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He meant it; she could see that. Hedidwant to make her happy. And while part of her loved that he did, she also knew that it wasn’t enough. She wanted him to do all of this because it was something he wanted, too. Because he felt the same way she did. Except, he didn’t. So what was the point?
You want him to love you as you love him.
Everything inside her curled up tight as the truth settled down inside her. A truth that she didn’t want to examine too closely, because it wasn’t anything she could ever have.
He’d been very clear that he didn’t love her. Very clear. And she’d thought she was fine with that. Except...she wasn’t fine with that.
She wasn’t fine with that at all.
She wanted more. She wanted all the things she thought she could never have, all the things she thought she didn’t deserve. And she wanted them with him.
‘You know what would make me happy?’ she said. ‘Me, taking care of you. Me, supporting you. Me, loving you. And you doing those things for me too. And not because you think that’s what a good husband does, or because of some impossible standard you’re trying to live up to for your father’s sake. I want you to do them because you want to. Because you love me.’
That muscle in his jaw leapt again. ‘My father’s standards are not part of this conversation. I care about you. But love isn’t something I can give, Freddie. I told you that.’
Something died a little inside her, a hope she didn’t know she’d been nursing. It was very clear he meant it, and she had no idea why she should feel the pain of it so acutely when he’d always been honest with her about what he could and couldn’t give. She only knew that it hurt. It hurt very much.
‘I see,’ she said, her voice getting husky. ‘And when our child is born? Are you going to tell them that you can’t love them either?’
The angry sparks in his eyes glittered sharper, brighter. ‘That’s different. A child is—’
‘It’s fine,’ she interrupted before he could go on, because one thing was becoming increasingly clear to her. ‘You’re going to be a good father, I know. But...’ She took a ragged breath. ‘I’m sorry. I think I’ve changed my mind. I just don’t think I can marry you.’
Shock stole his breath and for a minute he had no idea what to say.
He’d done everything he could to make this night special, organising the picnic in her favourite place and buying her a dress he knew she’d love. The ring in the box was a sapphire, a historic piece of Solari history and his own mother’s engagement ring. He knew she’d love that too.
And he’d been expecting to go down on one knee, to propose and have her smile at him, to slide that ring on her finger and then they’d have a lovely picnic. Then he’d been thinking obsessively about how he’d strip that dress off her and feast on her instead, under the apple trees, in the soft glowing light of the fairy lights.
The last thing he’d expected her to do was refuse.
‘What do you mean you can’t marry me?’ The words came out even harsher than he’d intended. ‘You said you would. You promised, Freddie.’
Her eyes were very dark, the glow of the fairy lights making them look even darker. ‘I know. And I’m sorry.’ Her hands were at her sides, closed into little fists. ‘I thought it didn’t matter that you don’t feel the same way about me that I feel about you. I’ve been in love with you for so long, I got used to not having it reciprocated. But the baby... You... Everything’s changed.’
The pressure was starting up inside him again, a growing desperation that he didn’t understand. Shehadto marry him. He’d decided. He would be the caretaker of his own throne until his child was of age to take it, and he needed her at his side.
‘What do you mean everything’s changed,’ he demanded. ‘Changed how?’
‘You doing this for me.’ She gestured at the lights and the picnic. ‘You holding me at night. You protecting me. You supporting me. I like it, Augustine. No, more than that, Iloveit. But I can’t help thinking about how much better it would be if you actually meant it. If you wanted me the way I want you, if you let me take care of you. If you let me makeyouhappy.’ Her dark eyes were soft as black velvet. ‘But you don’t. You keep holding me at a distance. And you’re so focused on what you think you should be doing, on what a good king does, a good husband does, that you don’t think about whatyouwant.’
She’s right. Have youeverthought about that?
Of course he’d thought about it. And thiswaswhat he wanted. How many times did he have to say it?
‘You know what I want. You to marry me. You as my wife and my queen. Our child to have a family.’
‘But where does love feature in all of that?’
His anger built, a fire that burned inside him that he could never seem to put out. Why did she keep talking about love? Hadn’t she been listening to him?
‘It doesn’t feature,’ he snapped. ‘I thought I made myself clear about that.’
‘You did. But I don’t think that’s what you want, not deep down.’ She searched his face. ‘You’re so hard on yourself, Augustine. You expect so much of yourself and I don’t understand why.’
His grip on his anger began to loosen. She didn’t understand; that was clear. Of course he was hard on himself. He had to be. He’d never be the king his father had hoped for, but he kept trying. It was the trying that mattered. Because what else would he be if he stopped?
You’d be broken. You’d be nothing.
