“I do not care about the press.”
She grabbed the paper again. “Then why did you bother telling them this?”
He sat down across from her. “Make no mistake. My mind is made up. We will be married. This announcement has forced you to see the truth. Now you will have time to accept it.”
“What I accept is that you’ve slipped into madness. This isn’t the fifteenth century. You can’t force me to do what you want. This is a free country.” She remembered she wasn’t in America anymore. “Sort of.”
“I am Crown Prince Murat of Bahania. Few would tell me no.”
“Count me among them.”
He leaned back in his chair. “You never disappoint me,” he said. “How I enjoy the explosion. You’re like fireworks.”
She glared at him. “You haven’t seen anything yet. I’ll take this all the way to the White House if I have to.”
“Good. The president will be invited to the wedding. He and I have been friends for many years now.”
At that moment Daphne desperately wished for superpowers so she could overturn the heavy table and toss Murat out the window.
“I’m going to speak slowly,” she said. “So you can understand me. I…won’t…marry…you. I have a life. Friends. My work.”
“Ah, yes. About your work. I made some phone calls last night and found it most interesting to learn that you have left your veterinary practice in Chicago.”
“That was about making career choices, not marrying you.”
“And you have been very determined to keep me from your niece. Are you sure you do not secretly want me for yourself?”
She rolled her eyes. “How amazing that you and your ego fit inside the room at the same time.” Although her sister had made the same accusation.
It wasn’t true, Daphne reminded herself. Murat was her past, and she was more than content to keep him there. She hadn’t spent the last ten years pining. She’d dated, been happy. He was a non-event.
“I haven’t thought about you in ages,” she said honestly. “I’m even willing to take an oath. Just bring in the Bible. I wouldn’t be here now if you hadn’t acted all caveman over my niece. This is your fault.”
He nodded. “There is a ring.”
She blinked at him. “What? You want to try to buy me off with jewelry? Thank you very much but I’m not that kind of woman.”
He smiled again. “I know.”
Her rage returned, but before she could decide how to channel it, the phone rang again.
She hesitated before crossing the room to answer it. Was Laurel calling back to yell some more? Daphne had a feeling she was at the end of her rope and not up to taking that particular call. But what if it was Brittany, and her niece really was upset?
“Not possible,” she said as she crossed to the phone and picked it up. “This is Daphne.”
“Darling, we just heard. We’re delighted.”
Her mother’s voice came over the line as clearly as if she’d been in the same room.
Daphne clutched the receiver. “Laurel called?”
“Yes. Oh, darling, how clever you are to have finally snagged Murat. The man who will be king.” Her mother sighed. “I always knew you’d do us proud.”
Daphne didn’t know what to think. She wanted to tell her mother the truth—that there wasn’t going to be a wedding, that this was all a mistake, but she couldn’t seem to speak.
“Your father is simply thrilled,” her mother said. “We’re looking forward to a lovely wedding. Do you have any idea when?”
“I—”
Her mother laughed. “Of course you don’t. You’ve only just become engaged. Well, let me know as soon as the date is finalized. We’ll need to rearrange some travel, but it will be worth it. Your father can’t wait to walk you down the aisle.”
Daphne turned her back so Murat couldn’t see her expression. She didn’t want him to know how much this conversation hurt.
“Laurel was pretty upset,” she said, not knowing what else to say.
“I know. She got it in her head that Brittany would be the one for Murat. Honestly, the girl is lovely and will make a fine marriage in time, but she’s just too young. There are responsibilities that come with being queen, and she simply wasn’t ready.” Her mother laughed. “Queen. I like the sound of that. My daughter, the queen. My sweet baby girl. All right, I’m going to run, but I’ll call soon. You must be so very happy. This is wonderful, Daphne. Truly wonderful.”
With that her mother hung up. Daphne replaced the receiver and did her best not to react in any way. Sure, her eyes burned and her body felt tense and sore, but she would get over it. She always did.
“Your parents?” Murat asked from his place at the table behind her.
She nodded. “My mother. My sister called and spoke with her. She’s d-delighted.”
The crack in her voice made her stiffen. No way was she going to give in to the emotion pulsing through her.
“She wants details about the wedding as soon as possible. So she can rearrange their travel schedule.”
“You did not tell her there wouldn’t be a wedding.”
“No.”
Because it had been too hard to speak. Because if she tried, she would give in to the pain and once that dam broke, there was no putting it together.
“Don’t think that means I’ve accepted the engagement,” she whispered.
“Not for a second.”
She heard footsteps, then Murat’s hands clasped her arms and he turned her toward him. Understanding darkened his eyes.
She was so unused to seeing any readable emotion in his gaze that she couldn’t seem to react. Which meant she didn’t protest when he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. Suddenly she was pressing against him, her head on his shoulder and the protective warmth of his body surrounding her.
“You can’t do this,” she said, her voice muffled against his suit jacket. “I hate you.”
“I know you do, but right now there isn’t anyone else.” He stroked her hair. “Come now. Tell me what troubles you.”
She shook her head. To speak of it would hurt too much.
“It’s your mother,” he murmured. “She said she was happy about the engagement. Your family has always been ambitious. In some ways a king for a son-in-law is even better than a president.”
“I know.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and hung on as hard as she could. “It’s horrible. She’s horrible. She said she was proud of me. That’s the first time she’s ever said that. Because I’ve always been a disappointment.”
The hurt of a decade of indifference from her family swept through her. “Nobody came to my college graduation. Did you know that? They were all still angry because I’d refused to marry you. And they hated that I became a vet. No one even acknowledged my finishing school and going to work. My mother didn’t say a word in the Christmas newsletter. She didn’t mention me at all. It’s as if by not marrying well, I’d ceased to exist.”
She felt the light brush of his lips on her head. “I am sorry.”
She sniffed. “I’m only their child when I do what they want. I was afraid it would be the