Redeeming A Royal (The Royals of Aldonia Book 3) Page 14

  She probably shouldn’t be here.

  Prince Christopher had shown her this garden that felt like a place out of time. But he hadn’t told her she could come here whenever she wanted.

  And it wasn’t doing her much good in any case. From the second she’d walked in, she’d been bombarded with memories of the last time she’d been here.

  Had it really only been days ago?

  It felt like a lifetime.

  For the past three days she’d watched from afar as he’d danced with Penelope, played croquet with the duchess Dorothea, and sat chatting cosily with Princess Sylvie during a theatrical performance from actors who’d been brought to the palace.

  She’d listened with as much equanimity as she could muster while Penelope waxed lyrical about the prince’s attention, she’d smiled when Aunt Ivy had speculated wildly about moving to the palace as the mother of the queen.

  Every day she watched Alice fall in love with Lord Travers, and he with her.

  She watched Princess Harriet and Mr. Lauer, who were unusually tactile and never tried to hide their affection for each other.

  And all the while she’d felt utterly miserable.

  Coming here to try and cheer herself up had been a terrible idea.

  But as she’d broken her fast earlier with Penelope, Aunt Ivy, and Alice and frankly, after the conversations they’d had, she’d needed to get away and be alone.

  Penelope had gone on and on about how enamoured the prince had been of her. How he’d been so attentive that she’d been positively swooning by the end of their dance.

  And the envy that Lucy had felt had been acute. She’d never dance with him, she knew. Far too low down the pecking order and most certainly not cut out to be a queen, she’d never know what it would be like to waltz with him. To be held in those strong arms and let the music sweep them away.

  “I saw how the prince and Princess Harriet stared at you the other night, Little Lucy,” Penelope had suddenly blurted, and when Lucy’s head had snapped up in surprise, she’d noticed that Penelope was looking rather venomously at her.

  It had taken Lucy quite by surprise, but neither Aunt Ivy nor Alice had seemed to notice.

  “I felt sure you’d done something to offend one of them,” Penelope had continued a little spitefully, to Lucy’s mind. “But rest assured, dear cousin, I’ll use all of my charms on the prince to ensure that he doesn’t notice you or anyone else.”

  Her giggle, and Alice’s gasp of delighted shock at Penelope’s outrageous words had grated on Lucy’s nerves.

  She’d looked to Aunt Ivy, but it seemed as though her aunt would forgive a lot if it meant furthering Penelope’s quest for the crown.

  Lucy had excused herself and come straight here.

  She couldn’t stand it.

  Either the idea of Prince Christopher marrying Penelope, or Penelope not caring about him beyond the fact that he could make her queen.

  Didn’t she care about his heart? About his passion for his people? About his wicked sense of humour, the one he kept so well hidden from the world?

  Penelope didn’t even seem to know that a whole other person existed beyond the stoic mask that he wore in public.

  She didn’t love him. She didn’t know him to love him.

  Surely he wanted more than that? He certainly deserved more!

  Frustrated with herself and her cousin—and even him for not just being an ordinary gentleman with an ordinary life—Lucy jumped to her feet and turned back toward the gate.

  Looking up, she came to a screeching halt, her heart tripping and stuttering in her chest.

  There watching her, was the prince.

  The burst of elation she felt at his presence only served to warn her that she was in danger from this man. And she certainly shouldn’t be alone with him.

  “F-forgive me, Your Highness,” she muttered, dipping a curtsy and keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the ground. “I don’t want to interrupt your solitude. I-I’ll go.”

  She hurried past him, desperate to get away before she did or said something she couldn’t take back.

  But she’d barely gone a few steps when his hand reached out and took hold of her arm.

  Steeling herself to remain impassive and unmoved by whatever he was about to say, Lucy allowed him to turn her until she was facing him.

  He reached out and lifted her chin, leaving her no choice but to meet his gaze.

  His eyes were dark, almost black, and filled with the same tortured emotion she was currently feeling.

  Desire, potent and consuming, slid along her veins.

  And she was helpless against it.

  Helpless against him.

  Everything he’d said the other day when he’d kissed her flooded her mind.

  He’d said that he wanted her. Said that she would be a distraction for him when he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted.

  Did he mean it, or were they just pretty words?

  And if he did mean it, wasn’t that unbearably tragic? For both of them?

  “You don’t have to leave.” His voice was gravelly and set gooseflesh breaking out all over her body. “It matters not if you go, in any case. I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about you whether you were here or somewhere else.”

  Oh, Lord.

  Lucy’s knees practically turned to water at his words, and her poor heart nearly flew right out of her chest.

  “You shouldn’t say such things, Your Highness.” She tried to sound severe and scolding, but her words sounded like a plea.

  His crooked grin was a thing of beauty.

  “I know,” he answered swiftly. “But I can’t seem to help myself around you. You’re the only person I ever allow to see the real me. The only person I’m ever truly honest with.”

  Well, what was she to say to that?

  Penelope’s talk from earlier came floating back and gave her the strength to pull her chin from his grip.

  “Perhaps you should be honest with my cousin, Your Highness,” she said, hearing the bitterness in her tone, yet unable to help it. “Or Her Grace, or Princess Sylvie”.

  His smile was filled with sadness as he gazed down at her.

  “You assume they would be interested in my honesty. I assure you, they wouldn’t.”

  She knew he was right. In Penelope’s case, anyhow. And that just made her desperately sad for him.

  “Yet, they are the ladies in whom you are interested, are they not?”

  He stepped forward suddenly, towering over her, surrounding her in his intoxicating scent.

  “No,” he said fiercely. “They are not. I’m no more interested in them than they are in me.”

  He reached out suddenly, clasping her face in his hands.

  “Don’t you understand?” he demanded. “I don’t care about them. I don’t think about them. It’s you, Lucy It’s only ever you. And that’s precisely why I cannot be with you.”

  Her breathing became as laboured as his own appeared to be.

  “Then why are you saying these things?” she asked, willing the threatening tears away.

  He shook his head, looking as hopeless as she felt.

  “I don’t know.” He laughed, but it was without humour. “I don’t know anything anymore. Me, the Crown Prince. The man who was always so sure of himself. I’m not sure of anything now. I only know that I miss you when you’re not with me. And that I only ever truly feel like myself when you are.”

  His thumb stroked her cheek as he gazed into her eyes, and Lucy felt powerless to do anything but gaze right back.

  “And I’m sorry that I’m even telling you this because I know that it is unfair. Yet, I cannot help myself around you.”

  “Your Highness,” she started to speak, but he interrupted right away.

  “Christopher,” he said softly. “My name is Christopher.”

  “Christopher,” she repeated, though she should know better. “I don’t—” she sighed helplessly. “What do you want from me?”
>
  He stared at her for an age.

  “Nothing,” he finally said. Then, after a pause he spoke again. “And everything.”

  Sighing, he dropped his hands and stepped away from her.

  “Which is precisely why you need to leave,” he said. “And I need to let you.”

  Lucy stood frozen to the spot.

  A voice in her head urged her to move her feet and get away from that place and away from him.

  He’s courting your cousin, it said. He’s told you that you have no future together. He’s the Crown Prince of Aldonia, and you are a nobody. He won’t suffer for this. But you will.

  All of that was true.

  In a week, he’d have his elaborate ball. And, if rumours circulating were to be believed, he’d announce his betrothal at it.

  She’d have to stand there and listen while he chose another woman. And then she’d leave to lick her wounds and try to remember what her life was before him.

  So, he was right. She needed to leave, and he needed to let her. She needed to let herself.

  But instead of stepping back, Lucy stepped forward. Instead of creating a distance between them, she pressed herself against him.

  She would walk away, of course.

  But not yet. Not without one last kiss. Something she could keep in her heart, even when it was broken.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “I know you’re terribly busy, but I thought I might see if you could spare some time for your little brother.”

  Christopher looked up from the papers in front of him to see Alexander leaning in the doorway, a grin on his face.

  An answering smile tugged at his lips as he stood to shake his brother’s hand.

  “I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” Christopher said by way of greeting. “I would have come down to greet you with Mother and Father.”

  “We made excellent time on the roads. Freddie didn’t require as many stops as we feared.”

  “And where is my nephew?” Christopher asked, somewhat surprised by the excitement he felt at seeing the little prince again.

  It had only been seven or eight months since he’d last seen Alex, Lydia, and young Frederick. But he found that he quite enjoyed having the boy around.

  “Being doted on by his grandmama,” Alex laughed. “And Hari is interrogating Lydia about what to expect for her own arrival, so I felt it prudent to make a fast getaway.”

  “Prudent indeed,” Christopher laughed as he moved to the drinks table and poured them both a measure of brandy.

  Alex accepted his tumbler and took a seat on the other side of Christopher’s desk.

  “So, how goes the running of the country? Started any wars? Bled the coffers dry?”

  Christopher merely rolled his eyes as he took his own seat.

  “You know me better than that,” he said smoothly. “Everything is running just the way I want it. Just as it should be.”

  “Everything?” Alex repeated, an odd gleam in eyes, the same shade as Christopher’s own.

  In fact, more than one person had commented before on the striking resemblance between the brothers.

  “So, you’re on schedule to announce your bride at the ball on Saturday then?”

  Christopher scowled at the question as Alex laughed softly and sat back, making himself comfortable in the leather armchair.

  “If Harriet is busy with Lydia, I can only assume that Jacob is as loose lipped as his wife,” he said by way of answer.

  “Oh, our brother-in-law simply couldn’t wait to fill me in,” Alex confirmed. “And that’s not all he said, either. Something about you being too stubborn to choose the lady you should? Something to that effect.”

  Christopher didn’t even try to stem the stream of black curses that burst from his lips at Alex’s words.

  For his part, Alex’s mouth dropped open in surprise before he laughed.

  “I don’t know if I’ve ever heard such a litany of curses from you, big brother. And in four different languages, too. Very impressive.”

  “Shut up, Alex,” Christopher snapped like a child, which only served to send his brother into fits of laughter again.

  “Tell me again why you came home?” Christopher demanded.

  “Because my prince and future king commanded it.” Alex grinned before sobering up. “Brother, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

  “Because I don’t know where to start,” Christopher answered swiftly. But that wasn’t strictly true.

  “Actually,” he admitted, albeit grudgingly, “I do. It started with a woman.”

  Wordlessly, Alex stood from his chair, grabbed the bottle of brandy and came back to place it between them on Christopher’s desk.

  “It usually does,” he said wryly. “So, let’s see if we can figure it out.”

  Alex was unusually quiet as Christopher came to the end of what turned out to be a purging of his soul.

  Never before had he spoken so openly with his brother. And certainly not about anything personal.

  In truth, he’d made more changes with his sibling relationships since he’d met Lucia Allenwood than he would have thought possible.

  “I don’t know why I’ve told you all of this,” he muttered, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I don’t know why I’ve been saying or doing a lot of things lately.”

  “I do,” Alex said softly yet firmly. “It’s because of Lady Lucia. I was the same when I fell in love with Lydia. Love – it makes you want to be better. Do better. And you have always been so perfect as a prince and ruler, Christopher, that the only place you could do better was in your private life.”

  Christopher could only stare at Alex as his words caused an untold panic to grow inside of him.

  But was there truth in them?

  Did he want to be a better man for Lucy? The truth was glaring obvious. Yes, he did. Of course, he did.

  But was that because he loved her? No! He’d decided years ago that love had no place in his life.

  Love was a distraction from his role as prince. His role as king, when the time came. He couldn’t fall in love.

  “For my part, I’m glad of it. I always respected and admired you as a prince, Christopher. But I’d much rather have you as a brother.”

  “And I know Harriet feels the same.”

  Both brothers glanced up to see Jacob enter the room.

  Christopher could berate him for insubordination or insinuating himself into his conversation, but it was pointless. Besides, Jacob had been a confidante and friend for some time now. He’d also witnessed this apparent change in Christopher with his own eyes.

  “Hmm. She practically said as much,” Christopher admitted grudgingly.

  “Well, there you have it then.” Alex clapped his hands together. “We’ve fixed it! Tell the girl you love her, marry her, and we’ll all live happily ever after.”

  Christopher could only glare at his brother until he found the words to berate him sufficiently.

  “Have you completely taken leave of your senses?” he asked. Demanded, really. “I’m the Crown Prince, Alex. The heir to the throne. I can’t just marry the girl. She’s not at all suitable.”

  “And why is that?” Alex asked calmly.

  “Because—” Christopher felt unaccustomedly flustered. “Because she’s not queen material,” he finally settled on, ignoring the twist of guilt at speaking about Lucy thusly. But it was true, there was no denying it.

  “And – and we don’t all have the luxury of shunning our titles and running off to play lord of the manor in England,” he continued, getting into his stride. “You think because you got to run off with Lydia, or Harriet got to marry Jacob that I can just do whatever the hell I want? Well, I can’t.”

  Christopher jumped to his feet, needing to pace out some of this anger that had sprung from nowhere.

  Alex slowly came to his own feet but stayed studiously quiet.

  Jacob remained by the door.

  And as Christopher stood there, scowling a
ngrily at them both, he finally admitted the truth to himself.

  He loved her.

  He’d fallen desperately in love with the little thief who’d tested his patience, his self-control, and even his sanity at every turn.

  It changed everything. And it changed nothing.

  His first duty was still to his country. Still to his crown.

  Prince first. Man second. Always.

  And she was too – everything. Too beautiful, too spirited, too distracting.

  How could he give his heart to his country if she held it in her hands?

  “I warned you.” Jacob finally spoke up. “I warned you that love is something even you can’t control, Your Highness. It happens to you whether it’s convenient or not.”

  Christopher swallowed past the lump in his throat.

  He was remembering that final kiss in the garden last week.

  The innocent way Lucy had leaned up to press her lips to his own. The fire, white hot and intense that had raged between them from the first second of contact.

  And how that time, he hadn’t had the strength to pull away. That time, the hounds of hell wouldn’t have dragged him away from her.

  No, it was Lucy.

  Lucy who’d pulled away, softly said goodbye, and then walked out of their secret world away from the world.

  And he hadn’t been able to talk to her since.

  In fact, her cousin had been doing her utmost to monopolise his time.

  But Christopher knew he couldn’t ever contemplate marrying the lady’s cousin. It was hard enough to contemplate marrying anyone at all.

  Anyone that wasn’t Lucy.

  And his circuitous thoughts came right back around again.

  “And I told you, both of you, that it’s not possible.”

  Christopher turned and gazed out the window and into the gardens where he’d first seen her. The blaze of red hair, the heart-stopping curves encased in blue. And then the feeling of looking into her aquamarine eyes, drowning in them. The shock of being dragged unwittingly into her thievery.

  God, how he loved her. And how impossible it was.

  He couldn’t marry her. But bastard that he was, he was too selfish to let her go.

  “Perhaps I’ll make an agreement with the lady,” he said out loud, sickening himself for even voicing the desire.