“If that were true, Kate, I would not have stopped.”
She sent a direct look at his distended fly. “Then you’re determined to be the king of steel, is that correct?”
Steel would be a more-than-adequate description in terms of his erection, but not when it came to his strength as far as Kate was concerned. “I cannot make love to you Kate. If I do, then I am in danger of hurting you in the process.”
“You can’t hurt me, Marc. I know what this is all about. Chemistry. Attraction. Not ever-after.”
“But you have no idea what my life is about. If anyone even suspects we’re involved, you will suffer for it.”
“I’m not a wilting flower. And as I told you before, I’m only looking for some adventure.” She didn’t sound all that convincing. “But I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Right then, he would have gladly taken her down to the floor and finished what they’d started—what he had started. Instead, he turned away and headed for the door.
He needed to remember who he was—a king with a consuming need to be accepted. But his need for Kate was beginning to overshadow everything else.
He could not let that happen. It might destroy everything he had sought to accomplish in terms of his reputation. But worse, it could destroy her.
Without facing her again, he said, “I will see that Nicholas returns you safely to the hotel.”
And then he would retire for the evening, alone, to chastise himself for his complete lack of control.
Even after Marc had been gone for several minutes, Kate could still feel his mouth and hands on her breasts, could still hear him say that he couldn’t make love to her, that she was a complication. She refused to be a complication.
Probably just as well he’d stopped, Kate decided as she adjusted her clothing before leaving the office. And she was crazy to think that she didn’t want him with every fiber of her being. She did take some comfort in knowing that he wanted her, too. At least from a physical standpoint. Unfortunately, she had tried to fool herself into thinking that she only wanted some adventure with Marc, a few goes at hot and fast lovemaking. In reality, she wanted to be more than his friend, more than his lover. Yet Marc wasn’t the kind of man who required more than temporary affairs—without complications.
Kate’s feelings for Marc were very complicated and she would have to analyze them later. Right now she needed to put aside her predicament, will away the shakes and see about Cecile. With that thought, she opened the door only to be met head-on by the queen mother.
“Hi, Mary,” Kate said in a too-loud voice laden with fake cheerfulness.
“Hello, dear.” Mary’s gaze roamed over Kate from head to toe. “Have you seen my son?”
Oh, she’d seen him all right, and he had definitely seen her. “He left his office a few minutes ago. How’s Cecile?”
“She’s an angel and down for her afternoon nap.”
Searching for a quick escape, Kate pointed toward the back staircase leading to the nursery. “I think I’ll go check on her now.”
“I would prefer you take a walk with me.”
Oh, boy. “Any place in particular?”
“The gardens. It’s a beautiful day and a good opportunity for us to have a little talk.”
Kate assumed her face probably flashed guilt like a billboard, triggering the queen mother’s request. Mary most likely suspected something was brewing between Kate and the king. Kate saw no way out aside from running away, but that would further encourage the queen mother’s suspicions.
When Kate said, “Lead the way,” surprisingly Mary linked her arm with Kate’s and guided her down the gilt and marble corridor, then through a pair of double French doors that led to the rear palace grounds.
They remained silent as they strolled along a rock path lined with rose bushes and neatly trimmed hedges. When they reached a stone bench, Mary sat and patted the place next to her. “Join me, Kate.”
Kate complied, keeping her gaze trained on a tree where a bluebird flitted along the branches, wishing she could sprout some wings and fly away.
Mary’s sigh floated over the gentle breeze. “I suppose you now have the results of Cecile’s blood test.”
At least she hadn’t quizzed her about Marc, Kate thought. But she wasn’t sure it was her place to deliver the news that would most likely be a reality jolt. However, she couldn’t lie to this woman who had been nothing but kind to her since the beginning. “Yes, I have the results.”
“Well?”
Kate shifted until she faced Mary, taking the woman’s hand into hers. “Cecile has Philippe’s and Marc’s blood type.”
Mary drew in a long breath and released it on a weary sigh. “Then she is most likely my grandchild.”
“Unless there is someone else in the family that could be a possibility.”
Mary shook her head. “No. The line ends with Marcel. His father had only one niece, his deceased sister’s child, and she is in Canada, happily married with two children. I have no one else in my family.”
Kate ached at the loneliness in Mary’s voice and grasped for words that might ease her pain. “And now you have Cecile. And Marc.”
Mary studied their joined hands. “Marcel has been a stranger to me for the past few years. He’s always been searching for something, although heaven only knows what.”
“Respect,” Kate said with certainty.
“I suppose you’re right about that.” Mary lifted her gaze to Kate. “Do you believe Cecile is his child?”
“He’s adamant that she isn’t.”
“But do you believe him?”
Kate wanted to, honestly she did. “What I think doesn’t matter,” she said, the same thing she’d told Marc earlier. “Cecile’s well-being is important, though. She needs your love.”
“She will have it,” Mary stated. “I am more concerned with my son. He has much to bear as a king.”
“I know, but he has broad shoulders.” In both a literal and figurative sense.
“He also needs the love of a good woman.”
Kate shrugged. “I’m sure there’s a princess somewhere who would be more than willing to give him that.”
Mary patted Kate’s hand. “My dear, we are running relatively low on monarchs in this day and time. Marcel needs someone who understands him. Someone who can settle him down. A nice, educated woman would fit the bill.”
The expectant look on Mary’s face took Kate aback. “Again, I’m sure someone will turn his head.”
“Someone already has, and that someone is you.”
Kate’s breath hitched hard in her chest. “Mary, I really don’t think—”
“You need not think, Kate. You only need to be there for him. The rest will take care of itself. Unless you do not care for him.”
Kate looked away, knowing the guilt had returned. “I’m very fond of Marc. I have been since the day I met him nine years ago.”
“But can you love him?”
In many ways, Kate already did. In many ways, she always had. “Right now, Marc needs a friend, and I’m willing to be that to him.”