by Amelia Autin
Why had she believed those two agents when they said Andre had sent them? Because she’d been young and unsure of herself, unsure of Andre. Because he hadn’t said he loved her during their incredible night together...not even once. Because he hadn’t called her, hadn’t written—not even an email—in the two months since she’d left Zakhar, not even in answer to her love letters and emails. And because at the time she’d asked herself who else but Andre could have known about that night.
Now she was asking the same question, but from a different perspective. It couldn’t have been Andre—mind and heart were telling her she must have been wrong all these years. But if not Andre, then who? Who else had known? And why had he never responded when she’d tried to contact him?
A knock at the door to her suite startled Juliana out of her contemplative state. She dried herself quickly, making sure she didn’t rub off the birth control patch on her hip. “Just a minute,” she called out, frantically drawing on her underwear and wrapping her bathrobe tightly around her. “Who is it?” she asked when she finally reached the door.
“It is I, Miss Richardson. Daphne,” the palace maid assigned to her called from the other side of the door. When Juliana unbolted the door and opened it, the young woman bobbed a little curtsy, smiled and handed her a sealed envelope bearing the Zakharian royal crest. “His Majesty regrets the intrusion, but requests I give you this as soon as possible.”
“Thank you,” Juliana said, staring at the envelope but slightly bemused by the curtsy. Daphne had done her best to wait on her hand and foot the entire time she was here, but she’d never curtsied before, and Juliana wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Daphne’s cheeks were very pink when she said, “Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Richardson? May I lay out your clothes for you? Bring you breakfast? I know you told me in the past you did not wish for breakfast to be brought to you, but...”
“No. Oh no, I’m fine, thanks.” Juliana was consumed with curiosity about the envelope, but good manners dictated she wait until she was alone. If only Daphne would go...but it seemed the maid was disinclined to leave.
Another blush suffused Daphne’s cheeks. “Please do not hesitate to call for me if you need anything,” the maid insisted. “Remember, two rings on the buzzer, and I will be here directly.”
“Thank you,” Juliana repeated, starting to be amused at the young woman’s overeagerness to serve. When she finally closed the door a thought occurred to her. It’s almost as if she were auditioning, she told herself with a little smile. Then the smile faded as she asked, Auditioning for what? The answer, when it came, seemed almost impossible. Auditioning to be my personal maid. Not just now, during the making of King’s Ransom. But for the future. Her future with Andre.
She broke open the seal with fingers that trembled and pulled out the crisp notepaper, scanning the few sentences in Andre’s incisive handwriting that slashed boldly across the paper. Then read them again. Slowly.
Juliana, the note said. I trust you slept well. I watched you sleep until I could no longer bear not being in the bed next to you. Until I could no longer bear not holding you as you slept. Until I could no longer bear not holding you as I have dreamed of doing since that first night. But you needed sleep, little one, and I could not deny you that. When you wake...whenever you wake, I will be waiting for you in the little library, where it all began for me so many years ago. Come to me, Juliana. Please come to me there. I will be waiting. Andre.
Andre was waiting for her. That’s all Juliana could think of. She dressed hurriedly, choosing one of her comfortable, lightweight summer dresses with a floating skirt that made her feel deliciously feminine. This one was in her favorite lavender blue. She brushed her hair and thought about pinning it up for coolness, but decided against it as a memory from the night before came to her. Andre twining her long hair around his throat, his eyes closed against the feel of it heavy against his skin. As if he had dreamed of doing that, too. As if he had dreamed of so many things where she was concerned.
She hurried toward the little library on the second floor, so lighthearted her feet barely touched the ground. When she reached her destination she recognized Lukas on duty today, standing guard by the door. As he’d done the first time she’d met Andre in the little library, Lukas opened the door for her, then quietly closed it behind her.
Andre was sitting in the same easy chair he’d been sitting in before, reading and marking comments on a document he held in his hand. The stack of documents on the table beside him that he’d already reviewed was substantial, and Juliana felt a little stab of guilt that he’d been waiting so long while she slept. The skin around his eyes looked a little weary, too, when he glanced up at her entrance. Weary, as if he hadn’t slept at all, although his eyes blazed bright green when he saw her. And Juliana couldn’t help but blurt out the question. “Did you get any sleep?”
Andre placed the document on the table, stood and held out his arms to her. She walked into them as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and they closed tightly around her. She tilted her face, mutely asking, and he kissed her. Long. Slow. Savoring.
Eventually he raised his head and smiled down at her, answering her earlier question. “We have plans to make, little one. How could I sleep?”
“What plans?”
“I realize you must return to Los Angeles for your friend’s funeral. And you must finish filming King’s Ransom, but the producer assures me a few more weeks back in Hollywood should suffice to wrap things up. Will you wish to continue your acting career after we are married? It would be difficult, but not impossible. Your royal duties will have to take precedence, of course, but—”
“Married?” Juliana stared at him in shock, barely able to get the word out.
The smile faded from his face and he went very still. “I told you earlier I would never let you go. What did you think I meant?”
“I... It never occurred to me that you...that we...” she fumbled.
“You thought I would just take you...until I tired of you? Is that it?” he asked tightly, harshly. “Is that what you thought of me?”
The pain in his eyes coursed through her. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I knew you loved me, but I...I honestly didn’t think beyond that. I just knew I wanted to be with you, too...in any way I could.” Her eyes pleaded for understanding. “Andre, please. Please don’t look like that. I love you!”
“Yes, you love me,” he said in an emotionless voice. “But it is like before. You still see me as a man who could take you and then walk away. You still see me as the prince who took your virginity and never promised you anything.”
He clenched his jaw as if other words wanted to escape, bitter accusations he refused to let himself voice. Then he turned sharply away and headed for the door. “How long?” she heard him whisper to himself in Zakharan in utter despair and realized she wasn’t meant to hear. “Must I pay forever for one mistake?”
Juliana flew across the room and caught him before he could leave. “No,” she said, throwing her arms around him from behind, pressing her body against his, holding him fiercely. “I don’t think of you that way,” she told him. “Not anymore.” His body was rigid beneath her grasp but she could hear his rapid heartbeat beneath her ear, and she knew he wasn’t as indifferent to her as he tried to appear. “Please,” she whispered. “Please look at me.”
He peeled her hands from his chest and turned, setting her away from him. “If not that, then what, Juliana?” he asked coolly, and she saw he had retreated behind defenses she would have to fight to tear down. He smiled cynically. “Or perhaps I am asking too much of you. To sacrifice the love and adulation of millions...in exchange for what one man has to offer.”
“How can you think I give a damn about that?” she began angrily. Her acting career had always been her second choice, the only viable option left to her after Andre had brutally rejected her love. “That’s not—” Then his words from early this morning c
ame back to her. “All that matters is finally...finally...you came to me again after I have waited so long.” What had he meant? If he’d been waiting for her to come to him, he couldn’t possibly have sent those men to drive her away. He couldn’t possibly...
Other words from earlier crowded into her memory. “You were mine eleven years ago, little one. You are mine again. That is all. It is enough. But this time I will never let you go.” And suddenly she knew. The answer to all the questions she’d never gotten to ask him, including the latest—why hadn’t he answered when she’d tried to contact him? “My father was right. You didn’t send those men to me eleven years ago, did you?”
“What men?” Even though she already knew the answer, the honest perplexity in his face was the last piece of evidence she needed.
“You never answered any of the letters or emails I sent you those first two months,” she said slowly. “But you never got them, did you?” He shook his head wonderingly. She covered her eyes with her hand for a moment as emotions bubbled to the surface, then looked at him again. “I wrote to you,” she said in a low voice, “many times. Words from my heart. Letters. Emails. Almost every day. But you never responded. I even tried to call you, but you never answered your cell phone. I knew you were busy. But I...I had begged you for only one night. And I started to wonder if your silence was your way of telling me that’s all it would ever be.”
Her lips trembled and she pressed them together tightly until she was able to control her emotions. “Then two months after I left Zakhar two Zakharian agents came to the university. They told me you had sent them.” She ignored his sharply indrawn breath. “They said... They said...” She swallowed hard. “They handed me an envelope...with money. A lot of money. They said I could take the money and have an abortion if I was pregnant, or if I wasn’t I should consider it a farewell gift. From you.”
Andre’s eyes went hard and cold and his lips formed a thin line. He clenched his right hand so tightly his fist was bloodless. “My father,” he grated with repressed anger bordering on hatred. “My father has a lot to answer for...in hell.”
“I threw the money back in their faces,” Juliana told him. “I wasn’t pregnant, but even if I had been, I would never—” Her voice broke. “I loved you. Even thinking you had sent those men, I loved you, and I would never have destroyed your child. Our child.”
An earthy Zakharan curse issued from Andre’s lips. “I did send an agent to America...in December, not earlier. But not to you. Only to check on you because you did not answer your cell phone when I called you. And you did not respond to the emails I sent, either.”
Her eyes grew huge in her face. “You called me?”
He nodded. Then his eyes took on a puzzled expression. “It did not occur to me at the time, but now I realize my unanswered calls never went to voice mail.” He shook that thought off. “Since you did not answer, I emailed you. The first one...it was just a few lines. I tried not to overwhelm you with the depth of my love, but I had to tell you what that night meant to me.” He drew a deep breath. “I bared my soul to you, Juliana, but you did not answer, and that hurt me. Angered me. And yes, cut my pride to the bone. But eventually I sent a second email...”
He trailed off, an arrested expression on his face, and she prompted, “The second email...?”
“That is how he knew,” Andre whispered to himself. “That is how my father knew to send those men to you.” As she had done, he covered his eyes with one hand.
“What...what was in that email?”
Andre lowered his hand and gazed down at her, anger at his father and self-recrimination combined in the troubled face he showed her. “When I did not hear back from you after my first email I wondered if you had changed your mind once you started college. You were free, free to seek new experiences away from your father’s sheltering influence for the first time in your life. Free of me. What if you no longer loved me? What if you regretted what we had done?”
Juliana shook her head in denial. “How could you think that?”
“When a man is feeling guilty, little one, many thoughts go through his mind. I had sworn to myself I would not touch you, so guilt over that night was my constant companion.” He breathed deeply. “In the first flush of wounded pride I told myself I was not going to chase after a woman who did not care enough to at least acknowledge she had received my love letter.” His lips curved into a rueful smile. “Arrogant. Proud. Stupid.”
“Not stupid.”
“Yes, stupid. It did not occur to me until several weeks later there might be another reason why you had not replied. What if there were something you were afraid to tell me? What if you were left dealing with the unintended consequences of that night, and thought you were on your own?”
He made a sound of self-derision. “Strange as it may seem, that only fueled my anger. That you would think me such an ogre you could not tell me. I almost picked up the phone to call you again, but the question I needed to ask...I did not want to confront you, and I feared you might hear the anger and hurt in my voice. So instead I wrote to ask if you were carrying our child.” Juliana caught her breath. “When you never responded to my second email I agonized for two days, then went to your father to inquire about you.”
“You told my father we...?” Is that how he knew? she wondered.
“No, of course not. I merely asked if he had heard from you. If he knew how you were doing. I pretended I was asking on Mara’s behalf. He said you had told him you were very busy with school, too busy to write or call often.”
Pain and guilt chased across Juliana’s face. “I did tell him that,” she admitted. “I was so wrapped up in thoughts of you that I...I really didn’t want to focus on anything else just then. Not my classes. Not even my father. I spent most of my time waiting to hear from you.” She started to tell Andre her father had known all along anyway, but he spoke before she could.
“After my conversation with your father I tried to call you, but again you did not pick up.” Regret over lost chances was obvious in his expression. “So I wrote to you a third time, just before my unit shipped out to begin serving with the UN peacekeeping force in Afghanistan. Desperate to hear from you by then. Putting my pride aside, begging you to tell me if I had somehow offended you by asking if you were pregnant, even though that had never been my intention. Then I received an email reply saying you were not pregnant. Just that. One sentence.”
She shook her head vociferously. “I didn’t!”
“I know that now. But at the time? And yet, it did not sound like you. Part of me was sure you would tell me if... But just in case...I had to know. I could not go to Virginia myself—I was already serving in a combat zone in defiance of my father’s wishes by that time, and I could not desert my post. I could not even request temporary leave—so I sent a trusted agent from Zakhar to check on you. When I knew you were not pregnant I was both relieved and disappointed.”
“I don’t understand.”
He smiled sadly and raised a hand to caress her cheek once before letting it drop back to his side. “Relieved for your sake, little one. I wanted you to attend college, to see something of the world before...” His eyes held hers. “Disappointed...that was for me. I wanted you to be carrying our child. It would have been all the excuse I needed to bring you back to Zakhar and marry you out of hand, even though you were too young.”
“Why didn’t you? You knew I loved you, so why...?”
“I was twenty-two. You were eighteen. You had led a sheltered life, and I...I had already known for two years I loved you. Had already denied my own desires waiting for you to grow up.” His eyes were bleak. “I needed you to be sure of your love. I needed you to understand how it was for me.
“But then you came to me that night. All soft and yielding, even more than my dreams. Offering me your love so sweetly I had no power to resist. I should never have taken what you offered that night—I know that. But I was too arrogant to know then that wanting is not enough. Ev
en loving is not enough, not if there is no pledge for the future. And to my everlasting shame I did not give you that. There are some things a man does not do, Juliana. Not if he is to live with himself. But I have paid for that night.” He laughed without humor and said under his breath, “I have paid bitterly.”
She was barely able to get the word out. “How?”
His face contracted, and his lips tightened. “The tabloids love nothing better than to print scandal, especially about European royalty. If they cannot find a true story, they will make one up. They have been making up stories about me for years, about the latest woman in my life. I merely had to look at a woman and the world was told we were lovers. But there is a reason the tabloids must make up stories—there is no woman in my life...and has not been for eleven years.”
At her amazed and wondering expression, he added drily, “No man, either. And yes, those rumors have been whispered in some circles because I do not use women for pleasure.” He smiled in self-mockery. “No one wants to believe a man can remain faithful to the memory of a woman despite the many temptations crossing his path. No one wants to believe he can remain celibate...for the sake of a woman and one precious night.”
“For...me?” Juliana asked in a hushed voice.
“Only for you.”
Chapter 17
Juliana’s eyes squeezed shut in pain as she comprehended the enormity of what Andre was saying. For any heterosexual man to voluntarily forgo female companionship completely for such a length of time was unbelievable, unheard of. And for a reigning monarch whose word was law in his country, wealthy beyond most men’s dreams, virile and in the prime of his life—just how virile she had ample proof—it was beyond comprehension. And yet she knew he was telling the truth.
“King’s Ransom,” she whispered under her breath. “You loved me...like he loved Eleonora.”
