by Jane Porter
Her eyes welled with tears. “Let me go.”
“No.” Never.
“You don’t need me—”
“But I do.” Always.
“Those are just words!”
But words didn’t come easily to him, either.
What he longed to do was take her in his arms. He wanted to hold her and comfort her, but his own control was being tested. He was battling to keep it all together. He hated what was happening to them, and yet there were bigger things than their own personal drama.
“We will get through this,” he added quietly. “I promise.”
“You disappoint me,” she whispered, averting her face.
He flinched but said nothing.
She blinked hard, adding, “I kept thinking we had a shot at making a marriage work. I thought that there was something real between us. But I was wrong. There is no us in your world—there is just you. It’s your world, your title, your future...not mine. It was never mine.”
She was wrong. There was an us, but he didn’t have the energy to argue, and so he stopped focusing on Josephine’s words, unable to take them in. He’d been mocked for his feelings as a boy. He’d been brutalized in the boarding school by other boys because he’d dared to care...to hurt.
In the navy, he’d been drilled to be tough. Feelings, once again, had been shameful. They made a man weak when he needed to be clearheaded and logical and strong.
So no, he wouldn’t feel her pain, and no, he wouldn’t let her words register because it would do no good. Her pain and disappointment would change nothing.
His father was dying.
The country would need a new king.
His mother would be widowed and displaced.
Alexander needed to do now what he’d been raised to do. Shoulder the weight of Aargau. Do right by the crown. Honor his father’s memory and name.
He didn’t know why he’d been on the yacht near Khronos, and he didn’t know what had happened on that yacht or why she’d been there to save him, but it had happened and they were now here, and everything was about to change.
Josephine might not like what was happening, but she’d rise to the occasion. He knew she would. Just as he’d known she’d do the right thing by their child.
Josephine understood honor. And in her own way, she understood responsibility and duty. She’d be an excellent queen one day. He just wished the path could be less painful.
“You can return to Khronos after the wedding,” he said. “You can take some time once we’re married. I will speak with the security—”
“No. Not after. There is no after—”
“Josephine, stop for a moment. Think carefully, please. Look at the bigger picture, if you can.”
“You mean you and what you want?” she flashed bitterly.
He ground his teeth together. She didn’t understand that he was trying to do the right thing now, which was give his father peace of mind so King Bruno could let go of this life and the pain racking his body. Because his father wouldn’t let go, not if he believed the family was in crisis.
His gut hurt. His throat felt thick. Alexander forced the words out because they were not easy to speak. “My father is a fighter. My father has lived his life for his country and his duty. But he’s in constant pain, terrible pain, and he’s ready to go. The only thing he lives for now is seeing us married. But if that doesn’t happen, he’ll try to cling to life, which will only increase his suffering. We must protect him from pain. He mustn’t think we are in crisis. He needs us to be strong, cara. I need you to be strong. I am sorry I’ve hurt you, and I’m sorry to have disappointed you, but consider him. Consider my mother. They need us to show courage and leadership now. They need to know the monarchy isn’t in crisis and that you and I are unified and committed to Aargau.”
She stood utterly still, chin lifted, eyes shimmering with tears. She stared at him so long he could see the pulse beating at her throat and the faint quiver of her lips.
Anger blazed in her eyes. Hurt created shadows, too.
“I wish you’d never come to Khronos,” she said at last, her voice hoarse. “I wish I’d never seen your yacht anchored in the cove or watched you and your friends on my beach. I wish I had amnesia. I wish I could blank out the entire thing so I didn’t have to remember it, either.”
He winced inwardly. They were sharp words and they pricked, like shards of glass scraping across his skin.
“I thank God every day because you are what I woke to,” he answered gruffly. “I thank God that you were there, grateful that you are here. We will get through this. We are a strong family, and you are part of us now. There is no crisis here. You are hurt and upset, but you belong here. You belong with me. There is no running away. We are out of options and out of time. We will do what needs to be done. You and me, together.”
She looked away, her pale throat working, her eyes blinking as she tried to contain her emotions. She’d been through a great deal in the past twenty-four hours, but they couldn’t give up now. His father needed peace. The wedding would go ahead as planned, and eventually all would be well. Storms passed, skies cleared. Josephine would get pregnant again, and there would be a royal heir; Alexander didn’t doubt it, which was why he could walk out of her room and go to his father’s side and assure him all was well and they were looking forward to the wedding on Saturday.
CHAPTER TEN
HE DIDN’T WANT the truth, and he didn’t want her emotions. He didn’t want her to feel.
So she wouldn’t feel. And she wouldn’t care about him any longer. She’d do her duty. She’d marry him and stand at his side and fulfill the obligation, and then she’d leave.
She’d return to Khronos and stay there, not for a visit but until her father took a new position with the foundation and was sent elsewhere. She’d go where he went and continue assisting his work. She’d lose herself in the work, and the idea of going somewhere pleased her. She imagined a return to Washington State, or possibly Peru, or maybe even to Mount Etna in Sicily because she’d never feel the same about Khronos. Alexander had ruined it for her.
On Saturday morning Josephine was numb as her staff dressed her. The wedding was a late-morning service, designed to accommodate King Bruno as he was at his best in the morning and wouldn’t be too groggy from the heavy-duty pain medicines he took at noon.
Josephine’s gown looked like something from a fairy tale. She was reminded of Cinderella at the ball, except her dress was white, with a big tulle skirt, a sweetheart neckline, and an impossibly long train. Her long sleeves were sheer and her lace veil was attached to a delicate tiara, the veil as long as her dramatic train.
The hairstylist curled her hair and left it down in long, loose curls, and the makeup artist took forty minutes trying to cover Josephine’s pallor and make her look fresh and dewy instead of heartbroken.
Her ladies escorted her down the stairs to the palace front steps where a special carriage waited. Her father stood next to the carriage in his formal wear looking nervous, and yet his expression cleared as he caught sight of her. “You look so lovely, Josephine,” he said, reaching for her hands and giving them a squeeze. “And so very much like your mother. I wish she could be here to see you. She’d be so proud.”
Josephine was glad now she hadn’t told him about losing the baby, or her anger, or the fact that she’d soon be returning to Khronos. She’d give him this moment. He deserved the moment. “I think Mama is here,” Josephine whispered.
Her father wasn’t a sentimental man, but his eyes glistened. “She wanted the best for you, but I’m sure she never imagined you here, about to become a princess.”
Josephine couldn’t answer and was grateful when the royal page opened the carriage door, and her father assisted her up the steps. Her ladies lifted her skirt and long lace veil, and then they were seated together and the door clos
ed. The carriage was off.
The ride to the cathedral on the square should have been short but crowds had lined the sides of the street, hundreds of people, no, thousands, coming out to witness Josephine dressed to marry their prince. They cheered for her, time and again, and she blinked repeatedly, fighting tears, touched by the cheers and the shouts of Princess Josephine! Princess Josephine! not expecting such a welcome.
The cheers and nerves all became a blur once she reached the cathedral. Her ladies were there again, somehow making it to the square before the carriage, and once again they straightened her dress and veil and handed her flowers from the carriage, flowers she had somehow missed before.
The walk down the cathedral aisle was endless. Sunlight poured through the tall, arched stained glass windows. The soaring ceiling provided the perfect acoustics for the organ. She knew the classical piece being played. It was Mozart. Her mother loved classical music. The thought gave her comfort as she approached the altar. She spotted Alexander there at the very front, standing next to the robed priest. He was dressed in his Royal Navy uniform, the jacket black, the thick shoulders covered with ropes of gold. He had medals across his chest, and with his black hair combed severely back, he looked tall and powerful, virile and handsome.
Part of her thrilled that he was hers, and another part couldn’t forgive him for not loving her. Today should have been joyous, not a duty to be borne.
Reaching his side, her father placed her hand in Alexander’s and then stepped back to take his place in the front pew.
She felt Alexander’s gaze bore into her but she wouldn’t look at him. She just wanted to get the service over and the formalities completed so she could take this gorgeous fairy-tale dress off and remove the delicate, sparkling diamond tiara—a tiara she’d been told was worth millions of euros—because although she was marrying Alexander, she hadn’t grown up on fairy tales and she no longer wanted to be his princess.
* * *
The drive back to the palace was stiff but not quiet as the crowd chanted their approval, the cheers like thunder as Alexander traveled in the carriage with Josephine.
She lifted her hand and waved to the crowds, smiling when she spotted a sign with her name, but she never once looked at him.
He told himself he didn’t mind, but he did. He actually minded a great deal. And so he focused on other things, turning from Josephine’s elegant profile, and how beautiful she looked in her lovely gown, to nod and wave to the crowd.
He’d done what he needed to do today. He’d married, and one day in the future there would be another baby, the heir, and his father could return to his room and his bed, and take his medicine, and escape his pain.
“I think we will save the cake and champagne for later this afternoon,” he said as the coach passed through the palace gates. “Let my father rest and my mother relax, and then we’ll meet before dinner and have a toast before your father goes home.”
She turned her head then and looked him in the eye. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“Josephine.”
“You got what you wanted, Alexander. Your father can rest easy now. But please don’t expect me to celebrate.”
Josephine had just finished changing into a slim skirt and elegant blouse—her new official royal uniform, it seemed—when a knock sounded on her door. It was one of her ladies, and she was in tears.
“He’s gone,” she choked. “King Bruno is dead.”
* * *
That day there was no celebratory cake or champagne. Indeed, the entire wedding was eclipsed by the death of Aargau’s beloved king. The shocked public immediately went into mourning.
Josephine herself didn’t know what to feel. On one hand, she was glad the king was no longer suffering, but she felt for Serena and for Alexander. They had been expecting his death but not quite so soon.
Perhaps it was better it had happened so suddenly.
Perhaps it was best that it had happened today as it shifted the focus from the newlywed couple to the funeral for the late king.
Josephine’s father returned to Khronos and Josephine kept to her rooms, or when she did go out, she walked the safe paths on the castle grounds, going from the rose garden to the orangery and then through the vegetable garden and the orchard.
Alexander did not come to her, and she did not seek him out.
His mother, though, was another matter, and Josephine took to spending a half hour in the queen’s chamber every afternoon after her garden walk, either reading or attempting to do some needlework. She was terrible at needlework but her efforts seemed to please Serena, and so she tried. Serena would have tea served and the two of them would pretend to eat one of the cakes that accompanied the tea tray. During their time together, Serena did not mention her son and Josephine did not bring him up. Sometimes Serena would say something about the funeral plans—the funeral now just days away—and Josephine would nod and listen, because Serena seemed to need that.
Josephine needed someone to talk to as well, but the ladies surrounding her were employees, staff members, not friends. It would have helped to have a friend in the palace. Someone Josephine trusted, someone Josephine could ask for advice, because clearly Alexander had no need of her, not anymore. He was much in demand, busy planning funerals and coronations. Why did he need her now? He didn’t. She resolved that the day after the funeral, she’d go. She wouldn’t make a fuss. She’d slip away. It was the best way to handle the goodbye since they weren’t exactly her strength and Alexander wouldn’t pursue her. Alexander no longer needed her.
* * *
Alexander was in his tower office at his desk when his secretary approached, letting him know that he had a visitor.
“It’s Claudia,” his secretary said. “I’ve taken her upstairs to the library. I thought it better than in the palace.”
“Thank you,” he said, rising and heading for the stairs.
Claudia was pacing the library when he entered. “I wasn’t sure you’d see me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You’ve avoided all of us since the trip.”
“Gerard told me you’d left Roche for a while.” He hesitated. “Someone else said you’ve been in Paris.”
“I’ve been in Zurich, not Paris.” She looked at him hard. “I thought I’d hear from you, though. I was sure I would. I even left my number with your secretary in case you wanted to speak to me. But when you didn’t, I began to worry.”
He arched a brow. “Worry about what?”
Her relief gave way to wariness. “You don’t remember the fight on the trip, do you?”
“Why would you say that?”
Claudia sat down in one of the winged chairs. “Because I keep thinking, if you remembered what happened, you would have taken action. But you’ve done nothing, at least not as far as I can see, and I’ve been on tenterhooks waiting for you to reach out to me.”
When he said nothing, she added, “I’m not trying to cause a problem, but I keep thinking, something’s not right. This just isn’t like you.”
He drew a slow breath, telling himself not to react. “What should I have done?”
Her brow creased. “Then? Or now?”
Alexander hated not remembering; he hated the blank spots in his memory. “Both.”
“I think this is the wrong place to start the conversation. I think we need to back up and I need to say that you weren’t rough with me. You were never rough with me in any way, at any time. You do know that, don’t you?”
He clasped his hands tightly behind his back, not trusting himself to speak. Why was Claudia here? What did she want? Was this a trick? Was she going to ask for money?
“I don’t know what game Damian is playing with you, Alex, but you weren’t drinking that night, and you didn’t hurt me.” Her voice broke. “He did. You saved me. You found us on my balcony and you tried to help
me and he clubbed you with the lantern.” She gasped for air. “I ran away terrified, and I’ve been terrified every day since.”
Alexander didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath until little spots danced before his eyes. He exhaled roughly. “Why?” he ground out.
“Because I thought he’d killed you, and I was so afraid he’d kill me. And then when you were found, I was afraid he’d try to silence me. I’ve been hiding from him. Hiding from everyone, but I can’t live like this. I can’t avoid him forever.”
“Why were you two fighting that night?”
“He thought I was flirting with you. He can’t stand it if I speak to you or look at you. He’s so jealous of you. You must know that. You have everything he ever wanted—”
“He was always like a brother to me. Growing up, he was always saving me from the worst fights.”
“That’s not true, either. He was behind those fights and behind those beatings. He always arrived after you were beat up and bloody, didn’t he?” Her voice quavered. “Did you ever wonder how he always just happened to be there when you were getting the snot kicked out of you? It was because he paid the other boys to beat you up. He paid them so that he could come and look like the hero when actually all they’d done was what he longed to do—hurt you.”
“What do you want from me? Money? A couple hundred thousand euros? What is it, Claudia?”
“I just want to be safe. That’s why I’m leaving. I have my own money, and friends in Vancouver, but I needed you to know the truth. I couldn’t just go and have you think that you are any way responsible for what happened on that trip.”
“I’m not a monster, then,” he said under his breath, but Claudia had heard him.
“A monster, Alex? Never. You’ve always been my hero!”
Aimee saw Claudia out and Alexander paced his room for a moment, trying to process everything he’d just learned.
He hadn’t hurt Claudia. He hadn’t betrayed anyone. He hadn’t failed anyone—with the exception of Josephine, then.