The Consolation Prize (Brides of Karadok #3) - Alice Coldbreath Page 0,102

did not discuss such things around their princess!”

“Well no, but … They weren’t allowed to converse with me, you see,” Una said. “And the campaign was so dreary and long, of course they wanted to speak of their wives and mistresses. In the end they sort of became inured to my presence. I think they forgot I was a real person.”

Seeing his thunderstruck expression, she flailed around trying to extricate herself from the hole she had inadvertently dug herself into. “I ought not to have listened, of course. It was wrong of me, but I could not help but be curious about such things. Especially when they talked about how even ugly women could please a man.”

Armand stiffened. “Why should that interest you?” he asked sharply.

Una’s face fell in dismay. Clearly, she was just making things worse. “Armand—” she reached out toward him tentatively. “I-I did not put my mouth on you, on our wedding night, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He huffed out a breath. “That’s not—” He broke off frustratedly. “Gods!” He ran his hand over his face. “Forget it. Of course, you were a virgin.” She read the regret in his expression and nodded. “I was insulting,” he added and moved away from her. For one horrible moment, Una thought he would get out of the bed, but he was only leaning toward the candle to blow it out.

When he resettled next to her, he slid his arm around her waist and drew her close against him. “I’m sorry, Una” he murmured, and she closed her eyes as her throat worked hard to contain the sob that rose up in it. She had meant only to please him. Gods, what had she been thinking of? She lay wracked with self-doubt for a long time before she drifted off to sleep.

12

For once Armand woke first the next morning, while Una still slept the sleep of the virtuous. He felt consumed with burning guilt, shame and confusion. He crept out of their room and dressed in an empty one next door before making his way downstairs.

He was being a jackass. Worse than that. He was being a jealous, suspicious prick, and he had no right to be. Reacting angrily when your lover is better in bed than you expect her to be is ridiculous, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He had never been the jealous type. The best of his past lovers had been either married or widowed. Not for him fair blushing maidens who’d expect him to fix his interests. Usually any passion he felt for a woman burned out after the novelty of a new partner wore off. He’d always been a fickle bastard.

She’d said she was a virgin before him, and he believed her. If he hadn’t seen the bloodstain on the sheets the morning after their marriage, her clear, untroubled gaze would have assured him sufficiently on that score. But that didn’t mean that someone couldn’t have taught her a few tricks along the way and that thought enraged him. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself he had no right to feel this way. For all he knew, she’d been betrothed a dozen times to foreign princes who’d be far worthier bridegrooms than him.

He felt a twisting, burning feeling in his chest when he thought of Una in someone else’s arms. He had no earthly notion why. He’d never begrudged his previous lovers their experience, and he was angry that this time he felt different. He knew nothing about the men in Una’s life before him. She could have been in love for all he knew, with some fine upstanding Northern hero. He gnashed his teeth at the thought. Some principled, noble type who’d never put a foot wrong in his life and deserved to win the hand of a princess.

Not like him, who hadn’t even had the sense to be grateful when she’d landed in his palm like a ripe plum. No, he’d looked a gift horse in the mouth and pulled a face. Hemmed and hawed about how inconvenient it was for him to take a wife right now. He had expected her to bargain and plead with him to even take her rightful place at his side. He turned cold inside, when he remembered how he’d tried to wriggle away from his obligations and just leave her there in that nest of vipers. He felt so full of self-loathing that it stung. Gods, he was a fucking