Melody Anne - Scorched

How had that happened?

When had it occurred?

The more pressing question was, what was he willing to do to capture her?

He’d tried kidnapping, cajoling, seducing. What else could he do?

How about being honest?

The thought stopped him in his tracks, right in front of the wide windows of his sitting room. Staring down at the stormy day, the water churning, waves splashing against the shore, Adriane was at a loss.

This was all new territory for him, but the one thing he did know was that he didn’t want her to walk away. He could hold her captive for only so long. His threats were all empty and they both knew it.

Maybe it hadn’t been his best idea to tell her she was going to marry him whether she liked it or not. It might be time to try a bit more cajoling. Why couldn’t this be less complicated? Why did messy emotions have to get involved? They were good together. They’d proved that in Florida.

If she’d just get past this little squabble, they could be in bed together right this very minute, and be on their way to a wedding. All their problems would be solved in a trice. Why couldn’t a woman be more like a man? Couldn’t she learn to use her head?

Adriane was quite proud of himself for being so logical.

Now, he just had to convince her that he was in the right.

That shouldn’t be too hard a task, he thought smugly.

With a new resolve, he stepped into the shower and found himself whistling one of his favorite show tunes. Yes, he still had an aching arousal, but he was sure that after he spoke rationally to her, that problem would be solved and all parties would be happy.

Yes, his mother had told him to try being more romantic, but hadn’t he been? He’d taken her on romantic dates, showed her they were compatible. He’d done what had been asked of him. Yes, he gave her romance. But love? That was going a bit too far. Love didn’t have to be a factor in their relationship. Logic was the only way to make a lasting union. He was sure he could get her to see this. She was a smart woman, after all.

Adriane’s confidence faltered briefly the next day. Where was she? Had he pushed her too far and caused her to run away?

But she hadn’t gone. He happened to find her sitting in one of the garden gazebos. He was about to saunter up to her with a winning smile, but he was stopped by the gloomy expression on her face as she gazed off into the distance. It tore him apart knowing he’d been the one to make her feel that way.

He would make this better.

He approached her cautiously. “Can we talk?”

He watched her struggle to mask the wounded look in her eyes, and he vowed to quit hurting her, vowed to consider her feelings more.

“I’m not sure you know how to talk — you just yell and snap orders,” she said, turning away from him and looking once more into the horizon.

Ouch.

“What if I work on that, and you accompany me on a walk?” he said in his best diplomatic voice.

Her eyes narrowed at his tone, but she wasn’t refusing him. That was a start, at least. Without actually accepting his invitation, she stood and then they were strolling through the gardens. It just felt natural when his hand brushed against hers, and her fingers were suddenly entwined with his.

The feel of her skin sent a thrill of passion through him, as always, but also a feeling of warmth, of rightness. This was the way they were supposed to be — hand in hand.

As the storm clouds brewed overhead, they walked in silence, the invigorating smell of the gardens drifting around them, the sea air warm as the breeze stirred her hair.

Adriane had always considered Rachel stunning, but he saw her now in a new way, a way he hadn’t taken the time to notice before. There was a vulnerability about her, but a deep strength, as well, and the combination made her compelling to behold. She had the presence and the character to make an outstanding queen. She just needed to realize it.

“What can I do to make this better for us?” he asked, his tone gentle, as they paused by the beach and looked out at the threatening skies.

“I don’t know. I want to know you, but we keep hitting walls.”

“I will do whatever you want,” he replied.

“Then quit insisting we marry. That would be a good start.”

“But there’s no other option; you carry my heirs,” he argued. His frustration was mounting again, though he desperately wanted to bury the emotion and keep their conversation on an even keel.

“To me, love is paramount when choosing a mate. It will stand the test of time when the winds blow and the tempest of the outside world tries to tear the marriage apart like the shifting of the waves of an ocean crashing to shore. Love has to be the driving force or the marriage will not last in today’s world. I’ve vowed to myself that I would never settle for anything less than the marriage that my parents have. Their love and respect for each other forms one of the most beautiful unions I know. I want that for myself...and my husband,” she said, hoping he would truly listen to her.

“Your fairy-tale view of love is surely commendable for a woman, at least when she’s in normal circumstances. If she can deceive herself into happiness with such an enchanting illusion, fine and good. But we’re not in normal circumstances. And I don’t see any need to plaster such a fantasy over an animal instinct. Why can’t we treat this rationally? Think about what really happens: People meet, feel attraction, make love, and then proclaim undying devotion. And what is it all really? It’s a game that allows the participants to feel better about themselves because they said those three magic little words.”

“Very inspiring, Adriane. I applaud you.”

“I understand you feel strongly about this, Rachel, but I cannot comprehend why. Isn’t companionship enough? Can’t you understand that I want to take care of you? That I enjoy your presence? Why trick it out in fancy dress? I don’t believe love is real. I do believe desire can be for keeps. I haven’t looked at another woman since you, not once in over four months. Can’t that be enough, or do I need to say those words to you. Is that what this will take? Will you finally quit fighting me and become my wife if I say, I love you?”

Rachel gaped at the audacity of the man. Did he really think she would bubble over with joy if he expressed fake emotions? Who or what on earth had made him so cynical? This wasn’t a man she could fall in love with — this wasn’t a man she could even speak to.

“I think we’re wasting our time here,” she said, and she turned away from the crashing waves and headed back toward the palace. She knew now that he would never understand how she felt.

Not that she really knew how she was feeling.

Knowing he was going to regret being impulsive, Adriane nevertheless grabbed Rachel’s arm and spun her around before she was able to get far away.

Without giving her time to protest, he pulled her against him and kissed her deep and long, trying to show her how much he wanted her, needed her, would do anything to have her. Words obviously weren’t working, so he decided to speak in the only successful way he’d been able to communicate with her — through passion.

She growled in agitation as he captured her lips, his hands sliding down her back and cupping her delicious backside. As he’d hoped, she melted into him without much of a fight — the intensity of their chemistry couldn’t be denied.

This was the way to heal the rift between them. This was the white flag that would set them free. With this reminder of the taste of her, the feel of her subtle curves, the passion of her embrace, he could think of no other woman.

Only Rachel.

His future bride.

By the time he pulled back, they were both breathless and in need of fulfillment. Naturally, he expected to take her back to the palace, make her his again.

After all, it was what both of them needed and wanted.

He smiled down at her, a gentle, reassuring smile. Rachel’s eyes flashed with desire, her breasts peaked with arousal. He knew he’d finally won this battle of wills.

Then she lifted a hand and slapped him across the face.

“Learn to ask,” she said, her tone low, threatening.

While he stood in absolute confusion and shock, his mind racing for answers on what had gone wrong, she slipped away.

It looked as though he’d struck out again.

If he were a quitter, that would have been his cue to give up.

But he never gave up.

Tomorrow he would win this game; tomorrow would be a better day. One of these times that he said those words, they would come true. It was the power of odds.

It was time to go home.

Rachel hadn’t heard a word from Adriane in three days. At first she’d been relieved, believing that he was coming to terms with the futility of their situation. Not quite, she found out. He’d been off on business — some complication with his brother that she knew nothing about.

So it was more time with no progress, and she’d given up hoping for any. Loneliness was consuming her and she wanted to be with her parents and the rest of her family. She had to accept that it just wasn’t going to work out, no matter how much she wanted it to.

Clutching her cell phone in her hand, she hesitated. Should she dial her brother and have him send a jet for her? She had no doubt that if she left, she wouldn’t come back, that she and Adriane would never come to an agreement. And she’d never get to know her children’s father.