The Prince's Forbidden Love. Raye Morgan

her some vodka in her lemonade to make her feel as though she were doing something slightly sophisticated.

      “Here you go,” he said, handing her a tall frosted glass. “I added a little something, but just barely enough for you to feel it. We can’t have you going back to the convent tipsy.”

      She smiled at him, delighted, but at the same time vowing that the convent was the last place for her tonight.

      He dropped smoothly onto the arm of the couch and looked down at her. He knew he should call Mother Superior to let her know Julienne was with him, but he didn’t want to. Surely they would try to contact him when they realized she was gone. And then he would have to make plans as to when he would take her back. Much as he wanted her back where she belonged, he began to realize that she wouldn’t have come if there wasn’t a serious problem. The goal was to get her to the church on time, with as little hassle as possible.

      Still, he would have to take it easy and figure out the best way to accomplish that. Barking orders wouldn’t get her to do what he wanted. Cooperation was his goal. In order to achieve that he had to find out what had motivated her into coming to find him this way.

      He grimaced. Being sensitive to the needs of others wasn’t usually uppermost in his mind. He was used to being catered to. Time for him to learn to stretch himself a little.

      “Okay, Julienne,” he began slowly, feeling his way. “Explain to me just exactly what you’re doing here.”

      His voice was low, but with enough command to let her know he expected a complete and coherent answer.

      She took a sip, nodded approvingly, and smiled up at him again, waving one hand with a flourish.

      “This is merely a courtesy call,” she told him cheekily. “I thought, as my guardian, you might like to know what I plan to do with my life.”

      He frowned, wary, but still in control of his reactions. “As your guardian, I already know what you’re going to do with your life. In fact, I planned it myself. No need for you to bother.”

      “Ah, but that’s where you’ve gone wrong.” She took another sip, just for bravery, and set the drink down on the glass coffee table. “You see, I’m no longer a minor, no longer in a position to be your ward.” She took a deep breath and faced him squarely, her gaze simple and direct. “In fact, I quit. I’m old enough to be on my own. And that is what I choose to do.”

      He looked pained. “Julienne, you know very well your life was mapped out seven years ago as part of the Treaty of Salvais.”

      She glanced down at the drink, began to reach for it, then drew her hand back and nodded quickly. “I know. I know. But, you see, that was done without my consent, and—”

      “Your consent!” He shook his head, losing control of his patience a bit. “Julienne, your wedding is in less than a week. You can’t back out now. The invitations are out. The gifts are streaming in. It’s too late to stop the momentum. It’s going to happen, whether you like it or not.”

      She didn’t look convinced. In fact, she looked downright resentful.

      “And are you planning to show up this time?” she asked, challenging him with her dark, honest gaze. “Or do you have your usual ‘business to attend to’ instead?”

      His head went back in reaction. She’d pushed exactly the button that was guaranteed to open the floodgates to the guilt he felt about his guardianship. Over the last few years he’d avoided seeing her, missing every Christmas, every birthday. He knew his actions had hurt her. But it couldn’t be helped. As her guardian, he had to protect her from predatory men. What he’d never expected when he took on that role was that he would be his own prime target.

      “Julienne, all this is beside the point. You are required by treaty to marry Prince Alphonso next week, and marry him you will.”

      She shook her head, lower lip thrust out rebelliously. “I never signed any treaty,” she insisted. “I never gave consent.”

      He jerked to his feet and began to pace the floor, holding back his quick surge of exasperation. Was he going to be forced to go over the whole history with her once again? No, she was just being stubborn. She knew all about the fighting between the three royal houses that had ripped their country apart for generations.

      Right now an uneasy truce prevailed, but it had only come about after a long, bloody war. Too many people had died. He thought, with a quick slice of pain, of his own mother, killed by an assassin’s bullet. The factions had fought each other to a standstill, and then it had taken a long, torturous struggle of negotiation to finally settle things, and that had only happened once Julienne’s parents, the King and Queen of the House of Emeraude, had agreed that she would marry Prince Alphonso when she reached twenty-one years. Their marriage would tie the houses of Emeraude and Diamante together for evermore, and help balance the struggle of power between the three houses.

      It had to happen. If she didn’t follow through with the treaty’s promise, the country was very likely to go up in flames again. No one wanted that, and as one of the architects of the plan he couldn’t let it happen. In fact, it was up to him to make sure she followed through.

      “Your parents gave all the consent that was needed,” he told her coolly. “The deal was sealed. There is no going back on our word.”

      “I know all that,” she was saying, looking at him earnestly. “But I’ve thought it over and I think I can fight it in court.”

      “In court?” He stopped pacing and stared at her, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Didn’t she realize that as far as this went he was pretty much all the “court” she was going to have at her disposal? How could he explain to her? She really didn’t have a choice.

      “Yes,” she said emphatically. “I’m sure forcing me to marry is against my civil rights.”

      “Really?” he said, still staring at her. “You think you have civil rights?”

      She sat up straighter, looking shocked that he would even question that. “Of course. Everyone does. And making me marry someone just to hold a country together doesn’t make a lot of sense. I bet there’s not another girl in the world who is being expected to do that.”

      Poor Julienne. He regarded her with a mixture of exasperation and a certain sad bemusement. How had she managed to make it this far without learning that being royal meant you weren’t like everyone else? That had its obvious advantages, but there was also a downside. She was stuck. She could twist and turn and try to think of every sort of angle, but there was no escape. She would feel a whole lot better about things once she accepted that and got on with her life. In a strange, convoluted way, her plight touched his heart. But there was nothing he could do to remedy it.

      She looked so young, so innocent. The late-afternoon light shafting in through the huge picture window seemed to turn her skin a creamy gold.

      “You’re probably right,” he told her, fighting off the impulse to reach out and cup her lovely flushed cheek in the palm of his hand. “You’re the only one.”

      He saw the hope that flared in her eyes and he hated to douse it, but it had to be done. He knew it was asking a lot to rest all the culture and peace of one country on the shoulders of one tiny twenty-one-year-old girl. But what was right and what was fair just plain didn’t matter. That was the way it was. Her situation was her situation, and if she didn’t abide by the rules he’d set up a lot of people might die. It had happened before. It could happen again. They couldn’t risk it.

      “You’re looking at this all wrong,” he told her helpfully. “You should be proud of the sacrifice you are making for your country.”

      Her eyes clouded and she wrinkled her nose. “Sorry. Ask someone else, please.”

      Was she going to cry? He tensed. If she started to cry it would be impossible to keep his distance and he knew it. But she looked up and smiled at him tremulously. And that was almost as bad.

      He