But he couldn’t think that way any more. He couldn’t let himself think at all or he would back out of this right now. He had done all the thinking he needed to do and, with the memory of the scene in his bedroom that morning, had come to his decision. The only decision he believed was possible. He couldn’t live with himself if he went any other way.
And now he had to tell Ria what was going to happen.
‘We need to talk.’
Could there be any more ominous line in the whole of the English language? Ria questioned as she made herself step backwards to let him into the room.
‘But we said we would meet downstairs, in one of the anterooms, ready to go into the ballroom together.’
‘I know we did—but this has to be sorted out before we go down. Before anything else.’
Which was guaranteed to make her throat clench tighter, her lungs constrict, making it hard to breathe. Unthinkingly she lifted her hand to wave some air into her face, remembering only what she held when she saw Alexei’s eyes focus sharply on the photograph.
‘Belle...’
If she had any doubts left then they evaporated in the burn of his expression, the shadows of pain that darkened his voice. Ria took a slow deep breath. She owed him this.
‘The stories they told about that—you didn’t do it. You couldn’t have done it.’
He’d dropped her hand, reached out and took the small snapshot, holding it carefully as if afraid it might disintegrate.
‘Cot death, they called it. But if someone had been there...’
‘But wasn’t Mariette?’
‘Oh, she was there but she wasn’t any help to anyone. Mariette had problems. Depression—drink—drugs.’ His voice was low and flat, all emotion ironed out. ‘We’d had a savage row. She told me to get out. I planned on getting drunk but I couldn’t get rid of the fear that there was something wrong. I had to go back—but Mariette’s door was locked against me and she wouldn’t answer no matter how much I knocked and shouted. Eventually I had to break the door down—and found a scene of horror inside. Mariette was in a drug-fuelled stupor and Belle had died in her cradle.’ His breath caught hard in his throat and he had to force the words out.
Ria hadn’t been aware of moving forward, coming closer, but now she realised that she was so very close to him and, reaching out, she took his hand again, but the other way round this time, feeling his fingers curl around hers, hold her tightly.
‘But everyone thought— You took the blame.’ Incredulity made her voice shake.
Alexei’s shrug was weary, dismissive.
‘Because you loved her?’
‘No, not Mariette.’ He was shaking his head before her words were out. ‘We’d run our course long before, but we stayed together for the baby’s sake.’
Reaching up, he pulled the mask away from his face and let it drop, the lines around his nose and eyes seeming to be more dramatically etched as they were exposed to the light.
‘My shoulders are broad enough. And Mariette had demons of her own to fight. She never wanted to be pregnant, and when she found she was she wanted to have an abortion. I persuaded her not to. She hated every minute of it, and I think she suffered from post-natal depression after Belle arrived. She ended up having a complete breakdown and had to be hospitalised. The last thing she needed was a horde of paparazzi hounding her, accusing her...’
For a moment he paused, his head going back, dark eyes looking deep into hers.
‘She’d already cracked completely and lashed out when I tried to see her.’
His twisted smile tore at her heart. Could it get any worse? In her mind’s eye, Ria was seeing the notorious photo of Alexei, bruised and bloodied. She had assumed—everyone had assumed—that he had been in a fight. But now she could see that those scratches had been scored into his skin by long, feminine nails.
‘And I had plenty of my own scandals to live down. But...’ His eyes went to the photo in his hand. ‘I adored that little girl.’
‘I know you did.’
‘You believe me?’
Ria nodded mutely, tears clogging her throat. ‘You’re not capable of anything like they accused you of.’
Just for a moment Alexei rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.
‘Thank you.’
I can’t love you. I loved once—adored her... Lost her.
And it was little Belle, the baby daughter, who had stolen his heart. If she hadn’t seen that photograph she would know it now from the rawness in his voice, the darkness of his eyes. Oh dear heaven, if only she could ever hope to see that look when he thought of her. But he had confided the truth to her. Would she be totally blind, totally foolish to allow herself to hope that that meant he felt more for her than just his convenient, dynastic bride-to-be? Ria couldn’t suppress the wild, skittering jump of her heart at the thought.
Downstairs, in the main hall of the castle, the huge golden gong sounded to announce the fact that it was almost time for the ball to start. Another few minutes and they would be expected to go down, ready to make their ceremonial entry. As always, the demands of state were intruding into their private moments. Obviously Alexei thought so too because he lifted his head, raked both his hands through the crisp darkness of his hair.
‘You said we needed to talk.’ She didn’t know if she wanted to push him into saying whatever he had come to tell her. Only that right now she couldn’t bear to leave it hanging unsaid for a moment longer.
‘We do.’
He had always known that this was going to be hard and the conversation they had just had, the trust she had honoured him with, would only make things so much worse. But he also knew that it was the only way he could do things. The way she was looking at him, eyes bright behind that white satin mask, was going to destroy him if he didn’t get things out in the open—fast.
But if ever there was a time that he owed someone the truth then it was now.
‘This isn’t going to work.’
He could see her recoil, eyes closing, the hand she had put on his snatched away abruptly.
‘What isn’t working?’
‘Everything. The engagement—the marriage—you as my queen. Everything.’
‘But I don’t understand.’ He was giving her what he knew she wanted but she wasn’t making things easy for him. ‘We’ve already announced the engagement. Tonight...’
‘I know. Tonight we are supposed to face the court, the nobility and every last one of the foreign diplomats in the country. Tonight is to mark the first step on to the final public stage of this whole damn king business.’
Tonight they would face the world as a royal couple—the future of the country. The potential royal family. And that was where one great big problem lay. A problem that had grown deeper and darker since this morning. Could he and this woman, this gorgeous, sexy woman, ever be more than the passionate lovers they had been in the past weeks? Could they ever become a family?
Family. That was the word that showed him what he wanted most and why he could not ever allow himself to think of letting this continue.
He had always wanted a family. The family he’d hoped to find when they had first come to Mecjoria. The one that had been denied him when his father had died and all that had followed. That was why he had begged Mariette not to have the abortion she’d wanted. Why he’d fallen in love with his little daughter from the moment the doctors had first put her in his arms just after the birth. Memories of Belle and all that he’d lost with her were like a dark bruise on his thoughts. The accusations Ria had flung at him this morning had brought those terrible memories rushing back, so that he hadn’t been able to stay and face them down. And even now, when he knew she understood—more so because she’d understood—he knew he couldn’t keep her trapped with him, not like this. She deserved so much better.
The accusation of trapping her that she’d flung at him was so appallingly justified, and the thought stuck in his throat, made acid burn in his stomach. He’d pushed her into a situation that took all her options, any trace of choice away from her. What made him think that she would want marriage to him any more than she would want to become Ivan’s bride? It was true that the country benefited from the arranged marriage but, hell and damnation, he could have handled it so much better.
Did he really want a bride who looked so tense whenever they were alone—unless they were in bed together? A queen who held herself so stiffly that she looked as if she might break into a thousand brittle pieces if he touched her? A woman who, like his own mother, had been used as just a pawn in the power games of court? He had forced Mariette into a situation that she didn’t want, and the end result had been a total tragedy. He could not do that to Ria.
‘Tell me one thing.’ He had to hear it from her own lips. ‘Would you have agreed to marry me if I hadn’t made it a condition of my accepting the throne?’