“That would be a seared conscience,” she said. “And I have no desire to hear about your exploits beyond looking at medical records and seeing a negative result on the test.”
“You’re a savvy little thing for a woman who’s spent ten years in a convent.”
“I wasn’t born in one.”
“I suppose not. I propose that we set the wedding for early spring.”
“That’s very soon. Only a couple of months.”
“I know,” he said, “but it will create a nice celebratory atmosphere. Also, you’ve told me I have to remain celibate until our wedding night so I’m not eager to put it off.”
Red bloomed in her cheeks, visible even beneath her scars. “I shouldn’t have thought you would be overly concerned with that.”
“You thought wrong. Now—” he reached in front of him and pulled a black velvet drape from over a tray that contained six rings, all a part of the Drakos family collection “—I have a selection of rings for you to choose from. There is, of course, the one that you had back when we were engaged the first time. It’s sized to fit you, assuming that’s stayed the same. But I know that women often change their tastes, so I wanted to give you options.”
Layna swallowed hard and stared at the jewelry in front of her. She’d come down hoping for some coffee and fruit. Maybe eggs and bacon. She hadn’t expected diamonds. It was, in her opinion, a little early in the morning for diamonds.
She couldn’t tear her eyes from the pear-shaped diamond, surrounded by citrines, glittering in the midmorning light that was filtering through the window.
It had been hers. She could still remember King Stephanos asking for it. He’d called her in with her father, deeply regretful to have to ask for it back. But it had also belonged to his wife, and since Xander was now gone and the wedding wouldn’t be taking place, he simply couldn’t bear to have it out of the palace.
Leaving, her hand had felt bare and her heart...
How could he leave her? How could he leave all of them? And why had she never kissed his lips?
Looking at the ring made her remember all of that. She hated those memories. They made her feel too much. They interrupted her contentment. But then, her contentment had been interrupted for a while now. Also Xander’s fault.
She reached out, her fingers hovering over that ring. It was the one she wanted. She’d been allowed to choose back then, too, and it had been her favorite. But this wasn’t the same moment. She wasn’t the same girl. He was not the same man.
“I don’t care,” she said, putting her hand back at her side. “You can choose it for me.”
He arched a brow and picked up a ring with a square cut solitaire and an ornate white gold band. “This one, then,” he said. “If you don’t care.”
“I don’t.”
He stood from his place at the table and walked to where she sat, standing in front of her and taking her hand in his. Then, with her sitting and him looming above her, he slipped the ring onto her finger. “It fits fine, doesn’t it?”
She pulled her hand back and curled her fingers into a fist. “Fine,” she said, trying to swallow and failing, her throat too dry to manage it.
She looked down at her hand, at the completely different ring that was now on her finger. This was different. This wasn’t just going back in time. Recapturing what might have been. He might have the same name, but he was a different man. Just as she was a different woman.
Time had changed them. Time had changed their circumstances. She was no longer half in love with him, that was for sure.
Neither would she be falling in love with him any time soon.
“I do need to go and see my father sometime soon.”
She nodded slowly. “I imagine you do.”
“And we shall have to plan a party. To celebrate my return, and to celebrate our engagement. And hope it isn’t perceived as tacky since my father is ill.”
“Maybe you can talk to Stavros about that?”
“Oh, yes, I could talk to Stavros, though it seems he would rather not talk to me.”
“Eva, then?”
“I should talk to both of them.”
She frowned. “I’m sure we can find a way to make sure it doesn’t look tacky. If we try and portray it as a show of strength for the country. No matter how dark the night, the dawn is coming, and so on.”
“See,” he said, smiling, “this is why I need you.”
Those words did something to her. Made her heart feel like it was unfolding, like it was expanding. Made her feel a little bit of pain, a little bit of pleasure. But it was stupid. It wasn’t flattering. He only needed her because he was a gigantic PR nightmare. Such a gigantic PR nightmare that a scarred almost-nun looked good by comparison.