Heart Captivated

by Lindsay Bergman

  “Sophie, are you okay?” I reached out to help her, but she pushed my hand away.

  “Why is the room spinning, Bree?” Sophie giggled, sliding down to the marble floor. “And why are there two of you?” She gasped and covered her mouth with one hand. “Oh my gosh, now we’re triplets!”

  I sighed. She was beyond tipsy. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” I pulled her up to her feet and steered her toward the staircase.

  Before we had taken more than two steps, she stopped and complained, “Wait, my feet hurt.” Sophie tugged off her heels and let them dangle from one finger. “I thought Ashton would like these shoes because they make my legs look amazing.” She sighed heavily and looked over at me with a face as vulnerable as a child. “But he barely even looked at me. Do you think he’s mad at me?”

  Yes, I thought. Instead, I tucked an arm around her shoulders and said, “Don’t worry about Ashton. Let’s just get you up to bed.”

  Ashton appeared in the hallway a moment later. His hard gaze swept over my stumbling sister before coming to rest on my face. “Bree—”

  “Ashton!” Sophie threw herself at him and rained kisses on his face. “I’m so happy to see you. I knew you couldn’t avoid me forever.” Leaning toward me, she tried unsuccessfully to whisper, “See, he’s not upset with me for dancing with all those other guys. You’re such a prude, Brielle.”

  Ashton’s expression darkened considerably. “I think it’s time for bed, Sophie.” He scooped her up into his arms and pivoted toward the stairs.

  “Wait, Ashton. I can take her upstairs by myself,” I argued, grabbing hold of his arm.

  He swung around to face me. Although his gaze was hard, his voice was gentle. “Let me help you, Brielle.”

  “I don’t need your help. I need space.” I gestured between us. “We need space.” I tried to tug Sophie from his hold, but she wouldn’t budge. “Come on, Soph,” I coaxed. “Let me take you upstairs.”

  Sandwiched between us, she whined in objection and gripped the lapels of his tux even tighter, burying her face against his neck. “I want to stay with Ashton.”

  “I know, sweetheart. But Ash needs to stay here with his guests.” I eyed him pointedly.

  He sighed in frustration. “Brielle—”

  “Ashton—”

  “Pardon,” Adam interrupted. He strode smoothly toward us, black coattails flapping out behind him. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Perhaps I could be of assistance?” He transferred Sophie into his arms without waiting for the prince’s consent. “I’ll take her upstairs so you can return to the party, Your Highness.” He sailed up the steps, carrying Sophie as if she weighed nothing at all. He said something to her that made her giggle echo down the staircase.

  I moved to follow them, but Ashton took hold of my hand. “Bree, don’t go.”

  “Ashton …” I stood awkwardly beside the prince, feeling his gaze roam over my face. I shifted uncomfortably in my heels and tried to look everywhere but at him. “Please, I can’t do this. Not tonight.”

  “All right,” Ashton conceded. He kissed my hand, his lips warm on my skin. “I’ll let you go … for tonight.”

  When he released me, I stumbled away, feeling weak at the overtone in his words. I hurried up the steps without looking back, even though I could feel his eyes following my progress up the staircase.

  Ten minutes later, I perched on the edge of Sophie’s bed. She was already out cold, her blankets thoughtfully tucked up around her sleeping form. Before Adam had left, I’d noticed his fingertips linger softly on her cheek. If only Sophie were in love with someone else, I thought, like Adam Rousseau. He was obviously attracted to her.

  Blowing out a sigh, I traced a hand down her mass of auburn hair. In sleep, she looked so peaceful and content, somewhat fragile and vulnerable. My protective instincts stirred. “I won’t let him come between us,” I whispered the promise. “No matter how hard I fall, I won’t ever break your heart.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sophie dragged me out of bed bright and early the following morning. Eyes still bleary with sleep, I pulled on the jean shorts and burnt orange tank top she tossed at me and squinted at her through the bright rays of light shining in from the open curtains. She looked radiant in a grass-green sundress with her hair styled perfectly in a waterfall braid.

  “Why are you so cheerful this morning?” I grumbled, yanking my messy hair into a ponytail. Based on her attitude last night, I was expecting to receive the third degree about why I had danced with Ashton. I shot her a suspicious look. “And why are you waking me up so early?”

  “We’re spending a sister’s day out in Les Arès this morning. Now hurry up, lazy bones. Our ride is waiting for us.” She hooked an arm through mine and practically dragged me from the room.

  The quiet was almost eerie as we descended through the palace, with only the occasional glimpse of palace staff. Sophie’s high-heels clicked along at a rushed pace, echoing through the wide, empty hallways. I caught sight of the dashboard clock as Sophie ushered me into the waiting BMW—it was barely eight o’clock in the morning. Since the Summer Ball had lasted until close to two o’clock, everyone else was probably still asleep.

  It seemed like Sophie was trying to sneak us out of the palace before anyone else awoke. I frowned at her, feeling my suspicions rise. “What’s going on, Sophie?”

  “I told you,” she answered, her gaze fixed out the window. “We’re going to Les Arès.”

  “Sophie.” I reached out to touch her hand, which tensed under mine.

  “I just want to get out of the palace for a little while, before I have to face everyone after my behavior last night,” came the quiet reply. “You can understand that, right, Bree?” She shifted on the dark leather seat, her light brown eyes pleading with me.

  “Of course, I understand.” I squeezed her hand in reassurance, then turned to look blindly out the window. My suspicions faded, replaced instead with an aching heart. I hated to see her looking so vulnerable.

  Our morning seemed to go from bad to worse.

  Sophie was overly bright and cheerful, as if she were trying too hard to pretend that everything was all right. More than once I thought I saw a dark look in her eyes and felt a thick tension between us, making our exchanges stilted and awkward. We’d gotten in plenty of arguments over the years, as sibling do, but were normally quick to forgive and forget. I disliked confrontation and always tried to bury the hatchet before an argument could spiral out of control.

  The tense undercurrent running between us was unusual and worrisome.

  I tried to ignore the feeling of unease as we wandered along the docks, admiring various sailboats and yachts. Puffy white clouds were scattered throughout the sky, occasionally blocking the sun and casting a dim shadow over us. It felt almost like an omen. Clusters of houses layered the hillside overlooking the harbor, the colorful siding dotting the landscape in bright bursts. The smell of fish was strong in the air near the section of docks packed with fishing boats, their nets brimming with the morning catch.

  Turning down a cobblestone road that led away from the harbor, we strolled down the scenic main street of Les Arès. The port town was located on the northwest of the island, a prime location for trading with other nearby European countries. The small fishing harbor expanded into booming cargo liners and the base for the Coradovan Royal Navy, their grand fleet encompassing nearly eighty vessels.

  “Ooh, let’s go look at that dress!” Sophie exclaimed, pulling me into a small shop called Beltina Boutique. It was charming, with a lovely collection of dresses and accessories. The proprietors were an elderly couple with quick smiles and an accent that suggested they originated from Spain.

  When we emerged forty-five minutes later with Sophie’s purchase of three bright sundresses, the streets were swarming with people. We wandered down a row of restaurants, the surrounding chatter growing loud and boisterous, excited voices speaking in rapid French. I once again wished that I had taken Fren
ch as my required foreign language in high school.

  “What do you think has everyone so excited?” I asked Sophie, wondering if one of the members from the Royal Family had arrived in Les Arès. She didn’t answer and stood looking away, face obscured by a curtain of auburn hair.

  On tiptoes, I craned my neck and searched over the sea of heads, trying to figure out what had sparked such frenzied interest. Then I heard my name ripple through the crowd. I paused in surprise, realizing for the first time that the attention was centered on us. The people were surrounding us, crowding in for a better look, their eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and contempt.

  I grabbed hold of Sophie and pulled her close to my side, terrified of losing her in the swarm. We were backed against the wall of a brick building. I could hear the voices rising and photos being snapped on cellphones. I cringed away from the gawking stares and flash of camera lights, feeling concern rising within my chest. “Why is this happening?” I turned to look at Sophie.

  While the crowds had me cringing away into the shadows, my sister was basking in all of the attention, her eyes bright and smile wide. My mouth nearly dropped open when she had the audacity to wave.

  “What are you doing?” I hissed. “Do you know what’s going on?”

  Sophie turned to look at me, then bit her lip and hesitated. Wordlessly, she pulled out a newspaper from her shopping bag and handed it to me. The noise from the crowd drowned out my gasp of outrage.

  On the front page of the newspaper was a large black and white photo of me, Sophie and Prince Ashton, with a bold headline that read: A ROYAL LOVE TRIANGLE. It speculated over a complicated love triangle between Prince Ashton and identical twins, Sophie and Brielle Parker. What made it worse was that the article went into personal detail about our lives, airing our dirty laundry for the entire country to see. My heart clenched with each exposing sentence. Deserted by deadbeat father … mother died from cervical cancer … cattle ranch in financial trouble … looming bankruptcy.

  Tears burned my eyes. “Where did you get this?”

  “I saw it on the counter in Beltina Boutique when I was checking out.”

  “If you knew about this, then why were you smiling and waving at everyone?” I demanded, my embarrassment boiling into anger.

  Sophie shrugged one shoulder, her cheeks unusually tinged with pink. “Because getting upset won’t change anything. The article is already out there, so all we can do now is roll with it.”

  “Oh, I’ll roll with it all right,” I muttered, closing my fist over the newspaper. “Let’s go. We are not some source of entertainment to be mocked—so don’t you dare wave at anyone else!”

  I grabbed her hand and tugged her behind me, shoving my way along the brick wall and trying to ignore the jibes and taunts. Nearly seeing red, I ran headfirst into a solid chest. I looked up into dark eyes, my temper ready to explode. I bit back my angry retort when I recognized the royal guard standing before me.

  It was Gerard, the head of Madison’s personal security.

  I wilted in relief as he took hold of my arm and forced his way through the crowd toward a waiting black sedan. His black hair was cropped short and brown eyes were filled with outrage as he shot scathing looks at the people surrounding us. Once we were safely in the car and speeding down the road toward the palace, I finally let out a deep breath.

  “How did you know where to find us?” I asked Gerard. We were crammed into the sedan, with two guards in the front, Sophie to my left, and the stoic Gerard seated on my right.

  “The driver who brought you to Les Arès phoned in about a disturbance. Because of this morning’s article, we thought it must be you.”

  We lapsed into silence. I was overwhelmed by a torrent of emotions. The article had been more than just idle gossip—it was a hateful attack against my family. Thoughts whizzed through my head, wondering how the newspaper had gotten ahold of such personal information. Only a handful of people knew the truth about our father. I stiffened in sudden horror as a thought occurred.

  Turning beseeching eyes on my twin, I implored, “Sophie?”

  Her shoulders were taut with tension. The eyes she turned on me were dark and haunted. “I’m so sorry, Bree.”

  Betrayal stabbed through me like a knife. Suddenly, her behavior this morning made perfect sense. I should have recognized her overt cheerfulness for the pretense that it was—Sophie was clearly more upset about the events from last night than she’d let on.

  “No,” I choked out, shaking my head in denial. “Please tell me it wasn’t you. Please tell me you didn’t give that information to the newspaper.”

  “I didn’t give it to the newspaper … but I did spread the gossip around the party last night.”

  “Why? Wait, never mind.” I held up my hand to stop her response, ignoring the way her gaze hardened. “We can talk about this later.” I looked away, forcing my churning emotions to settle down.

  As much as I wanted to question her further, this was not the place for the heated discussion that was bound to rage between us. But Sophie didn’t want to leave it alone—her emotional floodgate had been unleashed and there was no stopping it now.

  “I want to talk about this now.” Sophie edged forward and turned pain-filled brown eyes on me. The heat of her glare burned me from the inside out. “I saw you with him, Bree. Out by the lookout … wrapped in his arms.”

  My eyes closed on a wave of remorse. No wonder she was so angry.

  Her broken, accusing voice tore deep into my heart. “How could you do this to me, Brielle? You’re my sister. My twin. How could you try to steal the man I love?”

  My face was flaming from shame and embarrassment. I was ashamed by my feelings for Ashton; my weakness for him, the longing to be near him, the unintended betrayal that had hurt my sister. And I was mortified that she was airing it in front of others, even though their expressions were blank and eyes carefully averted.

  A headache threatened at my temples. “Sophie, please. Let’s talk about this later,” I pleaded, pinching the bridge of my nose.

  Her angry retort was followed by scathing comments that lasted throughout the remainder of the ride. By the time we arrived at the palace and climbed out of the car, I was desperate to disappear from utter humiliation.

  Sophie dogged my steps into the grand foyer and up the main staircase, finally lapsing into silence when we heard the familiar voice call out to us from down below. My eyes closed briefly at the sound of his voice, worried that his appearance would only make things worse. I reluctantly turned to face Ashton as he moved quickly up the steps, meeting us halfway up the staircase.

  “I heard what happened in Les Arès. Are you all right?” His concerned blue eyes searched my face, then tightened. “Your face is white, Brielle. Did someone hurt you?”

  I flicked a glance at Sophie and tried to ignore the painful throbbing caused by her betrayal. “We’re fine, Ashton,” I told him quietly. “Thank you for checking on us, but would you please excuse me? It’s been a crazy morning.”

  He touched my hand, bringing me to a stop before I could move away. “I can see that you need some time to yourself, Bree,” Ashton began, then shifted his gaze to Sophie. “But can I speak with you alone, Sophie?”

  “Of course, Ashton.” Sophie slid her hand up his forearm, twined it around his elbow and shot him a sultry grin. “I always have time for you.”

  Ashton gave her a small smile, then looked up to meet my gaze for a brief moment. He squeezed my fingers, inclined his head and led Sophie back down the stairs. I spun away and soon found blessed solace within the private confines of my guest room.

  This day was a disaster—and my solitude didn’t last for long.

  I sighed at the knock on my door, rose to my feet and cautiously peeked out. Madison was standing in the hallway dressed in riding clothes, her dark eyes filled with compassion.

  “Hey, Bree. How’re you doing?”

  “I’ve been better.” I opened the door wide
in invitation. “Would you like to come in?”

  “Actually, I was hoping to convince you to come riding with me.” Her expression was hopeful and held the slightest hint of command. “It will get you out of the palace and give us a chance to talk about what happened.”

  “I would love that, Maddy.” I smiled, feeling gratitude for her offer and amusement at how well she seemed to have acclimated to her role as a princess. “I really need someone to talk to right now.”

  Madison gestured with her hands and smiled wryly. “Well, I definitely know all about handling cruel gossip.”

  After her engagement to Alexander, Madison had been forced to quickly learn about dealing with scandal and public scorn. After the hateful article from this morning, Madison would be the perfect person for me to confide in … especially since my own twin sister was the source.

  Chapter Thirteen

  We returned to the stables after a long ride out to the cliffs behind the palace. Madison’s experience with handling gossip was a great source of comfort, even if she wasn’t aware of the fact that Sophie had been behind the article. Although I was hurt by my sister’s act of retribution, I didn’t want anyone else to know what she had done. She was still my sister, my twin—and I knew that her actions were caused by pain over what she perceived as betrayal by me.

  The palace stables were impressive, sprawling across acres of luscious green hillside. The criss-crossing lines of multiple paddocks spread out from the barn to the edge of the outer pasture, the landscape eventually dropping off into seaside cliffs. The barn and main stable were painted a pristine white, with forest-green trim and decorative planters along one side.

  After handing off my horse to one of the young grooms, I caught sight of Sophie hovering in the shadows at the edge of the barn.

  Madison followed the direction of my gaze. “It looks like Sophie’s waiting for you.”

  “Yeah,” I sighed, wondering if she was planning to yell at me some more. “Thank you for the ride, Maddy. I really enjoyed our talk.”