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“A proviso to ensure that the Wyndham line continues,” she said in a low voice. “Since there is no eldest son to inherit, the eldest grandson will be the one to ascend the throne when my father…isn’t the king anymore.”
“The eldest grandson?” he repeated cautiously.
She nodded, apprehension clearly visible. “No matter which princess is his mother, the eldest grandson will be the next king.”
He was incredulous. Fury rose as he realized fully what her words meant. There was a distinct possibility that his child, were it a son, would be the heir to the throne of Wynborough. “I can’t believe this!” His voice was tight with the rage erupting inside him. “You know how I feel about this whole royalty thing and now you tell me if we have a son, he might be the next king?”
“Rafe, I didn’t plan this,” she said, a note of pleading entering her voice. “I certainly didn’t intend to get pregnant the first time we met. And I didn’t intend to marry you, remember?”
“You still expect me to believe that?” He was too angry to care about the words he hurled at her. “You knew who I was at the ball that night. Our fathers didn’t have as much to do with this as I’d thought, did they?”
“That’s not true! I had no idea who you were—”
“Sure. And pigs fly, Princess.”
“I told you my father would never arrange a marriage for me. He doesn’t believe in such an archaic custom.”
“Maybe not, but he didn’t mind sacrificing a virgin daughter for the good of the Crown, did he?”
She gasped. Tears were swimming in her eyes and as he watched, one fat drop slipped down her cheek. And still he went on, every suspicion he’d ever harbored erupting in a raging river of fury.
“I was right all along, wasn’t I? You nearly had me fooled. But now your real agenda’s been exposed. If you can’t be the king—which you can’t, being a female—then be the next best thing. Elizabeth, the Queen Mother. And I’m the perfect catch. Heir to the Grand Duchy of Thortonburg. If I were to inherit the title. I bet it was one hell of a shock when you found out I’m just plain old Rafe Thorton and intend to remain that way!”
The tears were pouring down her face now. “That’s not what happened!” she screamed at him. She came off the bed in a rush, dragging the sheet around her to conceal her nakedness. As if he gave a damn. “I didn’t know who you
were when we met. I didn’t even make the connection to Thortonburg when I found your card.” She was shaking with rage, and he had a sudden moment of concern for the baby she carried.
“Eliz—”
“I loved you,” she said, dashing the tears from her cheeks with one hand. “All I ever wanted was to marry you and have a family. Here in America or any other place you chose. That stupid title doesn’t appeal to me any more than it does to you,” she said fiercely.
“Right. And when were you planning to share this little ‘proviso’ with me?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You knew about this months ago, no doubt. These kinds of laws aren’t passed overnight. Were you afraid one of your sisters was going to beat you to the prize?” His heart was pounding so hard, he could feel it hammering against his wrist where it pressed against his skin and he felt as if his head was going to explode. How could she have done this to him? Easily. You were just the means to the end, buddy.
“I was waiting until the baby was born to tell you,” she said in answer to his original question. Her voice was flat and dull. “I knew how you’d react. But if it’s a girl, there would be no reason for concern. Alexandra’s already expecting her first baby and my other two sisters recently married—I have every hope that one of them will produce the heir instead of me.”
“Every hope,” he repeated tightly.
“Every hope,” she enunciated. “But you have such a phobia about your ties to the crown that it won’t really matter even if it is a girl, will it, Rafe? Even if this baby is a daughter, you’re still going to be stuck with a royal connection that’s only one step away from the King. And you’ll blame me for that for the rest of my life. I’ll never be able to change my blood to something less blue. And you know what?” She stormed across the room until she was right in his face and he could see the deep, open wound he’d torn in her heart reflected in her eyes. “I wouldn’t even if I could. I love my family. They’re not my enemies, and I won’t pretend to be somebody I’m not, even for you.” She stopped and took a deep breath that hitched twice before she regained control. “You can forget this marriage. I’m going back to Wynborough to be with people who love me the way I am.”
Her words stunned him. She stomped out the door and down the hall to the other end, where the room she’d slept in before still held most of her things. He heard the door slam violently and he knew there would be no talking to her the rest of the night.
You can forget this marriage.
She couldn’t back out! She’d said she would marry him.
Forget this marriage.
He felt himself begin to shake as he fully grasped what those words meant. She wasn’t going to marry him. His child would not be born legitimate. His child would be raised on a separate continent from its own father with a mother who didn’t want to have anything more to do with him. But worse, much worse, was the loss of the love he’d come to depend on. She’d said she was leaving, going back to Wynborough. She was leaving him.
He hadn’t anticipated that when he’d accused her of wanting his title. What woman was going to stand and let a man shout at her, accuse her of all kinds of things, scoff at her honesty?
The sick feeling in his stomach returned full-force and he had to grope for the edge of the bed. He’d been wrong. He had to have been. No one had schemed to push her into his arms. Otherwise, she’d never be giving up the chance at marriage. He’d half assumed, stupidly, that she was only playing hard-to-get when she’d refused him before.
But she hadn’t been. He could see that now. It was so clear. All she’d wanted from him was love. Not legitimacy for her child, not a “second-best” title for a woman who couldn’t wear the crown. Just love. She’d refused to marry him repeatedly because she’d loved him and had no hope of the feeling being returned.
He dropped his head into his hands and squeezed his skull between his palms. How blind could a man be?
Oh, God, he’d been so stupid. He’d taken her love and trampled it beneath both feet, with less than no regard for her feelings. He’d been so steeped in his own bitter memories that even after his family had made a legitimate attempt at reconciliation he was still determined to punish someone.
