She pushed him back. “Only until your interests were more important than mine. Until the country’s interests were more important.”
“I’m a future king. I have to consider the country even before myself.”
“I know, and I’m not blaming you for that, or for any of it. I’m not asking you to change. I’m asking you not to changeme.”
She went through the stone door and started walking back. He fleetingly wondered how many arguments this door had seenover the centuries, then followed. “Everybody changes, even me. I never thought I’d enjoy arguing with anyone, for example, yet here we are. I love our arguments as much as I love our talks and our passion.”
She turned and threw her arms up in the air. “That’s just it. I need someone to fightforme, not get off on fightingwithme.”
As she turned back around and continued walking, he was hit with another realization. She needed him to support her, to back her up and put her first.
Yet, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it. Not in his position. Still, he couldn’t let her walk away from him, leave him alone to brood like Gaston.
He caught up to her as they approached the picnic area again, which was now empty. He heard a woman’s laughter in the distance and glanced up the hill; he could see them making their way to the top. He waved away the servants and sat down, leaving them alone to continue the conversation.
She was eyeing the food on the table but with one hand to her stomach, he wasn’t sure if she was feeling ill or hungry. “Would you like something else?”
“I shouldn’t.”
“Because you aren’t feeling well?”
She shook her head. “Because my mother will get mad if I gain too much weight. She yells at me daily about it.”
He bit back the anger brewing in him. “I’m sorry for that, but you should know my mother would never say such a thing.”
She scoffed and poured herself another cup of tea that was not boiling hot but was still steaming. “And the press and public doesn’t put pressure on princesses to look a certain way?”
“I never said they didn’t. I said my family never would, despite what the press may say.”
When her stomach growled, he laughed. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Sure seems that way.”
He picked up a grape and held it to her mouth. “Surely your mother would approve of some fruit.”
She sighed, glancing longingly at the cake. “I suppose so.” She reached for the grape, but he pulled it back.
His voice was husky as he brought it to her mouth. “Let me feed you.”
“Isn’t that a bit excessive?”
“Say yes, Genevieve.”
“To the fruit?”
“And to me.”
She locked eyes with him for a long moment, but then turned away, adjusting herself on the pillow so she was leaning away from him. “I’ll stick with the tea.”
He ate the grape himself, then wondered if he’d have done better to tempt her with cake.
No. Food wouldn’t fix what was wrong between them. “I care for you, Genevieve.”
She was looking down into her teacup, the breeze ruffling her hair. “I know you do, in your own way.”
“But it’s not enough for you.”
She put the teacup down, and it felt like a judge bringing down a gavel. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry.”
