The Most Powerful Of Kings (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Royal House of Axios, Book 2) Read online

  Not that he would be doing any biting. She was a rabbit who’d wandered into a wolf’s den, or perhaps even a quail. Soft and round and far too innocent.

  Luckily for her this particular wolf wasn’t hungry and hadn’t been for years, and even if he had been, he wouldn’t have chosen such easy prey.

  It was very clear that she had no idea what her interfering Reverend Mother had done. But he did. The Reverend Mother June was his godmother and had been sending him letters ever since his wife had died five years earlier. She’d said they were to ‘comfort him in his time of need’. But Adonis didn’t need comforting and he didn’t need his godmother recommending various women to him as prospects for his next queen. He got far too much of that from his own royal council and their insistence that he take a wife; he didn’t need it from one elderly English nun.

  Unfortunately, it seemed as if said nun had ignored his gentle but firm commands to mind her own business and had sent him this pretty woman instead.

  It was irritating and he was tempted to send her straight back to where she had come from, but if he didn’t even grant her an audience, the Reverend Mother would no doubt only send him another sacrificial lamb and he really didn’t want an endless procession of novices turning up at his front door.

  And there was the issue of his daughter, who did, in fact, need a civilising influence.

  He opened his mouth to ask her another question about her supposed purpose here when the doors suddenly burst open and a hellion in a blue dress with a plastic breastplate worn over the top, a helmet pressed down over her red curls, and waving a plastic sword came tumbling in.

  She screeched to a halt beside the couch, waved the sword threateningly and shouted in Axian, ‘Don’t move or I’ll cut your heads off. Right now!’

  The nun’s mouth dropped open as she stared at Princess Ione, Lioness of Axios and first in line to the throne.

  ‘Ione,’ Adonis growled. ‘English, please. And where are your manners?’

  His daughter whirled, took in his face, and the sword drooped. ‘Sorry, Papa,’ she said, switching languages effortlessly and looking contrite. Then she threw her weapon down, came over to the couch, and without even asking climbed into his lap and held a finger up in front of his face. ‘My finger hurts. Can you kiss it better?’

  She had begun to do this more and more whenever she was in his presence. Reach for his hand. Throw her arms around him. Beg to be picked up. Cry when he told her no and then shout that she hated him, not caring who might be around to note her behaviour.

  It was unacceptable. A king was always under threat from enemies and anyone close to him could be a target to be used against him. So he tried to make sure that no one got too close. That had been relatively simple to achieve; he had no close friends anyway and no confidants. No one he trusted. He even kept his younger brother, Prince Xerxes, at arm’s length.

  Unfortunately, his daughter was too young to understand why this was necessary and why her father wasn’t the same as other people’s, and as she’d grown older she had become needier, and more demanding of him. She wouldn’t do what she was told, was wilfully disobedient, had screaming tantrums loud enough to wake the dead, and he’d been forced to come to the conclusion that she needed taking in hand.

  He’d hoped not to use the methods his own father had used on him, since they were a blunt instrument at best, and Ione was still too young for that anyway. He’d opted for a...gentler way. A meek, obedient nun, for example.

  Whatever the case, Ione needed to learn control, how to detach herself from her emotions, because a monarch could not be ruled by their heart.

  He had learned. So could she.

  He ignored her finger just as he ignored the urge to kiss it better. Those fatherly impulses were strong, but he was stronger.

  ‘You cannot sit on me, Ione,’ Adonis said, gently putting his daughter back on her feet again. ‘How many times must I tell you?’

  Ione’s jaw got that pugnacious look, which usually heralded a tantrum, so he distracted her. ‘This lady is Sister Anna. She might be here to be your friend.’

  The tactic worked. Ione forgot her finger and looked over at the little nun. ‘Her? But she doesn’t even have a sword,’ she said, somewhat disdainfully.

  At that point, the nun seemed to break out of her paralysis and smiled.

  And Adonis felt something inside him flicker, like a spark in a cold, dead hearth.

  Because that smile was breathtaking. It lit up her face, turning it from pretty to stunning in seconds flat, those fog-grey eyes glittering with silver fire.

  It felt as if the sun had come into the room.

  ‘Hello,’ the nun said to his daughter. ‘You can call me Anna, if you like. What’s your name?’

  ‘Princess Ione,’ Ione answered regally.

  ‘What a pretty name. I heard you were a lioness.’ The nun leaned forward slightly. ‘Can you roar?’

  ‘Yes!’ Ione said, suddenly animated. ‘Would you like to hear it?’

  ‘Oh, yes, please.’

  Ione roared obligingly and very, very loudly.

  The nun clapped her hands and looked delighted. ‘What a magnificent roar.’

  ‘Ione,’ Adonis said firmly, deciding to cut short this particular meeting. ‘Please go and find Hesta. Miss Angela will be waiting for you in the schoolroom.’

  Hesta was one of Ione’s guards and probably responsible for his daughter’s sudden interest in weapons. Adonis was not opposed to it, but Ione was still struggling with reading and that, surely, was more important.

  ‘But—’ Ione began.

  ‘Now,’ Adonis said.

  His daughter made a grumpy sound and went disconsolately out through the door.

  The nun was still smiling that radiant smile and he had the strangest urge to lift his hands to it, as if it were a fire he could warm himself in front of.

  ‘She’s delightful,’ the nun said.

  ‘She’s a terror,’ he disagreed.

  Her smile became warmer, the sun shining directly on him. ‘I know you wanted to kiss her finger. I hope you didn’t stop for my benefit.’

  And the spark in the cold, dead hearth of his heart glowed again. He crushed it. No fires could be lit in that fireplace. The only passion a king was permitted was for his country. It was something his father had often said and Adonis agreed.

  ‘You didn’t answer my question,’ he said expressionlessly.

  Sister Anna’s lovely smile faltered, and the sun dimmed, as though it went behind a cloud. ‘Which particular question?’

  ‘I think you know what I’m talking about.’ It was perhaps foolish to push for an answer when it was obvious that she had no idea about the Reverend Mother’s real agenda.

  Still. He wanted to hear the answer.

  She looked away, smoothing her grey dress with her hands. ‘The Reverend Mother said nothing to me about...well, you know. She only said something about a tutor for the princess and that I would be a good fit for the position.’ A flush stained her cheekbones, her fingers fussing with the hem of her dress.

  It seemed she was uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation, which perversely only made him want to continue it. He couldn’t fathom why. He had a great many other things to do that were much more important than making a pretty nun blush.

  ‘I see.’ He should end this conversation and dismiss her, yet he didn’t. ‘So nothing at all about the best way to seduce me, then?’

  She flushed an even deeper shade of pink, her fingers furiously pleating the hem of her skirt.

  It was wrong of him to tease a woman this innocent. That was more his brother’s mode of behaviour—though, now Xerxes had married, he didn’t do that so much any more. But the prince was more handsome and possessed far more charm than Adonis ever had. He was...fun. Adonis had never seen the point of fun.
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  Annoyed with himself, he was about to end the conversation, when suddenly the little nun met his gaze, her eyes full of what looked like temper. ‘No, Your Majesty,’ she said flatly. ‘The Reverend Mother said nothing about seduction and it would be highly improper of her to do so even if she had.’ She gave him a severe look. ‘Why on earth would you think that’s what I’m here for?’

  Adonis stared at her in surprise. He was the king. Everyone was afraid of him and he didn’t mind that. His entire purpose was to protect his country and put its interests first. He didn’t need to be loved or even liked; what he needed was to be obeyed, and if respect didn’t make that happen, then he’d settle for fear. He wasn’t fussy.

  But right now there was neither respect nor fear in the little nun’s disconcertingly direct gaze, only offended dignity and outrage.

  Another man might have apologised. But kings never apologised and neither did Adonis. In fact, far from prompting shame, the expression on her face instead ignited a small, electric jolt of sensation centred in much lower, baser parts of his body.

  ‘Then what are you here for?’ he asked, before he could stop himself.

  The little nun drew herself up in her chair, lifting that determined and very firm chin. ‘I’m here to help you with the princess,’ she said with dignity. ‘Just like the Reverend Mother ordered me to.’

  ‘And do you do everything you’re ordered to do?’

  ‘Of course.’ Her hands rearranged themselves in her lap. ‘I shall be taking my vows soon and proving my obedience is one of the tasks I need to undertake before the Reverend Mother gives her approval.’

  You could show her how to be obedient.

  The thought was instinctive and so unexpected he sat there for a minute in shock at his own response.

  He was a man who was in complete control of himself and his environment. A man who didn’t suffer from sparks in the dead area of his chest where his heart should be. Or flickers of sexual interest in small, innocent creatures such as the one sitting opposite him. He had his hungers, but they were entirely physical and when his body needed a release he dealt with it either himself, or with a couple of very discreet, experienced women who were happy to see him when he needed them, and just as happy to say goodbye when he left.

  So he didn’t know why this particular woman, this very innocent nun, was making him feel things he did not want to feel. In fact, why she should make him feel anything at all was beyond him.

  Detachment was the key to being an effective protector and defender of his country, and so he didn’t let anything touch him. His father, King Xenophon, had been a hard and brutal teacher on that specific point, but Adonis had learned. He might once have raged against his father’s methods, yet in the end he’d come to see the importance of it.

  He felt nothing. And one little novice nun wasn’t going to change that.

  Ignoring the flickers of interest from his baser self, Adonis said curtly, ‘Then you can prove yourself obedient by obeying my order to leave Axios.’

  This time it was her turn to stare at him in surprise. ‘Excuse me, Your Majesty? Did you—’

  ‘Are you deaf?’ he interrupted, suddenly irritated almost into anger at himself and this whole ridiculous situation. ‘You will leave Axios by tomorrow morning. Am I clear?’

  Shock rippled over her face, swiftly followed by another deep flush.

  ‘I’m sorry if I caused offence, sire.’ The spark of anger had vanished from her voice, leaving nothing but contrition. ‘I spoke out of turn.’

  She was absolutely genuine, of that there was no doubt. And if he’d been a man who felt normal human emotion, he might have felt sorry for her.

  But he wasn’t and he didn’t.

  Instead, he pushed himself to his feet. ‘Tomorrow morning,’ he said flatly.

  Then he turned on his heel and left the room.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ANNA PACED AROUND the little guest room she’d been shown to after her failed audience with the king, anger churning in her gut.

  She hated him. He was cold, rude, arrogant, autocratic. And, even though he might have looked as if he was going to kiss his adorable little daughter’s finger, he hadn’t. Certainly, he had no business accusing her of being here only to seduce him. What absolute rot. She was a novice nun, not a pretty socialite or member of the aristocracy trying for a good marriage.

  She wanted to take her vows, not...seduce men.

  It was absurd that he’d even considered it. Though now she was curious as to why he’d even think that in the first place. Perhaps the Reverend Mother had sent other novices to him. She hadn’t heard of any, though, and anyway, why would the Reverend Mother send her if that was the case?

  Sister Caroline was much lovelier than she was and Sister Maria was more refined. There was nothing about Anna to recommend her to a king.

  She came to a stop near the door and glared at it.

  Now she was to be sent home for absolutely no reason that she could see. Why? Did he not believe her when she said she’d obeyed the Reverend Mother? Or had he been offended by her outburst?

  A trickle of shame slid slowly down her back.

  She shouldn’t have let her annoyance at him get the better of her, especially given it was his daughter’s behaviour that he wanted her help with. Not exactly the best example to set. She’d only been shocked by his accusation and offended, if the truth be told. She wasn’t a seductress in any way, shape or form.

  And you definitely did not think about what it might be like to seduce him...

  Anna whirled away from the door, going over to the heavy wooden bed. Her battered suitcase sat on the thick white linen quilt and she flung it open, digging pointlessly around inside it.

  No, she hadn’t thought about seducing him. She was a novice wanting to take her vows and she’d eschewed earthly pleasures. Not that she had any experience with said earthly pleasures, and not that she’d ever wanted to.

  She knew about sex from a biological point of view and had sneaked a few romances from some of the other novices, so she’d learned about passion too. But that hadn’t been enough to make her think she wanted a man in her life.

  The Reverend Mother had mentioned following a vocation and Anna had decided that her vocation lay in the convent.

  She’d grown up with the sisters, having been taken in as a baby after her mother had given birth to her before promptly disappearing. A year earlier Anna had tracked her down, wanting to find out her own history, and initially her mother had been receptive to the emails Anna had sent. Then, inexplicably, had cut off all contact, mentioning another family and a life she didn’t want disrupted.

  Not so inexplicably.

  Perhaps if Anna hadn’t indulged her temper and been impatient when her mother had mentioned old memories being stirred up, that contact wouldn’t have been cut off.

  But it was too late now. She’d got angry and her mother hadn’t contacted her again, and now Anna had added forgiveness to the list of virtues she needed to practise.

  It was fine. Her mother had found the contact too difficult, and she was totally within her rights not to want to continue it. Anna didn’t need her acceptance to find a home, anyway. She’d found her place with the sisters and that was where she was going to stay.

  And she definitely wasn’t going to be leaving that for a mere man.

  No matter how interesting the man?

  Anna shut her case firmly. There were no interesting men. And that included the arrogant, rude king with the ridiculous Christian name.

  It felt grossly unfair that he was going to send her away without a reason. What would she tell the Reverend Mother? It had been her rudeness that had caused her dismissal in all likelihood, which wouldn’t go down at all well. Especially when everyone knew what a temper she had.

  Perhaps the Reverend Mother would eve
n decide not to approve Anna taking her vows, which would be...

  A cold feeling twisted in her gut. She would be cast out into the world to find her own way, with no friends and no family. Locked out of the only home she’d ever known.

  She couldn’t let that happen, she just couldn’t. Which meant she’d have to go to this king and ask him for a reason for her dismissal. She deserved that much, didn’t she? After coming all the way here? And if she knew the reason, then perhaps she could convince him to let her stay.

  Anna stalked over to the door and pulled it open, glancing down the stone corridor. The palace was medieval, with high, vaulted ceilings and narrow stone hallways. There were lights, but it was a place that brought to mind flickering sconces and rushes on the floor, with lots of hounds and burly men in armour milling around.

  She walked quickly, confident she’d find someone who’d point her in the right direction. Palaces were generally full of people, after all. They’d no doubt forbid her to see the king, since she supposed a nobody like her wouldn’t be granted a second audience. Nevertheless, she was prepared to stand her ground. Even five minutes of his time for an explanation would be enough.

  A few palace staff were around, but none of them were forthcoming about where the king was—understandably—but after she’d smiled winningly at one stern-faced guard he mentioned that the king was having some ‘sparring’ time in the gym.

  Anna thanked him and went off down another corridor, pausing to ask another guard where the gym was. It was in a different wing of the palace, involving more corridors and a lot of stairs, and when she got to the doors she was stymied by a couple of guards who scanned her suspiciously.

  However, she must have looked unthreatening, because after she gave them both another of those winning smiles and played the nun card one of them agreed to take her into the gym to request a personal audience.