Redeeming A Royal (The Royals of Aldonia Book 3)

by Nadine Millard

  It was that tremble that did it.

  The shiver that might have been desire but served to remind him just how innocent she was.

  Reality came crashing back as he pulled his lips from hers once again.

  What the hell was he doing?

  She wasn’t some mistress with whom he could slake his desire. None of his mistresses had ever made him feel this way, in any case.

  She was a lady. Pure and unsullied.

  And completely wrong for him.

  His regret was like a live thing as he released her and stepped away from the temptation that she was.

  He watched in fascination as her eyes blinked slowly open, and he very nearly dragged her into his arms again as he caught sight of the glazed desire in their impossibly blue depths.

  “I’m sorry,” he rasped, furiously trying to get his traitorous body back under his control.

  She frowned up at him.

  “Are you?” she asked bluntly before her eyes widened, and she clamped a hand over her mouth.

  And though he’d just made a colossal mistake, though the situation was as serious as it was confusing, he couldn’t help but laugh at her blunt honesty. Though clearly, she hadn’t meant to voice that question.

  “As it happens, no, I’m not.” Christopher decided to match her honesty with his own, though it would do neither of them any good. “But I should be.”

  She pursed her lips in a way he tried not to be charmed by.

  “Oh,” she said after an age. “Then I suppose I should be, too.”

  A strangled laugh escaped him at her words.

  Christ, did she have any idea how irresistible she was when she said such outrageous things?

  “I should escort you back,” he said reluctantly.

  The thought of tonight’s dinner held no appeal for him.

  The idea of dancing with the women from his list left him cold.

  “I don’t want your sister attempting any beheadings,” he quipped, trying to break the tension between them.

  She smiled softly in response to his joke, but there was a sadness in her eyes that awoke that curious protectiveness in him. The one that made him want to take her in his arms and keep her safe.

  Yet, wasn’t he the biggest danger to her right now?

  “And you have a queen to find,” she muttered, dropping her eyes to her feet.

  He wanted to deny her words. Lift her chin and tell her that she was wrong. That she was the one he wanted.

  But he couldn’t.

  And they both knew it.

  After a silence that stretched his self-control to a breaking point, her shoulders stiffened and her chin tilted in a way that he was beginning to recognise.

  “Well then, let’s be on our way,” she said and turned to hurry from the gardens.

  He should just follow her lead, Christopher knew.

  She was giving him the opportunity to act as though the last few moments hadn’t happened.

  And he was the Crown Prince, lest he forget. He didn’t have to explain himself to anyone. Ever.

  Yet, he couldn’t leave things like this between them. He didn’t want her hurt. And he especially didn’t want to be the one hurting her.

  This wonderful, inappropriate afternoon had taught him a valuable lesson – that when it came to Lucia Allenwood, he would do well to stay far, far away from the lady.

  Still, here he was, chasing her again.

  “Lucy.” He caught up to her, reaching out to pull her to a stop. To make her face him. “I need to –”

  “I could never be a queen,” she stated so matter-of-factly, so openly that for a moment he was stunned into silence, wondering if she’d somehow heard his innermost thoughts.

  But he was getting to know this forthright, headstrong woman. And he knew she was likely trying to let him know that she had no expectations. Though she had a right to them.

  “No, you couldn’t”, he answered swiftly then cursed himself as she flinched.

  Far too refreshingly unsophisticated for his world of subterfuge and falseness, she laughed, but it sounded strained, and he knew she was trying to hide her hurt that he’d agreed so readily.

  And in that moment, Christopher knew that he hadn’t learned his lesson when it came to Lucy after all, because the idea of hurting her feelings caused him physical pain, and her attempts at brushing that hurt aside had him reaching for her without any thought to the consequences.

  “You could never be a queen, Lucy, because a king knows what’s owed to his crown. Knows that he has to put every part of himself into his kingdom.”

  She looked confused, but he ploughed on before she could question him.

  “And having you around would be fatal to that. Having you to wake up to every morning would be a sure-fire way to have his country fall to its knees.”

  “Why?”

  She sounded mortally offended, and that just made him want her more.

  “Because even kings are only human,” he said wryly. “And not a single one of them would be strong enough to drag himself away from you long enough to do anything, let alone run a country. A king must put country before all else, and whoever is lucky enough to win you would be a damned idiot not to put you first. Always.”

  Her mouth popped open, and it was all he could do not to kiss her again.

  “You could never be my queen, Lucy. Because I want you far too much.”

  As soon as the words were out, Christopher wished them away. Or at least he should have.

  The truth was that there’d been a shift between him and Lucy in this secret garden today.

  Perhaps it was the fact that being here felt like a moment out of time, like they were the only two people in the world. It felt as though all of the many reasons why this attraction was nothing but trouble could be left at the gate, back in the real world.

  Whatever it was, Christopher felt on the precipice of something he couldn’t come back from. Something he didn’t think he’d want to come back from, if he truly opened himself up to it.

  And it was that thought, more than anything else, that gave him the strength to step back from Lucy once again and lead the way back to the palace. Back to real life. Back to the world in which there was no future for them.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “This is the problem,” Lucy said to herself in the looking glass like the madwoman she was fast becoming. “He makes you feel – things. Frightening things and wonderful things. He makes you feel alive.”

  For a moment, she allowed herself to be distracted by the memory of another earth-shifting kiss. But only for a moment.

  She was already late – again – to the evening’s festivities.

  The party who’d gone to the seaside had returned some hours ago, but Lucy had already scurried back to her rooms by then and locked herself away until she had no choice but leave her rooms.

  “But that’s beside the point,” she told herself firmly. “The point is that you – you simply cannot allow a man, any man, to take such liberties with you! Especially when you know that he’s looking for a bride that is decidedly not you.”

  Lucy’s heart twisted painfully as she spoke.

  His words from the garden earlier came back to float around her mind, and she sighed helplessly.

  Could he have meant it? He’d been so wonderful. So romantic.

  But then, she reasoned, Alice had warned her often enough of the gentlemen who would say whatever necessary to trick unsuspecting young ladies into allowing certain behaviours.

  Perhaps she was naïve, but Lucy couldn’t imagine Prince Christopher tricking a young lady into anything. Frankly, she couldn’t imagine him having to.

  Twice now he’d kissed her, and twice she’d kissed him back with a passion she hadn’t known she was capable of.

  And now what was she to do? Watch from the side lines while he married her cousin?

  The pain she felt at the idea was swift and sharp and told her more than anything else that she’d l
ikely lost her heart to the brooding prince.

  A knock sounded on the door of her chambers, and her foolish heart leapt excitedly.

  But of course, the Prince of Aldonia hadn’t come to knock at her door!

  It was Alice who strode in, took one look at Lucy, and rolled her eyes, heaving a long-suffering sigh.

  “You’re not ready.”

  “I am!” Lucy said defensively. Then, in deference to full disclosure she tagged on, “Almost.”

  “We cannot be late. Lord Travers is –”

  Alice stopped speaking abruptly, but Lucy saw the tell-tale blush stain her sister’s cheeks.

  She rushed over to clasp Alice’s hands encased in white satin gloves.

  “Tell me everything,” Lucy insisted, momentarily forgetting her own disastrous matters of the heart in favour of hearing her sister’s.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” Alice said, though a small smile played around her mouth. “He was very attentive today on our trip, and – and he asked that I reserve the first two dances for him.” Her shrug might have been nonchalant if her deep blue eyes hadn’t been bright with excitement.

  “You go on ahead,” Lucy said, stepping back and running an eye over Alice’s gown, a confection of champagne satin and lace. It matched her toffee tresses and blue eyes wonderfully well. “You look absolutely enchanting, and I don’t want you to keep your beau waiting.”

  “I can’t let you go down to dinner by yourself, Lucy,” Alice insisted. “Come. Aunt Ivy and Penelope are waiting.”

  “Truly, you go. You can see that my hair isn’t even finished.”

  Lucy couldn’t have said why, but there was a lump in her throat and she felt like she might cry any second. And she didn’t want her sister, or anyone else for that matter, witnessing her bizarre attack of emotion.

  She was just happy for Alice. That was all. What else could it be?

  “And where is Jane? Why did she leave in the middle of dressing your hair?”

  “Um. I had a bit of a mishap with my glove and a candle. She’s gone to press a new pair.”

  Alice merely stared at her awhile before shaking her head.

  “I’m not even surprised,” she said dryly. “If we hurry –”

  “Alice,” Lucy interrupted gently. “I don’t want to be responsible for the entire family insulting the royals by being late or something. You go. Tell Aunt Ivy and Penelope to go. I’ll slip in unnoticed before the dinner bell. I promise.”

  “Oh, very well. But do please hurry, Lucy. And tell Jane to do something with your hair.”

  Alice swept from the room, and Lucy turned back to run a critical eye over her hair in the looking glass.

  Poor Jane had had great plans for it. But because Lucy had been fidgeting more than normal, she’d flung her freshly pressed glove onto the candle and – well, that had been that.

  Her hair was unbound and falling in waves around her face, down her back.

  Jane would never have the time now to do the intricate curls atop Lucy’s head that she’d planned.

  The temptation to skip the event altogether and hide away was strong, but Lucy pushed it aside.

  Hadn’t she decided earlier that she was done hiding? That Aunt Ivy would either send for a doctor or send her home if she didn’t come out of her rooms?

  Although, being sent home sounded rather wonderful right about now.

  A quick knock signalled the return of Jane with a fresh set of white evening gloves.

  The maid ran an expert eye over Lucy’s hair.

  “We won’t have time to do much, my lady.” She hustled Lucy over to the dressing table as she spoke. “You’ll be that late if we try. But all the other lady’s maids were talking about how you must wear your hair fully atop your head at royal dinners, and –”

  “Jane,” Lucy interrupted the maid’s worried monologue. “It’s fine. Just do what you can. If there are consequences, they shall be mine. After all, the fault is mine. Now, just do something simple and quick. There’s nothing else for it.”

  “What do you think will happen?” Jane asked in a horrified whisper, her wide eyes meeting Lucy’s in the looking glass.

  “Nothing too bad, I’m sure,” Lucy assured the conscientious servant. It was ridiculous worrying over something as unimportant as a hairstyle for heaven’s sake!

  She thought back to her afternoon with the prince and couldn’t contain a small, secret smile.

  “No beheadings or anything like that.”

  Jane frowned in confusion at Lucy’s cryptic words, but she didn’t comment, merely set about doing what she could with Lucy’s deep red mane, and left Lucy to her own, contemplative thoughts.

  She was late.

  Something that Christopher shouldn’t notice but did.

  He stood, pretending to listen to the conversation going on around him, but he watched the door.

  Her family had arrived. Lady Alice, who’d been immediately accosted by Travers. Lady Bonne and Lady Penelope. But no Lucia.

  He watched Lady Penelope curtsy and greet various acquaintances. Studied how she smiled demurely and waved her fan.

  She was proper and poised. Pretty, too, with the typical Aldonian dark hair and eyes.

  Dressed in the very height of fashion, her silver gown designed to be both alluring and suitably modest. And the diamonds that glittered at her throat and ears were understated and elegant.

  It was as he’d thought. She’d make a good queen.

  And he felt nothing.

  Christopher cursed himself to perdition. He didn’t curse Lucy. This wasn’t her fault.

  He’d been the one who’d instigated both their embraces. He’d been the one who’d allowed his desire take control of him. Of both of them.

  Ever since he’d left the garden earlier, he’d gone over and over their time together in his head.

  Had he demanded more than she’d wanted to give? Though he’d held back in deference to her innocence, it hadn’t been by much.

  She was the only person he’d ever met who brought him to the very brink of his famed self-control.

  But Christopher was aware of his position of power. Nobody said no to him. Not ever. No woman had ever refused him and truthfully, he’d always taken what they’d offered without much thought.

  He treated all his mistresses well while he was seeing them. But when he was done, when his lust had been slaked and he’d had no more use for them, he’d walked away. Never giving them a second thought.

  It made him a callous bastard, he knew.

  The only saving grace was that he chose women who knew the way of his world. Women who expected and wanted nothing more of him. Who were uninterested in him past the trinkets he gave them and the fact that they could say they’d lain with a prince.

  But Lucy wasn’t like that. And the idea of anyone treating her so ill had him feeling murderous.

  But he’d been the only one to kiss her, as far as he knew. He’d been the only one to take even a snippet of that innocence, all the while knowing that he had nothing to offer in return.

  Had she been afraid to say no? Had she felt as though she couldn’t object because he was the Crown Prince?

  The very idea sickened him.

  And yet, he thought with a grin, he should know better than that.

  If anyone of his acquaintance would be forthright enough to say exactly what she was thinking, it was Lucia Allenwood.

  Besides, he’d felt how much she wanted him. That had been part of the reason he’d found it so hard to stop kissing her.

  Because not only was she utterly irresistible, but she didn’t seem to want to resist him either.

  Christopher felt the beginnings of a headache, and he tossed back his tumbler of pre-dinner brandy in a fashion he would never usually display in front of guests.

  “Steady, Your Highness. I didn’t think it was that sort of party.”

  Christopher grimaced at Jacob’s pithy remark as the man appeared by his side.

 
; “Did you manage to track down Lady Lucia, Highness?” Jacob asked in a voice too even to be innocent.

  Christopher glared at his brother-in-law, but Jacob kept his face free of emotion, which meant nothing since the man was a bloody spy and was as adept at keeping his emotions in check as Christopher was. Or used to be, in any case. At the moment, he didn’t feel like he was doing such a stellar job of it.

  “Ah, yes. I – she – it was fine.”

  He didn’t bother elaborating any further as his eyes raked the room once more.

  Perhaps he’d missed her, he thought.

  But no. He’d spot that hair a mile away.

  Nodding at various acquaintances, Christopher spotted Princess Sylvie watching him from the corner. The princess looked radiant as always, encased in white satin with ostentatious but not vulgar sapphires adding a flair to an otherwise simple ensemble, and matching sapphires dotted in her blonde curls.

  She looked regal, and beautiful, and queenly. And again, he felt nothing.

  He was beginning to suspect that he wouldn’t feel anything for another woman again, now that he’d met Lucia Allenwood. Now that he knew what it was to hold her in his arms and feel her lips against his own.

  This was getting out of hand.

  In desperation, Christopher sought out the Duchess Dorothea. If he felt even a flicker of something toward the lady, that was something he could work with.

  He spotted her straight away. Tall and willowy, she was easy enough to pick out in the crowd. The duchess wore a slightly more rose-coloured gown, the colour becoming to her chestnut hair.

  But after only a cursory glance, Christopher knew it was no use. He couldn’t find a single thing about the lady that interested him.

  That was what he wanted though. A wife in whom he had no interest beyond the cursory. A wife whom he could leave to her own devices, and who would leave him to his.

  Wasn’t it?

  His circuitous thoughts blackened his already dark mood further still.

  He had a horrible suspicion that the diminutive Lady Lucia had ruined him for every other woman here.

  At that moment, a commotion by the door to the drawing room caught Christopher’s attention, and he turned to see Lucy hurry into the room.