She stalked towards him.
‘I could hardly entertain a pitched battle with my prime minister on the floor of the palace ballroom,’ she hissed. ‘But let me ask you this, since your ambition is renowned. Would you have married me if I were simply Lise Betencourt? Would you have loved me if I were a mere commoner? Not the Princess or the Queen?’
It was as if he’d been doused in iced water. Love? When had that word entered their discussion?
‘We have passion and purpose.’ More than either of them could have hoped for at the beginning of their marriage. Love? That was meaningless. He moved towards her, slow and steady. Trying to suppress the urge to shout. To make her see. ‘But we are who we are and can’t change that fact. So your question’s meaningless.’
She threw up her hands. ‘It meanseverything. You wanted the Crown. The country. The power. Never me.Neverme.’
Lise curled into herself then. It looked as if she were being sawn in two. ‘But that’s fine because you became King and one of the most powerful men in Europe.’ Her voice faded. Quiet and defeated. He hated that tone. Better she rage and scream at him rather than this, devoid of emotion as it was.
Rafe stepped forwards, closer now. Close enough to see the sparkle of welling tears before she blinked them furiously away. ‘Lise—’
‘Don’t use my name.’
‘Why?’
She jabbed her finger at him. ‘I am not and have never been Lise to you. All you ever saw was Her Most Serene and Ethereal Majesty. Defender of the Realm. Annalise Marie Betencourt. Queen of Lauritania. And that’s exactly whom you shall have, from this moment onwards.’
His jaw tightened. He breathed through a furnace of heat raging in his gut. He would get through to her in the end. ‘You’re chasing shadows, things that aren’t real, whereas this, how we work together,that’ssomething honest and truthful.’
‘You want to talk about truth now?’ She raised her chin and glared at him. ‘I see you for who you are. The ambitious farm boy who coveted the Crown and acquired it.’
Rafe jerked back. And there it was. He couldn’t have taken a more direct hit if she’d slapped him. He’d always believed Lise was different from the rest. That in him she saw something more than his history, his past. Yet in the end what they might have shared was meaningless. The words he’d overheard tonight with Hasselbeck werehertruth. Lise was still Lauritania’s aristocracy, and he was the common dirt upon which she trod.
‘You go too far,’ he snapped. The pulse roared in his ears. ‘Ask yourself one thing whilst you sit there on your lofty throne. Where would you or the country be without me? You’d be nothing more than a mouthpiece for the prime minister.’
Lise narrowed her eyes, hard, cold and unreachable. ‘Better than a puppet of yours.’
He shook his head. How could he have been fooled? No matter the alluring wrapping, they were all the same, these blue bloods. Only one of their own was good enough. He’d always be the outsider.
‘If that’s what you believe there’s nothing more to say.’ He bowed deep and low, like the commoner he was. ‘Good evening, Your Majesty.’
Rafe snatched his great-grandfather’s cufflinks from the bureau and stormed from the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He’d never be enough for the government, for the people, for her. Lise wanted to be Queen on her own? She could do it and to hell with how heavy the crown sat on her head. He grabbed the solid iron key from the side table, shoved it in the keyhole of the great oak door between them and twisted.
The lock tumbled closed with an emphatic, satisfying click.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LISESTAREDOUTof the window of her study. Autumn now firmly taking hold of the countryside, the trees turning gold. Soon the frost would start, the creep and clutch of winter gripping the mountains. But it was always winter for her. Especially now.
She hadn’t seen Rafe for two days. He hadn’t come to any meals. No light shone out from under the door of his adjoining room at night. Thelockeddoor. The ache of it twisted hard in her stomach. The hurt still as sharp as the night of the ball. His lack of honesty when he’d promised no more secrets. When she’d realised that yet another person couldn’t love her. But there was more. Her memories of his widened eyes, the visceral pain on his face as he’d reared back at her words.
‘The ambitious farm boy who coveted the Crown...’
She loathed being cruel and wasn’t proud of what she’d said because she knew what those words would do to him. She’d asked him once did he believe she’d hurt him and now she knew the answer in his silence that day wasyes.For shehadhurt him in the end.Coldly, deliberately. As he’d hurt her too, although that didn’t excuse her own actions. He’d never wanted Lise Betencourt. He’d wanted the Crown, the Queen. Status, nothing more.
She realised now the trap she’d laid for herself. Somewhere deep inside she’d hoped that he could love her, as she’d fallen in love with him. Because that was why she was standing here, with her heart aching as if it had taken a mortal blow. She was in love. Try as she might to fool her head otherwise, she couldn’t. Love had caught her when she’d least expected it. When it wasn’t hers to wish for.
But why? She wasn’t sure any more. She’d spent so many years believing no one could love her, it seemed to have become self-fulfilling. Yet she understood now that, before loving another, she needed to learn to love herself. Lise pulled her jacket tighter, hugging it to her body. Whilst she didn’t like herself for what she’d said to Rafe, she’d come to realise one thing. She wasworthy.Of the many things Rafe might have said to her, on one, he’d been correct. She’d survived, become stronger as a person. Grown as Queen. It was a role she didn’t disdain any longer because a person sitting on the throne could do great things, great good. That was something Rafe had taught her. A painful lesson, but she finally recognised her worth as a woman. Didn’t she deserve to live a life full of joy and love, for herself?
Her marriage was hollow, sure. Fantasies that it was something more scoured clean away. So, what was left? She couldn’t divorce. The stability of the country and the fragile steps to repairing the economy relied on Rafe and her together.Jusqu’à la mort.Until death.Rafe had warned her all along with those words engraved on the inner side of her wedding ring. A ring that sat like the weight of the planet on her finger.
She lifted her hand to look at the exquisite gold and enamel band. As she did, a part of the intricate design snagged on the wool of her skirt, and something pulled free. A golden panel like a tiny door, upon which one of the delicate, enamelled flowers lay embellished. Lise peered at it, because there was something engraved underneath the panel, on the body of the ring.
Mon coeur.My heart.
Pulse racing, she tore the ring from her finger. She’d thought the panels were merely a part of the intricate design, not hiding any message. She flicked open another with her fingernail.