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The smile that broke across Alaric’s face warmed her from head to toe. She’d never seen such joy on his face.
“I would like that, Clara. Very much. Unless you’d prefer to name her after your mother?”
“We could use her name as a middle name. It would work perfectly, actually. Rose.”
“Princess Marianne Rose Van Ambrose. It is perfect.” He cocked his head to one side. “You don’t speak much about your parents.”
Her chest tightened.
“It’s hard to,” she finally said. “They were...” She smiled even as she barely spoke past the lump in her throat. “They were wonderful.”
Alaric reached across the table and threaded his fingers through hers in a gesture that, judging by his rapid blinking, surprised both of them. Slowly, she curled her own hand around his.
“They were older. My father contracted cancer. It ran in his family. He died when I was a teenager. And then my mom...” She focused her gaze on her plate. “It seems so stupid. Pneumonia. Something you hear about all the time but you think there’s no way it could happen to your family. And then it does and you’re alone and then you make foolish decisions.”
Alaric’s grip tightened on hers.
“Your marriage to Miles.”
She nodded, surprised by how easily the words suddenly came. It had taken several glasses of wine to get to the point of confiding in Meira last summer. But somehow, sitting in the restaurant with Alaric holding her hand, she felt safe.
“I was lonely. Young. I didn’t know hardly anyone in London. I mistook distraction from my grief for something more.”
“Judging by the self-loathing in your voice, it’s something you still haven’t forgiven yourself for.”
Her head snapped up. He stared at her, his gaze intense but kind.
“Not completely, no. It’s hard to trust yourself or others after making such a big mistake.”
Alaric’s chuckle held a note of sadness. “I understand. I said something similar to Cass, actually, when he nearly torpedoed his relationship with my sister.”
She laughed. “You gave Prince Cassius Adama relationship advice?”
“I did. And he took it.”
“What did you say?”
The mirth disappeared from Alaric’s face, replaced by a distant thoughtfulness. His thumb started to trace lazy circles on the back of her hand. Each subsequent stroke upped the heat slowly building inside her. Such a simple touch, but it made her feel cared for.
“That he was making decisions based on horrible examples he’d seen of relationships. That it was easier for him to stay withdrawn because getting involved was too scary.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“That’s...very insightful.”
And almost frightening. He could have been describing her. Or, she realized with a start, himself. His parents’ marriage, and his father’s numerous affairs, were hardly sterling examples of love.
She gazed at him, her eyes running over the sharp planes of his face, his full lips relaxed into a slight smile. He’d smiled more in the last hour than he had in the past year. He hadn’t judged her for her hasty decisions.
She swallowed hard. Suddenly she wanted to tell him everything, to have him see her fully as no other person had.
He squeezed her hand again before he released it. The loss of his touch robbed her of her moment of confidence.
“Tell me more about your parents. It sounds like you at least had a positive example of a marriage.”
She shoved her negative musings away and obliged his request, reminiscing about collecting shells and picnicking on the sand on a checkered blanket her mother had sewn. By the time Alaric escorted her out to the car, her good mood was restored.
Alaric sat across from her as he had on the ride in. She looked out the window as their driver navigated out of town. A few lights sparkled here and there in the windows of the elegant homes scattered along the water’s edge. The pleasant hum of the car’s engine, the dark interior and the heated leather seats made her drowsy.
