Russell inclined his head. “I understand, Princess.”
She pressed her lips together again, impatience, frustration and a host of other emotions vying for control over her.
“‘Princess,’” she echoed, shaking her head. “We are embroiled in intrigue, in murder and in heaven knows what else. We’ve slept together and might very well be married to each other before the week is out. My name is not ‘Princess,’ my name is Amelia.”
The unexpected noise behind her sent adrenaline racing throughout her body. Amelia swung around to see that her father had entered the room and with him were several of his men. His complexion was flushed. Had he overheard her?
Chapter 10
Startled, it took Amelia a moment to rally. Since she acted as her country’s representative in a great many diverse situations, her training under fire had been extensive. No one would have guessed that inside, she was still the young girl who had once tried so desperately to curry her father’s favor.
Aware that the king had to have heard at least the end of her conversation with Russell and knowing that her father was far from a stupid man, she assumed he had put two and two together. But now was not the time to be upbraided for “conduct unbecoming.” She was quick to throw the focus onto something that really mattered.
“Father, have you heard about the prince?”
The king’s expression was grim as he nodded. “Terrible thing. Terrible thing,” he repeated. “King Weston is beside himself. I tried to do what I could to comfort him, but this is a matter that will take a great deal of time for him to come to grips with. I’m told he collapsed when he received the news.”
Russell felt a pang of guilt, but since the king had not addressed the remark to him, he said nothing.
“Reginald was his only son.” Amelia moved so that she stood with her back to Russell, blocking him from her father’s access. This was a private matter, but since it concerned Russell, she couldn’t very well ask him to leave. And her father’s bodyguards had been with the king for years. They were more like fixtures than men. Amelia drew herself up, asking a question she felt, in her heart, she already knew the answer to. “Will we be going home now, Father?”
Her father looked at her, a puzzled expression furrowing his brow. Behind her, she could almost feel Russell’s gaze penetrating her back. “Why?”
“Because we came for a wedding and now that Reginald is dead—”
Roman cut her off. “Prince Reginald is dead,” he agreed. “However, the alliance between Gastonia and Silvershire can and will still go forward.” He looked at her intently, his gaze telling her she knew what was expected of her. “All that is needed for that to happen is for you to marry the next king of Silvershire.”
Something inside her felt as if it was shattering. She was tired of being the good little obedient princess, tired of always doing what was expected of her. “And if that were a pig, would you have me take its cloven hoof in my hand and pledge to be faithful to the pig until the end of my days?”
Shock registered on her father’s face. It echoed in the faces of his two bodyguards. She had no doubt that behind her, Russell didn’t look like the picture of tranquillity, either. But she didn’t care if any of them were shocked. There was a great need for her to speak her mind.
For a moment, the king looked as if he didn’t know what to do with her. But when he spoke, his voice was patient. “You’re overwrought, Amelia. I understand. However, nothing has really changed in the absolute sense. You have to think of the good of your people. Gastonia is a small, relatively defenseless country. Without the armed support of Silvershire, it could easily be taken over by any one of a number of countries. You are a princess, you cannot think with your heart.” And then Roman looked at the tall man standing behind his daughter. “And, from what I just heard, as well as information that has been brought to me,” he emphasized, “I believe a union between you two would not be entirely displeasing to either of you.” He looked directly at Amelia and color crept up into her cheeks. Roman continued. “That the walls have ears is not merely an antiquated expression, my dear. I daresay that everything we do, whether we believe it’s in private or not, becomes a matter of record.” His meaning was quite clear as he looked from his daughter to the man he assumed would be king. “In addition to the main necessity for this marriage, for the sake of your reputation, Amelia, this marriage has to go through. Are we agreed, Carrington?”
Although his question was directed at Russell, it was Amelia who ran interference. “It might seem a little callous to the people of Silvershire if the wedding goes ahead on schedule, only with a different groom.”
Roman dismissed the idea. “Nonsense, the people love a fairy tale.” His expression became serious. “What they wouldn’t like is turmoil and unrest. Having the well-beloved princess marry the good Duke of Carrington will be just what they like, what they need. Gastonia will have its treaty and you will have a man you have already shown a preference for. And you, Carrington,” he spared Russell a look, “will have your crown.”
If the monarch only knew how little that meant to him, Russell thought. He knew the time for him to speak was now rather than later. “What if I don’t want the crown?” Russell posed.
Roman looked at him as if he had just said that he had a strong desire to be flogged. “Not want the crown? How absurd. Dear boy, everyone wants the crown.”
Russell had been taught to agree with royalty. To acquiesce whenever possible. But it wasn’t possible. Not if there was a chance that he did not have to submit to this. He wanted a way out. Not because of a forced marriage, but because of a forced coronation.
“I don’t,” he said simply. “There’s far too much attention attached to it. It would mean living the rest of my life in a fishbowl.”
The king laughed shortly, shaking his head as if he was suffering someone who was simpleminded.
“You are already in that bowl, son. And as for not wanting the crown, I’m afraid you have no say in the matter. The rules are written,” he pointed out. “And so is your destiny.”
“The rules,” Russell respectfully reminded him, “say that the king can change his mind.”
Roman exchanged looks with his daughter. There would be no help coming from that quarter. He might as well squelch Carrington’s hopes quickly, before they got out of hand.
“Right now, King Weston doesn’t know his mind at all. He is in the terrible place that grief takes a man. He and I have been friends a very long time—since before you were born,” he told his daughter. “In his time of grief, I know he would want me to keep things moving forward and move forward they shall.” There was a note of finality in his voice as he spoke for the other monarch. “You will marry Carrington, Amelia, and Carrington will be the next king. I will hear no more about it.”
So saying, King Roman swept out of the room with his bodyguards following closely behind him.
The room was very quiet for a moment. All that was heard was the sound of their breathing.
And then, because he couldn’t bear the position he found himself in, couldn’t bear the thoughts that were assaulting him, Russell broke the silence. “I could disappear,” he offered.
Amelia stared at him, uncomprehending. This was his homeland. “Why would you do that?”
As if it wasn’t written all over her face, he thought. As if her doubt wasn’t palpable. “To