She shoved the book back onto its shelf, then swung around to face him. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d changed your mind about meeting me.”
“I was detained. My cousin Geoff never has learned to take a hint and know when an evening is over.” He closed the double doors at his back, then walked farther into the room, his shoes silent against the thick carpet.
“I don’t think His Grace was terribly happy with me at the card table tonight. I played dreadfully and we lost every hand.”
Rupert smiled. “Defeat builds character. I am sure he will survive.”
She moved closer, stopping when she was only a few inches away. Less than a month ago, she would have gone straight into his arms, would have kissed him without a moment’s hesitation. Now she no longer knew if she should—or if he would want her to.
He made no move to embrace her either.
Rather than feeling her usual bravado, she felt her confidence shrink.
Loving him, she realized, made her unsure. It made her vulnerable. And she didn’t like being vulnerable, especially when it all seemed so one-sided.
Raising her chin, she sent him an inquiring smile. “You wanted to meet privately, Your Majesty. What did you wish to discuss?”
He winced slightly. “I suppose I deserve that. I know we’ve seen very little of each other lately.”
“We’ve seen almost nothing of each other lately.” She linked her hands in front of her, against the skirt of her black silk evening gown. “I am aware that you have had a very great number of things with which to deal, now that you are king. I realize too that you have been mourning the passing of your father.”
She took a quick breath, the words seeming to tumble out, almost against her will. “You might have come to me, you know. You might have let me at least attempt to offer you some comfort, some relief.”
His golden brows drew close and he looked away. “Under the circumstances, it seemed better if I did not. We need to be more discreet here at the palace. I would not have your reputation blemished.”
“It was already more than blemished before we left England. I hardly see how it can be damaged further.”
“That is where you are mistaken, especially since you are to be my queen.”
Am I?
Until that moment, she hadn’t known if he still meant to go through with the wedding. But if he did, then why had he been so distant of late? Why had he not come to her bed at night when he’d refused to stay away before?
Of course, she had never actually planned to marry him, so she shouldn’t care. Yet, to her dismay, she realized that she did.
Very much.
Too much.
“It’s too soon yet after the funeral to make a formal announcement about our engagement,” he continued, “but I wanted to reaffirm my promise to you. That’s why I asked to meet alone here tonight.”
Her heart gave a traitorous leap. “Oh?”
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small box covered in black velvet. What he revealed inside stole her breath.
It was a ring, but not just any ring—the brilliantly cut emerald as rich and mysterious a green as the depths of a deep mountain pond. As for the size of the stone, it was huge, set into an elegantly cast gold band that looked at least a century old.
“I had my choice of the crown jewels,” he said, taking the ring out of its silken bed. “This one reminds me of your eyes. I hope you approve.”
How could she not? Without exaggeration, it was the most exquisite emerald she had ever seen.
“Yes,” she told him. “It’s beautiful.”
“Shall we see if it fits?”
Without waiting for permission, he took her left hand and slid the ring onto her finger. She ought to have stopped him, ought to have found the will to protest, but somehow the words never came to her lips.
And then it was too late, the ring sparkling like some piece of treasure from an enchanted legend.
But as she gazed at it and thought about the reason why the ring now graced her hand, all of her old qualms suddenly rushed back. She still hadn’t actually agreed to marry him.
Even now, he has not said he loves me.
“Rupert, I—”
But he spoke at the same time, his sentence overpowering her own. “So, the ring does fit.” Satisfaction rang in his voice. “I thought it might. You have such delicate hands.”
He lifted her palm and pressed a kiss onto her skin.
Her heart thundered beneath her ribs. Maybe he does care for me, after all? Maybe he assumed she knew how he felt and didn’t think he needed to say the words?
Then he released her. “It is late and you must be tired. I should bid you good night.”
“You don’t have to, you know.” She laid a hand against his cheek and gently stroked its length, relishing the sensation of warm male skin and the faint bristle of evening whiskers. “Come to my bed tonight. It’s been so long.”
His eyes darkened. “I know, but we cannot afford the risk.”
“We found a way before. I’m sure we can manage again.”
He covered her hand with his and pressed it close. Briefly, he closed his eyes, opening them again to gaze directly into hers. “Sadly, we cannot. This isn’t my sister’s house. There are far too many opportunities for us to be noticed.”
He pulled her hand away from his face and lowered it to her side.
“But you are the king,” she protested.
“Yes, and I will not have the palace whispering that I am keeping you as my mistress when you are to be my bride.”
“Can I not be both?”
He smiled sardonically and bent to kiss her forehead. “No. Now go to bed, Ariadne. I shall see you tomorrow.”
She wanted to argue, but could see there was no use. When he got into one of his stubborn moods, there was no shifting him from his course. There was nothing to say that she couldn’t try again tomorrow night, though. She would be like water on rock, working to slowly erode his resolve.
“Very well, then. Good night.” Reluctantly, she turned and made her way to the doors, opening one and passing through.
• • •
Once again, Rupert nearly stopped her.
Instead, he squeezed his fists tight at his sides and forced himself to turn away.
In need of a distraction, he stalked across the library’s wide expanse to a small tulipwood cabinet and reached for the crystal brandy decanter on top. He poured a healthy draught into a glass, then raised it to his lips and took a long swallow; the alcohol slid down his throat in a warm burn.
He had just lifted the glass to his mouth again when he heard movement near the door.
Had Ariadne come back?
He swung around, his chest tightening in hopes she had returned.
But it was Sigrid who moved through the door on a sibilant swish of black satin. “I thought you had gone to bed,” he remarked, then drank more brandy.
“I was on my way there,” she said, walking deeper into the room, “but decided a bit of light reading might help lull me to sleep.”
He arched one eyebrow skeptically. “Since when are you in the habit of reading?”
“Oh, I’m not. It bores me to tears. That’s why I thought it would help me drift off tonight. I haven’t been sleeping well since Papa died.”
“I’m sure not.” He finished his brandy and set down the glass. “So, why are you here, Sigrid? Or more to the point, how long you have been here, listening?”
She made a moue with her lips in a gesture that tacitly admitted she’d been caught spying. Then she shrugged. “Long enough to know you’ve somehow managed to entangle yourself with Ariadne of Nordenbourg and that you’ve given her an engagement ring.”
• • •
Ariadne was halfway to her room when she decided that she ought to have taken a book from the library after all. Chances were good she would have trouble falling asleep tonight and a book might be just what she needed to distract her.
Of course she would rather Rupert distract her, but he had put a stop to that particular possibility. Then again, if he was still in the library when she returned, maybe she could change his mind. Really, when she thought about it, she’d given up far too easily. What could it hurt if she tried seducing him one last time? Assuming he hadn’t already left the room by the time she got back, that was.
She heard the murmur of voices when she approached the partially open library door a couple of minutes later. Rupert was still inside; she recognized the smooth cadence of his rich baritone. A woman answered, her voice familiar as well.
Sigrid.
Ariadne hesitated, unsure whether to interrupt or not. Then she heard her name.
“It has nothing to do with liking Ariadne,” Sigrid was saying. “I like Princess Ariadne very much. She is a charming, highly entertaining young woman, even if she does have a tendency toward rash imprudence. Her personality is not at issue. It is her pedigree that must be considered.”
“Her pedigree is exceptional,” Rupert retorted in a hard tone.
“Her pedigree is useless, of which you are very well aware. A marriage to her brings you nothing. You might as well take a milkmaid to wife for all the advantage Ariadne offers.”
Outside in the hallway, Ariadne stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. She knew she should turn away, but she couldn’t. Soundlessly, she pressed a fist against her chest, her heart beating fiercely beneath her knuckles.
“You are king of Rosewald,” Sigrid went on. “You owe it to your country and your legacy to choose a bride who will not only increase your wealth but strengthen your position as monarch. A woman who will make you greater as king and Rosewald greater as a nation.”
“I hardly need to be reminded of my duty,” he said scathingly.
Sigrid did not back down. “Before tonight, I would have agreed. But the fact that you have chosen such an imprudent course—well, you must rethink matters before it is too late.”
“There is nothing to rethink. I have given my word.”
“Then retract it. Ariadne is a reasonable young woman. She will understand.”
“I told you before that I am honor-bound to wed her. I will not withdraw my proposal.”
“Yes, yes, some scandal that happened in England before your return home. But it will all blow over. There are always ways to smooth these things out.”
Ariadne could almost see him grinding his teeth.
“Perhaps I do not wish to have it smoothed out,” he said. “Believe me, Sigrid, if I did not listen to our father on this subject, I most certainly am not going to listen to you.”
Ariadne barely stifled a gasp, pressing her fist against her lips.
“You spoke to Papa before he died,” his sister repeated, “about marrying Ariadne?”
Rupert paused. “I did not specifically mention her by name, but I discussed the idea of taking a bride of my own choosing to wife.”
“Clearly he did not agree.”
“No. But this is my decision and my mind is made up.”
“Then what are you saying, Rupert? I never thought I would live to see the day when you, of all people, would turn sentimental. Do you love her? Is that why you are insisting on this marriage?”
Ariadne’s pulse sped faster, her breath shallow as she waited to hear his response. On tenterhooks, she closed her eyes.
“I’ve already told you my reasons,” he said brusquely. “Do I look like the sort of man who would marry for love? I placed Ariadne in a compromising position and it is my responsibility to correct the damage. An honorable marriage is the only option. I have given her my pledge and I will abide by it, no matter the supposed wisdom of the decision.”
“Even if your entire court objects?”
“Yes. Even then.”
Ariadne leaned a trembling shoulder against the wall, a tear rolling in a damp slide over her cheek.
He does not love me. I am nothing but a duty. Just one more obligation in a very long list.
And a burden was something she had decided never to be, just as she had vowed not to marry where there wasn’t love—on both sides.
Suddenly she straightened, fiercely wiping away the tear with the back of one hand.
She didn’t want or need his pity. Obviously, she had sadly miscalculated the extent of his feelings for her, as well as his desire. He no longer wanted her—that much was clear. She’d wondered why he’d stopped coming to her bed, and now she knew. Knew as well why he’d turned her efforts at seduction aside tonight and sent her off to bed alone.
Apparently during their separation after leaving England, he’d had time to reconsider his actions. He’d had a chance to reflect and realize that he should not have been so hasty in offering her marriage. Of course when he’d offered his hand, he hadn’t thought he would be king so soon. His father’s death must have put everything back in perspective. But Rupert had given his word, and if there was one thing on which he could be counted, it was keeping his word, even if he regretted having given it.
In the next moment, she caught sight of the emerald engagement ring glittering on her finger. She shivered, unable to decide whether to wrench it off or flee upstairs to her bedchamber.
Instead, she did neither.
With her back rigidly straight, she gave a quick rap on the door and walked inside the library.
Chapter Twenty-nine
At the sight of Ariadne, Rupert’s chest gave a sharp squeeze.
Bloody hell. How much did she hear?
One look at her face told him everything he needed to know.
“Excuse the interruption,” she said, as she strode toward him and Sigrid. “I came downstairs again to get a book.”
“Och, just like me,” Sigrid said, clearly hoping Ariadne had only just arrived.
Ariadne fixed Sigrid with a hard glare. “Do me the courtesy of not dissembling, Your Majesty, and I shall offer the same.”
“Perhaps I ought to leave,” Sigrid said.
“Oh, do not go on my account. Obviously you are privy to far more of my personal affairs than I had realized,” Ariadne said. “I must confess I had not expected to find you and Rupert discussing my relationship with him, but then as the old saying goes, one never hears well of oneself when eavesdropping. In my own defense, it was accidentally done.”
With what could only be deemed a regal dismissal, she turned her back on Sigrid and moved to face Rupert.
“Ariadne, whatever you may have heard—,” he began.
She cut him off. “Oh, I heard more than sufficient, enough to make me realize that a union between us would be a grave mistake. I told you from the start that you were under no obligation to marry me. I never asked you to do the honorable thing, but you would insist on acting the hero. The error in this is mine and I am to blame. I should never have let matters proceed so far between us. I certainly should never have allowed you to give me this.”
Pausing, she twisted the ring off her finger and held it out to him.
“That is yours,” he said roughly, an odd kind of panic twisting in his gut.
But she shook her head. “No, I cannot accept it, any more than I can accept your proposal—though you never did actually ask me to marry you, you know.”
Inwardly, he cringed, knowing she was right.
“You’d made up your mind and wouldn’t hear any answer but yes. Well, I’m giving you another answer now, the one I ought to have insisted upon from the beginning. I thank you for the great honor of your proposal, King Rupert, but I must decline. Find a bride who will be a credit to your nation and to you as a worthy consort.”
“You are worthy and I do not release you,” he said in a hard voice. He drew a breath, seeking patience. “You are tired and distraught tonight. We will talk more of this tomorrow, without an audience.” He flashed Sigrid a quick glare, wishing her from the room. Wishing she had never come into the library tonight and that he had never spoken to her.
Looking remarkably s
hamefaced, Sigrid moved toward the door and out of the room.
He forgot her the second he looked back at Ariadne, but she would not meet his gaze.
“There is nothing to say,” she told him. “I will not be married because you gave your word and feel you must do your duty.”
“Arie—”
Reaching out, she grasped his hand and pressed the ring into it. “Rupert, I do not want to marry you. I cannot be plainer than that. We had an enjoyable time together and I thank you for the most . . . entertaining and instructive lessons, but now it’s over. We are at an end. You owe me nothing.”
He ground his teeth together, fighting the urge to drag her into his arms and shake her. Either that or kiss her, crush his mouth to hers until she took back every word she’d just said and begged his forgiveness.
She doesn’t want to marry me, does she?
He should be glad, shouldn’t he? He could make a far more advantageous marriage elsewhere. So why wasn’t he relieved? Why did his ribs ache as if she’d just stuck a knife between them, then given it a twist?
But he didn’t care what she wanted. He desired her and by God, he was going to have her. He’d decided to marry her and so they would marry, and damn whatever misery came after.
“It is unfortunate, Princess, that you feel as you do. The marriage will go forward regardless.”
“But—,” she gasped.
“And you will wear this, as my intended.” Grabbing her hand, he pushed the ring back in place.
“It is late and we both need to get some rest,” he said coldly. “Shall I escort you to your room or can you find your own way?”
She looked stricken, her eyes very green and filled with some emotion he couldn’t quite fathom. “I shall return on my own,” she said in a dull voice.
“Then I bid you good night.”
With a nod, she turned and was gone.
• • •
Rupert strode into the breakfast room the following morning, hoping he would find Ariadne already seated at the table. Instead, there was only his cousin—the one who’d been so displeased with Ariadne’s whist playing the night before—and his brother-in-law Dominic.
The Trouble With Princesses Page 26
