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A weight settled on Clara’s shoulders, Alaric’s pain seeping into her own body.
“I had a view of it from our hotel. I sat by the window for five hours, sure that he would walk in any moment and we would go.” She sensed rather than saw the hurt pulsing through his body, tightening his muscles further as he tried to keep his emotions under control. “It was after midnight when he stumbled in drunk. He’d had a glass of wine at a reception, then another at dinner, and then he just didn’t stop. He spent the evening with the wife of a dignitary.”
What was there to say? Everything that came to mind seemed trite, meant to fill the silence versus offer genuine comfort. She had never experienced anything so horrific from her parents. Her marriage may have been a disaster, but her parents’ union had been one for the storybooks, a relationship built on mutual respect and a deep-seated love.
And her father...her eyes grew hot. He’d been wonderful. Not perfect, but she had never doubted he’d loved her. He’d taken her to carnivals, on nature walks, had read to her at night and rocked her back to sleep when thunderstorms had spooked her.
What would it be like to have a father who not only didn’t show any love or affection, but literally abandoned their grieving child in their hour of need?
The ache that had started yesterday when Alaric pointed out that not marrying meant her child would grow up without a regular presence from a father figure burst and filled her chest. She knew she would be a great mother. But if she had the chance to offer her child the kind of life she had had, one with a father who cared for them, would it be selfish to deny them that?
She rose and walked across the room. Alaric didn’t move, didn’t even show that he registered her approach, until she tentatively moved her hand from her stomach to his shoulder. His body flinched but he didn’t move, didn’t look at her. Slowly her hand relaxed, her fingers splaying across the soft material of his jacket.
How long they stayed like that, she couldn’t say. Each moment stretched into the next, awkwardness gradually easing into a familiarity, a comforting space where they could both exist in their pain and confusion without having to fill the silence.
Her heart thudded. Alaric didn’t want love. She wasn’t sure she did, either. Her one attempt at love had meant relinquishing so much of herself. But this...perhaps this type of understanding would be enough.
Words rose to her lips. Alaric had confided so much in her. If she was truly contemplating saying yes, he deserved to know the truth of what had happened that night: the role she’d played in her husband’s death. The threats Temperance Clemont had leveled at her before she’d left for the final time, to ensure Clara never found happiness with anyone again.
The words died on her tongue. The Clemonts hadn’t been a part of her life for eight years. If they had truly wanted to sabotage her, they would have made a move before now. What was the point in bringing it up? Besides, she was already pregnant with the heir to Linnaea’s throne. If she brought up the past now, it would introduce the possibility of scandal just as Alaric was finally distancing himself from his father’s and fiancée’s tumultuous pasts.
That’s just an excuse, a nasty little voice whispered in her ear.You’re afraid.
Her fingers tensed, pressed harder on his shoulder. Alaric was too lost in his own past to notice. Slowly, she eased her touch, relaxing her hand and breathing in deeply.
Yes, she was afraid. Afraid that if she told Alaric what had truly happened that night, he would look at her in disgust, the way he’d looked every time he’d seen a picture of his fiancée or had a confrontation with Daxon.
Every time he had to confront ascandal.
Finally, he turned. Her hand dropped and she stepped back, giving them both some much-needed distance.
“Do you keep the coin to remind yourself of his true character?”
Alaric’s dark chuckle made coldness slither down her spine. She would never want to be on the receiving end of Prince Alaric Van Ambrose’s wrath. The world was fortunate that he had chosen to use his razor-sharp intelligence and formidable will for good.
“I have plenty of reminders as to his nature. No, I kept it for my child.” He plucked the coin from her hand and held it in his own, gazing at it for a long moment before he brought his arresting green gaze up and met her eyes. “As a reminder to myself to be a better father than mine ever was. As a reminder that something as simple as a ride on the Ferris wheel can mean more than all the sports cars and fancy suits and money in the world to a child.”
His words ripped away the last vestiges of her initial refusal. She swallowed hard, turned away from him and walked back over to her chair. She didn’t sit, ran her fingers over the soft leather. The touch grounded her, gave her something visual to focus on other than him.
“Then our child should count themself lucky to have you as a father.”
Silence descended on the room. Her fingers drifted down to the arm of the chair, tapped the brass buttons embedded in the material as she waited for him to reply.
Then, at last: “Is that an answer?”
She nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. She had no idea if she was doing the right thing. So many questions and worries swirled in her mind. Would she and Alaric be able to make a marriage work? What if she wasn’t a good queen? Even though she was not a Linnaean national, the country and its people had become very dear to her in the time she’d spent in the palace. The possibility that she would let them down just as they were finally clawing their way out of the darkness made her sick to her stomach.
And the baby...the most important aspect of this whole arrangement. Was this the right thing for her baby?
The man didn’t even blink, just returned her nod with one of his own as if he had expected nothing less.
“Review this and sign it by this evening.”
Her first proposal had gone very differently. Miles had proposed on bended knee at one of his parents’ grand parties in front of several hundred guests, sliding the three-carat diamond ring on her finger as if it was the Hope Diamond and basking in the congratulations the guests bestowed on them throughout the evening. It hadn’t felt like a proposal rooted in love. No, it had all been for show. Just like Miles, as she’d come to learn the hard way.
She’d always sworn that if she ever got married again, it would be very different. Who knew that it would be transactional, a signing of papers and a few exchanged words for the sake of legality and legacy instead of any romantic notions?
Perhaps this is better, her rational side consoled her.There’s no false hope. No ideas of love to let you down. You know exactly what you’re getting.
