by Dani Collins
“Are there still detractors? Are you in danger?”
“No worse than any other dignitary. In fact, we’re quite popular, having lived as the common man. We’re seen as an inspiration. Plus, we brought prosperity back to Verina. Henrik’s resumption of the throne after the conflict makes him an emblem of our country’s resilience. We have to work hard every day to maintain stability and goodwill, though.”
That stability was under threat by his brother’s illness. Rhys had so much to carry—dark memories and concern for his brother and responsibilities to live up to. She searched his face, wondering how he managed.
“I didn’t tell you all of that to downplay what you’re going through. I’m saying I can be your guide as you move from being a hidden royal into the spotlight. I’ve done it. I know the pitfalls and how to navigate them.”
“Why can’t I just stay here and be...me?”
“Is that really what you want?” His frown of disapproval struck particularly deep. “After learning all that is available to you, all that is yours by right, you want to continue scrubbing floors? Is that who you are, Sopi? A coward?”
CHAPTER SIX
“COWARD!” SOPI REPEATED stiffly, flinching and looking away, then lifting her lashes to throw a scold at him. “I’d think you were above name-calling.”
Rhys took it as a good sign that she wasn’t curled on the sofa weeping, but on her feet, consistently pushing back while taking most of this on the chin.
“Peer pressure, süsse,” he mocked lightly.
“Not funny.”
“It infuriates me that your grandfather was unable to retake what ought to be yours,” he admitted with anger he would always struggle to suppress. “I’ve been there. I want you to fight for what belongs to you.”
“You do see the irony in that statement, I hope?”
“I refuse to apologize for buying this property. It was cheaper and more expedient than hiring lawyers. Less public, too.” He drew out a chair for her. “Maude will get her comeuppance in other ways. Sit. Eat. Digest,” he suggested drily.
“I don’t—” She cut herself off and grumbled, “I’m not hungry.”
“So we’ll get to know one another and you’ll begin to trust me.”
After a brief hesitation, she gave a shaky sigh of defeat and sank into her chair.
Rhys stayed behind her, his attention caught by the loop of hair that had been teasing him ever since she had dragged this turtleneck over her head in her squalid little cabin.
He gathered the mass in his fist and gently tugged. She stiffened, then leaned forward so he could work the tresses from inside her shirt. When every last strand was free, he combed his fingers through it, pleased when she shivered in reaction.
“You’ll speak to me before you ever think of trimming this,” he ordered.
“Even what I do with my hair is up to you now?” Her voice quavered.
The fractures in her composure were showing after all. He wound her hair in a rope around his fist and set a light kiss on her crown.
“That was the teasing demand of a lover, süsse. Don’t take it so much to heart.”
“We’re not lovers.”
Everything in him wanted to contradict her. Prove to her in the most basic way that the chemistry between them meant that their engaging in a physical relationship was as inevitable as their marriage.
But he heard the tremor of fear that underlay her bravado. Her remark about being unable to trust him had been a slap in the face. He was doing what he could to buffer her from the sharp edges of her new reality, but she was still being knocked around by it.
“We’re not the sort of lovers I want to be. The kind I hope we will be very soon.” He released her hair so it fell down the front of her shoulder and over the swell of her breast, then set his hands on her shoulders, noting the tension in her, much like an animal ready to bolt. “I’m not going to force you, though. You can relax.”
Her shoulders softened slightly, and he thought he glimpsed a pout of consternation on her lips when he released her and moved to take his chair across from her. Mixed feelings? That was progress, at least.
“I do need an heir, though,” he reminded her, glancing at the wine in the bucket. The bottle was open and ready to pour. He drew it out and gathered the moisture with the towel.
She choked on a humorless laugh, one that said she had given up. When he glanced back at her, she was staring at him through eyes that glimmered with tears.
“It will be okay, Sopi. I promise you.” He poured lightly since she’d already had whiskey.
“What would it even look like? Marrying you?” She gulped before they’d toasted. “Besides the fast track to making babies.”
“The wedding or the marriage?” He held his glass for the clink of hers. “Both will brim with protocol and adherence to tradition, I’m afraid, but we’ll carve a personal life out of it. Henrik and Elise manage to.” He set aside the dish covers, releasing an aroma of sage and roasted apple as he revealed slices of elk with risotto and creamed spinach.
“Would we divorce if it didn’t work out?”
“I never undertake anything with a mind-set that I’ll fail. Short of a catastrophic betrayal, let’s agree we’ll make every effort to work out our disagreements. But divorce is legal in Verina, if it comes to that.”
“And the baby?” she asked as she picked up her cutlery.
“Babies. Plural, if we might be so blessed. What about them?”
“Would you see them as a blessing? Or are children merely something you’re ticking off a list? Like ‘wife.’” Her gaze was admonishing, but that wasn’t why he flinched.
Losing his parents had been the most painful experience of his life. The mere thought of losing Henrik was sending fractures of agony through him. Children were sheer emotional peril, something he would have avoided forever if he could.
“I’ve always been ambivalent about having children,” he prevaricated. “I’ve met enough in my travels to know they can be moody little brats, but they can also be quick to offer unconditional love to a complete stranger.”
“They’re like tiny humans that way,” Sopi said drily.
“Indeed.”
She had relaxed a little. Humor had returned the sparkle to her eyes.
He was tempted to take her hand, make a move, but forced himself to sit back and give her space to relax.
“I was leaving the raising of progeny to Henrik. Aside from not being particularly anxious to marry and not wanting to overshadow him by having children before he did, he was always a more paternal man than I saw myself to be. Maybe that was my impression because he was my older brother and made all the decisions for us in those early years when we lived on our own. He very much wanted children with his wife. Elise wants a family very badly. This has been a terrible blow for both of them. I’m torn up taking this action,” he admitted heavily. “It feels like a betrayal to them both.”
“Will that affect how you feel toward your children?”
“No,” he dismissed with confidence. “I don’t know what sort of father I’ll make, but I would try to emulate my own. He was caring. Busy and firm and he set very high standards, but he was encouraging and capable of humor and affection. I miss both of my parents every day.”
“Me, too. My father worked away a lot, but when he was home, we were always laughing and he was proud of any ribbon or test score I brought home. He talked about me running Cassiopeia’s as though it was a given, never saying anything like, When you marry, or suggesting I needed a man to look after me.”
“Did he never want to bring you with him?”
“He offered to send me to school in Europe. I had my friends here. I think we both thought there would be time later to connect.” She twirled her glass, mouth pulling to the side. “There wasn’t.”
“No,”
he agreed pensively. Time, that bastard, loomed like a vulture over everyone. “How do you feel about children?”
“I guess I pictured myself with a family eventually. I always wanted a brother or sister, so I’ve always known if I had children, I would have at least two or three. It bothers me that my parents aren’t alive to be grandparents, but I miss having family.” Her mouth tried to smile, but the corners kept pushing down.
That was, perhaps, the thing that terrified him most about his brother’s diagnosis. What family would he have if Henrik wasn’t here?
He had to reach out then, offering his hand with his palm up, but it wasn’t a pass. It was comfort and a desire for it in return. Recognition of affinity.
“I think we’ve found something I can give you that you truly want, Sopi. I will take care of your children very well. I promise you.”
“I believe you, but what about—” She looked at his hand, her own still clinging to her cutlery, knuckles white. “Do you think... Please don’t laugh, but I always thought I would be in love when I got married.”
Ah, love, that priceless gift that could exact too much.
“I’ve never been in love. I can’t claim to be capable of it.” Like every other intense emotion, he was wary of it. “I believe we will come to care for each other, though.”
“I don’t know if that’s enough.” She set down her knife and fork. “I’m really scared, Rhys.”
“I know.”
“But I don’t want to be a coward.”
“Being afraid doesn’t make you a coward. Giving in to fear does. Bravery is pushing forward despite the cold sweat.”
“Peer pressure again?”
“You are my equal.” If not a mirror image, at least a complementary piece that promised a greater sense of wholeness. He hadn’t expected to find such a thing, ever.
In fact, it unnerved him to some extent, niggling at his conscience. He reminded himself this marriage was for Henrik and the crown, not himself.
“Trust me,” he cajoled. “And I’ll prove you’re my equal. You will.”
She bit her lip. Her hand hovered over his so he felt the heat off her palm radiating against his own. He made himself be patient, not reaching to take despite his craving to grasp and squeeze.
Very slowly, the weight of her soft palm settled against his.
He closed his hand in a possessive grip, experiencing a leap of something in his blood. Conquest? Or something even more profound and basic, like finally coming up for air when he thought he was drowning?
He breathed through it and brought her hand to his mouth, setting a light kiss on fingers that went lax with surprise.
“Welcome to your new life, Princess.”
* * *
Rhys sent her to bed alone, which left her feeling ambivalent. She tossed and turned, waking unrested to the discovery this hadn’t been a dream. They ate a light breakfast and she was given a memo to sign advising the staff that she was the new owner, that Francine was the manager and they should proceed with business as usual.
Then she was given a copy of the press release. It announced her as the recently discovered Basile-Munier princess, stateless but newly engaged to Prince Rhys Charlemaine of Verina. She would take up residence in the palace of Verina with her fiancé immediately.
“Leave your phone with Gerard. He’ll field all those messages,” Rhys said as her dated smartphone began percolating like a boiling-over pot. He frowned at her clammy, nerveless fingers and warmed her hand in a reassuring grip. “A new one will be waiting for you in Verina.”
And then what? She almost wanted to say, Shouldn’t we go do that thing now? They had a handshake agreement, didn’t they?
Rhys seemed intent on getting to Verina first. Aside from the bellman, who kept his eyebrows in his hairline as he loaded their luggage into the helicopter, Sopi saw none of the staff or her friends. She gave the bellman a weak smile and a wave before all that she knew fell away below her.
She had never flown before but knew right away that the jet they boarded out of Jasper was not the average commercial experience. Rhys waved her into an ivory-colored leather recliner against a window and took the one next to her. They were served fresh coffee in bone-china cups that rested on a polished mahogany table that unfolded from a concealed cupboard. A large-screen television was muted but ran the news with market numbers tracking across the bottom of the screen. Rhys handed her the remote and invited her to watch anything she liked.
Rhys’s assistants and bodyguards remained in the cabin at the front of the plane, in seats that faced the galley and were closed off from this more luxurious area.
That was when Sopi began to see how different her life would be. Ironically, she felt shut out of the place where she belonged, rather than ushered into a higher sphere.
Through the flight, Rhys talked in a dozen languages to a multitude of people. Gerard came back several times to request her approval on things she had no business approving. When they stopped in New York to refuel, a stylist came aboard with half a dozen outfits.
By the time she landed in Verina, she no longer recognized herself. She wore a sheath with a forget-me-not print that had been altered to fit her perfectly. A pair of low-heeled sandals finished the sweetheart look.
When Sopi rejoined Rhys from the stateroom, hair and makeup elegantly disguising how pale she was, he glanced up, did a double take, then clicked off his phone and set it aside.
“You look lovely.”
“Thank you,” she said shyly. “I feel like an actress in a costume.” Playing the part of a woman who said, “Gosh!” and fell out of trees while rescuing kittens.
“The trick is to own the role. If you believe it, everyone will.”
“Are you acting?” she asked, unsurprised when his mouth twitched and he said a decisive, “No.”
She hadn’t thought so. They began their descent, and her stomach knotted so tightly she could hardly breathe.
“Don’t be nervous,” Rhys said, reaching across when she wrung her hands in her lap while they drove from the airport. “They’re surprised by how quickly this is happening, but pleased. Elise is very down-to-earth. You’ll like her.”
Meeting a king and queen was the least of her nerves. She was engaged. She had taken possession of Cassiopeia’s. That meant she had to follow through on the rest of her agreement with Rhys. What if she was bad at sex? What if he lost interest after the first time? What if she didn’t get pregnant? She had so many what-ifs floating in her head, she couldn’t articulate them.
They were shown directly into the formal receiving parlor for the king and queen. The sun was coming up, piercing through a stained-glass window to cast prisms of light around the couple who had risen early to greet them.
Henrik was in his early thirties, a clean-shaven version of Rhys. His innate vitality belied any hint of illness. His wife, Elise, was a delicate blonde with a warm smile.
“Why don’t I show you around the palace,” Elise said after a few minutes of innocuous conversation about Canada. “I’ll help you get your bearings, then leave you in your room to rest.”
Sopi shot a look at Rhys. He gave a small nod to indicate she should go with Elise, but her ears were already burning, certain she was being removed so he could speak freely about her to his brother.
“I’m not the storyteller our butler is. Do ask Thomas to take you around when you have a free hour. He conducts the tours when we open the palace and gardens for public viewing in the summer,” Elise said.
The main floor of the palace consisted of a grand ballroom, the throne room, a cavernous dining hall and a veranda that overlooked gardens and the lakeshore. Elise pointed to a green door. “Panic ensues if we go below, so try not to.”
But that’s where I belong, Sopi wanted to protest. Once again, she experienced the sensation of being shut out of her own life.
Her real one.
She clasped her sweaty palms together, lips pinned closed while she mentally searched for the words to tell Rhys he’d made a huge mistake. That she had.
Elise took her up a wide flight of stairs, where she waved negligently toward one wing. “Our residence. Your room is next to Rhys’s.” She waved in another direction, where maids were scurrying to move boxes stacked in the hall into a room with open double doors. “Still unpacking. Best to stay out of their way a little longer.”
“Unpacking?” It was the first time Sopi had spoken. Her voice cracked. “I only brought one suitcase.” Rhys had said the rest of her things from the cabin would follow shortly.
“Rhys said you needed a wardrobe. Those are from my usual designers. My assistant arranged it. The stylist will help you source more.”
Sopi felt sick. This was exactly the laissez-faire attitude her stepsisters had taken, buying clothes on someone else’s tab that they might never even wear. Sopi couldn’t—wouldn’t—become like them.
She looked back the way they’d come, pretty sure she could find her way to where Rhys was still meeting with his brother.
“Come. I want to show you my favorite place. I think you’ll like it.” Elise led her through a door and up a set of spiral stairs that climbed a tower. When they stepped outside, they stood on a wall that overlooked the lake.
The view was breathtaking. A light breeze picked up Sopi’s hair and caressed her skin, soothing her ragged nerves.
In a way, it even looked like home with the lake and the surrounding mountain peaks. Verina was a small country, but it packed exquisite scenery into every square inch. As they slowly paced to the far end, the quaintest of villages came into view, one with stone bridges and red roofs and the tall spire of a church. Beyond it, the grassy hills were dotted by patches of snow and grazing goats.
“This is where Henrik proposed to me the day he was allowed back into Verina. He brought me straight up here before showing me anything else. He said he wanted a good memory to replace the one he’d left with. Do you know how they left?”