A Royal Wedding(121)

He thought about it for a moment.

“I guess I was. At one point, a long time ago, I was supposed to marry an Italian princess from an old royal family.”

She looked at him earnestly. “But you didn’t?”

“No. She died.”

She nodded. “Giselle told me about it.” She looked up at him. “She also said that they would have made the betrothal between you and me instead of Alphonso if it hadn’t been for your engagement to the Italian princess.”

He frowned. “She shouldn’t have said that. I’m not sure it’s true.”

She stared at him. He was so darn obstinate. “So what exactly happened to the Italian princess?”

“I only met her once, fleetingly.” He frowned again, remembering things best forgotten, things he hadn’t thought of for years. “She seemed very frightened,” he said softly. “I always wondered …”

There was a shiver in the air between them.

“How did she die?” Julienne asked, tensing for the answer.

He looked at her, hollow-eyed. “She drowned. In the estate swimming pool. She went swimming alone late at night.”

He stared into Julienne’s eyes and knew they were both thinking the same thing. Did she drown on purpose? Did she love someone else? Did she hate the idea of marrying Andre so much that she would rather die than submit?

“We’ll never know,” he said, so softly she blinked, wondering if he’d really said it aloud or if they had both thought it. It made her catch her breath, the way they seemed to be able to invade each other’s thoughts at times. Like some kind of magic. Could he really read her mind? Could he see how she really felt about him? And could he stand it?

“Will you ever marry?” she asked him.

He shook his head emphatically. “No.”

His easy acceptance of that outraged her. “Why not?”

He looked at her, his eyes haunted. “The only thing that would make me marry would be if I needed to do it for the good of my country.”

She winced. “Like I’m expected to do, you mean?”

“Yes. Like you.”

She shook her head, laughing softly. “So you’re willing to throw yourself on that grenade if it gets tossed your way? But you won’t go looking for it on your own?”

He shrugged. “Something like that.”

They were silent for a long moment, listening to the splash of the water lapping against the sides of the boat, and then she said, “I think you should marry. And right away, too.”

He looked up at her, bemused. “Really?”

“Yes. I think you should marry for love.”

He stared at her, his blue eyes hooded. “What if I don’t ever love anyone?”

Did he really think she was going to buy that at this point?

“Well, that’s your misfortune,” she snapped. “Try loving someone, why don’t you?”

He shook his head, half smiling at her response. “What do you know about love? You don’t love anyone. Or do you?”

She threw out her hands, palms up. “Only you, my liege.”

Closing his eyes, he threw back his head and sighed deeply. “I never know for sure when you’re being serious,” he said softly. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m being as honest as I know how,” she countered quickly, wishing she dared reach for him. “Ever since my parents died you have been the one person in the world whom I adored. I clung to you, needed you … loved you.”

He looked at her as though that wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear. “That’s a different kind of love,” he said gruffly, looking away.

“Is it? I don’t know. You were the center of my universe.” She watched him avoid her gaze, and then went on. “And then you stopped coming to see me. You stopped answering my letters. And it was as if everything in my world died.”

“Julienne!”

He stared at her, transfixed. What could he say? It was for her own good that he’d done that. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. In fact he’d only meant to save her from what might happen if he saw her too much. He should have been more open about his motives. He should have explained why they were necessary. She was so young—how was she to know the dangers that could lurk in the male heart?

But he should have been more careful. He should have made sure she had someone to turn to. Looking at her now, he ached with regret.