Thierry made a sound of disgust and reached for a towel from inside a discreetly hidden cupboard. He threw one to her and grabbed another for himself.
“Tomorrow you will leave. I will not see you off.”
Mila’s mind whirled. This was going all wrong. She’d achieved what she’d set out to do—he loved her. Yet now everything was falling apart. But then, he didn’t know who she really was.
“We need to talk,” she started again, desperate to get him to listen to her.
“No, the time for talking is done. We have nothing further to say to one another. The blame for what has transpired between us falls directly on my shoulders. I recruited your services. I kept you here even though I knew it could lead to trouble.”
“Trouble? You’re calling our love for one another trouble? That’s not right, Hawk. Love is a gift.”
“A gift? I thought so, but now I realize it is a burden. Tell me, how am I to face my bride and pledge myself to her, knowing my heart belongs to you?”
“But I am—”
He cut her off again. “No more!” he bellowed. “I’ve made a liar of myself. A mockery of everything that I told myself was important. Now I have to live with what I’ve done. I’ve made my decision. Your car will be here first thing tomorrow.”
He stalked away from her up the staircase and was gone before she could work out what to say. What did he mean—live with what he’d done? Did he plan to call off the wedding? She had to find him, to tell him who she really was. To explain to him why she’d tricked him.
Mila dried herself quickly and dragged her dress on over her head. Her wet hair clung to her back but she barely noticed as she gathered up her other things and moved quickly toward the stairs. It was as she reached the second floor that she began to slow down, her heart hammering in her chest, her thoughts a whirl.
Thierry had been angry. Not at her, but at himself. Was now the best time to confront him with her duplicity? Yes, he’d just admitted he loved her, and she knew—after getting to know him better this past week—that he could not have made love to her if he didn’t. The thought filled her with hope for their future but at the same time he loved a woman who, technically, didn’t exist. His Angel, he’d called her. And she wanted so much to be that woman for him. But would he still love her when she revealed her true identity?
She came to a halt in the hallway at the intersection of the corridor to Thierry’s rooms. Her heart pounded as she considered what to do next. Was it too late to explain to him, to make him see the truth? Had she ruined everything?
Understanding his past and his family, as she did now, she could see why it was so important for him to keep himself only for her. In this day and age his idea would be considered by most people to be ridiculously outdated, but to her it showed exactly how seriously committed he was to their marriage. Far from being the distant man she’d met so long ago, she’d learned he was multifaceted. Sure, he was powerful and handsome and had a higher IQ than many—not to mention the wherewithal to use that power and IQ for the good of the people who looked to him for leadership. And he had a good store of arrogance hiding under that handsome exterior, as well. But beneath all that he was vulnerable and caring and he’d wedged himself into her heart in such a way she knew that no one else would ever be able to dislodge him.
She loved him because she knew him, appreciated and valued everything about him. That was how she knew his honor was everything to him—and that she’d abused it with her deceit. He wouldn’t look upon her actions lightly. She made him cross a personal boundary with her behavior tonight. It had been selfish of her, knowing how he felt, to tempt him into breaking his self-imposed chastity.
But as guilty as she felt for the torment he was experiencing now, she still couldn’t completely regret their lovemaking. Their joining had been everything she’d ever imagined it could be. The pleasure had been far more intense and the act of lovemaking so intimate that she felt as though she was joined to him forever already. Marriage would simply be a ceremony to appease the rest of the world as to their intentions toward one another, but in her soul Mila was married to Thierry, her Hawk, already.
But what would Thierry say when she stopped hiding behind the veil of another woman’s identity?
* * *
Thierry paced the floor of the library. He had been unable to settle in his room. Even his own bed appeared to mock him in the gloom of night with the way he couldn’t help but picture Angel’s naked form spread across its broad expanse of white sheets. His body told him he was all kinds of fool. Instead of abandoning her in the grotto, he should have simply brought Angel to his bed, used the bounty her body so freely offered. Whispered sweet nothings into the night until they were both so exhausted they could do nothing but sleep—until they woke and reached for one another again. He could not bring back his lost chastity, so why waste time mourning it when he could be enjoying his new sexual freedom?
If he was any other kind of man that is exactly what he’d have done. Hell, he’d have probably bedded her on the very first night she’d arrived. But, he thought looking up to the portrait of his late parents where it hung above the fireplace, he wasn’t his father. Nor was he yet his mother—a woman who’d entered into marriage with all good intentions and yet found herself adrift and alone and desperate for the attention and love of a man.
He turned away from the portrait and went to stand over by the window. The clock chimed the half hour. Soon the sun would begin to rise and a new day would dawn, and he was no closer to making his decision about what to do next.
At the forefront of his mind was the long standing betrothal to marry Princess Mila. He knew if he went through with it, he’d end up inflicting the same kind of pain upon her as his father had upon his mother. No, he wouldn’t neglect her or disrespect her the way his father had his mother. But even as he took his marriage vows, he would know that he would never be able to love her the way she deserved. Not when another woman had already taken possession of his heart.
But how could there be peace between their countries if their marriage did not go ahead? And on the other hand, could he imagine being married to one woman while longing with every cell in his body for another?
In the endless night just gone, he’d even asked himself if he could be like his father—maintain the facade of a marriage while continuing to keep a mistress. But how could he even think about doing that to Angel, let alone his new bride? He’d always vowed he’d be different to the other men who had been in his family—be a better man, period.
Perhaps his family was forever cursed to be unhappy in marriage—to be forever disappointed in love.
Half an hour later he began to hear movement about the house. He’d sent word to Pasquale for a skeleton staff to return, even though he had no wish for company right now. A car swept into the turning bay of the drive and parked at the front door—Angel’s ride out of here, away from him, forever. The thought struck a searing pain deep into his heart. Having to send her away was unarguably the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. But do it, he must.
A sound at the door behind him made him wheel around. Angel. His chest constricted on a new wave of pain, even as his body heated in response to her arrival. She looked as if she’d slept as little as he had. There were dark circles beneath her eyes and shadows lurked in the amber depths.
“The car is here,” he said in lieu of a greeting.
“Hawk, I need to speak with you. There is something important I need to say before I go.”
Even her voice was flat and weary. He wished he could ease the sorrow he saw reflected back at him in her gaze. Perhaps he could give her just this opportunity to say her piece. Goodness knew he could offer her little else. He inclined his head.
“Please speak freely,” he said.
She drew in a short breath and began to step closer to him, but then appear
ed to think the better of it. He was glad. He was strung so tight right now it was all he could do to maintain a facade of calm. If she touched him he’d weaken. He’d once again become the man he despised.
“I know you are undergoing a major battle with yourself over what we did last night,” she started. “But I want you to know that everything will be all right.”
“All right?” he barked an incredulous laugh. “How can you say that? I have betrayed everything I stand for. Nothing will be all right again.”
She clasped her hands together, squeezing them so tightly he saw her fingertips lose all color. “I love you, Hawk. You have to believe that.”
A prickle of emotion burned at the back of his eyes but he furiously refused to allow it to take purchase. To allow the sentiment to swamp the rationality he so desperately needed right now. “It makes no difference,” he said harshly. “You are a courtesan. I am a king. Worse, I am a king betrothed to another.”
“I know that, and you must not let what we have done stop your marriage to your princess. You must go through with the wedding.”
“I must? Who are you to tell me what to do?” he demanded, taking refuge in the anger that continued to grow inside him at the situation he’d created through his own weakness.
For a second he caught a glimpse of hurt in her eyes but then she seemed to change. Her expression became less vulnerable, as if she’d assumed a mask upon her exquisitely beautiful face. Her shoulders and neck straightened and she lifted her chin ever so slightly, almost regally.
“I am Princess Mila Angelina of Erminia.”
Shock slammed into him with the force of an avalanche. “Be very careful, Angel. There are strict laws governing imposters,” he growled when sense returned.
She licked her lips and, damn him, he couldn’t help but remember what the tip of that tongue had felt like as it delved delicately inside his mouth. He willed his body not to respond but, as with this entire situation, it refused to submit to his control.
“I am not lying to you. Not anymore.”
“You had better explain.”
“I was at school in Boston when I saw the news report on your visit to New York. I hadn’t seen you in seven years, and with our wedding only weeks away, I couldn’t resist the chance to try to contact you. When I met you in New York I had gone to your hotel with the intention of visiting you in your suite. I had planned to introduce myself—to see, somehow, if I could get to know you a little before our wedding. But my courage failed me. I was just on the verge of giving up on seeing you when you bumped into me.”
“But you don’t look...” He let his voice trail off. How did you tell a woman she looked nothing like her unattractive teenaged self?
She was quick to hear the words he’d left unspoken.
“I don’t look like I did at eighteen? No, I don’t. When you didn’t recognize me in New York, it hurt me at first. But then I thought it might be a bit of fun—a good opportunity to get to know the real you.”
“When I dropped you off, why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
“I—I don’t know,” she admitted with her eyes downcast. “I guess I was enjoying the way you looked at me when I was just Angel. I didn’t want you to lose that look when you connected me with the girl you met when we got engaged.”
Thierry felt a flush of shame. Yes, he’d been taken aback when he’d met the princess that first time. But even then he’d committed to her fully—right up until last night when he’d done the unthinkable with a woman who he’d believed was a courtesan. Which brought them straight back to where they were now. The realization flamed the fire of his fury.
“You took a terrible risk doing what you have done,” he bit out.
“Not so much in New York, but here, yes.”
“And what of Ottavia Romolo? Is she in on your scheme also? Am I to expect to be blackmailed by her for her part in all of this?”
“No! Not that.”
“Then what?” he demanded.
“She, um. She has been detained in Erminia.”
“Detained?” Thierry gripped his hands into fists. “What exactly do you mean by that? Are you holding her somewhere against her will?”
The princess hung her head, not answering. But he could see the truth in every line of her body.
“Why? Why would you risk so much—with your reputation, with mine? What made you go to such lengths and lie to me like that? Don’t you realize what will happen when the truth comes out?”
“I felt great lengths were required when I overheard that my betrothed had contracted a courtesan just a few weeks before our wedding!” she snapped back, a flash of temper sparking in her beautiful eyes. “All these years, I’d worked so hard to try to become someone you could value and desire. And then to hear that you’d invited another woman to be your lover...” She turned her face away, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I couldn’t bear the thought of it. I had to take her place.”
She lifted her head to face him again and he could see tears swimming in her gaze. “I just wanted you to love me.”
Something twisted in his gut at the pain in her voice, on her face, in her eyes. Love? She’d done all this for love? He closed his eyes for a moment, took a steadying breath. He knew love didn’t last, not for people like him. Eventually he sighed.
“I am at a complete loss, Princess.”
“Why? Shouldn’t this make everything okay? You love me, you said so yourself, and I love you, too. You can let go of your guilt. I’m your princess, you haven’t betrayed me. We can move forward from this, knowing we were meant for one another,” she implored.
“Really?”
A part of him wished their lives could be as simple as she’d just said. But he knew they couldn’t. Theirs were not normal lives. Instead they were a confluence of expectations and protocols over which they had no control. And there was still the matter of her duplicity.
He continued, “I have to ask myself, if you were prepared to undertake such a deception as you have perpetrated since our meeting in New York, why should I believe a single word you say? Don’t you think it would be more appropriate for me to question everything you say and do? What else would you be prepared to lie about to me? Your profession of love? Your promise, at our wedding, to love and honor me as your husband? I have to ask myself—how can I trust you?” He steeled himself to say the next words. “And the answer is that I can’t.”
Her shoulders sagged and he could see hope fracture and disappear in her eyes as the tears she’d been holding back began to fall. He wanted to step forward, to take her in his arms and assure her that everything would be okay. But how could it be? He’d told her how he felt. Had said on more than one occasion how important honesty was to him. And still she’d continued to lie.
“Leave me now,” he commanded.
“No! Hawk—!”
The princess stepped forward, thrusting out both hands, imploring him with her body, the expression on her face, the raw plea in her voice, not to send her away.
It was the most difficult and painful thing he had ever done, but he turned his back on her. He didn’t move when he heard her footsteps drag across the library floor, not when he heard the door close behind her. Out the window he saw her move outside and onto the driveway, hesitating just a moment at the car door that had been opened for her. He watched, telling himself over and over that he had done the right thing. That her lies had been a betrayal of everything he stood for. But as the car disappeared from view he sank to his knees and closed his eyes against the burning tears that threatened to fall.
* * *
All through that day and the night that followed he fought with his conscience—battled with the urge to follow his Angel and to bring her back to his side where she belonged. He’d made the decision by morning that he would contact her brothe
r, request an audience with both Rocco and Mila to postpone the wedding, but that contact never eventuated as he read the newspaper left so neatly folded beside his breakfast in the dining room the next morning. The newspaper with the headline that shrieked that the virgin Prince of Sylvain had pre-empted his wedding vows with another woman. Paragraph after paragraph followed with endless speculation about the new Sylvano King’s honor, or lack of it.
He felt sick to his stomach. Despite every precaution he’d taken, and there had been many, the news had still somehow been leaked. This was his worst nightmare. A scandal of monumental proportions. Grainy photographs taken with a long-distance lens from somewhere in the woods showed pictures of him with Angel—no, Princess Mila—as they rode together, picnicked together and kissed together. Every photo had its own lurid caption. Thierry left the table and made to leave the lodge—his sanctuary no longer.
The moment his people found out exactly who it was who was responsible, that person would pay for this invasion of his privacy and pay dearly.
Just before he got into the car that would return him to the harsh reality of his world, and no doubt the censure of his people, Pasquale arrived at his side with another newspaper that had just been delivered. Thierry’s skin crawled as he read the headline, “Princess Mila Revealed as the King’s Courtesan!”
Had she engineered all of this since last night in some kind of attempt to force him to go through with the wedding even though it went against everything he’d spent his lifetime trying to avoid? Did she think his fear of public disgrace would override his anger over her deception? If that was what she thought, she was wrong.
The scandal surrounding his mother’s death had been an ongoing assault for years after her death. How on earth could Thierry think about loving or trusting a woman who had brought this back upon him, who had brought his carefully constructed world down around his ears? Worse, how could he ask his subjects to love or trust her, either? No amount of damage control would make a speck of difference. There was only one thing left that he could do.
Arranged Marriage, Bedroom Secrets Page 14
