by Dani Collins
“I read about it. It’s tragic.” Her heart still ached for Rhys.
“It is,” Elise agreed. A poignant smile touched her lips as she gazed across the valley. “They lived with us for a while.”
“Your father is the diplomat who helped them?”
“Rhys told you that?” She studied Sopi openly.
“He was trying to bolster me, explaining that he hadn’t always lived like this. I wasn’t born into this sort of life. It’s very...overwhelming.”
“It can be.” Elise nodded thoughtfully. “Did he also tell you why he’s rushing you?”
Sopi bit her lip, nodded. “I’m really sorry about Henrik.”
She half expected Elise to be angry that Rhys had revealed their private heartache, but Elise only looked anguished and maybe a little relieved not to have to relay the details herself. Her worried gaze switched to the distance.
“They’re very close in their own way,” Elise said, adding in wry warning, “It can be annoying. They grouse at each other over insignificant things, refusing to talk it out properly. Men.” She rolled her eyes. Sobered. “They’re fiercely protective of one another, though. It’s amazing. To a point. Henrik is worried about him.” Now her face was nothing but hollow shadows. The cords in her neck stood out with stress.
“Henrik doesn’t think I’m good enough for Rhys.” Sopi clasped her suddenly aching stomach. “It’s okay. I don’t think so, either.”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all.” Elise caught her arm, her grip strong. Urgent. “I’m asking you for a favor. I want Henrik to be confident that Rhys can handle all he faces, otherwise Henrik will step in and try to carry some of his burden. I know that Rhys is taking on a lot. He’ll have to cover Henrik’s duties to the throne, arrange a wedding. Then he’ll have a wife and the making and rearing of children. It’s so much to ask of you both. I know that. But this is the man I love. He’s all I have.”
She wouldn’t even have Henrik’s child. That grief was a dark knowledge lurking in the backs of Elise’s eyes. Her anguish twisted up Sopi’s conscience so she instantly wanted to ease her mind any way she could.
“Henrik is opting for a very aggressive treatment. It will give him his best chance at surviving, but he needs to give all his focus to getting through it.”
“Of course,” Sopi murmured. This poor woman had enough on her plate without Sopi whining about having won an ancestral lottery and not knowing how to handle it. “Of course, I’ll do whatever I can. I understand the stakes, perhaps not as intimately as you do, but I know how important it is that this marriage take place and—” result in babies “—work. I know Rhys and I have to project the best possible image.”
“Thank you.” Elise drifted her eyes closed with relief and gratitude. “I wasn’t sure if... But Rhys is a very good judge of character. I should have known he wouldn’t attach himself to someone who would put her interests ahead of others.”
You’re self-sacrificing. You’ll need that.
She smiled weakly, wondering if the reason she was ideal was less about her blue blood and more about her willingness to shelve her own needs in favor of others’. She was realizing she had done that to her own detriment in the past, but how could she switch gears now? As it turned out, this king and queen weren’t a pair of demigods demanding to be served. They were a couple in love who faced a heart-wrenching situation. Sopi genuinely wanted to do anything she could to ease their suffering.
Even if it meant sleeping with a man she barely knew.
* * *
Sopi’s liquid-eyed glance as she followed Elise from the room stayed with Rhys as his brother remarked, “You’re moving very quickly. I expected you to bring her here for further discussion, not drop it into the press as you left the tarmac.”
They had stayed on their feet after the women left, both given to pacing during heavy discussions.
“You disapprove of her?” Rhys’s hackles went up.
“I don’t know yet,” Henrik stated with characteristic frankness. “You have to marry, Rhys. That’s a fact, but I expected you to explore your options. How could you know within two days that she’s the right one?”
“Look at who she is.”
“Oh, on the surface, she’s perfect. I heartily agree the spectacle of her background works to my advantage. I’m talking about a more personal connection, though. Wouldn’t you rather marry someone you care about? Love?”
“Not a requirement for me,” Rhys rejected bluntly. “I believe Sopi and I will have a very comfortable arrangement in the long run.”
“Comfortable,” Henrik scoffed. “That’s your aspiration for a life partner?”
“I don’t wish to be moved by greater forces,” he said truthfully, still uncomfortable with the compulsion that had drawn him toward Sopi in the first place.
“You don’t want a marriage like mine?” Henrik folded his arms, frowning.
“No one will ever have a marriage like yours.” Rhys smiled with sincere fondness for his sister-in-law. “Elise is one of a kind.” If there was such a thing as soul mates, Henrik had found his. Because of that, Rhys was as concerned for Elise as he was for his brother. “How is she coping, now you have more information?”
Henrik let out a weighty sigh. “Exactly as she always does. Brave and stubborn and deaf to anything but the outcome she is striving for.” Henrik was wry, yet his voice grew unutterably heavy. “I hate myself for doing this to her.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I still question everything I’ve ever done.” Henrik poured himself fresh coffee, then ignored the cup. Squeezed the back of his neck.
Rhys knew the feeling. Was Henrik’s diagnosis a rebalancing of scales for some action Rhys had or hadn’t taken? He desperately wanted to believe there was some way he could take control of what was happening and change it.
“I should have convinced her to move on years ago,” Henrik said. “If she was married to someone else, she would have the children she wanted by now.”
“She doesn’t want another man’s children.” The doctor had floated the idea of using Rhys’s sperm, but none of them had been comfortable with that proposal.
No, Henrik had declared. If Rhys’s heir would inherit the throne, his brother ought to be married to the mother of his child.
“If Elise was capable of loving another man, that would’ve happened by now,” Rhys said. “I don’t know why she’s so enamored. You’re not as charming as you think you are,” he chided. “But she loves you blindly and unfailingly.”
Henrik sent him a look of reproof at the insult but nodded agreement. “It’s true. I’m luckier than I have a right to be. Happier, too. That’s why I want this for you.” He turned on the head of a pin, switching from humbled husband to imperious monarch and domineering older brother in the space of a breath. “This life is hard enough. The wrong partner could drain you dry. You want someone by your side who strengthens you. You won’t find that with a stranger, Rhys.”
Henrik’s words caused an unsettled sensation in Rhys’s chest. The flip side of caring that deeply was a carrying of the other’s pain—in sickness and in health went the vow, didn’t it? Rhys didn’t want the sort of agony his brother and sister-in-law were currently going through, but he couldn’t voice that apprehension.
“Sopi is more than meets the eye,” he said instead.
“She’s up to everything that might be asked of her?” Henrik was obliquely referring to taking the title of queen, should it become necessary. “If Elise didn’t love me the way she does, she would have left this life a long time ago. Do you realize that, given your plan for a quick engagement and marriage, you’re going to have to play the star-crossed lovers who couldn’t wait? Is she up for that?”
Rhys had realized that. There wouldn’t be any announcements about Henrik’s condition until Rhys was married with a b
aby on the way. Typically, a royal wedding would take a year of planning. His and Sopi’s would happen a couple of months from now. Six weeks, if they could manage it. Their engagement party would be organized as soon as possible.
“Love at first sight,” Rhys declared with an unconcerned smile. “Sopi and I will sell it. Don’t worry about any of this. Concentrate on getting through the treatment. For all our sakes. I want my brother, and I want my king.”
Henrik grumbled an agreement, and they turned to other things.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SOPI NAPPED AND woke disoriented, desperately needing reassurance. Rhys was tied up with the king, though. When she did hear from him, it was a message from Gerard requesting she dress for a hastily organized, informal dinner to meet Verina’s prime minister and a handful of other dignitaries.
Informal it might be, but Sopi was put in a full-length off-the-shoulder velvet gown. It was such a dark shade of indigo it was nearly black. Subtle ruching ensured the otherwise straight fall of sumptuous fabric accentuated her curves, and a slit at the back allowed her to walk. Dozens of shoes had been delivered, and she stepped into a silver pair with mirror-finish heels before moving toward the lounge between her room and Rhys’s.
Nervously, she knocked, then entered when she heard him call, “Come in.”
He was nursing a drink but lowered his glass as he took in her appearance. Her heart soared at the sight of him in a white jacket with satin lapels and a black bow tie. His beard was freshly trimmed, his demeanor so quietly powerful, he seemed to reach out and grab her from across the room while remaining untouchable himself. Unattainable.
“You look stunning.” His voice was as smooth and rich as the satin-lined gown that caressed her skin as she moved.
“Thank you.” Her hair had been wound onto her head in a crown, and she self-consciously touched the amethyst pendant at her throat. “These are beautiful.” The weight of the matching earrings told her they hung in her lobes, but she still wanted to clasp them to ensure she hadn’t lost them. They were one more extravagance she wasn’t comfortable accepting. “Can we talk about...all of this?”
“After dinner? Our guests will arrive any minute. We should be downstairs to greet them.” He set aside his drink and came across to offer his arm. “You don’t have to knock,” he said as he led her from the room. “This is your home. By the time we’re married, we’ll have taken over this entire wing.”
About that, she longed to say, but they were approaching the top of the stairs, where Henrik and Elise had just arrived.
Sopi subtly squeezed Rhys’s sleeve as she practiced the deferential nod she’d been taught by the protocol coach. They followed the couple down to the formal receiving room.
They spent the next few hours dining and making small talk with people who acted pleased to meet her, but Sopi wasn’t so naive she didn’t know she was more a curiosity than anything else.
Through it all, Rhys remained a watchful presence, within touching distance yet rarely touching her. Sopi was intensely relieved when the evening concluded and they retreated to their lounge.
“Be honest,” she demanded as he closed the door. “How bad was that?”
“I thought it went well.”
“Really? Because every time I looked at you, you were... I don’t know. Displeased?” Distant. Aside from offering his arm, he’d been completely hands-off when she had been longing for a sign of approval or affection. Acceptance.
“I would have stepped in if you were floundering. I thought you handled yourself beautifully.” He poured fresh drinks.
“Then why are you so...” She studied his guarded expression as he brought her a nightcap. “Tense,” she decided. “Like you’re trying not to yell at me or something.”
His brows went up. His mouth twitched, and some of the stiffness in his expression eased to amusement.
“It’s not that type of tension, Sopi. My mind has been elsewhere most of the night.” His gaze slid to the door to his bedroom.
Her scalp prickled. All she could say was a faint, “Oh.”
He sipped. His gaze was full of laughter at both of them, causing pulls of attraction in her middle.
“I’m really nervous,” she admitted into her glass. “Maybe once it’s over with, I’ll relax.”
“Over with.” His humor disappeared in a flash of something more feral. “You’re not anticipating our lovemaking?”
“I don’t know what to expect, do I?”
His expression softened slightly. “I told you I won’t force you. If you have misgivings, let’s address them.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. All she could see was the obvious love between Elise and Henrik. They weren’t heavy with pet names or physical affection, but their smiles at each other were very natural. They glanced at each other frequently and seemed to read each other’s thoughts. It spoke of a truly special link—the kind Sopi would have wanted for herself if she’d known such a connection was possible.
“Sopi?” Rhys prompted.
She crossed her arms, not wanting him to think her juvenile with her romantic longings.
“Every time I want to complain about what’s happening to me, I think of what your brother and Elise are going through. Then I feel petty. But I always thought my stepsisters were petty, presuming that the world would simply provide all they needed. Dresses and jewelry and fancy dinners.” She fiddled with her pendant. It wasn’t the whole of her reservations, but it was a big part of them.
“You’re not like them,” he assured her. “You won’t become like them.”
“You’ll stage an intervention if I show signs?”
“The minute you deliberately flash your cleavage to get a man to break out his wallet, I will draw you aside for a lecture, I promise you.” A dangerous, smoky edge imbued his tone.
“Now you sound possessive.” And there was no reason she should find that titillating.
“I am,” he stated without apology. “It’s another reason I want to address any concerns you have. Once you’re in my bed, I will be highly resistant to your leaving it.”
Until the deed was done? That thought made her melancholy. She realized her feet were protesting the heels and sat to remove them.
“Everything is so big, Rhys. I’m twenty-two. I should have room to make mistakes at this age. Date the wrong man and get a little drunk in public.” She had barely touched her wine at dinner, terrified of becoming clumsy or loose tongued. “No one this young should get married to anyone.”
“She said with wisdom beyond her years.” He shrugged out of his jacket and loosened his tie. “This is a lot of pressure, Sopi. I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong to feel it and struggle with it. The fact that you’re aware of the downside of your new position, not blinded by the shine, tells me you’re smart enough and strong enough to handle what you face.”
“Every time I try to tell you I’m wrong for this, you tell me I’m right,” she grumbled. “I’m afraid you only want to marry the person I’m supposed to become, not the person I am.”
“They’re the same person.”
“No, they’re not!”
“They are,” he insisted. “Listen, if you want me to tell you where you’re failing, I will. You’re limiting yourself,” he stated bluntly. “Think bigger. Let yourself grow.”
“I can’t!”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know!”
She hung her head in her hands, embarrassed that she was acting so childish, yelling like a toddler. She didn’t even know where her reluctance to reach higher stemmed from. Maybe that stupid audition tape?
She lifted her face, frowned with self-deprecation as she realized that probably was it.
“When I was fifteen, I made a tape for a singing show,” she admitted. “It was a lark with a friend. We weren’t serious, but
I made it to the top ten, and the organizers wanted to fly me to Toronto.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” His expression cleared at the switch of topic. “I heard you in the sauna the other night. You have a lovely voice.”
Had it only been some thirty-six or forty-eight hours ago that they had kissed and groped each other in the hot pool?
She shrugged off the compliment, mumbling, “Thanks, but it felt like a fluke. It was exciting, though. I started thinking bigger.” She gave him a doleful look.
“You wanted to sing? Professionally?” She saw the wheels turning in his head, trying to assimilate this information with the path they were on. “What happened?”
“My father died. I had to bow out, and I was too sad to try again. I think I felt safer staying home. Staying small.” She hadn’t put that together until now, but she saw how illogical it was to let that experience hold her back. “Maybe I’m still feeling that way.”
“I completely understand how losing a parent stunts your growth.” He came to sit across from her. “I don’t judge you for it. But you have essentially been running Cassiopeia’s. And you were doing it without any real support. That’s no small task.” His expression grew introspective as he studied her. “I’m not surprised those promoters saw something in you. You possess initiative and determination and star quality. One way or another, you were destined for greatness, Sopi.”
She shook her head, dismissing that.
He didn’t argue, which left her hearing his voice echo in her head. Somehow that held even more impact.
She thought of the sense of expectation she had felt from Elise earlier. From everyone, starting with the maid who had asked what time she should wake her, to the text from Gerard confirming her schedule for tomorrow.
People wanted things from her—they always had. In fact, she had to wonder if Maude had begun putting everything on her plate because Sopi had stepped in to take the lead every time her stepmother had attempted to.