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“I can find my own bride without Mother’s help.”
Ariana made a noise unfit for a princess. “You’ve already been through half the suitable single women in Europe.
“Hardly half.”
“Surely there was one woman amongallthose you’ve spent time with who appeals to you.”
“Appeals, yes.” Christian resisted the urge to search for Noelle again. “But not one I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
“Well, you’d better find one.”
Christian ground his teeth together and didn’t answer. He knew Ariana was right. The price one paid as a royal was to not always get to do as one liked. Gabriel had been lucky to choose Olivia to marry before he understood that he was in love with her. But right up until he and Olivia eloped, Gabriel had grappled with his duty to Sherdana versus following his heart’s desire.
Nic had the same issue with Brooke. He’d known he needed to put her aside and marry a woman whose children could one day be king.
But in the end both men had chosen love over duty.
Which left Christian to choose duty.
One of the photographer’s assistants came to fetch them for more pictures, putting an end to the conversation for the moment. Christian endured another tedious hour of being posed with his brothers, his sister, the king and queen, and various members of the wedding party. By the time the session was finished, he was ready to get drunker than he’d been in the five years since the accident that left him with a disfigured body to match his tarnished soul.
What stopped him from making a beeline for the bar was Noelle.
It seemed perfectly right to walk up behind her and slip his arm around her waist. Christian dropped a kiss on her cheek the way he had a hundred times, a habit from the old days that used to speak to his strong affection for her. For a microsecond Noelle relaxed against him, accepting his touch as if no time or hurt had passed between them. Then she tensed.
“You look beautiful,” he murmured in her ear.
She didn’t quite jerk away from him, but she lacked her usual grace in her quick sideways step. “Thank you, Your Royal Highness.”
“Walk with me.” It was more a command than an invitation.
“I really shouldn’t leave the party.” She glanced toward the bride and groom as if hoping to spot someone who needed her.
“The photos are done. The bride has no further need for her designer. I’d like to catch up with you. It’s been a long time.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.” To his annoyance, she curtsied, gaze averted.
The gardens behind the palace were extensive and scrupulously maintained under the queen’s watchful eye. The plantings closest to the I-shaped structure that housed Sherdana’s royal family were arranged in terms of design and color that changed with the seasons. This was the most photographed section of the garden, with its formal walkways and dramatic fountains.
Toward the back of the extensive acreage that surrounded the palace, the garden gave way to a wooded area. Christian guided her to a small grove of trees that offered plenty of shade. There would be more privacy there.
“You’ve done very well for yourself as a designer.”
Christian hated small talk, and it seemed idiotic to attempt any with Noelle. But how did you begin a cordial conversation with an ex-lover who you’d once deliberately hurt even as you told yourself it was for her own good?
“I’ve been fortunate.” Her polite demeanor contrasted with the impatience running through her tone. “Luck and timing.”
“You neglected to mention talent. I always knew you’d be successful.”
“That’s very kind.”
“I’ve missed you.” The words came out of nowhere and shocked him. He’d intended to ply her with flirtatious compliments and make her smile at him the way she used to, not pour his heart out.
For the first time she met his gaze directly. His heart gave a familiar bump as he took in the striking uniqueness of her eyes. From a distance they merely looked hazel, but up close the greenish-brown around the edges gave way to a bright chestnut near the pupil. In the past, he’d spent long hours studying those colors and reveling in the soft affection in her gaze as they lingered over dinner or spent a morning in bed.
She gave her head a shake. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“I might not have been the man for you, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t care,” he told her, fingertips itching to touch her warm skin.
