by Cathie Linz
“Nice dress,” Armand casually noted. “Someone must have helped you pick it out. I always told you that you needed an image consultant.”
Bull’s-eye. A direct hit on her self-confidence. And he said it with such charm, too.
Keeping his eyes on Luc, Armand said, “Quite a story, the missing heir turning out to be right under our noses all this time. The press is having a field day with it all. In order to restore credibility to the throne our new king will need a real royal to show him the ropes. There are a number of European princesses who could be excellent candidates. Already tonight, Wilmena of Saxony has made some inroads, but the young princess from Liechtenstein may well give her a run for her money. Some of my associates tell me that they’ve already started a betting pool regarding the identity of our future queen. So far Wilmena is the odds-on favorite. She comes from an old and prestigious family.”
The more Armand talked, the more inadequate Juliet felt. She had to get away from him. “Excuse me, but I must go check on my sister.”
“Oh, your half sister, you mean. Don’t let me keep you.” Armand’s smile was a double-edged sword that cut even further into her dwindling confidence. It was as if he knew that it had taken a team to make her look like Cinderella at the ball, and that at midnight she’d return to what she always had been—the nondescript dark-haired woman lost amid her beautiful blond sisters.
Juliet walked away, but knew she needed a break entirely from the ballroom, so she slipped out the next set of French doors to the terrace, down the wide steps to the gardens that had always given her peace. She’d no sooner settled on a bench then she was joined by someone.
“Ah, Mademoiselle Beaudreau, just the person I was searching for.” The proclamation came from none other than the head of the Privy Council, Baron Severin.
Juliet knew the history of the Privy Council, about the combination of ancient European aristocratic titles—one earl, one duke, one count and one baron.
Baron Severin was the only person who scored higher on the intimidation scale than the dowager queen. He possessed the upright bearing of a military man and had a thick head of white hair. While not wearing his ceremonial robes this evening, he still looked as powerful as he was.
She couldn’t imagine why he’d be looking for her, but she didn’t think it could be a good sign. Unless he had some sort of historical question about the coronation on Sunday?
She tried to think positively.
“I won’t beat about the bush, young lady. I saw you frolicking in the fountain with young Luc. That kind of unsuitable behavior is not befitting our new King Luc. Things are different now. More is expected of him. His every move will be closely monitored, by the press and by the people of St. Michel. While that kind of common behavior may be acceptable for you, it is not for him. We must be certain that his past mistakes aren’t repeated. His associates have to be of the highest calibre. Surely you understand what I’m saying?”
She nodded. Baron Severin was saying she was a mistake, a bad influence on Luc. She sat motionless, caught in the grip of an anguish too deep to manage.
“He’ll be expected to make a royal marriage, uniting the de Bergeron family name with one of equal stature from within the aristocracy of Europe.”
“I understand,” she whispered.
“I thought you might. An intelligent girl like yourself had to realize the damage you were doing.”
His words were like poisoned arrows piercing her soul. Armand’s earlier comments had opened the lid on her self-doubts, but the baron had just put the nail in the coffin, killing any hope she might have.
Everything he’d said was true. Unlike Armand, the baron wasn’t trying to hurt her, wasn’t trying to make trouble. He was simply pointing out the facts.
She’d become a liability to Luc. There was only one thing to do. Leave. Immediately.
Chapter Twelve
Inside her private rooms, Juliet didn’t bother changing clothes. Instead she tossed a few things into a bag, her hands quivering as she grabbed her belongings without any sense of order. She stopped as she reached for the black sundress she’d worn when Luc had taken her to the carnival.
Remembering that night made her crumple onto the bed, silent tears pouring down her cheeks. As her pain increased, so did the need to get away. She left the rest of her things behind, including that dress. She could always have some things shipped to her later. When she decided where she was going.
She hastily scribbled a disjointed note to Jacqueline saying she needed to get away and apologizing for missing the new king’s coronation. She was sure they’d all get along without her.
Including Luc.
She knew Luc had feelings for her—feelings of friendship, perhaps even more than that. But because she loved him so much, she couldn’t be the one to bring dishonor upon him. He had a path very different from hers.
She had to set him free. And she had to do it now, this very moment, while she still had the courage, while the baron’s words still burned in her soul.
If she saw Luc again, she’d weaken. She couldn’t say goodbye, couldn’t even leave a note for him. She had to cut it off entirely. It was best this way.
Her heart was breaking, but she was doing the right thing. That knowledge should have made her feel better, lessened her anguish in some small way. But it didn’t.
Grabbing her belongings, she hurried down the deserted marble hallways. The joyous sounds of music and people laughing drifted up from the ballroom, mocking her as she made her silent escape. She raced out a side entrance of the palace, past a startled Alistair. Her compact car was just as she’d left it, parked outside the royal garages, unfit to rub bumpers with the exclusive Mercedes and BMWs inside.
It only took her a moment to stow her things. As she gathered the skirts of her dress and slid behind the steering wheel, she vowed that she’d return the dress to the dowager queen the next day, sending it by insured shipper. She needed to start making a list of things she had to do.
Staying focused on that prevented her from crying. The insides of her eyelids felt like gritty sandpaper from keeping the tears at bay. But that was a good thing, because it meant her vision wasn’t blurred, and she could drive away from the palace without further delay. She refused to even allow herself one final look in her rearview mirror.
She had to be strong. She’d known this moment was coming. She’d always known she hadn’t quite fitted in. Close, but not close enough. Always an “almost.” Never good enough. There was no changing that.
She’d been foolish to think otherwise. Fairy tales didn’t come true for girls like her. The privileged and gorgeous de Bergeron daughters—they were the heroines in the classic tales, the ones who got their happy endings.
Juliet should have stuck to her books. That was the world she belonged in, the quiet peaceful world of history and academic work. Maybe she’d become a professor of history.
She should add that to her list. Right after Find a place to live away from St. Michel, and Return ballgown to the dowager queen. She doubted the older woman would want her calling her Grandmama any longer.
“You did a wonderful job with your welcome speech, Luc,” his grandmother, the dowager queen, congratulated him.
“Thank you.” His attention quickly wandered over the crowd. “Have you seen Juliet? I asked her to wait here for me.”
“Already ordering the girl about, are you?”
He smiled a bit sheepishly. “She’s accused me of being bossy in the past.”
“She’s a good girl.”
“She’s more than that.” Luc wasn’t certain when the first realization had come that he loved her. That night he’d kissed her in this very ballroom? The night he’d whisked her off to the carnival? When he’d almost made love to her? Or when he’d almost lost her to Celeste’s evil plot?
The awareness of his emotions hadn’t struck him like a thunderbolt out of the blue. Instead it had crept up on him like a gentle breeze, infiltratin
g his very soul until he knew that his life lacked all meaning without Juliet. It might seem as if one day she’d been just a friend and the next she was indispensable to him, but in the past few weeks his feelings for her had been undergoing a powerful transformation.
“So you have special feelings for her?” his grandmother asked. “Beyond friendship?”
Luc nodded.
She gave him one of her laser stares. “And your intentions toward her are honorable?”
“Yes. But I don’t know that she’ll want me. I’m no prize.”
“You’re a king!”
“A definite handicap in her book,” Luc noted dryly. “Juliet has no desire for life in the limelight. And if she marries me, she will be thrust into the spotlight.”
His grandmother placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “Juliet is stronger than you give her credit for.”
“I know she’s strong. I also know that none of this—” He waved his hand at the surrounding crowd “—is her idea of a good time. She’d much rather be reading a good book.”
“She’d much rather be in your arms,” his grandmother said with a sparkle in her eyes. “Go on, go find her and tell her how you feel. Life is too short to wait, you need to grab your happiness and follow your heart. I’ll support you, Luc. I won’t make the same mistake I made with my son, I promise you that.”
“Thank you, Grandmother.” He kissed her cheek. “You have a heart of gold after all.”
“Just be sure you don’t let anyone else know about that. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.” She playfully smacked his hand with the painted fan she’d used to cool herself with all evening. “Now be off with you!”
Juliet had brought the kittens with her in a cat carrier placed on the floor of the passenger seat. Their mews made her feel guilty for taking them, but she’d needed them. She was leaving everything else she loved behind. Surely she could be forgiven for taking Mittens and Rascal?
Tears threatened again but she bit her lip to keep them away. There was no time for weakness now. She’d think about everything later, when she was safely away. At the moment she was heading toward France, and she’d stop whenever she got tired. She’d always wanted to take a road trip, have the freedom to come and go as she pleased. This was her chance.
She turned on the car radio, not too loud so as not to scare the kittens, but when Sting’s song “Brand New Day” came on, she had to turn it off again. Luc liked Sting’s music. Too many memories there.
She’d driven several kilometers from the palace when she heard the sound of a police siren. Glancing at the speedometer, she muttered under her breath as she realized she’d been going over the posted speed limit. Sure enough, the police car pulled her over to the side of the road.
Sighing, she turned and reached into her purse for her license. “I’m sorry. I know I was going a bit too fast,” she began apologizing when she looked up at the official standing at her car door. It wasn’t any ordinary St. Michel police officer.
It was Luc. Still wearing his royal uniform.
She was stunned. “What are you doing here? How did you know where to find me? How did you even know I’d left?”
“My grandmother saw you driving out. I had a security car trail you until I could get here and take charge of things myself. You are in serous trouble. You’ve been accused of stealing the King of St. Michel’s heart.” His voice and expression were stern, but his eyes—his eyes positively ate her up. “Do you have anything to say in your own defense?”
“Yes.” No matter how he looked at her, she had to be strong. “I’m not the kind of queen you need.”
“You’re the woman I need,” Luc fiercely interrupted her, yanking open the car door and tugging her into his arms. “You’re the woman I love. I’m nothing without you.”
She blinked her tears away. “You’re the King of St. Michel.”
“I’m Luc and I love you. Marry me. Help me. Laugh with me. Love me.”
“Oh Luc, I already do love you! That’s why I had to leave. Don’t you see?”
“All I see is you.”
“That’s the problem then. You’re too close to me to see the situation objectively. Baron Severin isn’t.”
Luc frowned. “What does he have to do with anything?”
“He talked to me tonight, pointed out some things that I already knew.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that you need someone of royal blood, as you are.”
Luc swore under his breath. “The baron is dead wrong. The dowager queen has already given us her blessing.”
“The baron told me that I was hurting you by frolicking in the fountain with you,” she countered unsteadily.
“The only thing that could hurt me is your leaving me.” She could see his pain in the clenching of his jaw, in the stormy anguish reflected deep in his blue eyes. “Promise me you’ll never do it again. Promise you’ll marry me.”
“Luc, you haven’t thought this through—”
“Of course I have.” He tilted his head at her, lifting one dark eyebrow in that way she loved. “I always think things through, you know that about me.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in love, that it made a man vulnerable.”
“It’s certainly made me vulnerable.” He placed her open palm on his chest right over his heart. He stared down at her, his compelling blue eyes smoldering with passion, desire and most important…love. “Do you feel that? My heart is beating for you. If being king means I can’t have you, then I’ll refuse the position, call off the coronation.”
“You can’t do that!”
“I certainly can. And I will if you don’t marry me. Because I’m not ruling as king without you by my side as my queen.” His voice was suspiciously hoarse, making him sound like a man at the end of his emotional rope.
“Oh, Luc.” She lifted her hand to his face and stood on tiptoe to place a tender string of kisses across his beloved face. “I love you so much. I was just trying to do the right thing.”
“The right thing is marrying me. Will you be my wife?”
Here it was. That fork in the road of her future. Which should she take—the safe path that kept her life quiet or the risky one that kept her with Luc? In the end, the decision was inevitable. Knowing he loved her was the missing key. She couldn’t leave him. “Yes. Yes, I will.”
“Thank God.” Luc lowered his mouth to hers for a kiss of dedicated passion and lifelong commitment.
“We’ll just add a wedding ceremony to the coronation,” he murmured against her lips as he trailed kisses across her face. “Everybody is already gathered together, we might as well kill two birds with one stone.
“Kill two birds, hmm? How romantic,” she teased him with a laugh. “Is this what I have to look forward to for the next fifty years together?”
“The next seventy years, and I’ll show you what you have to look forward to.” He kissed her again, this time incorporating all their joy and laughter.
A short while later, they transferred her belongings and the kittens into the back of the police car he’d commandeered, leaving her car by the side of the road for a member of the security force to drive back. On their way to the palace, Juliet voiced her concerns. “Are you sure about this? A wedding in two days?”
“I’m positive.” Luc flashed her a smile of utter confidence. “How difficult can it be?”
“You want to do what?” his grandmother practically shrieked as she sat in the White Drawing Room and stared at Luc and Juliet in disbelief.
“You heard me. I want to marry Juliet right before the coronation. You told me you approved,” Luc reminded her.
“Of marrying her, yes. Of doing it on Sunday, no. I never said that was a good idea.”
“Perhaps we should wait,” Juliet said hesitantly.
“I’m not going to be crowned king without her,” he said curtly, with a warning look at his grandmother.
She met his gaze head-on and impatiently tappe
d her foot on the floor for good measure. “Luc, you’re bullying the girl. Have you asked Juliet what she wants to do?”
“He’s not really bullying me, ma’am,” Juliet earnestly assured the dowager queen. “I wouldn’t let him get away with bullying me. He’s just being his regular bossy self.”
“I told you to call me Grandmama.” She smiled at Juliet. “Now, what made you take off from the ball this evening?”
Luc answered on Juliet’s behalf. “That old windbag Baron Severin came after her tonight and fed her a load of garbage about her not being fit because she’s not royalty. I want the man banished from the country.”
Juliet had to laugh.
“What?” Luc turned to frown at her. “The man insulted you. He made you run away from me. He’s lucky I don’t toss him into the dungeon.”
“He didn’t insult me, he was just concerned about my suitability to be your wife. And he didn’t make me do anything. It was my own insecurities that made me leave. But that was before I knew you loved me.” She squeezed his hand, which had been clasping hers since they’d arrived at the palace. “Now nothing could make me leave your side.”
“Not even the entire Privy Council throwing a hissy fit?”
She grinned at him. “Not even that.”
“I told you she was a good girl,” his grandmother said rather proudly. “Now, about setting a date for the wedding…”
“We’re getting married on Sunday,” Luc repeated.
“Is this agreeable to you, Juliet? It’s your wedding day, too. Most brides want time to plan their special day.”
“I’ve already got the dress,” Juliet confessed.
“That slinky black one?” Luc asked hopefully.
The dowager queen’s voice was horrified. “She is not getting married in black!”
“No, it’s based on Queen Regina’s wedding dress,” Juliet quickly inserted. “A friend of mine in Paris made one up for me several years ago. She was a fashion design major and had to do a wedding dress…so I had her do this one. I always thought it was too lovely to actually wear.”
