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Rafe scrubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw, the stubble a tantalising scratch under his fingertips. ‘That may be, but I want to make sure you’re looking after yourself. As your husband, I believe it’s part of my job description.’
He stood closer now. The top button of his shirt undone, no tie. A smattering of dark hair hinted at the open neck of the pristine white shirt. On that strong chest, where he’d held her in the mountains, and she’d been lulled by his soothing heartbeat. What Lise wouldn’t give to rest there again...
She shook her head. ‘I need to fix this.’ The choking frustration at the failure of her education threatened to throttle her.
He glanced outside at the milling group of people, then dropped his voice. ‘And you will. The suggestion of reducing the size of the public service by natural attrition was all yours. You’re taking on some of the austerity yourself. Selling the royal yacht.’ It seemed an unnecessary extravagance, given that Lauritania was landlocked and the yacht had to be moored elsewhere. ‘And Lance will be for ever in your debt for offering to sell antiques of value currently unused in the palace storerooms. Fiscal policy can be learned. But you have something that can’t be. Humanity. A desire to build up the country’s people, not take away.’
Lise drained the dregs of her coffee. Winced. ‘I’m not unique in wanting those things for Lauritania.’
Rafe took the cup gently from her hands and placed it on the table.
‘You care about inequality. Look at the organisations you supported.’
Her heart missed a few beats and Lise placed her hand to her chest, as if that would steady it. ‘How do you know about them?’
She’d kept her involvement in some of the ‘grittier’ charities, as her father had called them, quiet. Seeking no accolades or plaudits for her work. She’d hoped if she kept her patronage private, her father would let her continue.
He hadn’t.
‘People who have a keen interest in our country were watching and appreciated what they saw.’
Her father had told her to leave any support to her brother, but Ferdinand hadn’t been interested in funding shelters for young people or women escaping violence at home. That recollection tempered the flutter of surprise at the thought anyone paid much attention to what she did. The organisations she’d wanted to help most had suffered in her enforced absence. She dropped her head and twisted at her wedding band. ‘Not everyone liked what they saw.’
‘Your father was wrong for thinking you should stick to only saving stray puppies and kittens.’ Lise stopped toying with the ring on her finger and looked up at him. Rafe and the King must have spoken of this, all those times they’d discussed her future without her. She tried to muster some semblance of anger or indignance but the flame of it guttered out and died in the warmth of Rafe’s approval.
‘They’re worthy causes,’ she said. Though she’d never been allowed to own a rescue kitten or a puppy, for all the public support she’d given them. Only pedigreed animals were allowed in the palace.
‘They are.’ Rafe nodded. ‘But you wanted to do more. People noticed. Like when you were forced to give up competitive skiing. Everyone heard what your father had to say, that you were concentrating on your formal duties since you’d come of age. What people saw was your quiet acceptance of the role being formed for you.’
Not the role she wanted. Never that. What she’d wanted didn’t matter.
‘Maybe the tantrums happened behind closed doors,’ she said. Though they hadn’t. Not then. Her moment had been reserved for a day when the illusion of a hopeful future with a man she might love had been crushed under the King’s handmade shoe.
‘Perhaps. But you were headed for a world championship to represent your country. Tantrums would have been forgiven, in that instance.’
She shook her head. A strand of hair fell from her chignon. Rafe reached out, hesitated a moment—a pause between breaths—then slipped the unruly piece behind her ear. A shimmer of pleasure skittered down her spine.
‘I know the people found it unfair you couldn’t finish what you started,’ Rafe said.
‘What people?’
She’d only ever heard what her family had to say about her failings, not about her successes.
‘Your loyal, obedient subjects, of which I am one.’
‘Oh, no, now you’re being too much.’ She snorted. ‘You’ve never had an obedient day in your life.’
Rafe moved close and she could smell the citrus of his aftershave and the cool undertone like the autumn breeze in the mountains that she would associate with him for ever. Then he leaned down and murmured into her ear, ‘I can choose to be if I wish. Most people aren’t worthy.’
‘And I am?’
‘There are people who saw you as an integral part of Lauritania’s future, not a footnote to it.’
‘You have such faith in me.’ The crown they’d placed on her head at her coronation had been too heavy. As if it didn’t fit. As if the role of Queen wasn’t meant for her at all. Now, with Rafe’s support, she was beginning to believe it was.
Beginning to believe that this role might be one she could turn into her own...
‘You have a passion and drive Hasselbeck and his cronies don’t understand. They want everything to stay the same, which requires a compliant monarch. You’ll never be that, and she’s your reminder,’ he said, nodding to the painting of her great-great-grandmother on the wall. People began drifting back into the room and taking their place at the grand table that dominated it. Rafe took no notice of them, his only attention to her, as if not another person in this place mattered.
