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‘Call it what you want. I’m not going to deny it.’
It felt as if someone had taken a heavy, blunt instrument and smashed it into her heart. It was illogical to think he might have reacted any differently, but logic was having no effect on the way his words were making her feel. Zabrina’s head was spinning. He had wanted to call off the marriage once before but she had insisted on going through with it because her homeland badly needed this union, and she’d convinced herself they could make the marriage work and produce a family.
But now she could see it wasn’t as simple as she’d first thought.
She’d used her parents’ marriage as a template for her own behaviour—but she didn’t like her parents’ marriage! Her father’s affairs indicated a total lack of respect and regard for his wife and her mother’s tacit acceptance of his behaviour was tantamount to a nod of approval. Yet she had calmly told Roman she would be prepared to react in a similar way, because she accepted that was what kings ‘did’. Had she been out of her mind? Zabrina’s stomach churned. Had she really imagined she’d be content to sit back and watch while Roman behaved that way, when the thought of him having sex with another woman made her want to scream out her horror and her distress?
She realised something else, too. She wanted a real marriage. She wanted to be a wife to Roman in every sense of the word, and for him to be a proper husband. She didn’t know if that was possible, but surely she had to give it a try. Because when he had been telling her his sad story about his mother, it had sparked off flickers of recognition inside her. It had made her think of other stories which she had heard so many times before. She might be wrong, but there might be a reason why Roman’s mother had disappeared in such a dramatic fashion and maybe she should try to discover if what she suspected was true.
The King was now standing fully dressed in his traditional night-time clothes of jeans and a dark sweater and she could sense the air of impatience radiating from his powerful frame as he waited for her answer. But there was more to Roman than his sometimes intimidating exterior suggested. If she looked beyond his arrogant sense of entitlement, she could detect the deep wound which had been inflicted on him as a boy and which had never been given the chance to heal.
Could she help him do that? Would he accept her help, even if such a thing were possible?
Deliberately she lay back against the pillows. ‘I’m not going to address ultimatums—and certainly not when they are delivered in the middle of the night,’ she said, with a carelessness she was far from feeling. ‘Speak to me about it in the morning.’
She wouldn’t have been human if she hadn’t enjoyed the very real flash of shock and frustration which gleamed from his eyes—presumably because he was never obstructed quite so openly—before leaving the room without another word. And she suspected he might have slammed the door very loudly, if there hadn’t been a continuing need for silence.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘SILVIANA?’ ZABRINA MADE a final adjustment to the collar of her silk blouse as, with a raised hand, she waylaid her lady-in-waiting just as she was leaving the dressing room. ‘Did you ever hear of a palace nurse called Olga?’
The servant lifted her head, her thick, blonde bob swinging around her chin as she did so. Did Zabrina imagine the caution she saw written on her lovely face or was she just getting paranoid?
‘Of course I have heard of her, Your Royal Highness. My own mother knew her very well.’
Zabrina nodded. ‘I understand she lives in a place called Posera. Is that very far from here?’
Silviana shook her head. ‘No, Your Royal Highness. It is a little village nestled in the foothills of the Liliachiun mountains.’
‘I was wondering...’ Zabrina swallowed, nervous about saying this, but she needed to say it. For Roman’s sake. For all their sakes. She forced a smile. ‘I would like to visit her. This morning. Right now, in fact.’
‘Now?’ Silviana looked alarmed. ‘But you are already late for breakfast with His Imperial Majesty.’
Zabrina shook her head. ‘I won’t be taking breakfast this morning. Perhaps you could have someone send word to that effect to the King.’ And it wasn’t just the thought of food which was making her throat close up. She couldn’t face walking into the breakfast room under Roman’s indifferent gaze and pretend that last night had never happened. Because it had. He had basically told her that if she wasn’t prepared to accept the most superficial of marriages, then the wedding was off. And that was a decision she wasn’t prepared to make just yet. Not until she was fully equipped with all the facts. ‘I would like to set off immediately. I’m sure that can be arranged?’
‘No doubt the King would be happy to—’
‘No,’ Zabrina interrupted firmly. ‘I don’t... I don’t want the King to know about this. I need you to arrange a car to take me there, Silviana, and for the driver to be sworn to secrecy. You can tell him that I am arranging a surprise for His Majesty.’ Which was true, she thought grimly. The only trouble was that she had no idea if her hunch was correct—or how it would be received if it was.
Her heart was pounding hard in her chest as she accompanied Silviana through the palace and she didn’t begin to breathe normally again until she and her lady-in-waiting were driving through the streets of Rosumunte, towards the famous mountain range which dominated the capital city.
Zabrina tried to concentrate on what she was seeing but found herself not wanting to love the elegant trees and lush foliage as the car skimmed through the green countryside. Because what if she was exiled after all this? What if the wedding was called off because Roman was angered by her taking such a bold initiative? Could she cope with the emotional and financial fall-out of not securing a marriage deal?
She was going to have to.
Before too long, they drew up in front of an old-fashioned cottage with a thatched roof, just like the ones she’d seen in a book she’d once had, all about England. To the front there was a beautiful garden and in the distance was a goat grazing in a meadow. A young woman came running out of the house when she heard the car, her look of curiosity changing to one of shock as Zabrina stepped from the car, and hastily she sank into a deep curtsey.
‘Your Royal Highness!’ she gasped. ‘This is indeed an unexpected honour.’
‘Forgive me for this unannounced intrusion,’ replied Zabrina. ‘But I was wondering if I might have a word with your...grandmother? Alone, if I may.’
‘Of...of course, Your Royal Highness. If you would just give me a moment to inform my bunica and quickly prepare the cottage.’
Zabrina could hear the murmur of voices and the clattering of china before being ushered inside the surprisingly large and very comfortable cottage, and minutes later she was sitting opposite a sprightly looking old lady in a chair which rocked before a blazing fire, despite the sunshine of the day outside.
‘When you get old, you get cold,’ the old lady said.
Zabrina nodded. ‘I hope to have the good fortune to discover that for myself one day.’ But her voice was a little choked as she spoke, her chest tight with emotion as she realised that this woman had rocked the infant Roman, had held his little hand and watched as he’d learned to walk. And then she had been summarily dismissed from his life. ‘Thank you for seeing me.’
