Sleeping Beauty (Not Quite the Fairy Tale Book 7)(14)

She frowned.

“I said nothing of my intentions. You asked and I’m no liar. Let us return to our office for now, if you don’t mind. Someday soon, when this mess is beyond us, however, I’ll endeavor to convince you to stay by my side. For now, you’ll put your derriere on this chair, read this ungodly amount of reports, and let me know what you make of our finances. Won’t you, Rory?”





Chapter 11





Bargains





She was endeavoring to drive him to madness and not too far from managing it.

Day five after his awakening was the day they received a list of those who wished to join his government. In the impossibly short deadline he’d given them to make their case - just a month - they’d have to convince him, and the people, that they were fit for what they presumed to do. Rupert noted that nobles often wrote that their families had been in such offices since the beginning of time, while commoners cited their personal accomplishments. The commoners would win, no doubt.

He worked for long hours, only emerging when he caught Rory yawn. He glanced at a nearby clock. “By all gods, it’s two in the morning.” They’d been at it since nine in the morning the previous day. Seventeen hours straight, without any breaks, although Anna had seen that food was served to them four times.

Rory had been perfection in the morn. Her hair weaved in an elaborate plait, not a strand out of place, her modest, simple light blue silk dress without a crease, and pearls around her neck. The pearls were still there, but that was where the resemblance stopped. Her hair was messy; she’d run her fingers through it a time or two in frustration. Her dress was wrinkled, her simple make up, practically gone. She was tired, her lids heavy, her cheeks flushed. All he could think was that she wouldn’t look very dissimilar after a good fuck. If he laid her down on the desk, pulled her skirts to her waist and buried his head between her legs until she screamed his name, she’d have the same wrinkles, the same messy hair, the same exhausted features. Perhaps the same smile, too, when she lifted her gaze and looked at him.

“What?”

“I’ve just seen the time.”

She looked too, and her pretty lips popped open. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh. It’s well past time to get you to bed.”

And how she blushed at the mention of bed.

“And don’t let me overwork you like this again.”

“I wasn’t aware that I was letting you do anything, Rupert.”

And she wasn’t. She was here because she wanted to be. She hadn’t asked for anything in exchange.

“It’s just come to my attention that I need to pay you.”

“You are. I’m a scientist of the Crown and have quite a generous salary.”

“Mayhaps, but right now I’m not using you in your former capacity. I’ll see what the Crown pays her ministers and Councilmen.”

She winced. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

He didn’t ask why. He just smiled knowingly.

She was thinking of how him paying her a large sum would look. And she thought that because she knew, and accepted the fact, that he would soon start courting her.

His groin tightened. How he wished he had time for her now. But he didn’t. Part of it was their ungodly amount of work, but the other part…

Guilt. Simple as that. He wouldn’t, couldn’t think of his own pleasure, his own happiness while the child he loved, his daughter, laid in darkness and cold, lifeless.

He’d attempted to contact Mal every way he could. No doubt, she’d heard of his return by now. Every news channel talked of it throughout the lands. He’d received messages from every single nation of Gaia, welcoming him back to life.

Yet no news of her.

His order of priority was thus: The Kingdom, his child, and then himself. Thinking of Rory, Lady Aurora Stephenson, was taking care of himself. It wouldn’t, couldn’t come first.

Still. He’d never wanted any woman as much as her. Had he met her back in the day, no advisor would have been able to sway him from the inevitable path, regardless of consequences and politics. He would have wed her. No one else. Part of him wondered if fate had intervened, making him survive a century, so that he might live to see the woman made for him in every way. The woman who, with one look, made him forget almost everything.

Amusing how the two most important persons in his life shared the same name.

“Fine, I won’t. I shall simply use and abuse you without remuneration, at your insistence. Now, let us go to sleep. I don’t want to see you back here until at least noon.”

“Will you sleep until noon?” she countered, making him smile.

“I’m King. Sleep isn’t part of the job requirements.”

And besides, he’d had the hardest time falling asleep these days. Too much of it for a hundred years, no doubt. Since he’d moved from her terrible sofa to his comfortable bed, sleep had altogether eluded him. His body may need it but his mind had had quite enough of it.

“Well, let us compromise. As long as you promise to also rest until ten, I won’t go back to work a minute sooner.”

Wasn’t she just cute.

“You’re bargaining with me?”

“It appears I am.”

“Eleven o’clock. That gives you an hour to get ready and eight hours of sleep.”