by Abby Green
And then the truth came to her, cool and sweet as clean water poured on a wound. Rule wasn’t Ryan or Peter. He hadn’t lied to her or manipulated her.
He’d told her the truth about Princess Lili on Saturday night before he’d asked her to marry him. And when his father had called him home to make peace with Lili, Rule hadn’t lied to her about what was going on. Even though he so easily could have, he hadn’t taken the easy way, hadn’t made up some story for why he needed to get back. After all, she knew he had responsibilities in Montedoro and she would have most likely accepted any credible story he’d told her about the sudden necessity for him to go.
But he hadn’t lied. He’d taken the hard way, the way that proved his basic integrity. He’d told her what was really going on, and told her honestly. Told the truth, even when the truth didn’t show him in the greatest light.
All at once, her stomach didn’t feel quite so tight anymore. And her heart didn’t ache quite so much.
Carefully, slowly, she relaxed from the tight little ball she’d curled herself into. She stretched out her legs and then, with a sigh, she eased over onto her back.
She could feel him beside her, feel his stillness. A concentrated sort of stillness. She couldn’t hear his breathing. He must be awake, too. Lying there in misery, hating this situation as much as she did.
No, she didn’t forgive him, exactly. Not yet, anyway. She couldn’t just melt into his arms, just send him off to Princess Lili with a big, brave smile and a tender kiss goodbye.
But she could … understand the position he was in. She could sympathize.
The sheet between them was cool. She flattened her hand on it, and then moved her fingers, ever so slowly, toward his unmoving form.
He moved, too. Only his hand. His fingers touched hers and she didn’t pull back.
She lay very still. No way was she going to let him wrap those big, warm arms around her.
But when his fingers eased between hers, she let them. And when he clasped her hand, she held on.
She didn’t let go and neither did he. In time, sleep claimed her.
Rule had a car waiting for them in Dallas. He exited the jet to say goodbye to them as their bags were loaded into the trunk and airport personnel bustled about, preparing the jet for the flight to Montedoro.
Trev went eagerly into his arms. “Bye, Roo! Kiss!” And he kissed Rule’s cheek, making a loud, happy smacking sound.
Rule kissed him back. “I will see you very soon.”
“Soon. Good. Come see me soon.”
“You be good for your Mama and Lani.”
“I good, yes!”
Rule handed Trev over to Lani and turned to Sydney. “A moment?” he asked carefully. Lani left them, carrying Trev to the open backseat door where the driver had already hooked in his car seat. Rule brushed a hand down Sydney’s arm—and then instantly withdrew it. She felt his touch like a bittersweet echo on her skin, even through the fabric of her sleeve. He said, “You haven’t forgiven me.” It wasn’t a question.
“Have a safe trip.” She met his eyes, made her lips turn up in a fair approximation of a smile.
He muttered, low, “Damn it, Sydney.” And then he reached for her.
She stiffened, put her hands to his chest, started to push him away. But then he was kissing her. And he tasted so good and he smelled like heaven and …
Well, somehow, she was letting her hands slide up to link around his neck. She melted into him and kissed him back. A little moan of frustrated confusion escaped her, a moan distinctly flavored with unwilling desire.
And when he finally lifted his head, she couldn’t make up her mind whether to slap him or grab him around the neck, pull him down and kiss him again.
“Kisses don’t solve anything,” she told him tightly, her hands against his chest again, keeping him at a safer distance. She should have jerked free of his hold completely. But he would be gone in a minute or two. And she’d already kissed him. She might as well go all the way, remain in the warm circle of his arms until he left her.
“I know they don’t. But damned if I can leave you without a goodbye kiss.”
Okay, he was right. She was glad he had kissed her. Sometimes a kiss said more than words could. She lifted a hand and laid it cherishingly against his lean cheek. “Tell the princess I … look forward to meeting her.”
He turned his lips into her palm, kissed her there, the way he had that first night, in their private alcove at the Mansion restaurant, his breath so warm and lovely across her skin. “I’ll return for you. Within the week.”
A week wasn’t going to cut it. He should know that. She reminded him, “I told you I would need a month, at least, to tie up loose ends at the firm—and that’s with you giving my partners a few rich clients as a going-away present.”
“I will do what I said I would. And I’m still hoping you can be finished faster.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen. Get used to it.”
“I’ll try. And when I return, you’re going to have to make room for me at your house.” He added, so tenderly, “Because I can’t live without you.”
His words softened her heart and she wasn’t sure she wanted that. She was all turned around inside, wanting him so very much, not wanting to be vulnerable to him. She rolled her eyes. “Can’t live without me. Oh, right. Kissing up much?”
He took her by the arms. “Correction. I don’t want to live without you. I’m wild for you. And you know that I am.”
Well, yeah. She did, actually. She relented a little. “Of course you’ll be staying at my house. I don’t want to live without you, either, no matter how angry I happen to be with you.”
“Good.”
“After all, we’re only just married—we only just met, if you want to get right down to it.”
“Don’t.” He said it softly. But his eyes weren’t soft. His eyes were as black and stormy as a turbulent sea. “Please.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it and the simple touch of his mouth on her skin worked its way down inside her, into the deepest part of her. It warmed her and thrilled her—and reassured her, too. “One week,” he said fervently. “At the most. I will miss you every day I’m away from you. I will call you, constantly. You’ll be sick and tired of hearing the phone ring.”
“I won’t mind running to answer the phone. I’ll answer and answer gladly,” she confessed in a near-whisper. “As long as it’s you on the other end of the line.”
“Sydney …” He kissed her again, a quick, hard press of his lips against hers. “A week.”
And he let her go. She watched him mount the steps to the plane. And she waited to wave to him, when he paused to glance back at her one more time before going in.
Finally, too soon, he was gone.
Rule arrived at Nice Airport at five in the morning. From there, it was only a short drive to Montedoro. He was in his private apartments at the Prince’s Palace before six.
At eight, Caroline deStahl, his private secretary, brought him the five newspapers he read daily—and the three tabloids that contained stories about him and Sydney. All three tabloids ran the same pictures, one of the two of them kissing, and another of them fleeing down an Impresario hallway. And all three had similar headlines: The Prince Takes a Bride and Wedding Bells for Calabretti Royal and Prince Rule Elopes with Dallas Legal Eagle.
It was a little after 1:00 a.m. in Dallas. Sydney would be in bed. He hated to wake her.
But he did it anyway.
She answered his call on the second ring. “It’s after one in the morning, in case you didn’t notice,” she grumbled sleepily.
“I miss you. I wish I was there with you.”
“Is this an obscene phone call?”
He laughed. “It could become one so easily.”
“Are you there yet?”
“In my palace apartment, yes. My secretary just delivered the tabloids. We are the main story.”
“Which tabloids?”
He named them. “I’m sure we’re all over the internet, as well. You are referred to by name. And also as my bride, the ‘Dallas Legal Eagle.’“
“Ugh. I was hoping to explain things to my partners at the firm before the word got out. Have you spoken with Princess Liliana yet?”
“No. But I will right away, this morning.”
“What can I say? Good luck—and call me the minute it’s over.”
He pictured her, eyes puffy, hair wild from sleep. It made an ache within him, a sensation that some large part of himself was missing. He said ruefully, “I’ll only wake you again if I call….”
“Yeah, well. It’s not like I’ll be able to go back to sleep now. At least, not without knowing how it went.”
He felt thoroughly reprehensible. On any number of levels. “I shouldn’t have called.”
“Oh, yeah. You should have. And call me right away when it’s over. I mean it.”
“Fair enough. Sydney, I …” He sought the words. He didn’t find them.
She whispered, “Call me.”
“I will,” he vowed. And then he heard the faint click on the line, leaving him alone, half a world away from her, with just his guilty conscience to keep him company.
Two hours later, he sat in the small drawing room of the suite Liliana always took whenever she visited the palace. He’d been waiting for half an hour for her to appear and he didn’t know yet whether she had heard about his marriage or not. Her attendant, one of Lili’s Alagonian cousins, Lady Solange Moltano, had seemed welcoming enough, so he had hopes that he’d arrived in time to be the first to tell her what she didn’t want to know.
The door to the private area of the suite opened. He stood.
Lili emerged wearing all white, a pair of wide-legged trousers and a tunic-length jacket, her long blond hair loose, her Delft-blue eyes shining, her cheeks pink with excitement. She was absolutely beautiful, as always. And he really was so fond of her. He didn’t want to see her hurt.
He’d never wanted to see Lili hurt.
“Rule.” She came toward him, arms outstretched.
They shared an embrace. He looked down at the golden crown of her head and wished he were anywhere but there, in her sitting room, about to tell her that a brilliant, opinionated and fascinating brunette from Texas had laid claim to his heart.
She caught his hands in her slender ones, stepped back and beamed up at him. “You’re here. At last …”
So. She didn’t know.
“Lili, I came to see you right away, as soon as I got in. I have something important to tell you.”
She became even more radiant than a moment before—if that was possible. “Oh.” She sounded breathless. “Do you? Really? At last …”
What if she fainted? She’d always been so delicate. “Let’s … sit down, shall we?”
“Oh, absolutely. Let’s.” She pulled him over to a blue velvet sofa. They sat. “Now. What is it you’d like to say to me?”
He had no idea where to begin. His tongue felt like a useless slab of leather in his mouth. “I … Lili. I’m so sorry about this.”
Her radiance dimmed, marginally. “Ahem. You’re … sorry?”
“I know you’ve always had an expectation that you and I would eventually marry. I realize I’ve been wrong, very wrong, to have let things go on like this, to have—”
She cut him off. “Rule.”
He coughed into his hand. “Yes?”
Her perfect face was now scarily composed. “All right. So, then. You’re not here to propose marriage to me.”
“No, Lili. I’m not. I’m here to tell you that I’m already married.”
Lili gasped. Her face went dead-white.
He got ready to catch her as she collapsed.
Chapter Nine
But Lili remained upright on the sofa. She asked in a voice barely louder than a whisper, “Would you mind telling me her name, please?”
“Sydney. Sydney O’Shea.”
“Not Montedoran?”
“No. I met her in America. In Texas.”
Lili swallowed, her smooth white throat working convulsively. “Sydney O’Shea. From Texas.”
“Yes. Lili, I—”
She waved a hand at him. “No. Please. I … Fair enough, then. You’ve told me. And I hope you’ll be very happy together, you and this Sydney O’Shea.” Her huge blue eyes regarded him, stricken. Yet she remained so calm-seeming. She even forced a tight smile. “I hope you will have a lovely, perfect life.” She shot to her feet. “And now, if you don’t mind, I think I would like you to go.”
“Lili …” He rose. He wanted to reach out to her. But that would be wrong. He would only be adding insult to injury. What good could he do for her now? None. There was no way he could help her through this, nothing he could do to make things better.
He was the problem. And he really needed to leave, now, before she broke down in front of him and despised him even more for bearing witness to her misery.
“Go,” she said again. “Please just go.”
So he did go. With a quick dip of his head, he turned on his heel and he left her alone.
He called Sydney again the moment he reached his own rooms.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“Not well. She sent me away as soon as I told her.”
“Is there someone with her? Someone she can talk to?”
“She has a cousin with her. But I don’t think that they’re close.”
“Who is she close to?”
“My God, Sydney. What does it matter? What business is it of mine or yours?”
“Men are so thickheaded. She needs someone to talk to, someone to comfort her, someone who understands what she’s going through.”
He needed a stiff drink. But then again, it was barely eleven in the morning. “You don’t know her, Sydney. How can you possibly know what she needs?”
“Rule. She’s a woman. I know what she needs. She needs a true friend with a shoulder she can cry on. She needs that friend now.”
“Sydney. I adore you,” he said in his coolest, most dangerous tones. “You know that. And I’m very sorry to have made such a balls-up of all this. But you don’t know Liliana and you have no idea what she needs. And I’ll thank you to stop imagining that you do.”
“I’m getting seriously pissed off at you. You know that, right?”
“Yes. I realize that. And we’re even. Because I am becoming pretty damn brassed off at you.”
Dead silence on the line. And then, very flatly, “I think I should hang up before I say something I’m bound to regret.”
“Yes. I agree. Go back to sleep, Sydney.”
“Hah. Fat chance of that.” Click. And silence.
“Goodbye,” he said furiously, though it wasn’t in any way necessary, as she had already hung up.
He put down the phone and then he just stood there, staring blindly at an oil painting of a pastoral scene that hung over the sofa, wanting to strangle someone. Preferably his bride.
A tap on the outer door interrupted his fuming. “Enter.”
His secretary, Caroline, appeared to inform him that Her Sovereign Highness and Prince Evan wished to speak with him in the Blue Sitting Room of their private apartment.
In his parents’ private rooms, they didn’t stand on ceremony.
His mother embraced him and told him she forgave him for running off and marrying his Texas bride without a word to the family beforehand. His father congratulated him as well and said he was looking forward to meeting Sydney and her son. Prince Evan said nothing about the secret Rule had finally shared with him a few weeks before. Rule was grateful to see that his father, at least at this point, was keeping his word and telling Her Sovereign Highness nothing about how Rule had come to meet his bride in the first place.
And when his mother asked him about that, about how he and Sydney had met, he told her the truth, as far as it went. “I saw her going into a shopping mall. One look, and I knew I wanted to kno
w her. So I followed her. I convinced her that she should have lunch with me and after that, I pursued her relentlessly until she gave in and married me. I knew from that first sight of her, getting out of her car, settling her bag on her shoulder so resolutely, that she was one of a kind.”
His mother approved. She’d more or less chosen his father that way, after seeing him across a room at a Hollywood party during a visit to the States. “You did have us worried,” she chided. “We feared you would fail to make your choice before your birthday. Or that you would marry our darling Lili and the marriage would not suit in the end.”
Rule had to keep from gaping. “If you thought that Liliana and I were a bad match, you might have mentioned that to me.”
His mother gave a supremely elegant shrug. “And what possible good would that have done? Until you met the right woman, you were hardly likely to listen to your mother telling you that the perfectly lovely Lili, of whom you’ve always been so fond, was all wrong for you.”
Rule had no idea how to reply to that. He wanted to say something angry and provoking. Because he felt angry and provoked. But that had more to do with his recent conversation with Sydney than anything else. So he settled for saying nothing.
And then his mother and father shared a look. And his mother nodded. And his father said, “I hope you’ll be having a private word with Liliana soon.”
At which point he went ahead and confessed, “As it happens, I’ve already spoken with her.”
His mother rose abruptly. Rule and his father followed suit. She demanded, “Why ever didn’t you say so?”
Yes. No doubt about it. To strangle someone or put his fist through a wall about now would be extremely satisfying. “I did tell you. I told you just now.”
“When did you speak with her?” his mother asked.
He glanced at his wristwatch. “Forty-five minutes ago.”
“You told her of your marriage?”
“Yes.” His parents shared a speaking glance. “What? I shouldn’t have told her?”
