Redeeming A Royal (The Royals of Aldonia Book 3) Page 16

  If anyone saw her with her hair unbound, there’d be hell to pay.

  But, she supposed, that was the least of her worries.

  She doubted that even a prince would be able to keep her here against her will but then, it was Christopher. And she couldn’t imagine anything that man couldn’t do.

  Her mind filled with horror at the idea that she’d be forced into being his mistress.

  Surely not!

  Surely she could appeal to Princess Harriet for help.

  The princess had been a kind and good friend in the three weeks Lucy had been here. There was no way that she’d stand by while her brother kept Lucy here as some sort of –

  “I thought I’d find you here.”

  Lucy whipped around and jumped to her feet as Prince Christopher parted the hanging branches of the willow and stepped inside its cover.

  Lucy wanted to feel furious, but seeing him standing there, impossibly handsome in the moonlight, she just felt unbearably sad.

  “I wanted to be alone,” she said, her voice shaking, her eyes fixed on his cravat.

  When he didn’t respond, she looked up and saw that he was staring unabashedly at her hair. He looked transfixed. Mesmerised. And her idiotic heart stuttered in response to that look.

  Reaching up, she patted her tresses self-consciously, wishing she’d just suffered the headache and left it up.

  Now she felt oddly vulnerable with it falling around her shoulders.

  “I wasn’t expecting company,” she stammered when he still hadn’t spoken. “I know I look –”

  “Beautiful,” he croaked, his voice hoarse, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. “You look beautiful.”

  Her heart tried to melt at his words, but she wouldn’t let it.

  Gathering her tattered self-esteem, she raised a brow.

  “I suppose that’s why you decided to make me your mistress,” she spat and was pleased that the tremble had left her voice. “Because you think I’m beautiful.”

  At her caustic words, his eyes finally met hers.

  He took a step closer, and she took a step back, her legs hitting the bench behind her.

  “You spoke to your cousin then,” he said softly.

  A lance of pain shot through Lucy, and she realised that she’d been holding out a silly hope that Penelope had been lying.

  “Yes, I did,” she said, and suddenly a white-hot fury borne of pain and humiliation burst inside her. “And I feel I should warn you that I would never conduct myself in such a vile manner,” she spat. “I will never willingly be your mistress.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she wouldn’t let him.

  “It’s bad enough that you k-kiss me the way you did and then, then kiss Penelope.”

  To Lucy’s horror, she felt tears begin to spill from her eyes. But try as she might, she couldn’t stem them. Well, no matter. She wouldn’t see him again after tonight in any case.

  “But to think that I would – that we could –”

  She couldn’t even say the words. But she didn’t let that stop her. She was in her stride now, and she’d just move on until she’d gotten it all out.

  “You might be a prince and ruler of a country and – and handsome, and charming and –” She was running out of words to describe him, so she waved a hand at him. “And big,” she continued. “But you have no right to treat people as though they don’t matter. As though their feelings don’t matter.”

  She paused to take a breath, but when he opened his mouth again, she hurried on.

  “I’m going home,” she continued, wiping furiously at her eyes. “And you might try to stop me. Well, fine,” she heaved. “But you’ll have to lock me in a dungeon or a tower or something because I will never stay willingly as your mistress, do you hear me? Never!”

  She ran out of words and stood there, her breathing laboured, waiting for him to take her up on her offer and throw her in a dungeon somewhere.

  Let him, she thought defiantly.

  Nothing would make her change her mind.

  He stepped forward again and with nowhere left to go, Lucy tilted her chin rebelliously and waited.

  “Hmm. You make quite a strong point, my lady,” he said, and if Lucy didn’t know any better, she’d say his tone was almost teasing. “And I see that you are quite serious when you say you will not stay to be my mistress.”

  “I won’t,” she blurted insolently, and he nodded in acknowledgement.

  “Yet, I do not want you to leave. And I am, after all, the prince.”

  Lucy swallowed hard and narrowed her eyes.

  “There’s only one solution I can think of to this conundrum,” he continued.

  She waited, preparing to refuse whatever it was he was going to say. Slap him, too, if needed, though that might be a sure fire way to get herself locked in that dungeon.

  Finally, when she could bear the silence no longer, she huffed out an impatient breath.

  “Well?” she demanded. “What is it, this solution?”

  “If you won’t stay as my mistress,” he repeated. “And I don’t want you to go, I think the only solution is for you to stay as my wife.”

  Christopher watched closely as myriad emotions flitted across Lucy’s face.

  Confusion, shock, a brief flicker of what he hoped was elation, and then suspicion.

  He hated that she was suspicious. Almost as much as he hated seeing the tears track down her lovely face.

  The fact that she was crying, and that he was the cause of her tears, nearly brought him to his knees. And he would make damn sure that he was never the cause of such pain again.

  But first, he had to convince her that he was sincere.

  She opened her mouth, then closed it again, a frown marring her brow.

  Christopher found that he was rather enjoying himself.

  He wasn’t sure that toying with her like this was the best way to handle the situation.

  But she was skittish as a colt, and she certainly didn’t trust him yet.

  So, doing what he was itching to do would have to wait.

  Though how much longer he could hold out before taking her in his arms, he didn’t know. Especially when she was standing there in the moonlight with that glorious hair unbound, and her aqua eyes swimming with tears yet to fall.

  She looked ethereal. Like a faery princess from one of his childhood stories.

  He could only desperately hope that he played this the right way.

  Hope was all he had now. Hope and honesty.

  “Are you joking?” she finally blurted.

  He shook his head.

  “I hope that you know me well enough to know I would never be so cruel as to joke about that,” he said softly.

  “I thought I did know you,” she muttered in response and in a tone that broke his heart. “But it turns out, I don’t know you at all.”

  Christopher swallowed a sudden lump in his throat.

  “Why do you say that?” he asked carefully, keeping his tone even.

  She laughed at the question, a quick burst of air that sent a curl brushing against her cheek, and he itched to reach out and feel its silky smoothness with his fingers.

  But he didn’t, of course.

  “Because.” She threw her hands up in a helpless gesture. “Because you were right about me. I am naïve. I believed that we had something special. I believed you when you said that there were certain things keeping us apart. But –” she seemed to struggle to find words, and he had to force himself to stay still and hear her out. “But I never thought that you were just taking advantage. I never thought you would kiss Penelope the way you did me. And I know that was foolish since you were planning to marry her.”

  She shrugged and dropped her eyes to the ground.

  “Now you’re talking about marrying me, and I’m so confused. Confused and – and hurt.”

  Christopher couldn’t stand it anymore.

  He closed the distance between them and lifted her chin so he c
ould look into her eyes. So she could look into his and see the sincerity in them.

  “It hurts,” she sniffed, a fresh tear falling down her cheek.

  He caught it with his thumb and brushed it away.

  “It hurts because I let myself fall—”

  His heart hammered, but she stopped herself, biting her lip and shaking her head.

  “I don’t expect you to marry me,” she continued now. “I never expected that. But to tell Penelope what happened between us. And for you to think I would ever—”

  A blush stained her cheeks, reminding him just how innocent she was.

  “It’s like you don’t know me at all. And I don’t know you. And I don’t know what to say, or do or just—anything.”

  “I already told you what to do,” he said softly. “Marry me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Her headache wasn’t getting any better.

  And this bizarre, heart-wrenching exchange wasn’t helping it.

  Why was she letting him hold her like this?

  Why was he saying these things?

  It was time to put an end to this madness, whatever it was.

  “Penelope –” she began, but he immediately cut her off.

  “Lady Penelope is a lying, scheming little minx, who is no longer welcome in my palace,” he said firmly and with so much conviction that she found herself believing him.

  But that just made her feel even more confused.

  “I don’t understand,” she admitted helplessly.

  Christopher studied her intently for a moment before sighing and dropping his hand from her face.

  And it was silly, she knew, to want to pick it up and put it right back.

  But instead of walking away, he took her hand and pulled her gently toward the bench.

  Once they were seated, he turned to face her.

  “There are things I need to explain to you. Things about myself. Things I didn’t even realise until recently.”

  Lucy frowned in confusion.

  “But before I explain that, I think I should clear up just what happened with your cousin.”

  As he spoke, he became every inch the royal commander, and Lucy shivered in response. She knew his cold fury wasn’t directed at her, but it was still quite intimidating to witness.

  “Lady Penelope accosted me before the ball tonight,” he said darkly. “She was very – forward, let’s say. And she was immediately rebuffed. I have no interest in the lady,” he continued, his tone softening.

  He reached out a hand and captured a curl in his fingers, rubbing the strands before sighing and letting go. “I haven’t felt so much as a flicker of interest in another woman since I saw a certain red-headed thief stealing my mother’s roses.”

  Lucy’s cheeks heated as she remembered that day and how she’d unwittingly thrown said roses in his face.

  Never would she have guessed that the chance encounter would lead to this.

  “Unfortunately, the lady wasn’t happy with the rejection, and I suspected that she would set out to hurt you. Any assignations she might have alluded to are complete fabrications. I promise you.”

  Perhaps she was gullible, but she believed him. She saw the truth in his eyes and, she reasoned, being a Crown Prince meant he had no reason to lie. He wasn’t accountable to anyone for his actions, no matter what they may be.

  “I don’t know why she would lie about that,” Lucy said hesitantly.

  Christopher sighed in response.

  “Jealousy,” he suggested. “Ambition. Hurt pride. My guess is that it’s a combination of all three. I did tell you never to underestimate the appeal of a crown, sweetheart.”

  Lucy’s heart flipped as the endearment slipped so easily from his lips.

  “I don’t understand,” she admitted. “Why would anyone want a crown more than you? She all but gave me her blessing to – to – well, you know,” she stuttered, her cheeks now scalding. She was far too unsophisticated to speak so casually about such things. Especially with him.

  His grin was positively wolfish in the moonlight.

  “I could never act in such a fashion,” she finished self-consciously.

  “You mean you wouldn’t give your blessing to another woman to be my mistress?” he teased.

  “I’d sooner scratch her eyes out,” Lucy spat before she realised what she’d said.

  His laughter rang out in the still night.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he quipped. “Jealousy looks good on you.”

  “I’m not jealous,” she denied hotly. “I just – I’m just –”

  “Jealous?” he supplied helpfully.

  She’d never seen this playful, almost giddy side of him.

  And because she couldn’t really deny that it was jealousy, she chose to stay silent.

  “So, she made it up then?” Lucy pressed when he didn’t continue. “About your supposed offer?”

  When he didn’t immediately confirm that Penelope had lied, the pit of dread formed once again in Lucy’s stomach.

  Christopher sighed once more and reached out to clasp her hand.

  “Not exactly,” he admitted, and Lucy stiffened at the fresh sting of pain. “I wish I could deny it, but I don’t want to lie to you. It’s high time I was honest with you, as well as with myself.”

  “The truth is that I was talking to Alex and Jacob, desperately trying to deny what I already knew. Desperately trying to maintain my old ideas and plans for my life. I made a stupid, selfish remark. One that I knew was wrong. One that I immediately regretted.”

  “S-so you wanted me to be your mistress?” she asked, steeling herself for the answer.

  “I wanted you,” he answered simply. “I crave you. Every second I’m not with you I miss you. Every second I am with you it’s all I can do not to kiss you senseless. I was terrified of the feelings you awoke in me. Afraid of what you had come to mean to me. And in a last, desperate attempt to pretend that it was only physical, I made that stupid comment.”

  Lucy merely stared at him, searching for the truth in his eyes.

  “Your cousin was far more devious than I would have thought, and she bribed a footman to listen in to my conversation then used what she heard for her own selfish gains. Or at least tried to. When I sent her away, I knew she’d try to hurt you out of spite. And I’m more sorry than I can say that I inadvertently gave her the ammunition to do that.”

  “Lucy,” he squeezed the hand that he still held within his own, his thumb drawing circles on her wrist and driving her slowly mad. “I can’t ask for your forgiveness. To have even suggested such a thing when you deserve so much more was despicable. All I ask is that you believe me when I say I never would have used you so ill. I never would have treated you that way. You are far too precious to me.”

  Lucy couldn’t quite believe that he was sitting here saying these wonderful things.

  But she was starting to think that his marriage proposal might have been real.

  As fantastical as that seemed to be.

  “And that brings me to the other thing I need to explain,” he said, and her heart thumped painfully at the emotion she saw shining in his gaze.

  “All my life, I have put my duty to the Crown before anything else. As a boy, I sacrificed a childhood. As a man, I was more than willing to sacrifice love for the good of the Crown. An alliance, a marriage of convenience. That’s what I wanted. I thought that was because I was doing my duty, still. But then I met you, and I realised I was so willing to go without love in my life because I’d never experienced it before.”

  Lucy’s breath hitched but she didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. Just waited.

  “You came bursting into my life unlike anyone I’d ever met. You were unimpressed with my title. Uncaring about my wealth and my power. You were the first person who was ever truly honest with me. And the first person who ever saw beyond the crown, beyond the mask, to the man underneath.”

  Once again, tears sprung to her eyes but she bare
ly noticed. Her entire focus was on this man sitting in this secret garden.

  “At first, I thought it was just an attraction. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. But I suspected it went beyond that, and when we first kissed – I knew then, but I was too stubborn to admit it, even to myself.”

  “Admit what?” she asked breathlessly.

  His smile was glorious and chased away the last of her doubts.

  “That I had fallen in love with you. That for the first time, I experienced real, true, terrifying, wonderful love. It took me a while to accept it. And to accept that being with you is more important to me than anything else. Crown, country – none of it matters to me as much as you do.”

  “Christopher.” The tears were flowing freely now, but she didn’t care.

  Could it be true? Could this handsome prince really feel about her the way she did about him?

  What he was saying was wonderful, but she couldn’t allow him to continue. She loved him too much to allow him to sacrifice that which he’d lived his whole life for.

  “I don’t think that I’m cut out to be a queen,” she sniffed. “I’m opinionated and loud and late to everything,” she stressed. “I never seem to say or do the right thing. I – I’m not the right girl for you.”

  She looked down at their joined hands, wishing that things could be different but knowing that they could not.

  “Lucy,” his voice sounded softly by her ear, and she looked up once again.

  “You haven’t told me how you feel,” he said gently.

  She shook her head slightly.

  “How can you not know?” she asked. “I love you. I love you so much it terrifies me. But I’m not right for you,” she reiterated.

  “You love me?” he repeated. “Love me for me and not for my crown?”

  “I don’t love your crown at all,” she sniffed. “It’s nothing but an inconvenience.”

  He laughed again.

  “It has its benefits,” he assured her. “You’ll find that out.”

  “I will?” She gulped.

  “You love me,” he said. “Just me. The real me. That makes you exactly right for me. I can only be a good king if I have someone by my side who will love me every day, through everything. Who I will love every day, through everything. And that can’t be anyone but you, because I will never love anyone but you.”