Hadley glanced toward where he was being dismissed and nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. Please assure the king that I will be at the capital for all the festivities and I shall not cause any trouble.”
“Of course,” Giabella said coolly. “Good night.”
“Good night,” Hadley said with a low bow and then a nod for Dash before he raced from the room, as if he wished to escape before he was caught up by the hounds of hell themselves.
Giabella smiled as they heard the count depart the house and then turned to Dash. “Well, what do you think, Dash? Was he telling the truth?”
He stared at her, his hands beginning to shake as the weight of what she’d done settled on him once again. He said nothing but moved to the parlor door.
“Dash?” she repeated, concern in her turn.
He yanked the door shut with a bang and then pivoted on her. “What I think, Gia, is that you just endangered yourself in the most foolhardy way. And I have no idea why you would ever do such a thing.”
Giabella took a long step back as Dash stared at her, face bright with…with anger. He had never shown anger toward her, not in all their years together. She wasn’t certain whether to welcome it as a reflection of their deepening intimacy or to lash back in defense.
“Why are you upset?” she asked, trying to maintain the cool calm she had trained into herself over the years. It was far harder with this man.
“Why am I upset?” he repeated, taking a long step toward her. “You went behind my back and you invited to a private meeting a man who assaulted you not three nights ago.”
She drew a breath. “He grabbed my arm, Dash, let us not overstate it.”
“He manhandled you,” Dash said, his voice wavering a fraction. “And he could have easily done something worse tonight when you invited him into a parlor alone without me.”
She blinked at the fire in his stare. The fear for her. “Dash…there is always a guard just outside the door.”
“And a guard might not get here soon enough,” he insisted. “Why in the world would you do something like that, Gia?”
“Do you not know why?” Giabella asked, tilting her head. “Oh, I could tell you it was for Grantham’s sake. Or to ease the tension between the aristocracy and the crown as the transition takes place. Both those answers seem very palatable. But the truth is that I…I did it for you.”
His face twisted in what seemed like horror. “For me?”
“You struck him when he touched me,” she said softly.
“After he touched you, a far greater crime,” he reminded her.
She shrugged. “But he still might have harbored resentment for months, even years. If he was not addressed by someone of royal blood, by me, then he could have…he could have brought hell down on you eventually. He could have hurt you politically, even physically. I was trying to protect you.”
He did not speak for nearly thirty seconds, just stared at her as if she had sprouted a second head or spoken some language he didn’t understand. Then he ran a hand through his hair and turned away from her. “Protecting me is not your occupation, Gia. Protecting you, seeing to your every need, is mine.”
The words hit her like a slap. She stared at his back as she tried to find words, find breath. “Is that all this is to you, Dash? An occupation? A duty?”
He pivoted to face her. “A duty, yes. And a pleasure always.”
She shook her head. “You do not see us as equals,” she whispered.
“We are not equals,” he answered, just as softly. “We never will be, even if we pretended during these wonderful stolen days of ours.”
She felt the sting of tears behind her eyes, the tightness to her throat as she stepped away from him. Pretended…as if this were just some fantasy that had ended, because he’d used the past tense to describe it. And perhaps it was better at that, since she knew that their future together was so very limited.
“Well, I would not wish for you to be forced to pretend any longer, Dashiell,” she said. “If you feel it is not my place to protect you, if you cannot see us as equals, then I fear I have put you in a very bad position. And it is likely best if we leave it at that.”
She turned away, praying with every step that he would call her back. Drag her back. That he would take her into his arms and tell her they could find a way, a path that she just couldn’t see on her own. Even if it weren’t true, at least she would know that they were in this boat together, sailing into the storm they couldn’t avoid.
But he didn’t. In the end, as she reached the parlor door and opened it, all he did say was, “Good night.”
So she left, staggering back to her room, locking herself in for something she rarely allowed herself: a long cry. She had earned it, after all.
CHAPTER 11
Dash had chosen to ride in the carriage with Giabella the next day. Partly because that was his place, but mostly because he had missed her so very much the night they’d spent apart and he’d hoped he could talk to her now that emotions had cooled. But she had been the queen when he got into the vehicle the next morning. She had been the queen all day, his passionate lover and dearest friend packed away with all her gowns and tiaras for the ride home.
And so he had allowed for it. He had spoken to her about itineraries and plans, reviewing not just the next two days of travel, but also the next few weeks of events leading up to the first election in the country. She had nodded and given direction when he had questions and been positively polite.
And it had driven him mad all day.
Now the afternoon waned and she looked out the window listlessly, her expression far away as the rig began to slow while they made their way into the village of Corkgrove, just below the royal residence of Menington where they had stayed their first night of this tour what felt like a lifetime ago. Where they’d first kissed on the beach and changed everything between them.
She waved, smiling at her people through the window even if it didn’t quite meet her eyes. Eyes she darted toward him.
“Dash,” she said softly, continuing to greet her subjects as they cheered along their route.
“Yes?” he said, setting the papers in his hands down to fully focus on her.
“This is our last night on this tour,” she said. “Our last night alone together before we return to the whirlwind that will encompass the next few weeks. And then all the changes that will follow.” She did look at him then. “And whatever else has happened, I do not wish to waste this last night together. Before this is truly over.”
His breath caught and relief washed over him. “I don’t want to waste one moment with you,” he agreed. “And if you want me tonight, I am yours.”
She flinched ever so slightly at his wording. “I intend to take supper in my chamber after a bath. Will you come to me at seven?”
He nodded. She was still distant, but he would take what he could get. Tonight he could show her how much she meant to him and perhaps that would close the gap that had been created by the argument the night before. “Yes. Of course.”
“Good,” she said, smoothing her clothing as the carriage entered the residence gates and came to a stop at the top of the drive. “I…” She leaned across and took his hand, her lower lip trembling ever so slightly. “I do want you so very much, Dash. I need you.”