A Royal Proposition: The Royal House of Atharia, Book 2

by Gill, Tamara

  Why could they not leave her alone? Allow her to live for a change. Her uncle had lost. It was time he gave up the fight should he be behind all their troubles and still alive as they suspected.

  "You may be right, Mr. Oakley. These thugs may kill me, but then as a member of a royal family, that is the risk I take every day whenever I step outside and into public life. But I refuse to live my life as a prisoner due to my privileged birth. I have too many things to do, people to help. If I cower and run away, they have won, and I refuse to allow ruffians such as they are to run me out of town just yet."

  Rowan's lips twitched, and he leaned back in his chair, his breeches pulling tight across his lap and gifting her the sight of his impressive manhood. She looked down at her hands, at anywhere other than all his glorious form. And before her sister, no less, who was acting odd already around her guard.

  She looked up from inspecting her fingers and found him watching her. Her cheeks warmed, and for a moment, she was transported back to his lodgings in Spitalsfield and the bed he'd made achingly wicked love to her.

  "We can only guide, Your Majesty, Princess Alessa. The choice to stay or go remains with you," Rowan stated, standing and going to the window. He pulled back the curtain and glanced out onto the street before closing it again. "You will need to keep the curtains closed at all times unless you prefer to use the rooms at the back of the house more than the front. We do not know where they will attempt to strike next. For you to remain here and have freedom as much as you can, I think these protocols will need to be in place."

  So, in essence, she would be living as a captive here in London as well. She had spent so much time last year running, hiding, trying not to die before her sister arrived that she no longer wanted to live that way. She was indeed putting her life at risk and those of her guards, but she could not hide away forever. She could not let her uncle win in this way too.

  "The bastard," she murmured under her breath. "I agree to leave and return to the house via the mews. I will also keep the front window curtains drawn, but that is all. I will attend the select few balls I have already notified my attendance at, and I shall enjoy them. My position in life will always come with a level of risk that I'm willing to assume. I trust in your protection and that you shall bring to heel those who seek to harm me. The extra protection my sister has brought from Atharia I trust will keep me safe." Alessa met her sister's gaze, reading the uncertainty in her eyes. "Are you in agreement, Holly?" she asked her, hoping she was.

  At last, the queen nodded, relenting. "We leave in four weeks, no more. Ensure that all your business is attended to by then. Our departure will not be delayed."

  "Thank you," Alessa said, bussing her sister's cheek. "I will ensure everything is in order as required."

  Her sister and her husband left and headed upstairs. Marco, too, walked from the room and exited the house via the front door. Everyone but Rowan left her alone.

  Alessa studied him, his determined, harsh profile as he stood at the door. Her guard once more fascinated her. She could not help but wonder if he had a family, loved ones who worried about him. Or did he have no one and nothing who would mourn his loss should his position in her household bring him harm.

  Alessa picked up her quill, tapping it against the desk. Her fingers stilled when he turned and entered the room, closing the door behind him.

  "Have you always been a protector of others, Rowan?" she asked him.

  A muscle worked on his jaw before he spoke. "I have been a hired guard for some years now, but it was not always so."

  "Do you worry that you could die working for me? I'm not so certain that I could give up my life for another unless I loved them."

  He shook his head, his low chuckle mocking. "I have no one who would miss me, Alessa. My only care now is keeping you from harm. If I'm killed, and you are not, my bones will lay easy in the ground knowing I did my duty. Did one thing right in my life."

  Alessa narrowed her eyes, watching him as he moved about the room, checking behind doors and furniture that no one was hiding behind. Her lips twitched. "I do not want you to die, Rowan. I would miss you."

  His steps faltered. "You should not. I'm a waste of such emotions. Should you know me long enough, you will come to realize that too."

  She hated hearing him speak so and she stood, coming around the desk. She wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him close. "You are not a waste of emotions to me. No matter how much you try to dissuade me from liking you, Mr. Oakley, I, for some reason, like you very much indeed." Alessa grinned up at him and was pleased to see a small smile lifted his lips.

  "Very much, hey?" he stated, pulling her close. He dipped his head and kissed her quickly. Alessa leaned into him, wanting so much more than a quick, chaste kiss.

  She nodded. "And I would like to know everything there is to know about you before I leave. If I'm to persuade you to come with me, I shall need to know everything, so I may use my womanly wiles to get my way."

  A shadow of sadness entered his eyes, and then he blinked, and it was gone. "To know me would mean that I would lose you all the sooner. I shall not let that happen."

  "There is nothing that I could learn about you that would make me question what I feel for you. If you haven't already guessed, I'm not like other women, Rowan," she stated, meaning every word.

  He groaned, wrenching her closer still. "I know that very well already," he stated, setting his chin on the top of her head.

  Alessa smiled against his chest, but there was something in his tone that gave her pause. There was a finality to his words, disappointment that it meant they could never be because she was different. Alessa pushed the depressing thought aside and instead rallied herself to enjoy her few final weeks in England with Rowan. The man she knew to the very core she was falling in love with, and wanted for herself forever.

  Chapter 18

  Rowan thankfully had disengaged himself from Alessa when Marco came into the room, declaring a shift change. He bowed before her, wishing he could kiss her goodbye before he strode from the library and headed out the front door. But he could not. Alessa wasn't his to hold and love in that way, in front of anyone who happened by, no matter how much he may wish it were so.

  It would never be so, and he needed to remember that fact, even when she held him close and settled against his chest, fitting him like a glove.

  She was a princess. He was her guard, a poor, untitled nobody. They could never be together.

  The attack against her had rattled his nerves, and he was determined to end this madness against Alessa tonight. The gunshot could have killed her had the assailant had better aim.

  The thought of her dead, cold on the street, her lifeblood draining from her body, left him chilled. Rowan walked several blocks away from Duke Sotherton's townhouse before catching a Hackney cab. Rowan looked out the carriage window, spying the Aldgate pump. He was close to the Hoop and Grapes tavern and where he would end the madness against Alessa once and for all.

  The carriage pulled to a stop, the windows of the inn illuminated with light and laughter. He entered the crooked door, walking along the wood-paneled corridor before heading out to a back room where Roberto housed his office and underhanded business.

  Two men stood at the door, the last two fiends he would have to kill along with Roberto. They did not speak, merely glared, but opened the door, allowing him to enter.

  Rowan walked into the dark office. It stunk of unwashed man and tallow. His eyes watered at the stench. He leaned over the desk, staring down at the man who had hired him to kill Alessa. "What was with the attempt against Princess Alessa yesterday? That was not part of the plan, to kill her in the street like some stray dog. I was hired to kill her, not one of your thugs outside the door," he said, gesturing toward where the two men stood outside.

  The gentleman, not much older than Rowan, chuckled, the sound menacing. He appeared the same. With his shaved head and long beard, he did not look like a man to cross. B
ut then, neither was Rowan, and looks could sometimes be deceiving.

  "We will strike at Her Highness whenever and in whatever way we can. You have failed so far to complete your orders. Which, need I remind you, you are to be paid handsomely for."

  "You led me to believe that the princess and her family were not loyal, kind, or generous to their people. That their hold on the crown of Atharia was illegal. That is not the case. I do not take kindly being lied to, need I remind you," he stated, leaning over the table.

  The two guards at the door stepped into the room. Rowan hated lies above all things, so to kill because of one was not what he would ever knowingly do.

  He was a killer, could kill and be killed at any time, but his victims in the past had their deaths coming to them. Had deserved to die due to their crimes against innocent people. But the princess was nothing like those men. She was honest, so very kind, and sweet to those less fortunate. And as for her charity, he had never seen another give as much as she was about to. To build a women's shelter and refurbish an orphanage, well, he had never seen anyone in the ton be so generous. She was a marvel, an angel, and he would not kill her, not for all the money in London.

  He was an orphan, a homeless street urchin at the mercy of those around him. He prayed as a boy that someone would save him from the nightmare he lived every day. The nights filled with terror and days of biting hunger. The bitter cold that ate into your bones and made them ache. He could not kill a woman who would be the savior for so many like him who had nothing and no one.

  Roberto smirked. "I do not like my authority or my reasons questioned. Are you still with us, or will you, too, be on my list the moment you walk out the door?"

  "The princess is nothing as you described. Why kill her? It makes no sense."

  "Because she deserves to die, just as her sisters do. They thought to steal the crown from their uncle with no repercussions. They were foolish to think that was the case."

  "He's dead, and you cannot become king. What is the point of all of this? You know I only kill those who deserve to meet their maker. The princess does not fall into that category, and I do not like to be used."

  "Are you declaring that we're now enemies?" Roberto asked, his tone as cold as ice.

  Rowan narrowed his eyes. The two guns pointed at his back, the only reason he stopped himself from reaching across the desk and strangling the bastard. "As of this moment, our deal is over. I will not kill an innocent, no matter what false opinion of her you hold or how much money you offer me."

  "Then we will be enemies, and I would advise you not to make an adversary of me, Rowan Oakley."

  "I would suggest you not make one of me, and do not threaten me again. You're in my city now, Roberto, not some small Mediterranean island where you have allies and friends. You do not have them here, but I do. Leave the princess alone, or you will die should she be injured."

  Rowan stormed from the building, expecting a bullet to lodge in his back as he strode past the two guards, but none came. He used the same cab to return as close to Mayfair as he could, using the time in the carriage to think.

  He had made an enemy tonight, but he would strike first and his mark would be accurate. Roberto Delenzo would not live for much longer, nor his two guards. Rowan rubbed a hand over his jaw, wishing he could inform the Bow Street Runners the Queen of Atharia had hired what he knew. Where Roberto ran his business from, but to do so would declare his own hand in this underhanded, honorless deed.

  He could not do it. To tell Alessa the truth would mean he would lose her. Mayhap not by death, but certainly because she would hate him once she knew who she had allowed into her home.

  Into her heart.

  * * *

  Alessa started awake in the library chair when the door to the room slammed shut. Panic seized her that she had been shot at once again before the sight of Rowan tumbling into the room and sliding across the Aubusson rug met her eyes.

  He came to rest a foot from her chair, not moving, merely groaning. Alessa leaned over, taking in his appearance and the distinct scent of beer wafting from him. "Rowan? Are you well?" she asked him, knowing that he was not at all well. He looked foxed for certain, but why he was drunk, she did not know, and that worried her more, for it was so unlike him.

  "Rowan." She tried again to revive him. "Are you alive or dead?"

  His hand reached up, wrapping about her ankle, pinning her to the spot. A shiver stole up her leg and through her body. His warm hand glided upon her calf, massaging and flexing against her flesh.

  Alessa closed her eyes, swallowing the ache that his touch wrought within her. He rolled over, his glazed, unfocused eyes warmed at the sight of her. His lips twitched into a lazy smile, one that she had never seen before, and something inside her melted.

  How handsome and adorable was this man, even now, in his current condition.

  "Ah, my beautiful Alessa. Do you know how difficult it will be keeping you alive and out of harm's way?"

  Alessa kneeled beside him, tapping his face and trying to sober him up before Marco returned from patroling the outdoors.

  "Rowan, you must get up." She leaned down, and the whiff of strong spirits assailed her. "How much have you had to drink tonight?" she asked, not expecting to receive an answer.

  His hand shot out, clasping her nape. He pulled her close, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her lips.

  "Enough to know that I should not kiss you, but I will. Even with the threat of Marco and your other guards who could catch us at any moment."

  The idea of him kissing her sent a thrill to her core. She wanted him to kiss her, here and now, and bedamned the consequences. What did it matter if Marco caught them? He would not say anything, or at least he might tell her sister, but she certainly would not say a word due to protecting her from gossip.

  Her lips twitched when Rowan closed his eyes, seemingly forgetting to kiss her as he promised. You need sleep. That is what you need, my darling, she uttered in her mind. She clasped his face, feeling the stubble on his jaw, taking a moment to admire the sharp angles of his face, his dark hair, and lips that made her mad with want.

  He was so handsome but still such an unknown to her. She wished he would tell her of his past, of his childhood, but he never did. Was it happy as her own had been, or bad?

  Alessa leaned down, kissing his lips, wishing and hoping it had been a good one, unable and not wanting to imagine he had suffered and had no one to guard and love him as he deserved.

  Swift footsteps sounded out in the foyer, and Alessa and Rowan stood, moving to opposite sides of the room just as Duke Sotherton entered. His mottled red face and wrinkled brow told her something was wrong.

  "Your Highness, it is Marco. He has been attacked in the backyard and is unconscious. I have had him moved to an upstairs room, and the doctor has been sent for, but I do not think he will survive. It is bad, Princess."

  Alessa was already running as the duke spoke the words. Marco could not be injured. He was her rock. He'd been with the family since he was a young man and his father before him. She could not lose him, not when there were those who wished her harm.

  She made the room just as a maid broke down in tears, the cloth that she held to Marco's head soaked with blood. The large, jagged cut across his head and down his neck telling Alessa all that she needed to know. No one survived such a strike. Not even her friend, the strong and confidant Marco.

  She rushed to the bed, taking his hand. There was no strength, no warmth in his touch, and she leaned forward, needing to hear if he was still breathing. Wishing it were so. "Marco, please fight. I cannot lose you now. Whom do I trust if I do not have you to guide me?"

  She prayed for a reply but knew none would come.

  He took one final breath, and his chest did not rise again. Searing pain tore through her, wrenching out a sob. He could not be dead. She could not have lost her friend.

  She felt the embrace of her sister, who, too, reached o
ut and clasped Marco's hand.

  "I'm so sorry," Alessa sobbed, laying her head upon his chest and hearing nothing but the sound of deafening silence. "I'm so terribly sorry, my friend." Knowing all the while, he never heard her apology, for he was gone.

  Chapter 19

  The death of Marco left a pallor and cloak of sadness over the duke's townhouse. A week after Marco's funeral, Alessa received the invitation to the Devonshire ball, an event she had been looking forward to before the tragedy happened. Now, she could not gain an ounce of interest in the event or anything at all, if truth be told.

  She was expected to attend, but to have lost a childhood friend and confidant was not something she could merely move on from. She missed Marco and was thankful to Rowan, who tried to be there to support and comfort her as much as he could when no others were about.

  Thankfully the work on the women's shelter and the orphanage had kept her mind from dwelling too much over Marco. Only yesterday, they had secured the title deeds to the orphanage. The property was now secure and in her control, never under the threat of sale or eviction for those who lived there.

  Alessa strode over to the window in her bedroom, looking out onto the grounds, that were extensive for London. After dinner this evening, Aunt Rosemary wanted to go over the forthcoming invitations and discuss her movements about London the last two weeks she was to be in town.

  The idea of leaving London, of leaving Rowan, made her feel even more miserable than she already did. Whatever would she do without him? How was she to continue on in Atharia, marry another when her heart belonged to someone else?

  A knock sounded on her door, and she bade them enter. A shiver of awareness stole over her, and without looking, she knew Rowan was behind her.

  "Your Highness, do I have permission to check your suite of rooms for any threats?"

  She waved her hand, gesturing for him to start. "Of course," she said, her voice sounding tired, even to herself. And she was. Never before in her life had she ever felt so drained. Perhaps she ought to return to Atharia. Allow herself to grieve in private and away from a country forever tarnished now that it had taken her friend.