Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

B EAU WAS SURPRISED when Lyon led her to a heavy-duty Jeep vehicle, and then he got into the driver's side himself. She stood there for a moment, simply staring. Until he looked over at her and raised a brow.

"Do princes not drive in Lille?"

"My father said it was beneath us."

Lyon shook his head. "Your father does not improve no matter what more I know about him."

"No, I cannot imagine he ever will."

"Well, we shall get you some lessons when it's appropriate. As for today, I will drive us up to the chalet. We still have some security measures in place, so no worries there. Come now. Let us be off."

With halting steps, Beau made her way to the passenger side where one of Lyon's attendants waited with the door open. He helped her up and in, then closed the door. Once she was buckled in, Lyon started the engine and began to drive.

Drive. "I don't think I've ever been in the front seat of a car before," Beau said. It was a strange feeling, and stranger still realizing just how odd her life was that she was almost twenty-five and had never ridden in the front of a car.

"It is a day of firsts then," Lyon said. He seemed relaxed behind the wheel, driving this industrial-sized monster.

Beau felt tense. She was determined not to be, and thought she'd been handling herself quite well. She had let him be her guide. He had not mentioned last night, so she hadn't. He had mentioned the complete privacy at the chalet, so she had brought up steps to indicate she understood what was still expected of her. Even if she didn't understand him or his actions.

She had let his staff pack for her, and she'd only grabbed a few books hoping to have some reading time.

She was being the exact thing she'd promised him she'd be. Easy. Respectable. Flexible.

But she found she really, really didn't like riding in the front seat as the roads narrowed and began to twist—up and around the mountains that had been so pretty from a distance, and now looked more and more menacing.

"As I said, we will have almost no staff," Lyon said casually, like he wasn't navigating a giant hunk of metal around roads certainly not meant for something of its size. "I typically like to use a trip to the chalet as a kind of...reset. A reminder I can and will do things on my own when it serves. Do you know how to cook?"

Beau hung onto every word, because it helped her not think about hurtling off the side of the mountain. "In theory."

"How does one know how to cook in theory?"

"I've read a lot about it, but I wasn't allowed in the kitchens. I should definitely like to try to put what I've learned into practice though." She frowned at his large, capable hands on the wheel. "I have less interest in driving."

"Why?"

"Don't you feel...out of control?"

"On the contrary. I feel very in control. I am the one driving the vehicle."

He certainly looked and sounded it. "But the weather, other people, traffic laws and etiquette." She felt a little band of anxiety around her lungs at just the thought.

He spared her a quick glance, with a bemused expression. "Perhaps we will stick to cooking."

She nodded emphatically. "I think that is good." When silence settled again, and looming mountains threatened to cause her to venture into the kind of panic she could not let Lyon see, she scrambled to talk. About anything.

"While I don't have many day-to-day skills, I'm happy to learn them. I pick things up very easily." She kept her eyes on his face instead of the world around them. "I'm very good at math. Exceptional with computers. You wouldn't believe the things I got around my father's IT team's pathetic excuse for internet security."

His mouth curved. "You are a constant surprise, Beau."

"I have heard that before. It's never a compliment."

"It wasn't an insult."

"But it wasn't a compliment."

He didn't argue with her, but the bemused expression didn't leave his face. Perhaps he hadn't meant it as an insult, even if it wasn't a compliment. That would still be a novelty in her life.

"It will be a few hours. The drive is quite beautiful though. Especially as we get up into the higher elevations where there's more consistent snow." He glanced over at her and must have read something in her expression.

"You could always nap if you'd like."

"Yes. I think I'll try that." She immediately closed her eyes. She knew she wouldn't sleep, but surely it was better than watching. And if she closed her eyes, she could picture him as he'd been last night. Shirtless. Tall and broad and...strong. Not bulky, but there was something about the way he held himself, something about the shape of him that left no doubt that he could...do all sorts of interesting things with those muscles.

Which left her mind skipping ahead to tonight. And then drifting back to last night. Why had he stopped? Without even touching her. Not one kiss while they'd both been nearly naked. It didn't make any sense.

Should she ask him about it? Demand to know what he was thinking? Would that make him angry? Should she just keep her mouth shut and do whatever he told her to do?

This was really not the line of thinking that would help with her anxiety. Particularly since she had some concerns about this trip. Not the privacy because of steps , or even that he might pull back from her once again, but because in a smaller place, with less people, it would be harder to hide if she had a panic attack. There was no rhyme or reason for why one hit, though they had gotten less frequent the past few years as she'd learned, thanks to reading books and even medical studies on the topic, coping mechanisms and different ways to keep her mind busy when it wanted to spiral out into anxiety.

She still often had attacks when she faced off with her father, as she had just a few days ago when they'd been visiting Zia at Cristhian's house. She was counting on that meaning another unexplained one didn't pop up for another few weeks at least.

But if she kept thinking about it, worrying about it, no doubt she'd work herself up. So she needed to focus on something else besides this chalet . And while she'd like to consider and perhaps discuss what had happened last night, and what would happen tonight, she wasn't sure that was the best driving conversation.

Or you're a coward.

That too.

So, she decided the next best thing was to deal with other eventualities. The important ones they'd already agreed upon. She wasn't going to sleep , so she might as well prod.

"I was reading your family biography, but it doesn't mention much about your father."

"He was not from Divio, and the book is focused on the royal lines of Divio."

She supposed that made sense, but the two short lines about his entire life had made her feel almost sorry for the man. "Do you remember him?"

Lyon didn't even pause. "No."

As she'd expected. She'd done the math and Lyon's father had died when he'd only been two. His grandfather had died before he'd been born. But he did have a slew of uncles and great-uncles and older cousins. All who'd filtered through the role of crown prince in quick succession.

She knew this was the reason he held himself to high standards. So he would not ruin his time as prince. But what she did not know was if anyone had been a father to him. Because certainly no one had been a father to her.

"Since your grandfather was also passed by the time you were born, did any of your uncles or anyone fulfill some kind of father figure role?"

His eyebrows drew together and he spared her a look—which she didn't appreciate considering the narrow road. "Is there a point to this odd line of questioning, Beau?"

"I'm thinking about children." Because that was her end goal. Those heirs Lyon needed. Lives she wanted to guide. "You see, I did not have very good examples of parents. Mother or father, but I feel like the bad example is an example in a way. A blueprint of what not to do. But you have nothing."

"What a kind way of putting it," he said dryly.

She winced. "I apologize. I only meant..."

"That I have no example of what a father is meant to be, one way or another." This time his tone was not dry, it was simply flat.

"Well..." She knew that wasn't a kind way of putting any of it, but it was true. How else could she put it?

"I had my grandmother and my mother. They were both incredibly strong role models for a young man and impressed upon me the importance of my role. They knew, long before I did, that Divio would eventually come to me."

"How could they know that? So many came before you."

"My grandmother's brothers were fools at best. Their children worse, and so on. Every single male heir from then on either died young, got into far too much trouble before they ascended the throne, or caused so much uproar they had to abdicate to the next. My grandmother always knew it would be me or complete revolution."

What a strange responsibility to put on your grandson. Even if she'd had little faith in the male heirs, it still seemed a stretch to prepare Lyon from childhood to potentially take over. But she supposed that was what made him good at his role. What he'd learned. That responsibility that had been pressed upon him.

One that made the word revolution sound so bitter on his tongue. "You're afraid of that, aren't you? That's why you're so concerned about...optics and stability." What would he think of a wife who became a shaking, crying mess out of nowhere? Not a comforting thought as they climbed higher and higher still.

"Afraid is not the word I would use," he said carefully, navigating a steep curve as if it were nothing.

She was almost entertained in spite of herself by how clearly he didn't like the idea he might be afraid .

"It is a concern," he continued. "But I am well-equipped to handle parliament."

She had no doubt he was. He seemed endlessly capable of handling everything.

Even you?

Well, he certainly made her wonder. It wasn't just the aura he had of...leadership. That passed-down royal thing that had skipped her entirely, that he could walk into a room and everyone would look to him to handle whatever problems arose.

But it was the kindness that she was struggling with. Because if he was kind, would he be cruel to her if he knew about her panic attacks? She wanted to believe he would, because that would mean protecting herself.

But kindness meant a little sliver of her mind sometimes thought what if .

"Particularly the parliamentary members who enthusiastically cheered on my family members' worst impulses," he continued, his expression growing dark. "They will not do the same with me."

"Why would they do that? Isn't that counterproductive? Don't they want a stable monarch?"

"You would be surprised what men would do for power," he said grimly. "Their goals were not the good of Divio. Their goals were the good of their own pockets and reach. Sometimes that meant a leader too dependent on the drink to do their job, or too busy chasing women to notice that money is not going where it should. It rarely means a leader who is in control."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What do you want if not power? Being crown prince certainly gives you said power. Being a leader in control is just...power."

"Yes, but it is also a responsibility. I will not squander it as my family has before me. I care about my country. I will wield my power only insofar as it serves our citizens. That is my one and always goal."

Beau considered this, and wondered if it was a speech her father would get behind. It certainly sounded like him, but only the superficial words. Country first. Responsibility to country. Damn anything that gets in the way—like a frivolous wife and two rebellious children.

But she was not sure her father had ever considered his role a responsibility so much as a right. His birthright. What he was owed . It was power, and it was his.

In the end, it didn't matter how much Lyon sounded like Father or didn't. She'd said I do . She'd made this bed, and she had to lie in it whether Lyon was a monster or not. So far, he was...interesting. Confusing. But not a monster.

"Did it occur to no one to change the law, allowing female heirs to take the role?" Beau suggested, making the mistake of looking outside once more then, shaken by all that sky when they were driving on the ground , immediately looked down at her lap.

"A resolution has never been brought forward. But I will propose one."

"You will?"

"Once the timing is right. I want stability, and the kingdom to trust me. To trust what the monarchy offers. But not at the cost of moving on with the times. Divio must be a part of the modern world. But one thing at a time. First, we give them that which they have done without for so many years. A respectable, secure leader."

She nodded along with that. It made sense, and underscored the point that Lyon had plans . An entire blueprint for the rest of his life. Which now included hers. If she disappointed him, he no doubt had a plan for that too. She would have asked him about that, but the car came to a stop.

Beau gingerly peered out the windshield. She saw very little aside from blue sky and intimidating mountain. Definitely not a chalet. "Why are we stopping? I thought you said the drive was hours? Is something wrong?"

"You are safe, Beau," Lyon said, reaching over and giving her hand a squeeze. "I want to show you something."

Then he did the strangest thing and got out of the car. It appeared they were on the side of the road, not parked in the middle of it, but still this felt decidedly unsafe . But her passenger side door opened and he held out a hand to her. "Come."

She wanted to shake her head. She considered refusing. But there was something about Lyon's directives that did not get her back up like just about everyone else in her life trying to tell her what to do. Maybe it was a confidence born of self-assuredness—rather than Father's bluster, Mother's desperation, or Zia's determination to protect Beau at all costs—even when she hadn't needed it.

Self-assuredness was one thing Beau, ironically enough considering her experience with social anxieties and panic attacks, understood quite well.

So, she took Lyon's hand and let him help her out of the car. He wound an arm around her waist as the side of the road here was slippery. But she realized it wasn't the side of the road, it was an entire parking area. And Lyon led her to a little iron gate.

Beyond it was sky and cloud and mountain. Below them, a smattering of little villages. Puffs of smoke. Bits of green and brown and white. A beautiful landscape. It was so idyllic it seemed like a painting. Not quite real, and yet there it all was spread out before her very own eyes.

Her stomach nearly dropped out, but even with that disorienting vertigo feeling, her heart...it leapt with joy. "Lyon."

"Beautiful, no?"

"I..." She had no words. Particularly when he stood behind her but kept his arm around her waist. Holding her there against him, like a warm, protective wall.

"There is more beauty to be had once the drive is done. I promise, the discomfort is worth the outcome."

She managed to tear her gaze from the villages below to look over her shoulder and up at him. He'd done this to help her. She didn't know what to do with that. How to feel about it. She couldn't say no one had ever helped her. Zia had.

But this was different. He wasn't protecting her. He was simply offering her a kindness. Which made her eyes water and her heart soften. Probably ill-advisedly.

But she smiled all the same. "Then I suppose we should finish the drive."

Beau's anxieties had not melted away when she'd seen the pretty overlook as Lyon had hoped, but she made the rest of the drive with a brave face. He supposed that was why he'd stopped. Courage in the face of discomfort deserved a reward, and it would hardly be the last time she was thrust into a situation that made her uncomfortable.

Oftentimes, a kindness was the best and only reward for such responsibilities. At least, he'd always felt so.

Being the ruling couple of the monarchy of Divio would be full of challenges over the next few years. If she faced them all with such determination, they would end up in a very good place.

When they pulled into the gates of the chalet estate, and he slowed the car, she finally looked out the vehicle windows. She made a soft sound of appreciation.

He was enjoying her reaction. Aside from her fear of the mountainous drive, she seemed delighted with just about everything. He pulled to a stop and got out of the car, then went over to her side. The skeleton staff they kept at the chalet would have unpacked all their things by now, stocked the fridge and whatnot, and left.

So they would be truly alone.

"I've never seen anything so beautiful," she said cheerfully as they walked toward the chalet, arm in arm.

"Are you just saying that because you're happy to be out of the car?"

She laughed. "No," she said. "Though that helps."

"I have been to Lille. It is hardly an eyesore."

"Lille is beautiful. But it is about all I've ever seen. There's something about seeing a new kind of beauty. It's exciting."

"I do not understand why you were so sheltered, Beau. All because of a childhood anxiety."

She stiffened a little but kept walking. Spoke easily enough. "I would think you'd understand perfectly. My father felt he could not risk being seen as weak, and a daughter who did not behave as she should, a daughter who was shy or terrified is certainly a weakness."

He frowned at her description of what he should understand. He paused in front of the door, looked down at her. "I do not need to be seen as strong , Beau. That is not the same as stable. As...dependable."

She studied him, her eyes going dark, the gold and green barely visible even out here in all this sunlight. Everything about her was suddenly very serious.

"Could your country depend on a princess who cried if the crowd was too big? Who shook like a leaf if required to speak to a group of people she did not know and feel comfortable with?"

Of course that would be...a problem. A challenge to be overcome, certainly. But it was also irrelevant. "But that isn't you any longer. I know, because I saw you at that dinner last night. You were wonderful."

"Yes, I can handle a crowd these days," she said, her gaze sliding away from his. She gestured at the door. "Aren't you going to show me the chalet?"

He didn't care for the change in topic. This seemed more important, but why would it be? She clearly didn't suffer those old anxieties. She dealt with the wedding, his staff, the dinner and video all with aplomb. Even her nerves over the car ride she had handled very well.

He knew the difference between being riddled with anxiety and being able to handle it.

So this was all...moot. He opened the front door to the chalet and gestured her inside. It was a huge, open airy space, with almost all rooms pouring into each other on the lower level. There were ample windows to see all that natural beauty from, fireplaces in every room and plenty of cozy furniture and warm throw blankets for the cold nights.

She moved forward toward the row of windows in the living room that offered a spectacular view of the mountains. She all but pressed her nose to the glass. "My God. I didn't think anything else could be more beautiful than that overlook, but you're right. This is even better."

There were no villages below. Only mountains and valleys, alpine lakes glittering like jewels in the sun. A stunning and breathtaking view. He'd always loved it. Always loved viewing it in privacy. He could not come out here as much as he liked now that he was crown prince. There was too much pressing work at the palace, but every time he came he felt...renewed.

But he'd never shared that with anyone. Always liked this as a private oasis. Where he could sort through whatever needed sorting in his mind. But he supposed privacy wasn't something he had anymore. A wife. Children eventually. He would bring them all here and...

Something about the reality of Beau made all those plans he'd had...not change, exactly. Just flesh out. His children would be people, like Beau was a person. They would have their own wills and whims and irrational fears with some unknown combination of genes from him and Beau.

Beau with her hazel eyes and shy smile. Except it wasn't shy right now. She turned to look at him and she was beaming. Beautiful. But he stayed where he was, by the entrance and out of reach, because he did not trust any of the unwieldy storms clattering around inside of him. The desire, not just to put his mouth on her. To see every inch of her. To touch, to take, finally take. That he could deal with. Understandable and all that.

It was the desire to hold her just as he had at the overlook. And feel a strange peace he'd never known, never expected to exist. There was something about the way she beamed at him that twined a dark lust with some kind of incomprehensible soft desire.

And he didn't trust emotions that twisted. That couldn't be worked out. He needed to set it aside until it could be carefully picked apart and put into a careful compartment of the appropriate reaction.

"We should eat something," he said. Inanely.

Some of the joy on her face faded. He didn't know why. And it didn't matter, he told himself. He led her into the kitchen. He heard himself talk. About the sandwiches the staff would have left. About how tomorrow morning they would need to fend for themselves. About everything and anything that kept him from thinking about her.

"Tomorrow, we'll go on a hike." Bundled up. Physical exertion. Not alone in the same cabin.

"Sounds lovely."

Silence settled around them again. An awkward, uncomfortable silence. Which was new for them. Everything up to now had been fairly easy. All the moments following him on the edge of making a mistake had included a step back. A reset.

But there was nowhere to go here. Which made this feel like a mistake. They should have stayed at the palace.

He had brought her here to get this over with. To have her away from prying eyes and whispers. To not have to worry about...himself.

But he was worried. He forced himself to eat. Ignored the heavy, oppressive silence. When they were both done, he cleared the table. Beau trailed after him. "I also know how to wash dishes. In theory."

He smiled in spite of all these ugly things roiling around inside of him. She was such an interesting woman.

"Let's put that theory to work." He showed her the dishwasher. He instructed her to rinse dishes, then hand them to him so he could place them inside and he instructed her how to put them in properly so that she could handle this chore if she so chose.

But it put them close. Hip to hip as they worked. He could not pretend she wasn't there. That she smelled like something faintly floral. Just the hint of something he'd need to lean closer to identify.

When she handed him the last dish, he placed it inside and closed the door. He turned to suggest they take an hour or so to read before having some dessert, but no words came out as they stood face-to-face. Close.

And all too well he could picture all that pale skin underneath her clothes. The way color rode high on her cheeks, and her eyes darkened with interest when he'd had very little on himself.

She raised her gaze to meet his. He should lay out how the rest of the night would go. He should set out rules. Then they could go to the bedroom. Then he could control himself well enough to get this over with in an appropriate, heir-making way.

But she leaned in. With a slight hesitation, she slid her hands up his chest. Locked her arms around his neck.

Why did she fit so well against him? Why did it unravel and dissolve every tenet of discipline that had always come easily to him?

Then she rose to her toes and pressed her mouth to his. Initiating a soft, sweet kiss.

It should be sweet. It should be easy. But it lit a fire inside of him that was none of those things. Because he had never had soft and sweet inside of him. He was made by his blood, and the blood was tainted. A line of royal men who'd never resisted an impulse in their lives.

Grandmother had tried to convince him that he could be stronger, better, but he knew.

What he wanted, what he desired, was just as bad as what had felled the men who'd come before. The only difference between them and him was control .

Which had never once been threatened like this. When it shouldn't be called into question at all.

Whether she was his wife or not, she was innocent and sheltered. That should be enough to keep his desires on their usual simple leash. Instead he wanted to rip every scrap of clothing off of her, take her roughly, right here against the countertop.

Even as he told himself he wouldn't , he drove the kiss deeper.

Hotter.

Rougher.

Until she was pressed up against the island. Until his hands were tangled in her hair once more. He could lift her up onto the countertop and have her. Right here. Right now. This terrible pressure would be gone. The mistake made and done instead of hovering just out of reach. It would be relief. It would be a mistake, but he would fix it.

He could fix it.

Or it would open an insatiable desire he could never stop. Or it would get too dark, too wild, and he would be doomed just like every man in his royal bloodline before him.

Maybe it was in that blood—his uncles and cousins had often been brought to ruin by their unquenchable thirsts—but he would not succumb. He could not allow it.

He pulled away. Set her gently back. To prove that he could. To prove that he would. Tonight, he would touch her. But...in their bedroom. Appropriately. Carefully. Not with this wild thing whispering dark, lurid suggestions in the kitchen .

Except she frowned up at him, her dark eyebrows drawn together as she studied him. As if she could see right through him. "Why do you hold yourself back from me when we both know where this eventually must end up? When it seems...you enjoy it at least a little?"

No, there were times her directness didn't entertain him at all. Because he knew the answer, but he could hardly give it to her.

"I suggested steps for a reason, Beau," he said, trying to sound gentle if scolding. He was afraid his voice just sounded...rough. A clue to everything clawing at him.

"What reason?" she demanded.

She was seriously testing his temper. But he maintained his calm demeanor. Because he was in control. "You are innocent. Sheltered, you said that yourself. Jumping into things... It would be careless. Reckless. Sometimes if proper steps are not taken, miscommunications happen. People believe in feelings that aren't...accurate or suitable."

This did not seem to assuage her. Her eyes snapped with temper. She crossed her arms over her chest. "You think if we have sex I'll just...miraculously fall in love with you on the spot? I'll be so bowled over by the experience, I'll just turn into some mindless ninny desperate for love?"

"No, but..."

"But! But!" Her mouth dropped open in outrage. Her cheeks flushed with temper. And it did not help this roaring thing inside of him. It poked at his own temper. It stirred darker wants than he allowed.

"I do not wish to fight with you," he said. Through gritted teeth.

"Then don't be an idiot," she shot back. Then she blinked, as if she realized what she'd just said. Her expression was torn, clearly.

But she didn't apologize for her little explosion, no matter how contrite she looked. When she should apologize.

He told himself that's why he didn't let it go, when he should. When he was the one who'd said he didn't want to fight.

"Would you prefer I take you in a maddened rush? Right here? On the kitchen counter where we make our food ?"

She lifted her chin. "Over this strange back-and-forth? Over you...getting me all worked up and then stepping away all icy and weird? Yes, I'd prefer mad rush over that."

Walk away.

The voice of reason was still there. But it was faint.

And he didn't want to listen. He'd show her, instead. Frighten her. Make her stop . She would want to stop once he showed her, and then...then...he could.

So he gave in to the roaring thing inside of him. The wants, desires, the dark, twisting need. He fisted his hand in her hair, holding tight so she couldn't move. So she was at his mercy. His for the taking.

Then he crashed his mouth to hers and took . It was rough, demanding. The scrape of teeth, his fist in her hair. He gave her no quarter, offered no gentleness. He only took and took and took until those alarm bells he was usually so good at listening to rang in his head.

He wrenched his mouth away, but he couldn't seem to pull his hands from her hair. He couldn't seem to put distance between himself and the soft warmth of her body pressed up against his.

"There are parts of myself I keep leashed for a reason, tesoruccia ."

Her gaze was steady, her eyes seemed to glow gold. "You are not a dog, Lyon."

But he felt like one, even as her palm slid over his cheek. Like someone trying to tame the snarling, wild beast that roared within.

"You would be surprised," he said, each word a scrape against the thinnest wall of control he maintained. "The things I want. The things I like. Not suitable for the prince I am, but there all the same."

He managed to unclench his hands, detangle them from her hair. He meant to step back. Surely she'd learned her lesson now.

But she reached out, fisted her own hands in his shirt, and held him close.