by Jane Porter
Her eyebrow lifted. “This is not how we conduct our affairs, nor is this how an Alberici royal handles his fiancée. Less drama, more efficiency, please. Put the ring on her finger. Give me a wedding date. We’ll have a party this weekend—”
“Too soon.”
“She could be showing by the next, Alexander.”
“Then make it a week from now.”
“An engagement party on a Wednesday?”
“Or Tuesday. We’ll keep it small and intimate, for our closest friends and family only.”
“Fine. But we’ll need a portrait of the two of you to give the media.” Her glance narrowed. “I don’t suppose we can take your official engagement portrait and photoshop Danielle out and put your new girl in her place?”
“Was that a joke, Mother?”
Her lips curved faintly. “I was not always Queen Serena, Alexander. I, too, was once a young girl with a sense of humor and a hunger for adventure.”
* * *
Josephine crossed to the window of her tower room, stepping up on the footstool she’d positioned beneath it, needing the extra height to look out the leaded glass. It was late afternoon, but due to the summer solstice a week ago, the sun was still high in the sky, shining brightly on the thick, gray slate roofs of the various castle buildings and then, farther out, the high, majestic stone walls that surrounded the castle itself.
She rested her chin on her fist, staring out, taking in Roche, Aargau’s capital city famous for its medieval architecture and charming, narrow cobbled streets. She might have liked Roche, but after days of confinement she felt suffocated by all the walls and slate and cobbled stone. Her jaw tensed as her gaze went to the glimpse of sea beyond the city streets, the dark blue water calling to her, reminding her of Khronos.
A scrape sounded at the door, and the lock turned. She nearly fell off the stool as the door swung open and she took a sudden step back, misjudging the distance to the floor and needing to grab the wall to keep from falling down.
“Careful,” a crisp, low feminine voice said from the doorway. “That’s a good way to hurt yourself.”
Josephine stiffened, surprised that it wasn’t Alexander as he was the only one who’d been to visit her since she arrived, and yet she knew immediately who had come, having seen photos of her in magazines. “Queen Serena,” she said faintly, letting go of the wall.
The slender blonde queen approached. “I haven’t thwarted your escape plans, have I?”
Josephine thought she heard a hint of amusement in the older woman’s voice. “I don’t have Rapunzel’s hair,” she answered. “And even if I did, the window is a little narrow.”
Serena stopped before her, her back straight, her bearing regal. In her icy-blue dress with the ropes of pearls, she looked every inch a queen. “I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you sooner. I’m afraid our hospitality isn’t what it should be.”
“Does your son routinely lock his women up?”
“No, you’re the first.” She grimaced. “I’d like to say that it’s a sign of his affection but you and I both know his behavior is inexcusable. One doesn’t lock up beautiful young women in towers anymore. It’s positively medieval.”
“That’s what I told him.”
“Machiavellian.”
“I said the very same thing.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Leave.”
“What is keeping you here then?”
“Besides the locked door? The need to protect the baby.” Josephine’s chin lifted. “And not because he or she is an heir, but because he or she is my child.”
“And Alexander’s.”
“I don’t want Alexander, though. I realize he’s your son, and you love him—”
“He’s a man. Men are notoriously thickheaded and thin-skinned, but they have their uses and virtues.”
Josephine wasn’t sure how to take that last bit. She felt her shoulders tense, and she clasped her hands tightly. “I used to care for him very much, before he was—” she glanced around the room, and her hand followed in a sweeping gesture “—this.”
“He’s afraid of losing you.”
“No, he’s afraid of losing his heir, not me.”
“If you truly believe that, you don’t know my son.”
Josephine’s lips compressed and she held her tongue, not wanting to argue with the queen, because of course she’d take Alexander’s side. She was his mother.
“But he won’t lose his heir,” Serena added after a moment. “You’re not a woman who’d keep a child from his father, so there is something else driving him and making him act like a Neanderthal. Men usually only resort to caveman tactics when cornered and desperate.” She glanced from Josephine to the bed, still piled high with books. “You’re a scientist. Don’t let your emotions cloud your brain. I understand you have a very good brain, so use it. Put my son on notice. Make him earn your favor.”
“That will never happen.”
“Fine. Then make him earn your trust, but do something so that you feel properly empowered and can respect yourself, if not him.”
Josephine frowned. “You don’t think I respect myself?”
“I think you know what you need to do, but your pride is keeping you from making the right decisions.”
“Your solution is for me to marry Alexander.”
“I have no solutions, but I do have a preference, and that is for my grandchild to grow up in a stable, loving home.”
Josephine looked at the queen for a long, tense moment. “What happens now? When you leave, do you just lock me back in?”
“No. I have no patience for locked doors, secrets, or games.”
“So I could leave now with you if I wanted.”
Serena’s fair head tipped. “Is that what you truly want? To leave here now?”
“I want Alexander to stop intimidating me.”
“Then isn’t it time to stand your ground?”
The queen walked out, and true to her word, after she left the door remained open, wide-open. Josephine waited a minute, and then another, and another, wondering when one of the palace security would come and close the door, locking it.
But no one came.
Josephine hesitated a long moment and then crossed the threshold, leaving her suite for the tower stairs. For another minute she stood at the top of the circular staircase listening. She heard voices coming from below, and then something was being moved or dragged, something heavy.
Josephine carefully went down the stairs to the next floor. The door was wide-open and it looked like a library, a very handsome library with vast bookshelves that rose all the way to the ceiling. Two men in uniform were carrying chairs while a woman ironed the creases from a heavy brocade cloth covering a table that had been placed in the center of the room.
She didn’t know if she made a sound or if one of them felt her there, because suddenly they were all nodding and murmuring polite greetings while continuing with their work.
As if she hadn’t just been locked away upstairs for days.
As if it was perfectly acceptable for her to wander around the tower.
She continued down the next flight of stairs, wondering if she’d now be stopped, wondering when she’d be told to return to her room, but she passed staff and no one said anything to her or expressed surprise that she was roaming the tower. She peeked into the room on the second floor and discovered an office suite. It was surprisingly sleek and modern, with computers and big screens and stylish leather chairs and lots of steel and plates of glass set into the wall, filling the spaces where a cannon or some other weapon must have once been.
A pretty young woman sat at one of the sleek ebony desks in the corner typing away on a computer. She looked up and
nodded at Josephine before continuing with her work.
Everything seemed so ordinary and yet at the same time, everything was extraordinary.
Josephine cleared her throat. “His Highness, Prince Alexander,” she said, her voice not entirely steady.
The young woman looked up again, smiling politely, professionally. “His Highness has arranged for dinner at nine in the library. That is on the third floor, one level up.”
“Thank you.” And yet still she hesitated, chewing on her lip, trying to process what she was hearing and seeing. It seemed she’d been given freedom. Was this the queen’s doing? Or had Alexander changed his mind?
Josephine walked down the last set of stairs to the first floor. She pushed open the cloudy glass door and entered a huge private gym. There were free weights and weight machines, a treadmill, a stationary bike, and another piece of equipment she’d never seen before, and behind all that was a stone wall covered with brown, gray, and dark green bumps.
She looked at the wall hard, trying to understand what the bumps were before walking toward it, letting her fingers trail over a light gray wedge jutting out from the tower wall at her shoulder height.
“It’s a climbing wall,” Alexander said, behind her.
She turned around to find him standing not far behind her. He was wearing charcoal-colored shorts and a white T-shirt, and his bronzed skin was flushed, his black hair damp. She couldn’t help noticing the way his thin T-shirt clung to the planes of his broad chest and the curve of his sinewy biceps.
“I didn’t realize you were here. I’m sorry I interrupted your workout,” she said.
“I’d stepped out for a moment to take a call,” he answered, lifting the hem of his T-shirt to wipe his jaw, revealing his hard, flat abdomen with his chiseled abs. “But you’re not interrupting. I’m just about finished.”
She heard the words but couldn’t focus on them, suddenly transfixed by the glimpse of his chest, reminded of how that lean, hard torso had felt against her. Her gaze dropped to his hips just before he dropped his shirt, covering himself, but she remembered him there, too, and how his body had given her such pleasure.
Josephine swallowed hard and averted her gaze, but it was too late. Heat rushed through her and she felt tingly and exposed, even as a deep craving hit her, making her ache for the feel and weight of him. “It’s an impressive gym,” she said hoarsely.
“You’re welcome to use it anytime.”
She didn’t want the gym, though. She wanted him. And the unbidden thought made her loathe herself because she shouldn’t be so weak. She shouldn’t still want him, not after everything that had transpired. “Your mother came to see me just a little bit ago,” she said, struggling to distract herself. “Was that how my door was left unlocked?”
“It’s been unlocked for the past two days.”
“It hasn’t.”
“It has.”
“But that scraping sound—the lock turning...”
“It’s just the hardware. It’s old. It should be replaced.”
“You let me think I was locked in.”
“I did.”
“That’s horrible. You should be ashamed.”
“I am.”
“You don’t sound it. If anything, you seem rather pleased with yourself.”
“I’m pleased to see you.”
Her lip compressed and she glanced away, but not before her gaze swept over him, focusing on his midsection, seeing yet again that lovely hard torso in her mind’s eye.
She’d been fascinated by him before they’d ever met. She’d watched him on the beach, interested in only him. She’d filled her sketchbook with his likeness.
He was her weakness.
And yet she felt increasingly vulnerable, and not at all safe. “I’m afraid this isn’t going to work,” she said, her voice low and husky. “And I don’t know how to make it work since I no longer trust you.”
“I’ll earn your trust back.”
“I don’t think—”
“You have to give it a chance, Josephine.”
“It will take time.”
“Yes, it will. Unfortunately, it’s the one thing we’re short on, and so I ask you to trust me that the trust will grow.”
“Alexander.”
“We need to marry soon—as in right away. As it is the baby will be born early, and we can fudge a few weeks, but every day it will become harder to hide the facts of his or her conception. I can handle gossip. I’m accustomed to slights and insults, but I don’t want there to be excessive speculation about our child’s birth. Nothing should mar his or her future. Life is hard enough without being born under a cloud of doubt.”
Finally, he’d said something she agreed with. Life was hard, and no child should have to grow up with any stigma or gossip surrounding him or her. “Do you even like children?” she asked.
“What a strange question.”
“I think it’s a fair question. You had never mentioned them before.”
“Before? You mean on Khronos when I didn’t know my name or where I came from or even my native tongue?”
She squirmed inwardly, thinking he’d made a fair point. “You never asked me how I felt about becoming a mother. You never asked me my feelings on anything.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shot him a narrowed glance. “So my bedroom door will remain unlocked?”
“Yes.”
“You’re giving me my freedom back?”
“Freedom to explore the palace grounds, yes.”
“But not beyond?”
“You may leave to explore Roche provided you have ample security. But I warn you, it won’t be the same as before. The people know you’re here—”
“How?”
“I’m followed constantly, cara. When I leave these castle walls, I’m followed and photographed and everything I do and eat and buy is documented. Which is why I’ve kept you here, on the inside. I’m trying to buy you time, giving you a chance to mentally adjust to the changes taking place.”
She was silent a long moment. “I don’t have very much control anymore, do I?”
“No.”
“Or very many options.”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“What options do I have? What am I allowed to decide?”
“The time of day you’d like to be married. The choice of venue for the ceremony—the chapel here, within the palace grounds, or the Gothic cathedral on Roche’s historic square.”
He added in the same flat, unemotional voice, “You can choose the type of reception we will have. You have absolute control over the wedding details, large and small. You can decide where we will honeymoon—”
“I don’t want a honeymoon.”
“You don’t think it would be good for us to get away and have some time alone?”
“I’ve had time alone with you. And look at me now.”
A possessive heat flickered in his blue gaze and the edge of his mouth lifted in a sensual curl. “I’d like a week with you where you don’t have to cook or wait on me. I’d like to do nothing but keep you in bed all day.”
She felt the curl of his lip as darts of sensation raced from the tips of her breasts through her belly to between her thighs. “I think we did that, too.”
“There are so many things I want to do with you—”
“No, thank you.”
“You’d enjoy it.”
“Just like I enjoyed being locked in your tower?”
He considered her words. “Bondage is a form of foreplay. I find the idea of tying you up, or maybe handcuffing you to the bed, very erotic. I think you would, too.”
Her pulse leaped. Heat stormed her cheeks. “You clearly don’t know me, not if you think I’d enjoy being handcuffed or tied up.”
“You
don’t know that until we try.”
She’d never imagined such a thing, and yet she could see herself naked, tied to her bed, waiting for him. Waiting on him. It was shocking and yet thrilling. A frisson of raw desire, spiked by nervous excitement, shivered up and down her spine. “You are being blatantly sexual,” she murmured huskily.
His gaze slowly roved her face, lingering on her lips. “You like me blatantly sexual.”
“You made me sexual.”
His broad shoulders shrugged. “Chemistry has never been our problem. We work. We make sense. Why? I don’t know. You’re the scientist. You tell me.”
Her breath caught in her throat as heat and awareness surged through her. It had been almost three weeks since they’d been intimate and yet her body remembered him and ached for him to hold her down and make her his again. She could remember his lips at her neck and the roughness of his chest against her breasts and the thickness of his hard, hot shaft entering and filling her. When he was with her, in her, she felt unbearably good... She felt complete.
And part of her desperately wanted him again. She wanted his warmth and the sensation of being his, and only his, but another part of her knew he wasn’t good for her. Her desire made her dependent. Her desire clouded her thinking. She struggled to remember why they were at odds, needing to create distance, needing a form of defense. “But it’s changed,” she said breathlessly. “We did have chemistry, but that was before, back when we were on Khronos. When I felt safe with you. I don’t anymore.”
“You will again.”
“So I can go out? I can resume normal living?”
He took so long to answer that she dreaded the answer. “It won’t ever be the normal you knew before,” he said at length, “but yes, you can go out, and yes, you can go shopping, or out for a meal. But it will be choreographed at our end. Palace security will want to know the details so they can have a plan, create a route, and ensure your outing will be as stress free as they can make it.”
“My normal isn’t shopping and restaurants. My normal is home. My work. The beach.”
“You will have work. It will just be different—”
“Is that supposed to appease me?”
“No. I’m being honest. I think it’s better if we lay all the cards on the table. The truth is you will have a new life here, and you will have a new normal, and I promise that I will do everything in my power to help you settle in so that you can be happy, eventually.”
