Some Like it Secret (Going Royal Book 4) (15 page)

“You paint…” she whispered, a note of awe in her voice. She walked over to one of the landscapes, a piece of a small farmhouse in Burgundy. He hadn’t yet managed to capture the boy on the footpath correctly, and the light bothered him. “Oh my God, Sebastian. They’re beautiful!”

An artist.
Sebastian was an artist. It was like the interlocking, yet oh so vital, centerpiece she’d been missing of a puzzle. He painted everything—landscapes, people, and scenes from mythology. The emotional depth of the works took her breath away. He stood patiently while she walked from stack to stack and began to page through the canvases. The only tense moment came when she walked toward the corner. His shoulders stiffened and the look of the prince arrested his features, wiping away his expression.

“Did you not want me to look at those?” If it bothered him, she would stop. That he’d shown her at all, it was a gift.

“It’s—” He hesitated and touched a hand to her shoulder as he moved past her to the corner she’d been intent on exploring. “I want you to see, yet I’m nervous at the same time.”

Because he’d bared his soul to her? Who wouldn’t be? She kept the thought to herself, so full of wonder at how he’d kept so much talent locked away from everyone. “I can wait until you’re ready.”

He paused and glanced over his shoulder, a questioning look in his eyes. “I don’t want to keep anymore secrets between us.”

“Nor do I, but this…?” She twirled her finger in a circle and let her gaze drift over the beauty he’d created. “This isn’t a secret, Sebastian. This is your soul and you have a right to share only when you’re ready. Thank you for showing it to me now.” She pivoted slowly and mirrored her finger’s gesture, until she’d turned all the way around and faced him again. “This explains so much about you. All the places we’ve gone, why you
see
so much more in those places and people...”

He dropped his chin and the stray lock of hair fell over his forehead. A small smile, one of near boyish pleasure, turned up the corners of his mouth. “You truly like them?”

“I love them. I can’t imagine how you’ve kept it from everyone. If I could do this, I’d want the whole world to see.” Then again…she looked from the art to Bastian. “But maybe that is why you don’t. Because if they saw it…”

He inclined his head and his smile inched toward sad. “Yes, they would see
me
. This is my passion, what I love to do, and perhaps even whom I could have been if things turned out differently. But it is not who the second Andraste son must be, so I paint. I enjoy it, and now I can enjoy you seeing it.” He shifted aside some canvases to reveal a large one nearly six feet in height before pulling away the cover.

“Oh.” She felt her eyes go round. It was her, all of her, sprawled against the sheets with her hair splayed on the pillows. Her body flushed pink on the canvas and he’d included such detail, even depicting perspiration slipping down her chest. Meredith’s face went hot and she covered her mouth, then gaped at the painting again.

“I painted you from memory.” There was just enough of an arch tease in his voice to ease her embarrassment. “It is absolutely one of my favorites. I love how you look after an orgasm, so relaxed and complete.”

He sounded so damned smug, she started to giggle. “I think I’m rather glad you don’t share this talent with anyone.”

“This painting is not for anyone’s eyes but mine and now yours, hence the cover.”

Meredith couldn’t stop staring at it. It was pure eroticism, and it made her look so beautiful. “I am not anywhere near as pretty as that.”

“No, you are much more beautiful. I need to practice some more to truly capture you.” The sincerity in his eyes silenced her argument.

“How did you keep this a secret from your whole family? Surely someone knew.” How could they not? Vidal most certainly knew, but he was a vault. He shared nothing about Sebastian with anyone. The trust Sebastian needed to place in his bodyguard meant the man also kept his secrets. He’d told her the same of Terry and any other bodyguard assigned to her. They were hers to trust and they would never report on her.

“Armand had his own interests, and George?” Sebastian shrugged. “I never know what interests George from moment to moment. Mother knew, and I think she suspects I never gave it up. She encouraged me when I was younger, took me to cities with significant art history, hired tutors who could help me grow and, when I went on my backpacking tour? Well, it wasn’t so much a tour of cities as it was me looking for things to paint.”

Captivated, she sat down slowly on the only piece of furniture in the room, a long sofa. A throw blanket decorated the back.
Did he fall asleep on it after painting all night?
“Painting is why you love this yacht so much.” Oh, Sebastian owned homes around the world, but the yacht was always been his favorite. Many in the press attributed the preference to his partying reputation.

He gave her a sideways grin. “Guilty.”

“If I’d been your mother, I would never have let you stop this.” Surely the woman knew. Sebastian never sounded like she’d been distant with him or left him to be raised by the staff.

Settling next to her, he stretched out his legs. “I don’t think she wanted me to give it up, but like Armand and me, circumstances dictated she support my pursuit of a business degree. Mother would never forbid us pursuing our passions, but she raised us to support our family first.” Trailing his fingers along her thigh, he shifted sideways to stare at her. “Will you pose for me?”

“Um, all I have to do is sit still, right?” He’d seen her in every stage of undress, helped her get there more than once. She had no reason to feel shy yet—staring at his work, having the very real evidence of what he saw when he worked—she recognized posing for him would leave her in an oddly vulnerable position.

“Yes, but you don’t have to be nude for it. I vote for nude, but we’ll only do what you’re comfortable with.”

“Okay, but not right now.” She wagged a finger at him as he sat forward. “I actually want to ask you a question about your mother.”

“All right.” He canted his head and gave her a searching look. “She knows about you.”

The simple revelation floored her. “Really?”

He nodded slowly. “I don’t know if you remember, but when I took you to the opera in New York, she was there. She just happened to be in the city. I’m fairly certain she paid off my pilot to let her know the next time I flew you out to meet me.” His mouth twisted with a hint of sardonic amusement. “So, once she was there, the first thing she asked was to meet you.”

“But you didn’t introduce us.” The sting of his choice still hurt.

“No, because I didn’t want to scare you off.” Sebastian slid his hand around her nape and nudged her to face him. “My mother is a princess in every sense of the word. She was born to gentility, and it’s ingrained into her bones. Even so, she has absolutely no problems with bending all of her sons to her will. She wanted to meet you because she wanted a chance to interrogate you.”

Okay, maybe not meeting her then wasn’t such a bad thing. She swallowed. “What did you say to her?”

“I told her you were the love of my life and I wouldn’t allow anyone to drive you away. I wanted to introduce you both when you were ready, not a moment before, and, if she loved me, she would give me my wish.” It changed everything, the insight he was granting her. “She glanced past me, said you were coming, then kissed my cheek and whispered…” It was his turn to laugh. “She whispered ‘she’s very beautiful, and your words make her much more so to me. Do not take too much time. I’m not getting any younger and I’d like some grandchildren to spoil.’”

Meredith’s heart lodged somewhere in her throat, and she couldn’t quite swallow the squeak that escaped.

He kissed her and leaned back with a chuckle. “She will love you, Meredith.”

“Bastian, I don’t know anything about being royal.” He’d been so open with her, he deserved the same treatment in return. “I’ll be honest, it’s a lot to even consider. Each and every time I thought about wanting to be with you, I couldn’t figure out how I could be a princess.”

“You merely have to be yourself and everyone else will adapt for you.”

No way could it be so simple
. “Really? And the rules? The bowing? The address of others? I mean do I call your brother Armand, or do I call him Your Highness? And how do other people address me? It’s—there are rules.”

Sebastian dragged her over onto his lap. She straddled his thighs and rested her forehead to his.

“Meredith,” he told her. “It is a life lived in layers. Those of us at the center, we know our circle is closed and very small. The further out you go, the more restrained you become. It is no different than you are with your students—gracious, always kind yet firm.”

She’d have to give up her tenured position. Leaving school wouldn’t be so bad. She’d wanted to prove she could do it, and she’d succeeded. But, her doctoral candidates still needed her.

“We don’t have to make any decisions right now.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and nibbled a kiss to her lower lip. “Not about titles or children—and most certainly not about my mother. I want to focus on you and me for the time being and I am admittedly quite selfish. I want all your attention.”

Looping her arms around his neck, she smiled. “We can’t put it off forever.”

“We’re not,” he reminded her with another brush of his mouth to hers. “We’re learning about each other the way we should have all these years. I want you to know everything, and I want to know everything about you.”

“Except for the ketchup because you really hated the ketchup.” Amusement bubbled beneath the nerves in her stomach. Her whole life would change. She’d never thought past the immediacy of them until he mentioned his mother’s desire for grandchildren. Her children would grow up in the legacy of his family—and maybe people would want to kill them, too. The troubling thought lingered, but then Sebastian kissed her. The long, slow, wet kiss short-circuited the dark cloud gathering in her mind.

“I dislike the ketchup, but I love how it makes you smile,” he told her. “Can you forgive me?”

Tumbling with him onto the sofa, she let out a gasping laugh. “Well, we can’t all be perfect…” And then she wasn’t thinking about ketchup or paintings or much of anything. Just Bastian.

The clock on their escape wound perilously tighter with every precious hour he lost to lengthy conference calls with Armand. The escalation of the attack coupled with the rumors of Alyx’ pregnancy weren’t coincidence, nor was the rampant speculation in the press. The morning’s news clippings suggested he was utterly off the market and the stories danced right along the line of the truth—too close to the line.

They had a leak.

So far Meredith’s name wasn’t involved, but Kate was on her way to Italy to meet them. She would take Meredith back via a private jet registered to Daniel Voldakov rather than the Andraste family. Claude Gencome would travel with Meredith and a full detail was on the ground in Boston. Her home was secured and they were already running the faces on her campus through a contact at the FBI to make sure no surprises awaited her.

“I know you want to announce it,” Armand said calmly.

“It will merely paint a target on her. We’ve waited this long, we can wait a few more months.” A piece of his soul died. He didn’t look forward to the lengthy separation they’d need to make sure the news didn’t break until they were ready. He and Meredith were in a much better place, and yet it felt too fragile.

“You’ve said she’s a reasonable woman. Surely, if you explain why, she will understand.”

Perhaps, in another lifetime, yes. He could only hope they’d made enough progress, she’d forgive him. “I will handle it, Armand.” It was what he did. “Have you told Alyx whether or not the baby will have a title?” It was after all, at his brother’s discretion as it had been at their father’s when his sister married a military man—their daughters were all princesses.

“Not yet. They’ve only just reached the end of the first trimester and Anna told me you don’t discuss such things until well after.” His brother’s voice softened at the mention of his wife. “She also told me not to get any ideas yet.”

Sebastian laughed. “You want children.” It wasn’t even a question.

“I do, but I am a selfish man and Anna will be a devoted mother. I worry about being jealous of my own children.”

It was a sentiment Sebastian could sympathize with. “You mean like Father.” Though he’d been a good man, he’d possessed a few flaws, one of which included the need to have their mother’s full attention.

“I don’t think he meant to be.” Armand didn’t dispute the charge. “I never quite understood the position he was in until recently.” The sigh he released echoed across the secure connection. “Sometimes I wonder how different our lives would have been, had he not died.”

Sebastian wondered the same thing every damned day. “We can’t change the past.”

“No. We can’t.”

The echo of a half-forgotten conversation in the weeks following their father’s death drifted into his recollection. “Do you resent not understanding before you inherited what a burden it would be?”

“I did once, but I don’t think anyone—not even Father—could have explained to me what to expect. The responsibility. The need to not fail and the desire—every once in a while—to merely have a
normal
life. But you and I, we know very little about normal.” The maudlin conversation must have weighed on his brother because he changed the subject. “I want to meet your Meredith, and I don’t want to wait several months to do it. You will bring her to Los Angeles or make arrangements to send her here. We can use Daniel and his company as cover, since they have every reason in the world to talk. It won’t make a ripple in the press.”