For King and Country

by Geneva Lee

  “I’m not Edward’s type,” I said coldly, and the chill of my words shivered through my skin. I wrapped my arms around myself, wishing Alexander would return.

  “And that proves my point,” he replied with a congratulatory tip of his head. “Appearances are the key to the Royal Family’s survival. Think of how the story would solidify my sons. Edward steals you away from his older brother. Alexander would make a suitable match, and what happens behind closed doors would be your business.”

  “Are you suggesting I marry your younger son so I can be his brother’s mistress?” I asked the question aloud because I thought hearing it might make help me comprehend the King’s suggestion. Instead I felt more confused than ever.

  “The second thing only a Royal would understand is sacrifice.”

  I choked back a laugh at this. “How is lying and cheating and hiding a sacrifice?”

  “I never said it was. I’m talking about sacrificing happiness, about sacrificing selfish desires. Alexander believes he wants you now, but if he gives up his title—his birthright—do you think he’ll thank you in ten years?” Albert caught a strand of my hair and rolled it between his fingers. “He won’t. Consider this: what about you? How will you feel in ten years? But what if you sacrificed your concept of happiness now and settled? In ten years, when he’s lost interest in you, you’ll have a title and a life.”

  “I can’t believe you would honestly think that I would do that to either of them.” The shivers had grown to tremors, and I clutched my arms protectively. How could he believe I was capable of that? And why would he believe that I saw it as a viable alternative to being with Alexander?

  He paused for a long moment, regarding me with tired eyes. “You might as well know then that expectations are in place for Alexander.”

  “You’ve made that clear.” I couldn’t control the amount of sarcasm in my tone, and I didn’t care anymore.

  “Marriage expectations.”

  The addition of that one word instantly changed my perspective. My mouth went dry as I struggled for something to say. “You mean…?”

  “It’s long been expected for Alexander to marry within the Royal Family. In fact, a match was secured when he was a child. He doesn’t speak of it much, but he certainly knows about it.”

  Albert could have stabbed me directly in the heart and it would have been a less painful shock. My knees buckled under me, but I forced myself to stay upright. Albert expected to win this round with a bombshell. I wasn’t giving up so easily.

  “You’re his toy,” the King said, wiping invisible dust from his sleeve. “And when he tires of you, he’ll get a new one. There’s nothing you can do to secure your place in this family.”

  “Has it ever occurred to you that I am not looking for marriage?” I asked, hoping he hadn’t caught the break in my voice. “Or a place in this family?”

  Albert laughed at this. “All women are looking for marriage, whether they know it or not.”

  No wonder he had such insane ideas about marriage. He didn’t even view women as people. I turned away from him, as his barb fanned my simmering rage into flames.

  Alexander filled the doorframe, watching our conversation from the bathroom with controlled interest, but as I neared him, something dark flashed in his eyes, warning me away from him.

  “I see that since you couldn’t sway me with your threats, you switched tactics.”

  “We both know how this ends,” Albert said, keeping his gaze level with his son. “The tart’s quite pretty, but you aren’t serious about her. Why do more damage to her reputation?”

  His words stripped away all pretense of civility. Albert radiated the same primal power as his son, but the King’s dominance was laced with bitter prejudice and apathetic cruelty. Behind him, the picture of his wife beamed up at him. Had she loved him enough to overlook this? Had she not seen it?

  Or had her loss simply turned a charismatic man into a domineering one?

  “You know the expectations,” Albert continued. “I’ve given you far too much latitude since you returned, but it’s time to accept your role in this family.”

  “I know,” Alexander said in a stiff voice.

  My mouth gaped open as I tried to process his response. A mask of resignation fell over his features, his eyes turning to icy sapphires. Their fire had gone out, replaced by something cold, unreadable and hard. His jaw was set and he looked past me out the window. The awareness that usually accompanied his presence fled my body as numbness crept through me.

  This man was a stranger to me. I didn’t know Alexander at all. Despite the shock dulling my senses, this realization twisted my heart until I couldn’t breathe for fear it would snap in two, and I would crumble to pieces with it. The bond I’d felt between us since that night at Brimstone faded in and out of my perception like the signal of a black box lost at sea. It had survived when nothing else had, and even as I searched for it, desperate to find that connection, I felt it slipping away, fading from my grasp under the turbulent waves of anger and sadness crashing through me.

  The pressure in my chest increased as tears welled in my eyes. He’d warned me away, knowing that a relationship wasn’t possible. He’d known that there were other expectations for him. He had told me that he wanted to fuck me. Alexander had promised me pleasure, and he’d given me that, but there had always been an expiration date to his offer. Except somewhere along the line, I’d forgotten that, and that’s how I’d made the one mistake I couldn’t take back. I’d fallen in love with him.

  How stupid had I been to think he had fallen with me?

  “I should leave you two,” Albert said, breaking the silence that stretched across the room. “Good evening.”

  As he shut the door, my fingers closed over a book on the shelf next to me and I hurled it. It cracked against the door and fell to a heap on the floor. I stared at it, tears rolling down my cheeks. Pages had twisted and bent, the spine split neatly in half from the force of my throw.

  Broken.

  Misused.

  Abandoned.

  My knees buckled and I dropped to the floor as well. Alexander flinched, but he didn’t move. A part of me that I hadn’t even known existed—the part of me that expected him to take me in his arms and comfort me—died. It was all true. I’d ignored all the warnings I’d been given to guard myself against him. I’d even ignored my instinct that he would break me.

  And he had.

  He had done everything they said he would do. He’d done everything he said he would do.

  So now there was only one person I could count on. Myself. The agony of his rejection clawed through me, slicing me open and leaving me to bleed out slowly. But I’d been broken before. It was this alone that allowed me to finally gather the strength to push to my feet. I swayed once, catching myself on the bookshelf, but I stood. I stood despite my sorrow and confusion. I stood when all I wanted was to lie back down and waste away.

  I stood.

  And that alone made me strong enough to give Alexander one last piece of myself.

  I drew in a jagged breath and stepped before him. He gazed coolly at me, remaining distant and removed, and waited.

  I wanted to touch him. I longed to trail my finger across his beautiful jawline or run my hands across his shoulders. I’d never imagined that in this moment I wouldn’t be able to—that I wouldn’t want to—touch him.

  Trembling with tears as I opened my mouth, I forced him to hear the words he’d tried to run away from. “I love you, Alexander.”

  His eyes closed, and for one beautiful moment, the distance between us faded. I felt my proclamation wash over him, saw it take hold of his body, watched him shift.

  I watched him break for me.

  But when he opened his eyes again, the hardness remained. “That wasn’t part of our arrangement.”

  I had expected this reaction, but actually hearing him say it crushed me. A sob wrenched through me, and I fled the room. I wouldn’t let him see me cry.


  Never again.

  The tears fell hard and fast, tremors racking through my body as I staggered to a recess in the wall. Crumpling to the ground, I broke down. I could have been there for minutes or hours or days. Time had ceased. I didn’t care if the sun rose again or if the world halted on its axis. Nothing mattered.

  I succumbed to darkness as pain pulled me under. I had trusted him, I had given myself to him, and he’d destroyed me. Just like he told me he would.

  Hands lifted me from the darkness and cradled me tenderly, but when I opened my eyes, I was still in my nightmare. Edward held me with steady arms, carrying me back toward my room, whispering small words of comfort that did nothing to alleviate the agony ripping me apart.

  Forcing myself to speak, my words catching on parched lips, I stopped him. “I need to leave.”

  “You should rest,” he suggested in a gentle voice. “I’ll take you to my room if you want.”

  But I shook my head. “Please. I need to go home.”

  “I’ll make the arrangements,” Edward agreed, not arguing further. “Clara, you don’t have to tell me, but what happened?”

  “I fell in love with him,” I said, my words brittle and unwanted on my parched lips.

  Edward didn’t speak, but his arms tightened around me. We both understood that sometimes love wasn’t enough.

  I turned the key over in my hand, still trying to decode its meaning. But its existence was as unfathomable to me as Alexander’s absence from my life. Two weeks later, and I was still trying to convince myself that I had done the right thing. There’d been no word from him. No phone calls. My only contact with him was on the cover of whatever tabloid he’d landed on each day. He certainly wasn’t sitting at home and forcing himself to eat and get dressed every morning. He hadn’t forgotten how to breathe without me. In fact, the only indication I had that he regretted what had happened in Norfolk was this brass key.

  Belle poked her head into my room and found me curled up in bed. “You can’t go.”

  “I just wish I knew what it meant,” I admitted, my fingers closing over the notched blade as I wondered once again what it opened.

  Belle was right though. The only thing I knew for certain about this key was where it came from. It had arrived mid-week in a cream envelope sealed with a red wax stamp that set my heart racing. But there had been no explanation included. No apology. No plea for another chance. The envelope had simply contained this key and a notecard with an address and tomorrow’s date scrawled across it.

  I didn’t have to look up the address, because I recognized the name of the quiet street in Notting Hill. What I didn’t know was what waited for me if I went there.

  There was no doubt that Belle wanted me to stay away because she was angry with Alexander. But the real reason I couldn’t bring myself to go was because as long as I stayed away, the key could open anything. It was pathetic, and I knew it. Still, that small sliver of hope was my lifeline.

  “What would you do if you saw him?” she asked, coming to sit next to me.

  I shrugged, blowing a thin stream of air through my lips in an effort to steady myself. I’d not yet reached the point where I didn’t want to cry at the mention of him. “Maybe I’d ask him why,” I said in a small voice. “Why he kept seeing me? Why he doesn’t love me?”

  Belle draped her arm over my shoulder and hugged me close. “Do you think he’d actually tell you?”

  “Probably not,” I admitted. “I feel so stupid for thinking it meant more to him, too.”

  “Uh-uh,” Belle clucked. “Falling in love isn’t stupid.”

  “It is when you always choose the wrong man,” I said.

  “You’re human, Clara, and you’ve made mistakes in the past. But I saw how cautious you were after you left Daniel. If you chose Alexander, there was a reason for it,” she said softly. “Maybe you can’t see that right now, but you will someday. And even if he’s too dense to realize what he had, remember that he helped show you that you are strong. Stronger than you thought.”

  “I wish that lesson hadn’t been quite so painful,” I croaked as the tears I’d been fighting broke through.

  Belle kissed my cheek. “You’re strong enough to survive this.”

  I hoped that she was right. It felt as though I’d walked through fire that stripped my skin and left me exposed.

  Raw.

  Vulnerable.

  Walking, eating, existing—every moment was agonizing. I didn’t feel strong. All I felt was this perpetual cycle of despair. Each morning I remembered that it was over, and my heart shattered again. I spent the day gathering the fragments and trying to piece myself back together. Maybe Belle was right, and I would survive this. Maybe the piercing anguish would fade into the dull ache of regret. But I knew one thing: there was no getting over Alexander.

  “I didn’t even see it happening until it was too late. I mean…I guess you never know when you’re making love to someone for the last time.” I couldn’t quite shake the regret I felt over how we’d spent our final moments together.

  “It’s cruel,” she agreed.

  Opening my fist, I held out the key. “What do I do with this?”

  “You know how I feel about it,” she said, “but how do you feel?”

  “It’s like I’m clinging to it. As long as I don’t go, it can mean whatever I want it to.”

  “That’s no good, darling.”

  “I know,” I whispered, “which is why I need to go.”

  How could I explain to Belle that I still felt Alexander’s hold on me like the tug of an invisible string? I was bound to him, even as each passing second frayed the edge of that connection. Now all I wanted was to sever it and break free of him. He’d made it clear that he didn’t return my feelings, but it was too late to stop myself from loving him. Holding on to hope was paralyzing me, and with each passing day, I felt the paralysis spreading like poison. It was killing me.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” she offered.

  I wasn’t surprised that she wanted to tag along, but having a sidekick wasn’t going to make this any easier. “No, I need to face this alone.”

  I had the rest of my life to endure alone. I might as well start facing it now.

  I was in a cab the next morning before Belle was out of bed. She hadn’t fought me on going, but she was worried and her concern only made me more nervous.

  I’d opted for a pair of well-loved jeans and a white tank top. I had no clue what waited for me in Notting Hill, but I sure as hell wasn’t out to impress anyone today. The plan was pretty simple.

  Get in. Get out. Get over it.

  My breath hitched when the taxi slowed to a stop in front of a gated row home.

  “This it, miss?” the cabbie asked.

  I couldn’t get a word past the lump in my throat, so I nodded and shoved cash in his hand.

  I clutched the key so tightly that it cut into my skin as I approached the house. Behind the gate, there was a garden in full bloom and a stone path that led to red steps and the door beyond. Judging from the water pooling at the edge of the walkway, someone had tended the plants recently. It was likely he or she was still here. My heart jumped in my chest, and I took a deep breath. See if the key works before you get excited, my rational side advised.

  I dropped it twice, trying to insert it into the lock with trembling fingers. The key turned and the gate swung open, welcoming me inside the private sanctuary. Pausing amongst the flowers, I couldn’t help wishing I were here under different circumstances. This place was a dream as cozy and inviting as the neighborhood to which it belonged. But right now I was too tense to enjoy it. I’d brought Alexander to Notting Hill, and the memories weighed on me, turning my favorite place into somewhere I wanted to avoid.

  I’d come back though. If for no other reason than to push this all into the past. I climbed the steps, resolved to get this over with, but as I reached for the bell, I spotted a red rose tucked into the door handle. I took it
gingerly, pricking myself on the thorny stem despite my care. Tears welled in my eyes and blood welled on my fingertip. There was no reason to believe it was for me, but I knew it was. Just as I knew that key was going to unlock the gate. It was the same vibrant scarlet as the one I’d worn in my hair the night of the ball. The night where everything had changed between us.

  The door opened, startling me out of the web of memories I’d become trapped in. The sight of him knocked the air from my lungs, and I gasped, tying to remember how to breathe. I’d spent the last two weeks dreaming of his face, but seeing him before me, I realized those fantasies hadn’t even touched on his beauty. The shock of black hair. The perfect lines of his face. The delicious curve of his jaw, the full bow of his lips, and the sapphire eyes that drew me to him, burning me with their intensity as I drowned in them.

  Alexander’s shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his chest and six pack. His jeans hung low on his hips. My body betrayed me, responding instinctively to the magnetic energy sizzling between us.

  This was a mistake.

  Whatever reason he had for asking me to come here, it had been a mistake to come. The tears fell freely down my cheeks, and I didn’t try to stop them. The pressure in my chest built until I heaved with unrestrained yearning.

  Alexander reached for my hand, spotting the small wound on my finger. He brought it to his lips and sucked away the blood before placing a gentle kiss on the spot. The gesture was small but not insignificant. When his arm coiled around my waist, I didn’t resist him.

  I couldn’t.

  So much for being strong, the critical voice in my head sneered.

  But his mouth silenced my fears as it pressed against mine. The kiss was tender and hesitant, and his lips moved slowly. Salt mingled with his taste on my tongue, and I pulled away to discover the tears weren’t mine. Alexander dropped to his knees, burying his face against my stomach.