by E V Darcy
Hattie felt like her brain was sipping around in her head as she tried to compute what he was telling her. Had he just likened her to mere breeding stock, deeming her only useful to him because of her lineage?
Her lashes fluttered as she blinked rapidly to keep a new bout of tears at bay. She hadn’t wanted children, she’d told him that, but suddenly it seemed so—
Wait, that wasn’t right. Roman had wanted children, or at least a child. He’d whispered that to her one night when they’d been curled up on her bed talking of their hopes for life after university. She had been indifferent to the idea, not completely adverse, but not overly eager. However, he’d spoken with such a warmth it had made her picture it and want it if it was with him; what had caused him to change his mind? What had turned him from the man who had spoken so affectionately of family into the womanising, heartless cretin that was before her?
‘But… You’re a Tyrrell,’ she managed to get out. ‘There isn’t much that isn’t open to you.’
‘Oh, Henrietta, still so sweet and innocent in the ways of the world. No wonder Jensen was able to convince you to do anything he wanted. And how he was able to knock you up so easily.’
She gasped and glared at him. ‘How- How…’ Her brain kicked in and stopped her angry tirade before it could even begin. ‘Jealous much? He went everywhere and anywhere he wanted. He openly dated women you could only have in the shadows. Oh, and he could get someone pregnant without really trying.’
Her companion scoffed. ‘Firstly, I don’t want the headlines and secondly, there’s a bloody good reason there’s been no Roman Juniors knocking on my door—I’m purposefully careful. No one is getting their claws into me.’
‘Except for me.’
‘I hardly think so, Henri—’
‘Oh, you better start thinking so, Roman, because this is it. You’re mine now. You belong to me.’
He scowled at her, just the slightest crease of his brow to show he wasn’t following her train of thought and couldn’t figure out how she’d come to such a conclusion.
‘You just announced to the world that you and I are having a baby, that it’s yours and you’re marrying me. You even dumped your long-suffering fiancée in order to do so. You said it yourself, even Neville Martin couldn’t take on the King, and do you really think that my grandfather is going to allow you to walk away from me and create the first royal bastard in over three-hundred years? He’d ruin not only you but your father too, and anyone else he can find linked to you in some way.
‘No, Roman, you are caught, hook, line, and sinker. And the most glorious thing is, you did it to yourself.’ She sat back and glanced his way from the corner of her eye. ‘Oh, and if you think Fiona was going to be a cow as a wife, wait until you’re married to me.’
Chapter Nine
‘Huh. I thought we’d be going to Avon, I hadn’t realised your grandfather was in residence at Oxford Castle.’ Roman’s voice finally broke the silence between them. Hattie made a hmm sound as his observation disturbed her staring contest with the walnut trim around the panel in front of them. She blinked, dragging her eyes from the dark spotted wood towards her companion.
She had no idea how long she’d sat there after their argument. She’d just stopped thinking for a while; it was the best strategy she had for controlling her emotions when she couldn’t stay calm and logical.
‘He’s not,’ she told Roman with a sigh. ‘He takes spring at the Grand Palace. Winter at The Lodge down in Tolston Wells, and during the Autumn he moves up to the mountains and stays at Foxbury Manor—he says he enjoys watching the leaves turn golden and enjoys the cool sea breezes before they become too cold. That’s when he retreats to Oxford. He says it has the nicest trees for Christmas.’
‘Then can you tell me why we’re going to Oxford Castle?’ Roman tried to pull back the curtain that still covered the window. It gave only enough for him to peep through from the side.
Hattie moved to lean over him, to try and take a peek herself, but as she leaned in, she caught the heady, woody scent of his aftershave. She breathed in deeply. She’d know that smell anywhere. It had enveloped her whenever he’d wrapped her in his arms when she’d needed comforting. Had clung to her bed covers when they’d lain on them and whispered their hopes and dreams for the future. It had clung to her skin after they’d made love…
God, she’d missed that smell. She just wanted to bury her nose in his throat and breathe him in—
She abruptly sat back, starting at him in surprise. She’d given him that aftershave their second Christmas at the university. She remembered so clearly going shopping with Victoria the weekend before she was due to come home so she could get gifts for her friends. She’d spent ages looking for Roman’s present, trying to find the perfect thing just for him. When she’d walked by the perfume counter a man had been spraying other men with the scent. She’d been drawn to him; he looked like a grown up version of the boy who’d had her heart. She’d pictured him stood at her side, dressed in their wedding garb, smiling and waving from the palace balcony as the crowds cheered them. The man had spotted her, given her a wide, bright smile, and asked if she was lost.
Shaking her head, she’d asked what he was spraying; she hadn’t known it was a sales pitch back then, but she’d snapped up the bottle, thinking if the grown-up version of Roman wore it, then surely it would be the perfect gift for the real deal. But that had been years ago, the damn thing wasn’t even that expensive, not for their pockets at least.
Knowing he could afford something better, she wondered why was he still wearing it? Had he been wearing it all this time? She tried to think of if she’d noticed in his office, but there had been too much going on. He couldn’t have been using it all these years though. Not considering how possessive Fiona had been. So had he sprayed it before he’d met up with her again?
Roman raised one well-groomed brow in an arch. She ignored the silent question within his gaze and, refusing to get close to him again in such a confined space, reached up for the button to retract the curtains. Usually, the low whirr of the mechanism was barely audible, but in the silence that stretched between them, it filled the cabin; a loud grating noise that made Hattie want to cringe as it emphasised their lack of communication.
The curtains only made it part way through their retreat before the pristine white walls of Oxford Castle were framed within the window. It took pride of place on the gentle slopes of the Oxford countryside, dominating the otherwise tranquil view.
The two large, fat circular towers, that distinguished the building from other castles of the world, rose up into the sky, towering above the sleepy market town built around it. There was no mistaking where they were.
The castle remained in sight for most of the journey around the town, and Hattie’s perplexed stare stayed on it until they began their direct approach. The car turned into the park that surrounded the fortress, heading towards the main gate. If they wanted to continue to watch their impending arrival to the impressive but imposing building, they’d need to switch off the privacy settings in the car, turning the glass wall between them and driver transparent again. And Hattie had no intention of doing such a thing.
Even if the driver was focused on the road, she hated the idea of him being able to glance back at her. She didn’t want anything reported back to Ol’ Dick. The wrong look, a thoughtless eye-roll, or a scowl could be just the thing to tip her grandfather off to something being afoot.
She should probably say something to Roman. Tell him what to expect, how to behave, definitely at least how he should greet the King, but she couldn’t find her voice. Her stomach was suddenly a flutter as reality hit home.
She hadn’t lied when she’d told Roman she never spoke to her grandfather unless he directly spoke to her first. Not even for pleasantries. And now she was going to have to have a full conversation with him, and about her private life no less!
Dick was going to pry into all the intimate details and for once she
couldn’t deny him. She needed him to believe the lie they’d already thrown out into the world, because if he didn’t, if he questioned it even a little, and the people holding the strings of her trust fund heard about it, they could make her prove, without doubt, that Roman was the father before they coughed up a single bit.
And on top of all this, she was going to have to get through everything without her temper or her emotions getting the better of her.
Perhaps it wasn’t Roman who needed to be told how to speak to the King.
Damn, she should have called Victoria on the drive. Of course, that would have meant asking for help, and she’d already done that once today. A second time, and, well, Hattie didn’t want the world to end.
When the car slowed to a stop, Hattie swallowed down her nerves. She took a deep breath and counted the seconds between the stop and the time it took to hear the car door handle being pulled; less than ten. The driver was good.
As soon as the door opened, Hattie climbed out of the Phantom with as much dignity as she could and stared up at the looming fort, suppressing the shudder that wanted to ripple down her spine.
‘The pictures don’t do its size justice,’ Roman murmured as he stepped up beside her. His eyes followed her gaze up the height of the building, before he took in the rest of buildings that surrounded them. ‘You don’t see all this on the news.’
‘No,’ Hattie agreed. ‘This is where the family lives, not for TV coverage.’
She’d never actually been to Oxford Castle before. They’d never been invited for Christmas Day growing up, their mother shunned by her own family because she’d married for love.
She wondered what her mother would think of her current situation, and, for the first time ever, Hattie was actually glad Melinda wasn’t around to see what her daughters were going through thanks to her husband’s stupid will.
Good God, her eldest sister had married a virtual stranger to get her inheritance, and here she was marrying a man who wasn’t the father of her baby just to beat the system too. If their mother was alive, she’d have brought their father back from the dead just to kill him all over again! Hattie very much took after their mother on the emotional side of things.
They climbed the few steps up to the great double doors and a smaller door, set within the two bigger ones, swung open for them.
‘Lady Henrietta, Mr Tyrrell, welcome to Oxford Castle,’ the castle’s butler greeted them. Hattie had no idea the man’s name, so she merely gave him the ghost of a smile Victoria had taught her years ago for such occasions and nodded to him.
‘I believe we’re expected,’ she said with a put-upon sigh. Roman coughed, clearing his throat, and Hattie assumed it was because of the sarcasm dripping from her tone. He knew her quarrels with her family and probably thought it uncouth of her to take it out on the help. However, what he didn’t realise was that the royal staff didn’t just do menial tasks, they were the eyes and ears of her grandfather and Roman was going to have to learn that very quickly. They couldn’t trust anyone outside of themselves now. They’d made their bed and they were going to have to not only lie, but hibernate, in it.
‘Indeed. Ma’am, sir, this way, please.’ The butler walked without waiting to see if they would follow. Roman made to immediately pursue the other man, but Henrietta held her hand out to stop him, waiting a few steps before leisurely strolling along after the butler as if she had all the time in the world.
Roman had to learn to play the game; if he were seen as too keen to meet the King, Dick would think him eager to please and thus an easy target. Roman would probably see their audience as a business meeting, a member of the board he needed to sway in an important vote. But this wasn’t a boardroom and Roman wasn’t the one in charge. Her grandfather was a master at finding a person’s Achilles heel, and finding it quickly.
She needed Roman to be as cool and indifferent to this whole thing as she was going to be. She needed him to not give even a tiny fraction of an inch to Dick or he would take far more than a mile; he’d take everything.
Dammit, she really should have acted more grown up in the car and spoken to him. She just hoped he could still read her as well as he had in the past.
They walked through galleried hallways with huge portraits of her ancestors staring down their noses at her; their beady eyes followed her every step, judging her for bringing shame upon the family. She caught the eyes of Queen Jane positioned in pride of place above the giant fireplace within the Hall of Queens and swore her who-knew-how-many-greats-grandmother gave her a look that said I knew it would be you to bring this family into disrepute.
Hattie mentally gave her the finger.
It seemed to take forever until the butler opened a door and finally led them into a smaller, narrower corridor simply painted in a cream colour and lined periodically with other dark coloured doors rather than paintings. They had to have entered the royal offices, where her grandfather’s administration staff worked.
They cut through a few more hallways that all looked the same, before the man finally stopped at a much larger doorway than the others and turned to face them.
‘Please wait in here, ma’am, sir.’ And with that he opened the door, ushering them into the room within.
Hattie didn’t acknowledge him as she stepped inside, her stomach dancing with what felt like a thousand butterflies, but she did hear Roman murmur something to the man. She hoped he wasn’t thanking him. Or worse, apologising on her behalf. No doubt the palace stooge would run straight to Dick and tell him exactly what they said, how they said it, and every other tiny detail from the moment he’d opened the front door to the point he’d closed this one behind them.
Ignoring Roman again, she finally took in where they were. The room was huge, all dark wood draped with red and gold fabrics. Hattie resisted the urge to shudder. It was so elaborate, so… royal. She hated it.
As soon as she got access to her money, she was buying some place small, simple, and modern. Pastel colours, large bright windows, white wood finishes; none of this drab, funeral motif her grandfather seemed to favour. She fingered the thick, heavy drapes and briefly mused how the hell they hung such monstrosities.
She wondered if Alexi would put up with this kind of decoration if she managed to find an heir to a throne somewhere, or would she make her palace as modern as she’d decorated her current home?
‘Hattie!’ Victoria’s voice called across the room, making her jump and turn at the same time. Her foot tangled in the long drapery and she twisted awkwardly, her whole body falling forward. She had a moment of panic, her heart racing as the brief thought, this won’t be good for the baby, floated through her mind before strong arms caught her and hauled her against a firm, hard chest and held her close. She held on to her rescuer while she calmed her heart, caught her breath, and tried to make sense of the fact she’d been genuinely fearful of the baby within her coming to harm.
She hadn’t really given any thought to having to care for the child until it was born, but she quickly realised that wasn’t the case. She had been responsible for its health and well-being from the moment she’d learnt she was pregnant. That might have only been two days ago, but still…
She was just on the precipice of thinking that perhaps she wasn’t going to be the worst mother in the world—despite the duplicitous way she was currently behaving—when that wonderful scent invaded her once more.
She breathed in deeply and her whole body relaxed into the warm embrace. Preened under her hero’s hands as they gently stroked her hair, reminding herself it was her scent that he still chose to wear.
God, it felt so good.
She burrowed against her saviour’s chest for a second; luxuriating in his strength, his warmth, his comfort, before her brain whispered exactly whose arms it was she was nestling in.
He must have known the moment she became aware of the position they were in; his hands quickly stopped their gentle ministrations and as soon as she pulled back, he didn’t h
esitate in releasing her. Once he was free of her, he stepped past her to inspect the view from the window.
In that moment, Hattie hated herself. Hated how bereft she felt at the loss of his touch and cursed herself for letting her guard down so easily. She needed to watch that, needed to keep her guard up, not let him in, not allow him to see how easily he could turn her into a needy, whimpering, lustful mess.
Shame filled her chest as she realised of how easy it had been for him to let go of her. There had been no fingers trailing down her sides as they retreated, no move to take her hand in his, no attempt to wrap his arm around her. Any daydreams she might have entertained of the possibility of their relationship becoming something real over time, were promptly and unequivocally dashed. And her heart broke all over again.
A sob wanted to bubble up and burst from her as the ache in her chest became too great, but she quickly swallowed it down as Victoria gently touched her elbow and asked, ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ she snapped, turning her pain into anger—something she’d had a lot of practice doing over the years. Her sister raised her brows at her, silently asking did she want to do that here and now? And once more Hattie cursed herself for forgetting how many eyes could be watching them.
She took a deep breath to get her emotions back under control and responded to Victoria in a far more reasonable tone.
‘I’m sorry, but I’m fine.’
Her sister studied her for a moment before her gaze moved to where Roman stood behind her.
Hattie resisted the urge to grind her teeth together. She wasn’t ready for her sisters to meet her fiancé—she wasn’t ready to have a fiancé nor to play her part in the role of happy couple. And certainly not with Roman Tyrrell.
Be calm, remain calm. Keep your emotions in check, she reminded herself. Be calm, remain calm. Don’t let them get to you and you’ll get through this. Be calm, remain calm…
