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Her hand smoothed over his shoulder and slipped around to the back of his neck as her tongue began to dance with his and her body softened and melted against him. In seconds the kiss heated into a flashfire that threatened to rage out of control.
The only thing that saved him from dragging her to the floor where they stood was the moisture on his face.
No, on her face.
The little annoyance crept into his consciousness, interrupting the intensity of the kiss, and he tore his mouth away from hers so he could wipe the rain from their faces. Only it wasn’t rain.
Elizabeth was crying.
He gentled his hands on her, slipping his palms up to cradle her jaw. “What’s wrong, Princess? Is it me?”
“N-no.” She shook her head. Her eyes were as green as spring grass, wet as the windowpanes around them, and tears continued to flow down her cheeks. She brought her hands up to cover his.
“I’ll retain the title,” he said desperately. Though it wasn’t the path he’d intended his life to take, he’d do it in a minute if she’d agree to stay. To his shock, the words didn’t bother him as once they would have.
But she shook her head again. “It’s not the title. I’ll love you no matter what you want to do with your life.”
As the impact of what she was saying sank in, he felt the fist squeezing his heart begin to loosen its grip. He let his hands slide down from her face, turning them to take hers in a gentle clasp as he kissed her gently. “So if there’s no problem, why are you crying?”
“I’m crying because I’m so happy.” She leaned toward him for another kiss.
But at the last moment, he remembered something. “Just who in the hell,” he said, holding his mouth a breath above hers, “is Samuel Flynn of Catalina, Arizona?”
“Who do you think he is?” Though she didn’t withdraw, there was a sudden still quality about her that told him what she feared.
“I don’t believe you’re involved with him, because you love me.”
She laughed, her face lightening and her body relaxing again. “So modest.”
“But he’s someone very important. He’s the ‘other matter’ you came to Phoenix about, isn’t he?”
She nodded. “There’s reason to believe my brother James survived the kidnapping.”
“What?” He was thunderstruck. Feeling the mound of their child pressed against him, he could appreciate for the first time the hell the King and Queen must have gone through and the thought made him nearly ill.
“It’s true,” she confirmed. “He almost certainly survived. We traced him to an orphans’ home in Arizona and narrowed our search to three men. Sam Flynn was the second.”
“And—?”
“He isn’t my brother. He has a scar to prove it. Which means that the third man probably is the heir to the throne. My sisters are waiting for him to return home so we can speak with him.”
“My God! Your parents will be so—wait a minute. That’s why you weren’t quite as concerned about this new law, isn’t it?” Remorse struck him anew for the horrible words he’d thrown at her.
She hesitated. “Until James is found, the first male heir could well be the Crown Prince. I am worried, but I also know my chances are as good of having a female child. If it’s a son and we don’t want him to be king, it could be done, but it would be a tedious process. As a last resort, we can petition the parliament to pass over him.”
Rafe gathered her into his arms. “We’ll deal with it together when the time comes, if the time comes. And if your brother is found, then we can just be an average pair of doting parents.”
She smiled. “Well, perhaps not quite average.”
“The important thing,” he said, drawing her even nearer, “is that we spend the rest of our lives together.”
And as he found her lips and claimed his princess, he felt something inside him click into place, something he’d waited for his whole life. He was loved.
Epilogue
Elizabeth stood at the back of Wynton Chapel, her sisters gathered around her.
Alexandra, ever practical, had a list in her hand. “Now, Serena, don’t forget to hand your flowers to Katherine right before they go up to the altar. She’ll hand them to me. When Elizabeth hands you her bouquet, you two repeat the same thing so your hands are free to help with her train—” She broke off, fishing a tissue from her bodice to dab at her upper lip.
