His Ring Is Not Enough - Maisey Yates

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not what I...”

      “You were the one who asked,” he said.

      “Just making things clear. We did get married today, and you did make a comment about consummation,” she threw back.

      “So you’re offering me your body, as well? Right now? How about here? I could dismiss my staff, or hell, they’re paid to look the other way, why bother dismissing them? Would you like me to tear your dress off and have you against the wall?”

      His voice was rough, unsteady, like nothing she’d heard from him before.

      She’d pushed him to a place she hadn’t intended, the conversation not seeming as absurd as she’d imagined when she’d first spoken the words. There was an edge of danger, reality to all of this. She’d never seen him like this. This close to losing grip on his control.

      Being in the path of it was almost frightening. But she was close to the edge, too. She felt vulnerable and at a disadvantage, two things she hated. And pushing at his control made her feel like she had even more of it.

      “I could, Leah. Some women like that. Or, if you prefer I could take you upstairs and make you my wife for real. But the thing is, I would be doing it because I’m angry. At her. I would think of her. She is the only woman I have ever loved, and she walked away from me on our wedding day to be with someone else. Someone I despise. If I were with you,” he continued, his voice rough, “it would be to get back at her. I’m a man—never forget that. I could think of anything and get it up while I parted your thighs. It would hardly make you special. Yes, I could have you. But the question is, right now, would you want me?”

      His words shouldn’t hurt. But they were so cold, so hard, they cut through her defenses, straight to her heart.

      But she wouldn’t let him see.

      “You loved her?” she asked.

      “I love her,” he said. “Years of loving someone isn’t erased by one act. As convenient as it might be.”

      “I suppose not.”

      The whole thing made her pride burn. How adamant he was about not wanting her. And at the same time, she looked into his dark eyes and realized his own pride was savaged. Realized how hard this was for him.

      He’d lost the woman he loved. He had married someone else. Someone he had no feelings for. He was looking at her and seeing a broken dream. No matter how strong her armor, she felt the impact of that like a battering ram against the steel.

      “I think I’ll go to my room then, since you’re not interested in a quick consummation,” she said, her tone tart, her expression as neutral as she could get it. “Good night.”

      He nodded once. “Tomorrow, we’ll come up with a plan.”

      “I look forward to it.”

      Maybe a night of sleep would help her figure out what she was doing. Help her figure out what had happened to her.

      And what they were going to do about it.

      CHAPTER THREE

      AJAX WOKE UP without a hangover. Because he hadn’t been able to bring himself to drink. As Leah had observed, he didn’t drink alcohol. He prized his control far too much. Vice was the downfall of man.

      The need for a certain high, whether it be from alcohol, drugs or sex was responsible for much of the evil in the world. Something he’d lived at one point in time. Something he’d witnessed in horrific detail. And something he’d done his best to destroy, even if it was only one small piece of it.

      He did not let vice own him. Not anymore. He didn’t even give it a foothold on his soul.

      Rachel leaving wasn’t reason enough to give that up. But, Theos, it burned his pride. He hadn’t imagined pride had such a place in his life, but apparently it did.

      He stalked down the stairs, wearing nothing but a pair of black pants, not bothering to get dressed. He was not in the mood to deal with much of anything or anyone.

      He stalked through the house and into the dining room, where the one thing he couldn’t avoid dealing with was sitting, perched on the edge of a chair, a cup of coffee in her hands, her whiskey-colored eyes round. She looked very like a lost child. And he had no patience to deal with it. Any of it.

      “I trust you slept well?” he asked, attempting civility because regardless of his feelings it was the appropriate way to treat one’s wife. Or so he imagined.

      “Not in the least,” she returned, her voice crisp.

      Her dark, curly hair was tied up, a little puffball on top of her head, and she was wearing a baggy sweater, the sort that made generous breasts blend into a woman’s waist, concealing any nice attributes her figure might possess.

      Not that he cared. Her figure was the least of his concerns.

      “If the mattress is a problem for you, a new one can be ordered.”

      “I don’t think it was the mattress so much as the unexpected acquisition of a husband, but I could be wrong. Maybe the sleep surface was too firm.”

      “You seem a bit off this morning.”

      Her fingers flexed around the cup, giving the impression of claws. “Do I?”

      He found he wanted to push her. He was spoiling for a fight and he couldn’t say why. He’d never tried to pick a fight for no reason in his life. He’d grown up in such a volatile environment, and he’d learned early on that the quickest way to an early death, or at the very least a world of pain, was to cause trouble.

      Keeping his head down, doing as he was told, all while planning, planning and strategizing, finding a way out—that was the way to survive.

      Today, he didn’t just want to survive. He wanted to fight. It seemed a perfect substitute for getting drunk.

      “Hardly the blushing bride,” he said. “You look like hell, to be honest.”

      “Are you always such an ass?”

      Good. She was getting angry. That was what he wanted. What he craved right now.

      “Perhaps you’ve never had the chance to really get to know me before now, though, in the interest of full disclosure, I am in a bloody bad mood this morning.”

      “I’m glad to know this at least qualifies as a bad mood. Why are you taking it out on me?”

      He didn’t know. He didn’t know why his control was fraying. Why he wasn’t being self-contained. Why he was suddenly incapable of maintaining an iron grip on emotion. “Because you’re here, agape mou. The lucky replacement bride.”

      “Would my sister be on the receiving end of this treatment? If so, I can certainly see why she ran out on the wedding.”

      “If your sister were here, I daresay we might still be in bed. And I would certainly be in a better mood.”

      Something flashed in her amber eyes that he didn’t like. Pain? He had gone a step too far in venting his anger. Saying things he wasn’t even certain he felt just to simply let the anger continue. Indulging emotion for once rather than sublimating it.

      He didn’t know how sleeping with Rachel would make him feel. The idea of it...it had made him tense. But that was to be expected, considering the nature of their relationship, and everything else.

      But sex with his wife was half the appeal of marriage to him. Everything in life had a place. A fire burning in the fireplace was all well and good. But when the fire spread outside of it, that became a problem.

      Yes, things had their place. And he had been looking forward to having everything where it was meant to be.

      But now the plan was upended. And he wasn’t certain of his next move. For a man who liked to plan ahead, it was disconcerting at best.

      “I

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