Marguerite grasped wildly for any chance she might salvage the situation. “I—there is a contract, signed by the king—”
“Late king.” Catherine sniffed dismissively. “And no contract could be found. Indeed, it is as though the whole arrangement never existed. Perhaps he was lying to you.”
Swallowing down all the things that wanted to burst from her at once—indignant obscenities, pleas for mercy, invectives of hate—she felt adrift at sea. There was…nothing she could do. She had no connections.
“Now, at least, I can finally make use of you.” Catherine sighed. “Henri’s insistence that you be able to choose your own suitor was irritatingly childish. I will have to consider the options and inform you within the fortnight. But mark me, girl—you will finally serve the family to which you should never have been born.”
Marguerite refused to cry. She would not let the tears fall. She stared down at the ground before her. “Of course. Your word is law. Is there anything else, your majesty?”
“No. You are dismissed.”
She curtsied and turned. She kept her back straight and her head high until she had returned to her room. Her door had barely clicked shut before she collapsed into a chair, shaking in an overwhelming combination of emotions.
I will still flee to Leopold. We will leave together and make our own way out of the country. Perhaps we will go to Germany. But what kind of nonsense was that? She would be a fugitive in the eyes of the crown. They would have nothing. No connections, no home, no family. She could not ask Leopold to give up everything for her.
There was a quiet knock on the door.
Somehow, she knew who it was. “Come in, Dr. Faust.”
When the door opened and then shut once more, she did not dare look up to him as he entered. It might be the end of her resolve.
“Am I that predictable?”
She put a trembling hand to her temple and kept her eyes shut. She felt as though she were coming apart at the seams. “You are becoming so. If I am to find myself inconsolable, or unconscious, you somehow appear at my side like a phantom.”
His footsteps were quiet as he crossed the room. She felt him kneel before her. When his hand touched hers that lay in her lap, she twitched but did not recoil. “I am so sorry, Marguerite…” In the strangest way, she believed him. There was such sincerity in his voice, she did not doubt that some part of him did not empathize with her pain.
When his fingers brushed her cheek, she finally looked to him and to those strange, molten silver eyes. The sight of her pain reflected back at her in his own sympathy was finally enough to snap the last of what held her together. Once more, in front of him, she cried.
He shushed her gently, shifting closer to her and stroking her tears away. She did not pull away from him that time, desperate for the consolation and affection he offered her. Leopold is gone. My father is gone. Everything that I have ever known will change the moment she marries me off. “Catherine will wed me to the cruelest man to which she thinks I could be made of use.”
“You have done nothing to deserve her wrath.”
“And yet, I have it. She loathes me for the love my father felt for my mother.”
Gideon sighed. “Yes. She does. And yes, I suspect your theory might turn true. She is…an unkind woman.”
The images of some stranger standing over her flashed through her mind, and her imagination played through all the manners in which a man could torture her as her husband. But it did not matter. She was trapped. “I—I am so very scared…”
He gathered her hands into both of his and held them in her lap, and bowing his head to her fingers, he kissed them. “Marry me, Marguerite. Let me be your shelter from this tragedy. Let me show you the love that fills my heart. I will be a good husband. You will want for nothing.”
“But the queen…”
“I will deal with the queen. Say yes, Marguerite. Say you will be my wife.” Silver eyes, hopeful and pained, turned to her. There was so much longing in them that for a moment she was stunned.
“Do you truly love me?”
He smiled as though she had said something both humorous and adorable. “What a foolish question. I have walked this world alone for so very long, my princess. I have traveled to every country, seen every court, and met every manner of beautiful woman this Earth has to offer. And never once have I been taken with one such as I was the moment I laid eyes on you.”
Her cheeks went warm at his words. She searched him for any sign that he was lying, but if he was, he was a far better actor than she could detect.
He stood from the ground slowly, pulling her up with him. Once more she found herself in his arms, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace and the softness of his dark robes. The strange and exotic scent of herbs and petrichor washed over her as he pressed her to him.
God on high, he was so strong. The feeling of him against her lit a fire in her of which she had not known she was capable of experiencing. His fingers threaded into her hair, cradling the back of her head, and urged her to turn up to him.
His breath was warm against her cheek as he grazed his lips against her skin to whisper to her. “I love you, Marguerite. I love you more than anything in this world—and I have it all. Come with me. I will shower you with all that you could desire. Power, wealth, knowledge—Earth will be at your feet. Say yes.”
“I—” She hesitated, her head swimming with how overwhelming his presence was. She had never been this close with a man—well, except Leopold—and the need it sparked in her was so sudden it felt violent.