"

"You do not want children?"

"No," she said emphatically. "Therefore, I want no husband. Besides," the ever intriguing Betsy added, "I don't like you."

Sebastian was taken aback. Everyone liked him! "Why not? Have I offended you in some way?"

"You're going to take Miss Anya away, when everyone knows she loves Dr. DeButy. It just isn't right."

"She wishes to go," he contradicted in a dangerous tone.

"No, she doesn't, you dolt," Betsy argued.

He paused. In a way, Betsy was right. Anya did love Julian. She had admitted it freely. So why was she leaving this place? So she could be queen? So her child would be heir to the throne? No, he suspected her reasons were more personal. To be honest, if she changed her mind he would not berate her, or force her to return to Puerta Sirena. He liked Anya. He wanted her to be happy.

Besides, there were other interesting women in the world, he decided. Other women who would argue with him. As for the bloodline that ruled on his island, perhaps it was time for a change.

"If you will not come to my bed, will you at least feed me?" he asked, taking a step toward Betsy.

"Of course," she said. "That's my job."

He was aching for a woman, and almost wished that that woman Anya did not like—what was her name?—was still around. Perhaps even she would be better than no woman at all.

Mother's servants, Maida in particular, would not be averse to a night in his bed. She had accommodated him on occasion during the long voyage from Puerta Sirena to America.

But Sebastian found he did not want Maida, or even that woman whose name he could not recall. He did not even want Anya, who slept above his head.

He wanted this woman, the one who had refused him, the one who had called him a dolt.

But for now, he would settle for the plate of food she prepared and placed on the kitchen table. He could charm her, if not tonight then certainly tomorrow. No woman could resist his charms.