Authors: Julianne MacLean
“I am fine,” Randolph assured her as he moved to the bed, unbuckled his belt and scabbard, set the sword on the table, and climbed onto the mattress.
After reclining on his back with his head on the pillows, his booted feet crossed at the ankles, he waved her over. “Come here, Wife.”
Bewildered and still fearful of what was yet to come, she moved around the bed and supported her belly as she climbed up next to him.
“This is not what I was expecting from you,” she said.
He regarded her curiously. “What
were
you expecting?”
Shrugging, she lay down on her side. “I’m not sure. Perhaps to be dragged down to the wine cellar again. To be interrogated like Mr. Carmichael was.”
“I do not need to interrogate you,” her husband softly replied as he rolled to face her. “I have already interrogated enough people, and I suspect that Lord Cavanaugh’s third visit to the palace was to meet the foolish and rebellious young kitchen maid who kept the arsenic under the plank floor beneath her bed. She has now disappeared.”
Alexandra sat up. “So it
was
him after all.”
“Yes, it is highly likely. One of the other servants has already admitted to seeing the same kitchen maid flirting with a concealed gentleman in the shadows—on the same night Leo paid his third visit. Nicholas has swallowed his pride and admitted that you may not have been plotting against me after all.”
She was, of course, relieved. Thank God for Nicholas, but her tenacious pride bucked like a stallion. “But of course I was not plotting! How could you even think it? Not ever! Except in the beginning, when I wanted to marry you.”
He, too, sat up. “To marry
me,
or the future king?”
“You
were
the future king.”
“But you didn’t know that at the time.”
She squinted at him. “Fine then. I wanted to marry
you,
king or pauper, and do not ever ask me that question again, Randolph, or I will begin to suspect you do not trust me!”
He stared at her in utter disbelief, then laughed out loud and regained whatever strength he had lost and pressed his mouth to hers in a fierce kiss of unparalleled passion.
Overwhelmed by his roving hands, so strong and sure across her trembling body, she suddenly found herself flipped over onto her back and gazing up at him in the late-morning light.
“I thought you might hate me forever,” she said, clinging tightly to him, reveling in the possibility that her future was not doomed after all and all would be well. “When you accused me of colluding with the marquess … how could you ever imagine that I was not yours wholeheartedly and devotedly?”
He shook his head, as if he could not possibly explain.
“Have you not felt the love I bear for you?” She continued. “Do you not understand why I was so hurt and angered by the suggestion that you had taken up with your former fiancée? I have nearly gone mad with my love for you, Randolph. I was jealous and irrational, and I could shake you insensible for making me feel that way!”
He kissed her again with ferocious desire while his hand stroked over her belly. “I’ve always felt it,” he told her, “never so much as when we made love … but other times, too. I knew it just now when I looked up and saw you in the window.”
“How so?”
“I felt you were watching over me, with more love than I ever imagined I would receive in a lifetime. The first moment I saw you on the terrace at Carlton House, something blew into my brain. It was as if I already knew you were destined to be my wife and queen. I could feel it then, as I feel it now. I am sorry for all that has gone between us. I never meant to hurt you, Alex, but I’ve been betrayed so many times. You deserved so much better.”
Her heart warmed at his words. “Yes, you have been betrayed, but not by me. Never by me. Tell me you love me,” she said with a smile, “and I will be able to forgive anything. That is all I want from you, till death do us part.”
A great wave of emotion flowed through her, and her eyes filled with sparkling tears.
“I love you,”
he said. “And there is no one in the world I trust more than you. I am so sorry for everything.”
He thrust his hips and held her close in a passionate display of devotion, and she clutched at him desperately, never wanting to let go.
Was this real? At last, did he truly understand how much she loved him?
“You have been a most faithful and loving queen, Alexandra, and I am the most fortunate man on earth.” His smile touched her lips as he slid his hand up the curve of her leg. “Let me prove that I am not only your king but your husband and lover until the day I draw my last breath.” His hand found the tingling center of her desire, and he stroked her with great care and deliberation.
“Now I believe I am the most fortunate woman on earth,” she whispered on a breathless sigh of delight.
“Then we shall be fortunate together, for I believe we are truly blessed.”
With a devilish grin, he tugged up her skirts. She parted her legs, impatient for the fulfillment he offered. He entered her with elegant grace, and their hearts beat together as their futures entwined, and at last their destiny was sealed.
Read on for an excerpt from Julianne MacLean’s next book
PRINCESS IN LOVE
Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
Briggin’s Prison, Petersbourg, January 1815
She always knew life did not follow a straight or predictable path—it was riddled with unexpected twists, turns, and steep inclines—but never had Rose Sebastian understood that fact as well as she did on the day her world turned upside down and her heart was smashed to pieces.
As the uniformed guard led her down a steep set of spiraling stone steps that seemed to go on forever into a hellishly dark dungeon in the very guts of the earth, Rose wondered if she would ever look back on these events and understand why it all happened the way it did. Would she ever let go of the regret? Would she ever be grateful for the cruel lessons she had been forced to learn?
The guard continued down a long stone corridor with torches blazing in wall sconces. The hay-strewn floor was wet beneath her feet. She had never ventured this deeply into Briggin’s Prison before. How medieval it seemed. The air was cold and damp and made her body shiver.
At last they reached the cell at the end of the corridor, and the guard lifted the bar on the heavy oaken door. It creaked open on rusty iron hinges.
“He’s in here, madam. Shall I accompany you, or do you wish me to wait outside?”
Rose hesitated. Of course the guard must wait outside, for there were intimate matters to discuss with the prisoner.
The prisoner.
Dear God, what if she lost her temper and struck him? Or worse, what if she took one look at him and the desire still burned, despite everything he had done?
“Wait outside, please,” she firmly replied, moving toward the threshold. “Shut the door behind me and bar it. I will knock twice to signal when I am through with him.”
She handed the guard a ten-pound note—a small price to pay for his silence—then took a deep breath and steeled her nerves as she entered the prison cell.
The door slammed shut behind her, and she jumped at the sound of it—like a judge’s gavel—while her gaze fell upon the man she had come here to confront.
He was already standing in the center of the cell, as if he had known it was she outside the door. She, who had once adored him. Trusted him. Desired him.
He wore the same fashionable clothing from a few short hours ago when he was arrested in the palace courtyard and dragged away for high treason and attempted murder.
For he had tried to kill her beloved brother, the king.
Her heart squeezed like a wrathful fist in her chest, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe.
They stared at each other. His eyes darkened with fury.
Fury?
Was that what she saw?
If so, how dare he? How dare he?
“You seem surprised to see me,” Rose said, lifting her chin and resisting any urge to rush forward into Leopold’s arms and beg to hear that he was safe and unharmed, for his welfare did not matter. She should not care about that. He deserved to rot down here with the rest of the rats, and she hoped he would.
“Yes,” he replied. “And no, because all I’ve done since they dragged me here was pray that you would come to me. I could think of nothing else.”
Rose scoffed. “There it is again. The flattery and seduction. Did you imagine I would learn of your peril and try to rescue you? Did you think I would drop to my brother’s feet and beg him to set you free, because I had fallen in love with you? Even after what you did to my family and how you used me?”
He stepped forward, but she held up a hand. “Stay where you are, sir. I know everything. My brother told me of your plot to replace him on the throne. I know how you came to the palace to win Alexandra’s affections. I know that your father has been planning your marriage to her since the day you were born so that you would one day rule this country at her side. You have been deceiving us all, and for that reason I came here to tell you that anything I felt for you in the past is obliterated. Nothing I said remains true any longer for I was misled, and I certainly have no intention of helping you escape your sentence, whatever it may be.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re lying. If you felt nothing for me, why did you come here? If I did not matter to you, you would simply watch my head roll.”
Her ire erupted again, for he was not wrong. She was not indifferent, but damn him for recognizing it. Damn him for pointing it out.
The chill of the prison cell seeped into her bones, and she rubbed at her arms. “I will never forgive you,” she said.
He stared at her. “Yes, you will, Rose, because you know I am innocent.”
She felt nauseated suddenly. A part of her wanted to weep at the loss of him. Another part of her wanted to strike him and shake him senseless until he confessed that he had treated her wrongly and that he was sorry. That he regretted all the lies and betrayals and this was all just a bad dream.
“I know no such thing,” she replied nevertheless. “My brother was poisoned with arsenic just like my father, who is now dead. You of all people know how much I loved my father. Yet you, as a devout Royalist, were behind the plot to kill him.”
He made a fist at his side. “No, I knew nothing of that, just as I knew nothing of the attempt on Randolph’s life. I love you, Rose. You know that. You know I would never do anything to hurt you.”
He tried to move closer again, and what was left of her heart split in two. He was still the most beautiful man she had ever known, and despite all her cool, contemptuous bravado, she could never forget the passion they shared, how his touch had ignited her whole world into a boundless realm of desire.
But she must push those memories aside, for she was devastated by his betrayal and by the total annihilation of her first love.
How could she have been so foolish? How could she not have seen the truth? How would she ever recover from this?
“Please,” he said, spreading his arms wide in open surrender. “Tell Randolph I had nothing to do with the arsenic. I confess I was raised as a Royalist, and yes … my father wanted to remove your family from the throne and for me to marry Alexandra. But since the day you and I met on that muddy road in England, Rose, I have cared less and less for politics and thrones. I fell in love with you. You know it in your heart.” He inhaled deeply. “Speak to Randolph on my behalf. Tell him I am sincere. I knew nothing of the attempt on his life or your father’s murder. Treason, yes … I suppose I am guilty of that. I was part of the plot to take back the throne, at least in the beginning, but I am no killer.”
Her heart was beating so fast she feared she might faint, but it was not like before, when her heart raced simply because Leopold Hunt, the Marquess of Cavanaugh, entered a room. This was different. Everything had changed. She was not the same naïve girl she was six months ago and her infatuation was now shattered. She was jaded now and feared nothing would ever be the same again. The sky would never be quite so blue. The flowers would not smell so sweet.
“It will fall on the court to determine whether or not you are a killer,” she told him. “I cannot help you in that regard, for clearly I am incapable of sensible judgments where you are concerned.”
“That is not true.”
A part of her wanted to believe him, but she clung to the dark shadow of contempt that had taken over her soul.
“Yes, it is,” she replied, “for you were the worst mistake of my life.”
All the color drained from his face—as if she had thrust a large knife into his belly.
“I pray you will not feel that way forever,” he said.
She laughed bitterly. “Why? So that there might be a chance for us? Or perhaps you hope my feelings might change in time to reduce your sentence.”
“It has nothing to do with that.”
For a flashing instant, her thoughts flew back to that muddy road in England when the world was a different place and she still believed in heroes and fairy tales …
Immediately, Rose pounded the life out of that memory and pushed it into a very deep grave.
“If I must repeat myself, I will,” she replied. “I don’t believe you, Leopold. You have hurt me terribly. I want nothing more to do with you. I want to forget what happened between us and move on with my life. I wish you luck in the trial, but I will not be here to witness it, for I will be leaving Petersbourg as soon as possible. I intend to marry the Archduke of Austria as planned.”
“Rose, wait…”
Again, he took a step closer, but she swung around, fearful that he might touch her, hold her, weaken her resolve. She rushed to the door and rapped hard against it with a tight fist. “Guard!”
The bar lifted and the door quickly opened. Rose rushed out.
“Is everything all right, madam?” the guard asked, looking more than a little concerned.
“I am fine,” she lied.
While she struggled to resist the treacherous urge to change her mind and return to Leopold’s side, the door slammed shut behind her.