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“I can hear you thinking,” he said, the rumble of his voice at her ear.

Then he pulled her in close and wrapped himself around her, so that she pillowed her head on one of his huge biceps and his massive chest was pressed against her back, and the heat of him went through her, making her feel languorous and soft.

“Stop thinking, Francesca,” he ordered her, still fully dressed and somehow, that made her feel safe and small at once. “Go to sleep.”

Cesca had the stray thought that she couldn’t possibly do anything of the kind, not after all that and the wild ride of the day they’d had before it.

Right before she obeyed him completely and slept like the dead.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE CONVENTIONAL WISDOM, in the face of the big Christmas wedding that the kingdom liked to throw whenever possible—it was a tradition for a reason—called for the couple to hide away and emerge again in January.

All honeymooned and happy, at least as far as the public would ever know. This was the way the kingdom had launched a great many weddings over its centuries-long existence. The people loved to add to their Christmas cheer, and the bonus was, the married Royal Couple was ever after associated with the most magical time of year, adding to the kingdom’s perception of harmony and happiness.

Everyone assumed that was what the new Queen would do with her brand-new husband, but Saviero was somehow unsurprised to find Cesca had clearly woken up the next morning, the first they shared as husband and wife, and seemed to have absolutely no interest in the conventional wisdom at all.

He understood immediately what it meant when he woke up before dawn and found that she was already up and out of the bed they had slept in together that night. Like a bullet from a gun, he thought.

And possibly because she thought she had to hide what had happened between them from the staff. Logically, he assumed she knew that the staff almost always knew everything that went on around here. But logic didn’t always win the day when feelings were involved.

Though he realized that it was highly likely that his new wife did not much care for the fact that he’d not only caused all those feelings in her last night, but had made sure they’d marinated in them, too.

He also felt quite certain that she didn’t have the slightest idea how to handle what happened between them. Or how deeply she had surrendered to him—again and again.

Saviero could not take issue with that. He hadn’t intended for their wedding night to be spent like that, it was true. He’d intended to keep things simple, and spend some time building to that kind of passion… But he certainly couldn’t regret that it hadn’t gone that way. On the contrary.

He thought the memory of her giving herself over to his touch would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Because it turned out that the only thing more beautiful than the Queen of Liandero walking down the aisle to marry him was Cesca, naked and in his bed.

God help him, but his control had never been so tested.

It turned out that not only had he not been wrong to want this woman for so long—but she was, in every possible way, absolutely perfect for him. A dream come true, in every possible way.

They had slept tangled together, and he had woken more than once during the night to find her pressed against him in a new position, as if she sought him out when she was asleep in ways she would never allow herself to do when she was awake.

Thinking about her made him hard and aching, immediately, and Saviero had to spend some time in his shower getting himself under control before he let anyone see him. Because he was afraid that his staff would read his thoughts all over his face, and he couldn’t allow that.

Not only because he was usually inscrutable.

But because he could not allow anyone to think about their Queen in that way.

That was his purview, and his alone.

He had his usual breakfast, made different only because he had changed residences and now got the morning light in his small breakfast room. But the coffee was just as strong. The stack of newspapers was waiting at the place set for him so he could flip through and get a sense of the mood of the previous day, while his tablet was charged and ready for him to go online and see what the people were concerned about today.

Though he found himself missing Cesca, who had never shared a morning with him.

A sensation so odd it took him longer than it should have to understand what it was he was feeling. Given that he could not recall missing any woman he had slept with, ever, in the whole of his life. Not after a night together. Not even after a relationship. Saviero had always been too clear-eyed and focused to pine.

He had to sit a while with the fact that after a single night together—and, of course, the whole Royal Wedding that had preceded it—he was apparently a new man. A stranger to himself. A pining stranger.

What was more troubling was that he could not bring himself to mind the way he was certain he should.

When he made his way across the palace and into his official offices, he was surprised to find Cesca and her people already there.

“I see no need for us to sequester ourselves,” the Queen announced, and raised a brow when Saviero only stared at her. He thought he saw her color rise, though she was clearly determined to repress it. “We have to assure the kingdom that all is well and that this is an upgrade, not a loss, which might take some doing.” She delivered one of her patented self-deprecating smiles as perfect punctuation for that statement, and then nodded at her team. “I’ve asked my staff to make sure that anyone who wishes to speak to me, interview me, what have you, have access for the next week. As a little new monarch holiday plan.”