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Whatever he was about to say got lost as Blair barged into the room, spearing Nic with a murderous glance. “What are you still doing here? Haven’t you done enough damage as it is?”
“Blair, it’s alright,” Lexie intervened, sounding so dejected. Nic was tempted to take her in his arms.
“The Duke has arrived and is waiting downstairs to take you to the airport.” As Lexie made no move, she added urgently. “He wants to leave as soon as possible.”
“Please tell Julian I’ll be down in a minute,” Lexie said. Blair was reluctant to leave her. With a curt nod and another vicious glare at Nic, she left the room.
So his brother had called the cavalry. Nic watched her stand up and gather a leather tote bag from the nightstand. Rising slowly, he observed her imperceptibly straightening her spine as if steeling herself.
“I’m not pregnant,” she said stiffly, not meeting his eyes. “Goodbye, Nic.” Before he could recover from her stark announcement and the inexplicable sense of loss that blindsided him, she was gone.
Nic ran after her, catching her by the elbow a few feet from the last step of the staircase. He tugged at her to make her face him directly, his desperation making him more forceful as he saw her wince again. He gentled his grip but she shrank away from him. The gesture was like a stab to his black heart. He couldn’t let her walk away still believing he had betrayed her.
“Rojita,” he implored. “You have got to believe me. I never meant to hurt you.” He sounded like a broken record, but if that was the only way to get through to her, then he would say them as many times as needed.
“You were right all along, Nic,” she whispered, and tears were rolling down her cheeks. “You said it would not end well. I just refused to listen. I can’t be with someone who won’t fight for me, fight for the things that matter.”
“No llores,” he hushed her, cupping her face with his trembling hands. “Sshh. Don’t cry. No aguanto verti asi…triste, llorando.” He leaned down and rained kisses on her tears as if he could magically wipe them away. “Te quiero mucho, rojita. Te quiero. ”
A deep, cultured baritone intruded from the doorway. “It’s time we left, Lexie.”
Nic saw Walkden looming by the entrance, Blair off to his side. The Duke dealt him a cold, level stare, looking as if he wanted to flatten him and was only reining in his impulses because of the presence of the women in the room. It killed him to have to hand over Lexie to the arrogant aristocrat, but he had no choice. Walkden would keep her safe. He had matters to deal with first. He pulled her resistant body close one last time, pressing her against his chest as he dropped a kiss on top of her head.
“Esperame Lexie,” he said as he reluctantly let her go. “This is not goodbye.”
Lexie walked into the arms of the Duke without looking back.
Chapter Ten
It was goodbye. It had to be. Even faced with his betrayal, her stupid heart wanted badly to believe in his innocence. She had been his that night in Las Vegas. Could he have known already even then who she was? But his surprised reaction at the Gallagher Cup had appeared genuine. At the back of her mind was the niggling puzzle that when Nic found out she was a princess, he had wanted nothing to do with her until Stefan had bribed him with the horse. He had rejected her pathetic declaration of love repeatedly, but why had he suddenly changed his tune, spouting his innocence and newfound love for her this morning? Maybe he was afraid of the backlash from her family in his involvement with the photos?
Lexie wiped the tears off her face with the back of her hand as they pulled out of the driveway. Thinking about Nic was giving her a headache. And that was the problem. Rather than worrying about the bigger ramifications of those photos to her reputation and Stefan’s reaction, she was trying to convince herself he was not guilty. And he did say he was going to make it right, a little voice reminded her. And that he loved her. Rejected and betrayed, she was still trying to justify his actions. What a pathetic fool she was, taken in by a gorgeous face and hard body.
Stop crying or I will tell your nonna, she heard the voice of her long-ago governess say as she picked her up from school, so miserable because the other girls didn’t want to play with her. She had been afraid to get her uniform dirty. A princess never played rough like the common rabble. Her common mother had insisted she go to the local school like the other children, but her grandmother was opposed to the idea. If her nonna saw her crying, she would insist that she be sent off to boarding school like Stefan had been. The memory caused several more tears to roll. Stop it. She fumbled desperately for a tissue in her tote bag. A snowy white handkerchief attached to a masculine hand appeared before her eyes. She snatched the handkerchief gratefully.
