A Royal Wedding(98)

He watched the expressions change on her face and felt as though he could read every thought that was coursing through her mind. He had to turn away to hide his grin. Despite being fundamentally annoyed that she’d popped up into his world like this without warning, he couldn’t help but be charmed by her—as he always was.

What the heck—he supposed he could give her some vodka in her lemonade to make her feel as though she were doing something slightly sophisticated.

“Here you go,” he said, handing her a tall frosted glass. “I added a little something, but just barely enough for you to feel it. We can’t have you going back to the convent tipsy.”

She smiled at him, delighted, but at the same time vowing that the convent was the last place for her tonight.

He dropped smoothly onto the arm of the couch and looked down at her. He knew he should call Mother Superior to let her know Julienne was with him, but he didn’t want to. Surely they would try to contact him when they realized she was gone. And then he would have to make plans as to when he would take her back. Much as he wanted her back where she belonged, he began to realize that she wouldn’t have come if there wasn’t a serious problem. The goal was to get her to the church on time, with as little hassle as possible.

Still, he would have to take it easy and figure out the best way to accomplish that. Barking orders wouldn’t get her to do what he wanted. Cooperation was his goal. In order to achieve that he had to find out what had motivated her into coming to find him this way.

He grimaced. Being sensitive to the needs of others wasn’t usually uppermost in his mind. He was used to being catered to. Time for him to learn to stretch himself a little.

“Okay, Julienne,” he began slowly, feeling his way. “Explain to me just exactly what you’re doing here.”

His voice was low, but with enough command to let her know he expected a complete and coherent answer.

She took a sip, nodded approvingly, and smiled up at him again, waving one hand with a flourish.

“This is merely a courtesy call,” she told him cheekily. “I thought, as my guardian, you might like to know what I plan to do with my life.”

He frowned, wary, but still in control of his reactions. “As your guardian, I already know what you’re going to do with your life. In fact, I planned it myself. No need for you to bother.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’ve gone wrong.” She took another sip, just for bravery, and set the drink down on the glass coffee table. “You see, I’m no longer a minor, no longer in a position to be your ward.” She took a deep breath and faced him squarely, her gaze simple and direct. “In fact, I quit. I’m old enough to be on my own. And that is what I choose to do.”

He looked pained. “Julienne, you know very well your life was mapped out seven years ago as part of the Treaty of Salvais.”

She glanced down at the drink, began to reach for it, then drew her hand back and nodded quickly. “I know. I know. But, you see, that was done without my consent, and—”

“Your consent!” He shook his head, losing control of his patience a bit. “Julienne, your wedding is in less than a week. You can’t back out now. The invitations are out. The gifts are streaming in. It’s too late to stop the momentum. It’s going to happen, whether you like it or not.”

She didn’t look convinced. In fact, she looked downright resentful.

“And are you planning to show up this time?” she asked, challenging him with her dark, honest gaze. “Or do you have your usual ‘business to attend to’ instead?”

His head went back in reaction. She’d pushed exactly the button that was guaranteed to open the floodgates to the guilt he felt about his guardianship. Over the last few years he’d avoided seeing her, missing every Christmas, every birthday. He knew his actions had hurt her. But it couldn’t be helped. As her guardian, he had to protect her from predatory men. What he’d never expected when he took on that role was that he would be his own prime target.

“Julienne, all this is beside the point. You are required by treaty to marry Prince Alphonso next week, and marry him you will.”

She shook her head, lower lip thrust out rebelliously. “I never signed any treaty,” she insisted. “I never gave consent.”

He jerked to his feet and began to pace the floor, holding back his quick surge of exasperation. Was he going to be forced to go over the whole history with her once again? No, she was just being stubborn. She knew all about the fighting between the three royal houses that had ripped their country apart for generations.