“I’m not sorry, either. But that doesn’t change the fact that I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be with you while I’m planning to marry someone else.” His arms tightened around her. “But it’s you I can’t stop thinking about. You I can’t stop wanting.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you or wanting you, either,” she admitted.
And then, because she knew the issue wouldn’t stop being a barrier between them no matter how much she wanted to ignore it, she said, “I understand you told the children that you’re getting married.”
“I thought they should know.”
“Of course,” she agreed. “But you should know that Lexi has her heart set on being a flower girl. Then, when she explained the role to Damon, he insisted that he should be a flower girl, too, but I think she’s almost convinced him that ring bearer is a more appropriate role for him.”
“Apparently she knows more about getting married than I do.”
“A lot of little girls have a fascination with weddings, maybe because so many fairy tales have a wedding before the happily ever after.”
“It didn’t occur to me to include the children.”
“You might want to consider it,” she said, “since your wife will be a strong presence in their lives.”
She tried to keep her voice light, but it was awkward to talk about him marrying another woman while she was naked in his arms.
Rowan apparently didn’t want to talk about his wedding, either, because he asked, “Did your mother read fairy tales to you when you were a little girl?”
“No. She was afraid they would give me ideas, and she wanted me to know that there was no prince out there who would ride into my life on a white horse and carry me off to live in his castle in the sky.
“But when I was about nine years old, I got a book of fairy tales out of the library at school. I was immediately captivated by the story of Rapunzel. Not that my mother ever locked me in a tower or even a closet, but I felt trapped in my life. I knew my mother didn’t want me, and it was my greatest fantasy to someday find someone who did.
“I read that story over and over again,” she admitted.
“And afterward I refused to get my hair cut. Despite my mother’s warnings, I was young enough and silly enough to believe that if I could grow my hair as long as Rapunzel’s, my prince would come.”
He sifted his fingers through her short, silky hair. “Then someone broke your heart and you got it chopped off.”
“Nothing so melodramatic,” she assured him. “I simply grew up and realized it was ridiculous to pin my hopes on someone else rescuing me from the mediocrity of my life. If I wanted things to change, I would have to make the effort to change them myself.”
“And your dreams?”
“Are different now.”
“Do you ever wonder about your father?” he asked.
“Who he is, where he might be?”
“I used to, but after my mom died, I realized that the possibility of finding him was just another fairy tale.”
“What about a family of your own? You must want to get married someday, have children.”
It was what she wanted more than anything in the world—someone to love and who would love her in return, a family of her own, a place where she truly belonged. But there was no point in sharing those dreams with a man who could never be the prince of her dreams.
“Someday,” she agreed, then smiled. “But I’m still young enough not to have to worry about things like that right now.”
He scowled at her, proving that her playful taunt had succeeded in diverting his attention.
“I might have ten years on you,” he acknowledged.
“But I can handle anything you can dream up.”
“Anything?” She leaned closer, whispered a very explicit suggestion in his ear. “You think you’re up to that challenge?”
He responded by flipping her onto her back, trapping her beneath his very hard, very aroused body, and proceeded to prove that he was up for anything.
And they both forgot about weddings and fairy tales and everything else but the pleasure of each other.
Chapter Eleven
Marcus was home for the summer.
Under normal circumstances, Rowan would have been pleased by his brother’s return, not just because he could shift some of his responsibilities—at least temporarily—onto Marcus’s very capable shoulders, but because he enjoyed his company. But nothing had been “normal” since Julian and Catherine had died, and Rowan wasn’t sure how long he could continue sneaking into Lara’s room in the night without his brother beginning to suspect just how much his relationship with the nanny had changed in the few months that Marcus had been gone.
It was an entirely different matter that was on his brother’s mind, however, when he came to Rowan’s office Thursday morning.
“What’s going on in the ballroom?” Marcus asked. “It looks like a strategic planning session of the war department.”
“You’ve been in America too long,” Rowan told his brother. “We don’t have a war department.”
“Tell that to the two women who were battling over lilies and orchids. I thought there was going to be bloodshed.”
“Ah, yes. They would be the frontline soldiers in our new matrimonial regiment.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Henri hired a wedding planner. The wedding planner decided he needed a veritable army of assistants to see to all the intricate details of the royal wedding.”
“Including the finding of a bride?”
“No, apparently that’s still my responsibility. Unless, of course, you’re here to tell me that the legislation is invalid and I’m not actually required to get married at the end of August.”
Marcus shook his head. “Not yet, but I’m looking into some things.”
“Don’t rush into anything,” Rowan said drily.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to get you off the hook too soon and deprive you of the company of all the beautiful and willing women who hope to be chosen as your bride.”
“I’m glad you find this amusing, because I’m just finding it tiresome.”
“Sometimes I can’t believe you’re my brother,” Marcus lamented.
“Look at this.” Rowan opened his drawer and pulled out a paper. “This is a list of potential bridal candidates and the ‘dates’ that have been set up for the next several weeks.”
Marcus skimmed the list of names. “Alphabetical order?”
Rowan shrugged. “Henri thought it was the most impartial method of organizing the candidates.”
“Henri put this together for you?”
“He volunteered to help sort through the mail. You wouldn’t believe how many letters and pictures have flooded in since the media announced that I was looking for a bride.”
“Imagine how many disappointed women there would be if they ever found out you’re just going through the motions.” Marcus tapped a finger against one of the names on the list. “Ava Medeiros…?”
“You know her?”
His brother’s only response was a slow grin. “Yeah, and while I don’t doubt you would enjoy her…company, I’m not sure you should consider her a candidate for marriage.”
Rowan handed him a pen. “Cross her off the list—along with anyone else who might be uncomfortable seated across from you at the dinner table.”
“I assure you, they all have fond memories of me, which would only make things awkward for you.”
“I appreciate your consideration.” He noticed that his brother had struck three other names from the list, including Chantal St. Laurent. “So much for thinking your reputation was exaggerated.”
Marcus’s grin returned. “I assure you it was earned through a most dedicated effort.”
“If only you would apply that single-minded focus to some other pursuit.”
“I can’t imagine anything else so immensely pleasurable.”
“That’s the real reason you
chose to go to university in America, isn’t it? Because you’d dated most of the women in Europe.”
“That might have been a factor,” his brother allowed.
“But Harvard does have a pretty good reputation as a law school. And it turns out that I’m actually learning some stuff. In fact, I finished third in my class this year.”
Rowan glanced up. “And you tell me this as if it’s an afterthought?”
“It’s not really a big deal.”
“Of course it is.” He felt a twinge of guilt for riding his brother so hard about his reputation. The truth was, he’d often envied Marcus’s charm and easygoing nature that led to his success, not just with women but with anything he put his mind to. “And I’m proud of you.”
Marcus shrugged, but Rowan could tell he was pleased—if a little embarrassed—by the praise.
“Do you have any plans to celebrate the end of term—or did you do enough celebrating in Boston?”
“I didn’t do anything that made headlines,” Marcus said. “Then again, in America, we’re considered minor royalty and not worthy of much attention.”
“Are you planning to make headlines here?”
“Nope—just looking forward to a night on the town with a beautiful woman.”
“I should have guessed,” he said, then had to ask, “Is her name on the list?”
“No.”
Even in that monosyllabic response, there was something that alerted Rowan. “Anyone I know?”
“I’m going out with Lara tonight.”
“You’re joking.”
Marcus raised his brows. “Why is that so unbelievable?”
“Because…” He didn’t know how to answer the question in a way that wouldn’t lead his brother into asking more, so all he said was, “She’s not even your type.”
“I try not to limit myself to any particular type—there are too many unique and interesting women out there.”
“But Lara is…Lara.”
Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “It seems your opinion of her has changed over the past couple of months.”
“I’ve come to appreciate her importance to the household through her relationship with the children,” Rowan remarked carefully.
“Hmm,” was his brother’s only response.
“Which is why I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go out with her.”
“It’s just dinner and a movie, and we’ll be well chaperoned.”
“Chaperoned?”
Now his brother grinned. “Christian, Lexi and Damon are coming with us.”
The wave of relief brought on by this revelation was as irrational as the surge of jealousy that had hit when Marcus mentioned Lara’s name, especially considering that he’d been working his way through Henri’s list despite spending most of his nights in her bed.
“I’m glad the children are going, too,” Rowan said.
“They really enjoy spending time with you.”
“That’s because I’m immature and not afraid to make a fool of myself.”
“You underestimate yourself,” he said, and realized that he had done so, as well. His brother wasn’t a reckless teenager anymore but an adult—maybe not entirely grown-up yet but well on his way.
“What are your plans for tonight?” Marcus asked.
“Because you’re welcome to join us, if you like.”
“I wish I could. But I’m attending a dinner party with—” he glanced at the list “—number fourteen tonight.”
“You should keep an open mind. Number fourteen could be your wife in a few short months.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” he said drily.
Marcus grinned again. “Glad to help.”
When Lara showed up at Tanis’s apartment the following afternoon, she found her usually unruffled friend was decidedly ruffled. The cause of her stress became apparent when Tanis dumped a pile of bridal magazines at Lara’s feet and said, “Help.”
Lara picked one off the top and began to thumb through it. “What is it, exactly, that you need my help with?”
“Everything. Dresses, flowers, cake. My mind is spinning with all of the details.”
“You were the one who wanted a fall wedding.”
“I know.” She dropped onto Lara’s sofa. “Can I borrow your wedding planner?”
“He’s Rowan’s wedding planner, not mine.”
Tanis winced. “I’m sorry. That was incredibly tactless of me.”
“I’m well aware of the fact that he’s getting married,” Lara said. “You don’t need to tiptoe around the subject.”
Her friend sighed. “I just wish you’d found someone else to fall in love with so we could be planning our weddings together.”
“We can still have fun planning yours.”
“You’re not denying that you’re in love with him,” Tanis noted.
She shrugged. “You’d know I was lying if I even tried.”
“You slept with him, didn’t you?”
She couldn’t prevent the smile that curved her lips. “Yeah.”
“I’m guessing he wasn’t a big disappointment?”
“No.”
Tanis sighed. “I was afraid of that.”
Lara reached over to squeeze her friend’s hands. “Please don’t worry about me. I went into this with my eyes wide open.”
“How can I not worry? You’re in love with a prince.”
“No,” Lara said. “I’m in love with a man who happens to be a prince.” And if she’d learned nothing else over the past few months, she’d learned that Rowan was so much more than his title, so much more than anyone else she’d ever known.
“I knew it was a bad idea for you to go back there.”
“I don’t regret my decision.”
“And when the prince marries someone else?”
“I’ve known from the beginning that our relationship could only be temporary.”
“And that’s enough for you?” Tanis demanded.
“It’s more than I’ve ever had before—more than I ever thought I would.”
“And when it’s over, you’re going to be left with less than nothing because there’s no way you’ll be able to continue working there, seeing him day after day, hovering on the periphery while he builds a life with his new bride.”
It was a reality she knew she’d have to face soon enough but one that she refused to think about until then. So she forced a smile and asked, “Did you want to talk about the prince regent’s wedding or your own?”
Tan narrowed her eyes. “You’re trying to change the subject.”
“Only because I want to make sure I won’t have to wear cotton-candy pink ruffles.”
“No pink,” her friend promised. “And definitely no ruffles.”
Rowan knew Lara was gone even before he reached for her and found the bed empty. Or maybe it was the sudden awareness of her absence that had awakened him.
He gathered up his clothes and dressed in the dark, puzzling over the fact that he could wake up missing her just because she wasn’t there beside him. Definitely not a good sign.
He tripped on a pile of magazines beside the sofa.
Tanis’s bridal magazines, Lara had hastened to assure him when he’d spotted one on her night table. Then she’d told him about her friend’s engagement to the gallery owner and explained that Tanis wanted help in picking out a gown.
Rowan had found himself wondering when Lara would get to pick out her own wedding dress, thinking about the kind of man she would choose to marry and wishing it could be him. He realized that wanting what he knew was an impossible dream was just another sign that he was in way too deep.
He checked the hall before he stepped out of her room. Not that he expected anyone else to be wandering the corridors at this hour, but he couldn’t chance it. He wasn’t ashamed of his relationship with Lara, but he was worried about her reputation. Not enough to stay away, obviously, but enough to not want her to be hurt by their affair. Except that, in his hear
t, he knew it was already too late to protect her—or himself.
But instead of heading up to his own apartment, as he’d intended to do, he went across the hall to Damon’s room and found her there. No doubt she’d been summoned from her bed by one of his young nephew’s nightmares, though he hadn’t heard a sound. The child was sleeping peacefully now, as Lara was, too, curled up in a chair that she’d pulled close to the side of Damon’s bed.
It never ceased to impress him how easily she anticipated and responded to the needs of his brother’s children. Part of that, he knew, was familiarity with them and their routines. And part, he suspected, was simply her innate compassion and nurturing spirit. The same compassion and nurturing spirit she had shown to him in so many ways, not the least of which was helping him to finally accept Julian’s and Catherine’s deaths and move on with his own life. And moving on for Rowan meant choosing a bride.
Though the law required that he marry a woman of certain qualifications, his heart warned that he would find no other woman who mattered as much as this one who was so unsuitable simply because of the location and circumstances of her birth. He was hardly the first ruler to face this conflict between duty and desire—and he knew it wasn’t a conflict he could continue to ignore.
With that thought in mind, he lifted her from the chair and into his arms. She stirred but didn’t awaken, a sign of how truly exhausted she was. He carried her back to her own room and laid her gently on the bed.
“Rowan?”
He pulled up the covers, then brushed his lips against hers gently. “Go back to sleep.”
“Where are you going?” she murmured the question, still more asleep than awake.
“Upstairs,” he said. “I have early meetings this morning.”
“Is it morning already?”
“Not quite.”
Her eyes drifted closed again. “Stay.”
He wished he could—not just for another hour or another night, but for always. But he suspected that even if he could have forever with her, it wouldn’t be enough. And forever was impossible, anyway. Even these past few weeks had been nothing more than a dream and it was time—for both their sakes—to stop living in a fantasy and start living up to his responsibilities.
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