My belly flips. I must divert this conversation now. We can’t ever share pleasure, much less mate. And verbalizing all the reasons why is pointless. He knows them every bit as well as I.
“I didn’t correct her because posing as newlyweds may throw Mathias off our trail if he tracks us here.” And now it’s time to drop this sensitive topic altogether. “Let’s eat before the food grows cold.”
He hesitates, his stare holding me captive, before he finally nods and approaches the little table. Exhaling a silent breath of relief, I follow and uncover the plates. Beef tips in a rich burgundy sauce, potatoes, delicate asparagus stalks, French bread, a lemon tart, and a bottle of rich red wine to polish it off. Ice’s choices surprise me. They seem so…sophisticated.
“I guessed what you might like. If you don’t care for anything–”
“It’s lovely,” I assure him and try to smile.
My expression must pass muster, since he opens the wine and pours me a glass. Then he grabs another plate and uncovers the second dish. An enormous savory pie, steaming and fresh, and a huge glass of water. As he settles with his meal and digs in without ceremony, I frown at the stark difference between the richness of the food on our plates.
“You don’t want beef tips and wine?”
“I’m accustomed to this.” He plucks up a forkful of pastry, chicken, and carrots.
I should let it go. Maybe he doesn’t like beef or particularly loves chicken pie…but I don’t think that’s the case. The expensive wine, the delicate arrangement… He ordered what he thinks a Privileged princess would expect. While he, despite his obvious hunger, settled for simple fare. Our divide suddenly feels wider than the small table separating us.
“I would have gladly eaten chicken pie as well. You didn’t have to order me anything special.”
His laugh is cutting. “Of course I did, princess.”
There it is again. The name, the slight sneer. I lose what little appetite I had and throw down my fork with a clatter. “I don’t think I deserve your name-calling. I’ve hardly stood about like a damsel in distress, moaning over chipped fingernails and the like. It’s December. It’s freezing, and I gave you my jumper. I slogged through the mud beside you. I stole a car. Yet you persist in mocking me. Just because I’m female hardly means I’m incapable.”
He raises his gaze, pinning me as he considers me with a long stare. “It has nothing to do with you being female.”
Right then. It has everything to do with the fact I’m Bram’s sister.
Jumping from my chair, I storm the distance between us and hover over him, hands on my hips. “This is war. I understand that. I’m throwing my lot in, sacrificing and fighting as need be. Just because I grew up Privileged doesn’t mean I expect to be pampered. So don’t you dare deride me or treat me as if I’m helpless.”
He cocks his head, his stare somehow turning more penetrating. “You think I’m insulting you?”
Haven’t I just explained that in some detail? Yes, he’s done a great deal to comfort and protect me tonight. But his mocking pet name and tone grates. Clearly, it’s not meant to be polite. “How else could I possibly interpret the manner in which you call me ‘princess’?”
Ice drains his huge water glass in four long swallows. I watch his throat work, the powerful column of his neck flexing with each gulp. My own throat tightens in response, and something low in my belly clenches with primal recognition. Oh, my days. The wizard is huge. He both terrifies me…and makes me ache with a need I barely understand.
Glass empty, he slams it on the table, his stare intensifying. “Good. Keep taking it that way.”
Good? “What the devil does that mean? I’m not your enemy. We’re supposed to work together. You said you would help?—”
“And I will. But if you’re angry, we won’t be interacting more than necessary.”
What in blazes? Perhaps Ice is a madman, after all. “And you think that’s a good thing?”
“Indeed.” His voice drops to a dangerous growl that sends vibrations straight through my body. “Where you’re concerned, I have only two choices, princess: keep you angry or give in to my every urge to fuck you. Which would you prefer?”
Chapter
Ten
Ice
* * *
I don’t move a muscle. My words hang in the air between us, and my heart gongs wildly as I sit, breath held, awaiting Sabelle’s response.
She blinks, wide-eyed and shell-shocked. Silent. The color drains from her cheeks, then rushes back in a flood of pink.
Bloody hell. Clearly, I haven’t opened my mouth and merely inserted my foot but my whole bloody leg. Still, I can’t take the words back.
