‘What? No.’ He put his hand on hers and stopped her from rapidly tossing everything back into the box haphazardly. Slowly he put one item at a time into her palm so she could return them to their special place.
‘Everything around me,’ Alek said quietly. ‘This palace—my whole life—is a memorial to my family. There are portraits everywhere...everything is a reminder of who I am, where I’m from and who I must be. You don’t have that, so you keep all these. There are treasured memories in every one, right?’
She nodded, unable to speak again. Emotion kept overwhelming her and she hated it.
He picked up the white-silk-covered button from the tray and held it out for her to take. ‘I’m glad this was something you wanted to remember.’
He’d recognised it? She’d scooped it from the floor on her way out of his apartment this morning. Her fingers trembled as she took the button from her wedding dress and put it into the box.
‘I’m never going to forget last night,’ she whispered. Just as she was never going to forget anything associated with all her broken treasures. She closed the lid, amazed again at how perfect the repair was.
He watched her close the box. ‘How did it get broken?’
She traced the carved lid with the tip of her finger as he’d done that day they’d met. ‘It even used to lock. I wore the key around my neck on a ribbon, hoping they couldn’t see it under my shirt.’
‘They?’
‘My cousins.’ She shrugged. ‘They didn’t like it when I went to live with them after my parents died.’
‘They didn’t welcome you?’ He paused.
‘My aunt and uncle were sure to publicise that they’d “done the right thing” in taking me in. But they already had three children and none of them wanted me there.’
‘So they didn’t give you a nice room, or let you make their home your own.’
‘No.’ She swallowed. ‘My uncle sold most of my parents’ things, but I had the box. I always kept it near me. I never left it in my room or anything because I knew not to trust them. But the ribbon was worn and one day I lost it. They teased me about never being able to open the box again because I’d lost the key—so then I knew they had it and they knew I knew. That was their fun, right? My helplessness. My desperation. There was nothing I could do and they enjoyed that power.’ She shivered. She’d hated them so much. ‘So I tried not to show them how much it mattered.’
‘I’m guessing you told them that it was “fine” for them to have it?’ He rubbed her hand. ‘That’s your fall-back, right? When you don’t want to say what’s really going on inside there.’ He pressed his fist to his heart.
She nodded sadly. ‘My cousin Joshua snatched the box off me, he said he’d open it for me, but he was mocking and mean. He tried to prise it open by force but couldn’t, so he got a knife. He broke the hinge and the lid splintered and everything fell on the ground. The three of them laughed at all my things. They said it was all just unwanted rubbish. All broken, with no value. Like me.’
Alek muttered something beneath his breath.
‘I ran away,’ she confessed sadly. ‘There was nothing else I could do, I just ran.’
‘I don’t blame you.’ He gazed at her, his dark eyes full of compassion that she couldn’t bear to see, yet couldn’t turn away from. ‘I would’ve done the same.’
She shook her head with a puff of denial. Because he wouldn’t have. He’d have fought them or something. He was so much stronger, so much more powerful than her. He’d never have let himself get stomped on the way she had. ‘I went back hours later, when it was dark and it was all still there on the ground where they’d dumped it.’
‘Hester—’
‘I knew then that I had to get away for real.’ Pain welled in her chest and she gazed down at the box. She’d never understood why they’d been so mean—what it was she’d ever done. Why it was that she’d not been welcomed.
‘Were these the cousins who attended the wedding yesterday?’
She nodded.
‘If I’d known...’ He muttered something harsh beneath his breath. ‘Why did you invite them?’
‘It would have caused more harm if I hadn’t. Imagine what they’d have said to the media then?’
‘I don’t give a damn what they’d have said.’
‘It’s fine, Alek. They can’t hurt me any more.’
He glanced at her. ‘It’s not fine, Hester. And you know that’s not true.’
‘Well...’ she smiled ruefully ‘...they can’t hurt me as much as they used to. I’m not a child. I’m not as vulnerable. I do okay now.’
‘You do more than okay.’ He blew out his tension. ‘Were these the people who tested whether your eyelashes are real by pulling them out?’
She stared at him, her heart shrivelling at the realisation that he’d seen so much. ‘How did you—?’
‘No one normal would ever think to do that. You only mentioned it because some cruel witch had actually done it.’
She stared into space, lost in another horrible memory. ‘It was girls at school,’ she mumbled. ‘Pinned me down.’
‘At school?’
His horror made her wince.
‘I got myself a scholarship to an elite boarding school. It was supposed to be my great escape—a wonderful fresh start away from the cousins.’
‘And it wasn’t?’ He clenched his jaw.
‘It was worse.’
She felt the waves of rage radiating from him and opted to minimise what she’d confessed. ‘They were just mean. I ran away from the school. I worked. I studied. I did it myself.’
‘You shouldn’t have had to.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘It’s not okay, Hester.’
‘But I’m okay. Now. I truly am.’ And she realised with a little jolt that it was true. If she could handle getting married in front of millions of people, she could handle anything, right?
He looked into her eyes for a long moment and finally sighed. ‘My craftsman said he’d fixed the lock too,’ he said, drawing a tiny ornate key from his pocket. ‘So now you can lock it again and keep it safe.’ He held the key out to her. ‘And you could put the key on a chain this time.’
She curled her fingers around the key and pressed it to her chest. ‘This was so kind of you, Alek.’
His smile was lopsided so the dimples didn’t appear and he didn’t kiss her as she’d thought he was about to. Instead he stood.
‘We need to get going or it’ll be too dark.’
‘Of course,’ she breathed, trying to recapture control of herself, but there was a loose thread that he seemed to have tugged and still had a hold of so she couldn’t retie it. ‘I need a minute to tidy up.’
‘The staff will tidy up.’
‘I’m not leaving this mess for them.’ She sent him a scandalised look. ‘They’ll think we had a massive fight or something.’
He grinned as he scooped up an armful of pillows and put them away with surprising speed. ‘Or something.’
CHAPTER NINE
HESTER GAZED UP at the double-storeyed mansion set in the centre of green lawns and established trees. ‘I didn’t think there could be anything more beautiful than the palace or the castle, but this is—’
‘Very different from either of those places.’ Alek said.
‘Yes, it’s...’ She trailed off, unsure she wanted to elaborate; he seemed oddly distant.
Only then he wasn’t.
‘What?’ He stepped in front of her, his gaze compelling. ‘Tell me what you think.’
It was impossible to deny him anything when he stood that close.
‘It doesn’t seem like a royal residence. It’s more like a home.’ Admittedly a beautiful, luxurious home—but there was something warm and welcoming and cosy about it.
‘It was ho
me.’ Something softened in his eyes. ‘My mother designed it and my father had it built for her before I was born.’ His lips twisted in a half-smile.
‘You grew up here?’
He nodded. ‘She wanted us here as much as possible. School had to be in the city, of course, but before then and every holiday during. It was our safe place to be free.’
Hester was fascinated and honoured that he’d brought her somewhere clearly so special to him. ‘Was?’
‘My father never returned here after she died.’ He gazed across the fields before turning to walk towards the homestead. ‘Because she died here.’
Hester stilled. But he strode ahead and clearly had no desire to continue the conversation.
She couldn’t catch her breath as she followed him through the living area. The interior of the homestead was much more personal than the palace. Large, deep sofas created a completely different space—it was luxurious and comfortable and she felt as if she was encroaching on something intimate and deeply personal.
‘You really love horses,’ she muttered inanely when it had been silent too long and because out of every window she saw the beautiful animals grazing in the fields.
He chuckled at her expression. ‘You’ve never ridden?’
‘I’m nowhere near co-ordinated enough. I’ve seen video of Fiorella, though. She’s amazing.’
‘She likes show jumping. I prefer polo.’
‘Whacking things with your big stick?’ She smirked.
He eyed her, that humour and wickedness warming his gaze. ‘At least I’m not afraid of them.’
‘They’re huge and powerful and they could trample me to death. Of course I’m afraid of them.’
‘They’ll sense your fear. Some will behave badly.’
‘A bit like people, really,’ she muttered.
‘True.’ He laughed as he led her up the stairs. ‘Come up and appreciate the view. All the staff have gone away for these couple of nights so we’re completely alone.’
His phone pinged and he frowned but paused to check the message.
‘It never ends for you, does it?’ she asked.
‘I imagine it’s the same for you,’ he replied as he tapped out a quick reply. ‘Students pulling all-nighters wanting help with their due essays. Fi’s correspondence is mountainous.’
‘I like being busy,’ she said. ‘I always took extra sessions at the drop-in centre.’
‘What drop-in centre?’ He glanced up and pocketed his phone. ‘For the students?’
‘No, an advice bureau in the city. I helped people fill in forms and stuff.’
‘Is that where you sent that first tranche of money?’
‘Yes.’ She blushed. ‘Something charitable, as you said. I couldn’t ignore that.’
But his gaze narrowed. ‘I had the feeling it was more than charitable. That it might’ve been personal.’
‘Okay.’ Her heart thudded; of course he’d seen that. ‘You’re right. I’ve asked the centre to give it to a young mother and her daughter,’ she confessed. ‘Lucia’s on her own. She’s trying to make a better life for her daughter. I used to hold the strap of my mum’s bag the way Zoe holds Lucia’s.’
Alek soaked up the information. The trust blooming in Hester’s eyes was so fragile but he couldn’t resist seeking more. ‘Tell me about her—your mother.’ He wanted to understand everything.
She looked at him, her golden eyes glowing with soft curiosity of her own. ‘Tell me about yours,’ she countered.
His jaw tightened, but at the same time his lips twisted into a reluctant smile. Her question was fair enough. ‘Her name was Aurora and she was from a noble family on the continent. Apparently my father saw her riding in an equestrian event and fell for her instantly. She loved her horses so he built these stables for her to establish a breeding programme. It was his wedding gift to her.’
‘Wow.’
‘Yeah.’ He nodded. ‘They struggled to have me and it was a long time before they got Fiorella after me. So I’ll admit I was very spoiled.’
‘Everyone should be spoiled sometimes.’ Hester suddenly smiled. ‘Especially by parents, right?’
Warmth blossomed in his chest and he took her by the hand and led her to the second-storey veranda.
‘My mother passed her love for horses on to me—they were our thing,’ he said as he tugged her to sit down on the large sofa with the best view in the world—over horse-studded fields, to his favourite forest and the blue sea beyond. ‘She had such a gift with them. Meanwhile, my father was very busy and dignified.’ He rolled his eyes but was actually warming to the topic because he’d not spoken of her in so very long. ‘She was vivacious—he was the shadow, the foil to her light.’
‘They sound like they were good together.’
He stretched his feet out on the sofa and tucked her closer to his side, kind of glad he couldn’t see her face, and he watched as the sky began to darken.
‘Yeah, they were. She softened him, kept him human. But then she got sick. It was so quick. My father wouldn’t reduce his engagements. Wouldn’t admit what was happening. Wouldn’t speak to me about it. But I was fourteen and I wasn’t stupid. I stayed with her here. I’d bring the horses by her window downstairs and we’d talk through the programme...’ He’d missed months of school that year.
‘And Fiorella?’
‘Came and went. She was young and my mother wanted to protect her. So did I. She’d go for long rides every day—she had a governess. And I sat with Mother and read to her. But she deteriorated faster than any of us expected. I wanted to call her specialists, for my father, but she wouldn’t let me. It was just the two of us.’
The horror of that morning—that rage against his powerlessness resurged—breaking out of the tiny box he’d locked it in all these years. ‘I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t stop it.’
What did titles or brains or money or anything much matter when you were reduced to being so completely useless in a moment of life and death? ‘I couldn’t do anything.’
He was still furious about it.
‘You did do something, Alek,’ Hester eventually said softly. ‘You were there for her. She wasn’t alone. Isn’t that the best thing anyone could have done? You were with her.’
He couldn’t answer.
‘Nothing and no one can stop death,’ she added quietly. ‘And being alone in that moment must be terrifying. But she wasn’t alone, because she had you. That’s not nothing, Alek. That’s about the furthest from nothing that you can get.’
He turned. In the rising moonlight her eyes were luminous. This was someone who knew isolation. Who understood it—within herself, and within him. And she was right. A slip of peace floated over his soul, slowly fluttering into place, like the lightest balm on an old sore, a gossamer-thin layer of solace.
He’d never allowed himself to think of that moment. Even the threat of recollection hurt too much. But now that memory screened slowly, silently in his head and for once he just let it.
‘And then what happened?’ Hester finally asked.
He looked at her blankly.
‘Afterwards. Your father, Fiorella, you. How did you all cope?’
They hadn’t. None of them had.
‘Your father didn’t come for you?’ Hester asked.
‘He never returned here.’ Alek coughed the frog from his throat. ‘He stayed at the palace and they brought her body to him. He made them bring me too.’ He’d never wanted to leave. He’d wanted to hide here for ever. ‘I fought to come back from then on because I didn’t want the stables to close. People had jobs and there were the thoroughbreds...’
‘And it was your mother’s project,’ she said.
‘Right.’ He released a heavy sigh. ‘She loved it.’ How could he let it fall to ruin? ‘I didn’t want to lose her legacy.’
&n
bsp; But it had been hard to come back and see that small room downstairs where she’d spent her last days. Awful to be here alone when she’d gone for ever and his family had almost disintegrated.
‘And Fiorella?’
‘The governesses kept her away and kept her busy. She was okay. But as my father retreated into his work he became even more strict and controlling over our lives. Over every aspect. I guess it was his way of handling it.’
‘And what was your way of handling it?’ she murmured.
He flexed his shoulders. ‘I didn’t have one really.’
‘No?’
‘You’re thinking my social life?’ he asked—feeling weary and oddly hurt at the suggestion. ‘Maybe. It didn’t mean anything.’
‘Maybe that was the point,’ she said lightly. ‘If it didn’t mean anything, then it couldn’t hurt, right?’
‘Not gonna lie—it felt good, Hester.’
‘Well, wouldn’t it suck if it didn’t?’ She smiled. ‘And when things really hurt you’ll do almost anything to feel better even for a little while, right?’
He felt raw. Maybe she was right. Maybe it had been more than escape. He’d been burying frustration and grief. But he’d liked being the Playboy Prince. He’d liked encouraging zero expectations of him settling down. Only then his father had died. And then that stupid requirement had come into play and he’d been forced to create a relationship he’d never wanted. That he still didn’t want—right?
‘You don’t need to apologise for it,’ she said. ‘It just was what was, right? I locked myself away. That was my choice. Neither of us were right or wrong necessarily, it was just how we each coped with a really crappy time.’
‘Yeah.’ He’d not stopped to think about what a really crappy time it had been in so long.
‘So now you run the stud.’ She looked across the grounds. ‘And that was the other way of handling it—building on her legacy. Keeping something that she loved very much alive.’
Shy Queen In The Royal Spotlight (Once Upon a Temptation, Book 3) Page 13