Arabella sank back into the chair and dropped her head in her hands. "What a mess. I shouldn't have come."

Frederick knelt by her side. "It's not your fault. You handled all the evening's rudeness with grace. So I have to thank you for sparing my father. I didn't expect you to let him walk away."

She scowled at him. "Frederick, what do you think I am? I would never harm the man you call your father. And I can see why. He loves you dearly."

"Oh, I think quite highly of you, woman," he said with a grin. "Remarkable, really. I only thanked you for sparing him because I was about to break his teeth in if not for your misguided apology."

She shook her head. "Break his teeth in? That's just awful, Frederick. And let me guess—you'd love to show me off around this place to embarrass him. Perhaps you'd like to stay married to me to piss him off?"

"No," he said quietly. "I'd like to stay married to you because I haven't had enough of you yet. Do you know how much I thought of you in these last two weeks alone? Take a guess."

Her tiny fang dented her bottom lip. "I wouldn't know. Did you think about me—even once?"

"Try every minute of the damn day," he said as seriously as possible. "I barely slept. Just look at me and see it for yourself."

She searched his face. "You do look exhausted, lover. But I doubt it's because of me."

"That's what you think?"

She stretched the long fabric of her sleeve, as if shy and needing a reason not to look at him. "I don't know, Freddie. Sometimes it feels like you hardly care about me at all."

"I hardly care?" he murmured. "I'm not the one who didn't show up to dinner after what we did in the stables."

She raised her brow. "You didn't say a word to me on the way from the stables to the castle. I didn't think you wanted to speak to me."

When they'd finished in that stable, he'd kissed her face tenderly, wanting to fuck her all over again. "You seemed ... distant. Like you didn't want to speak with me when we were finished. I thought you were cross with me. That you hated what we did."

"Well," she said, scratching her throat with her long black nails, "I might have hated one thing you did."

He rubbed the back of his head, no longer able to meet her eyes. "Gods, I'm sorry, Ara. I don't know what came over me. I didn't mean to—with the grabbing—"

"No, not the choking. That drove me wild. I'm talking about what happened after."

"After ..." He raised his head. "You're talking about the way I finished?"

"Yes, Frederick. The way you finished. That was highly offensive."

His mind reeled with shock. "I didn't think you'd be mad at me for that. But you and I never discussed whether we wanted children, so I didn't want to do that to you without knowing what you wanted first."

She raised both dark brows. "Oh, really?"

"It's the truth."

"No, the truth is that you don't think I'm worthy of bearing your children. And perhaps I'm not. But gods, knowing you feel so strongly about my unsuitability for you really pissed me off."

"Ara," he said softly, taking her hand, "if anyone is unworthy, it's me. All right?"

Her irises flickered between red and brown. "You're such a bloody liar."

"Ara," he rasped, squeezing her hand, "I mean it. If I'd known that you weren't opposed to the idea of us having children ... would you have wanted me to come inside you?"

Her wary gaze swept over the ballroom floor. "Fredrick, even though vampyres are capable of conceiving children, it's nearly impossible to do. Especially between a human and vampyre. In fact, the last natural vampyre was born over two centuries ago. The risk of impregnating me is next to nothing."

She turned her face from his. "I offer you nothing but shortcomings and make a miserable wife for any man. I can't even guarantee that I could continue your line, and I can't assure you they wouldn't be some half-bred monstrosity that would make you want to leave me at once."

His thumb brushed her knuckles. "I don't see Viscon as a monstrosity."

"Of course, he isn't. It doesn't mean that all dhampyres turn out like him."

Their conversation lapsed, the merry music an inappropriate accompaniment to the tension brewing between them.

"You should still divorce me, Frederick," she finally said. "Pick any one of these beauties to give you a normal life and normal children. Your father would be delighted. Go and create a line you can be proud of and just forget I ever happened. Whether or not I married Bront or you, I never intended to keep either of you hostage in this marriage."

"No."

She turned her gaze upon him. "No?"

"You and I aren't done yet."

"Oh, really?" she drawled. "And when did you plan on telling me that."

He focused on her hand in his. "I've known it for some time now."

"Some time," she repeated. "So if you and I aren't done, what made you leave so quickly. Did you hate what we did?"

He swallowed. This time he couldn't afford to hide what she wanted to hear. What he wanted to say. "I hated that instead of bringing us closer, it took you further away from me. I didn't understand what went so wrong between us. Now I know it's because of how I ... finished."

"I was annoyed and maybe a little embarrassed by that," she said bristling. "Having your come all over me a second time was still unbearably erotic, even if it took me by surprise." He had to bite down his groan, quickly dismissing the memory of his seed covering her lovely ass. He begged his cock to stay flaccid. These breeches would make his pains obvious. "But it's not why I didn't speak. I didn't say anything afterward because I was so ... overwhelmed."

"But, Ara, so was I."

She shook her head. "I was too overcome. I couldn't bring myself to sit across from you at dinner. I was so scared."

"Scared," he repeated. "Of what? "

"Of what you would think of me," she said, her voice breaking. "Some wanton woman begging for you like a whore in a filthy stable. I'm your wife, and I want you to see me as someone worth being with. I want that more than anything. But how I felt that day when you looked at me like that and thanked me for that stupid horse ... I lost all control of myself. I wanted you so bad. It didn't even occur for me to vanish us into bed for our first time."

"And you thought I would think poorly of you? For showing me you wanted me, too. I thought about fucking you without cease before it happened, Arabella."

"Thought—wanted." Her gaze dipped to the ground. "And how do you feel about me now?"

"Feel about you now?" he repeated, lifting her chin with his finger so she would be forced to look at him. "I want to take you to the most private, most silent part of this place and show you how much I missed you. And I want to hear just how much you missed me."

Her fang worried her lip.

"Tonight I want to touch and taste you before I fuck you." She went to speak when he said, "Don't deny me this. You didn't come all this way to get divorced."

Her grin made him confused. Did he want to kiss her, hug her, or shake her? "When did you become so dirty?"

An invisible lick of heat edged up his cock. "I have always been a little dirty. More than a little."

She tsked. "That doesn't sound very Thescan."

"Because it isn't."

"A dirty prince bored to tears of courting, tea parties, balls, and courtier women with layers and layers of skirts to sift through before you can find what you want."

His mouth became dry as he viewed her lips. "That sounds about right."

"Speaking of courtier women," she said, tugging her chin away from his hold, "there's one here who can't keep her eyes off you. I didn't want to say anything before but now it cannot be helped."

Frederick followed her line of sight and stilled. He wanted to be anywhere but there, dread sliding through his insides—

Lucille lowered into a deep curtsy before them. "I—I thought to come over and have His Majesty introduce us, since no one has dared to approach you both."

"Lovely," Arabella said, balancing her elbow on the armrest. "And who might this be, lover? An acquaintance of yours?"

He rose from the floor and coughed into his fist. "Your Majesty, this is Lady Lucille Delune."

Lucille curtsied again. "Your husband and I are old friends. We share a border between our estates at Aldren Heights."

"Charmed," Arabella said dryly, causing Frederick to tense. "I think you already know who I am."

"Indeed," she said, her cheeks reddening. "There are some ladies of mine and Frederick's mutual acquaintance in attendance tonight. Might I—might I introduce you?"

Arabella grinned, revealing her lethal, little fangs.

Awkwardness sped between the three of them, and Lucille bobbed again. "You have a nice night," she said before lifting her skirts and scurrying away.

"Well," she said in a tone that didn't ring with the pleasantness it had before, "she's a pretty little morsel, isn't she?" She eyed him sidelong. "One you've sampled, 'old friend.' Shared a metaphorical border, perhaps."

He resisted the urge to tug his collar, the mantle on his back becoming too hot and too heavy. "Let's not talk about it here."

"Yes," she drawled. "Let's not."

The music throbbed in 3-4 time, slower than the erratic pulse beating in his throat. He concentrated on the song until it ended, the heat in his chest and palms surging.

It was before you, anyway.

It doesn't matter.

It never mattered.

People dared glances toward them often. Arabella regarded it all with little interest, rhythmically strumming her nails on the armrest.

"You should dance with her," she said suddenly.

He shook his head with annoyance. "I think I'm quite all right."

"But look at her," she said, gesturing with a flat palm as though presenting a dish. "One man has already asked her to dance and she's declined. And look, there goes another, but no ... no, she's passed on him, too."

"It isn't appropriate in Thescan to ask women to dance when one is married," Frederick said roughly.

"Good thing, then, that you are going through a divorce. It's all this damned place can talk about."

He folded his arms, his nails digging into his bicep. "And you hear all that?"

"Vampyre senses, Freddie." She cupped her hand beneath her chin again and leaned lazily toward him. "Why don't you put her out of her misery, husband, and give her the dance she's so longing to be asked for. I think a scandal would excite them all."

"And why are you so persistent about getting me to do this?"

She smirked up at him. "It would make me quite amused."

Frederick clenched his jaw, his blood boiling with insult.

Again. She had come to Thescan to dismiss him again. Why she bothered meeting him, he didn't know. But that's all he was to her; all he would ever be. Sport. Fun.

Amusement.

He lowered into a mocking bow. "If it's amusement my queen is seeking, then it's amusement she will be receiving." At his expense, of course. "Excuse me."

He made his way to the floor, bypassing courtiers until he reached Lucille. "Care to dance?"

Lucille's smirk was slight as she dipped into a curtsy. "I thought you'd never ask."

Well, that was the plan but his wife had a point to prove, and so did he.

With her hand through his bent elbow, he escorted her onto the floor, courtiers scurrying away from them as if poor taste was contagious. Lucile viewed him with silent satisfaction as he put his hand about her waist and took her hand with his other.

Inappropriate. Embarrassing. But against his better judgment, he led Lucile into the dance.

He caught glimpses of Arabella every time he turned with Lucille, and she remained still all the while. Watching. Her hand a fist now beneath her chin.

"How do you do it?" Lucille whispered.

"Do what?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "How do you cope with being married to her?"

"I've never really seen it as something to cope with. I made this decision, and I've accepted that she's my life now."

"She's your life now." She giggled. He used to find the sound of it so endearing, but tonight it only stretched his patience. "If I didn't know you any better, why, I'd say that's quite romantic."

It wasn't romantic, it was mere fact. He lived in her world, no matter how much he didn't belong to it. But in a way, he belonged to her. And in an even stranger way, she belonged to him.

He chose to be mine, Arabella told his father. Did she intend to keep what was hers?

"Frederick?"

He shook his head. "Yes?"

Lucille raised her brow. "You didn't answer, but I suppose I didn't ask a question."

"Right."

"Is it romantic between you two?"

He locked eyes with her. What was he supposed to say to that? "She's my wife."

Lucille shuddered. "But surely it's ghastly."

He swept her off the floor and led her to the nearest door. "Be quiet."

She followed him outside into the royal gardens, past the endless paths of trimmed rose bushes and lawn hedges. Frederick knew everyone would have seen them leave for the gardens, knew this would cause a scandal to be alone with her, but he had to take her away from enhanced vampyre hearing.

He halted under the gazebo veined with vines and took her by the shoulders. "Are you mad speaking like that in there?"

Lucille blinked. "What, can she hear me?"

"Their hearing is far better than ours so I wouldn't put it past her, even in a crowded ballroom."

Her gloved hands gripped her stomach. "My word, can she hear me out here?"

"Just assume that nowhere is safe when speaking of her and her kind. Don't probe me, Lucille. Just accept that we're married, and try to speak of the matter as you would any normal man. Don't ask me subtle things that lead to having to explain if I fuck her, when I fuck her, how I fuck her. Understand? Of course, I fuck her, and it's precisely the same as a normal woman."

Lies. It's better. So much better.

"Lucille," she repeated. "You used to call me Lucy." Her fingers twisted against themselves. "I shouldn't have probed."

"No, you shouldn't have."

"I just thought, being old friends and all ..."

He raised his brow.

She laughed. "Don't look at me like that. It's making me miss you terribly, and I have missed you terribly."

He folded his arms. "You and I have only been what we've ever been, and now I'm married."

"They say you're divorcing—is that true?" He stared at her, admiring her courage to ask him this. "Even if you're not, surely you miss a real woman. Surely you miss me."

He assessed her and tried to determine what she was playing at.

She said, "I miss you in my bed."

"I wasn't the only one in your bed."

"Yes, but you were my first. I had hoped you would keep gorging yourself on women until you were full, and I had hoped you would come back to me. My family adored you."

In truth, he used to consider her virginity some sort of gift, but—"My father had other plans."

Why marry a woman to share a border on a hill? his father had said. Marry a woman who will make you a king.

"But would you have?" she asked.

He paused. "Would I have what?"

"Would you have asked for me?"

"No," he replied without a beat of hesitation.

She drew back. "But why?"

"I just wouldn't have."

Hurt, genuine hurt watered her eyes. "All this time I held out for you. I saved myself for you. Endured years of being called a spinster hoping for you. What was I to you?"

His words would hurt no matter how much he didn't mean them to, but he needed to finish this conversation and return to Arabella. "I thought you understood."

She was a diversion. A pastime.

Amusement. The same amusement he provided his own wife.

He regretted it now.

She wiped her eyes along the back of her glove and refused the handkerchief he offered. "I thought you cared for me."

"Of course, I care for you."

"You just said that you didn't."

"I didn't say anything of the sort. You are a dear friend and always have been. I'm fond of you." He took a breath. "My family is royalty. Your family is rich but rich isn't enough. An advantageous marriage was always in my future. I thought you understood that."

She clutched her throat as if he'd punched her. "You ... you're such a bastard for this, Frederick. I can't think of anything bad enough to call you."

Maybe she couldn't, but Arabella always had something to say. Gods, that woman thrilled him, even with her insults. "From this day forward, you will speak with tact and respect. The same respect you show the other married men."

"But, Frederick, I—"

"Sorry to interrupt," Arabella said, lifting her skirts as she climbed the steps to the gazebo, "but I'd like a word with my husband. It's time that you leave, pet."

Lucille hurried away without a backward glance, disappearing around the corner in a bustle of powder-blue skirts.

"Skittish little thing," Arabella drawled. "Infatuated with you, though."

Frederick nodded. "Yes, I've learned that tonight."

"Only tonight?"

Perhaps the clues had been there—her words, her longing glances. Never did he care to ponder on what they meant where Lucille was concerned. Maybe she cared more than she should have, and maybe it had been stirring for quite some time. He hadn't cared then, and he didn't care now, though he deeply regretted having toyed with her.

Arabella examined her black nails, tilting them this way and that to make them glitter like little galaxies. "You know, I thought when you dragged her out of there so fast that you were hurrying to have your wicked way in the gardens. Turns out I was wrong. But if you wanted to fuck her, you should have fucked her. I wouldn't have cared."

He studied her the way she studied her nails, leaning into those words to decipher their meaning and finding none. "You don't mean that."

"Of course I do."

"No," he insisted. "You didn't come all this way, attend this ball, and then flirt with me all night before you didn't care who I was fucking."

"Flirt with you?"

"If you didn't care, you would have stayed in Carnelia, but you're here."

She laughed. "Freddie, I don't care that much. You said it to her—this is an advantageous marriage. Don't forget it for a moment."

He quieted, assessing her in the moonlight that made her skin look like the moon itself. The two of them could stay just this way and engage in an argument that was sure to follow. They could ruin this evening, this reunion. End this whole thing with divorce.

Or he could stop it now before things went too far. There was some sort of test she was putting him through. A test he had to pass. The two of them needed to stop arguing, and he could be the one who put an end to it. He needed to be calm, controlled, and above all things, honest with her.

There was something he needed to do. "Let me show you something."

Frederick held out his hand, waiting for her to take it. Trust me, he silently begged, and with an arched brow, she slipped her palm into his.