Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance)(26)

"Then what is true, Princess?"

I swallow, hard. "I have to marry someone else."

"Who?"

I think of Mortimer and my stomach sours.

He blinks. "What, like… arranged?"

The way he says it makes its sounds so barbaric and primitive.

"Yes," I say in a very tiny voice. "Don't you know who I am?"

He looks at me warmly and rests his hand on my shoulder. It curves along to rest on my neck, and his other hand grips mine, lightly squeezing my fingers.

"The prettiest girl in the world."

"I'm a princess. Someday I'm going to be queen. I'm the heir."

"So?"

"So there are laws…."

"I get it," he says, coldly. "Some shitkicker isn't good enough to be king."

I swallow, hard. I feel sick, like I ate something rotten.

"No, please listen. You are not a… shitkicker," I don't know what that word means. "You are a very fine man but…."

"But what? I'm not talking about marriage anyway. I'd rather go on a real date before I propose to you."

"I'd like that, but you have to understand that I can't."

He seizes me by the shoulders.

"Look at me. Look at me. Now."

I swallow to try and wet my dry throat, but I can't. I look him in the eye.

"Don't take your eyes off me. Look me right in the eye and tell me straight up. Tell me if you want me to leave you alone. I will. I'll never bother you again."

My mouth works. I want to tell him, I need to tell him. If he chases me it will only break him. He can't catch me.

I can't. The words won't come out. They stick in my throat and die there, and other words scream at me to be said.

"If you want to be with me and some goddamn rule is the only thing stopping it, then I'm not going to give up. I want you."

"Me?" I squeak.

"You. Not the princess. You. Anastasia."

I shake loose of his hands. "You don't know me."

"I want to. Don't you want to know me?"

I look at him. Study him. He's the most handsome man I've ever seen, and so strong, such power in his arms and hands and yet so gentle. I liked it when I lay on his shoulder and he told me stories. I'd like to know more. I've never felt what I feel now about anyone.

My eyes burn.

"I can't. I have to go."

"Ana."

I gather my things quickly, without thinking, making a mess of my carefully organized bag.

"Ana!"

I throw the door open and hurry out. Thorlief and Bjorn let me get halfway to the elevator before they notice and run to catch up with me.

"Your Grace?" Bjorn asks.

"I do not wish to speak."

He goes silent. Bjorn never says anything anyway. The two of them flank me in the elevator, and I feel their presence like stones about to crash down on my head. I need air. I almost run outside, and drink the cool night in deep gasps, shaking.

I shoulder my bag, and I run. Hard. I make it back to the house in under seven minutes of nonstop, all-out running, slowing only when I reach the front steps. I twist the key in the lock and run upstairs. I neither know nor care if the guards kept up with me. I don't stop until I'm curled on my bed.

A solid five minutes later, there is a knock on the door.

"Princess?" Thorlief asks.

"Go away."

He swings the door open and steps inside anyway. I sit up as he closes it behind him, walks over, and sits on my bed.

Through tear-blurred vision, I look at my longest-serving bodyguard. He's followed me everywhere since I was five. I'm so used to him, I barely notice him. When Mother took him into our service, he was already a grizzled veteran of wars. Now he is older. There is more silver in his hair than blond, and even more in his beard. His stomach has softened, but his massive shoulders have grown no narrower.

"Princess, what hurts you so? Was it the boy? Tell me."

I ignore his impertinence. I try to answer but can only snuff and sniff.

"Tell me when you are ready."

I snatch a tissue from the box by the bed and tear it into shreds blowing my nose and swiping at my eyes. My whole body quivers with effort. I will myself not to weep but tears leak out anyway, burning hot as they slide down my cheeks and itch along my chin.

"He didn't hurt me. That's the problem, Thorlief."

"You have feelings for him."

"I don't know," I whimper. "I want to try. I want…."

I don't know what I want. I can't finish that sentence.

"Princess. I would only wish to see you spared this pain. You should let him go."

I sniff into the tissue. "I can't. I can't stop thinking about him."

"Your mother will never allow it."

I nod and dry my tears on another tissue. "You are right."

"Your mother, also, is not here."

I look up.

"The boy reminds me of myself at that age. That is why I want him to stay away from you."

I smile, but sadly.

"It would only hurt," I sigh. "What if I fell in love with him, but I can never keep him?"