CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

‘ A RE YOU HAPPY for Mr Lord to prioritise his business over the needs of Androvia and the monarchy?’

‘Why would he leave you in a time of crisis?’

‘Is your marriage already in trouble, Your Majesty?’

Isabelle stood dumbly, unable to speak, while the questions—intrusive, cutting, painful—were fired at her from all angles.

Everything had moved swiftly once the police had been informed of the disappearance—and had ascertained after triangulating Rene and Mel’s phone signals that both mobiles had been dead for since New Year’s Day. A press conference had been called to ask for information, and Isabelle had insisted she participate.

In many ways, she had welcomed the activity, not just because she was becoming increasingly anxious about Mel and Rene’s whereabouts, but because she did not want to have to process Travis’s absence, or his parting words.

She was processing it now though. The chasm in her stomach filled with the crushing weight of culpability and regret.

She had brought this on herself by believing she could circumvent the terms of her father’s will. Was this why her father had insisted she needed a husband? Because he had seen the weakness inside her, even as a little girl? Had he known then that she would never be loved for herself?

The press secretary stepped in, to try and deflect the questions back onto the subject at hand, but the media—particularly the world media, who had no respect for Androvia’s monarchy or its traditions—had scented red meat.

And still she stood—tongue-tied, unable to defend herself or her marriage. How could she, when they were correct, her marriage was a hopeless fraud? And why did it hurt so much to know that, when that was always what it was supposed to be?

Then a commotion began at the back of the room, and suddenly striding towards her was Travis. In jeans and a T-shirt, he looked like the man she had known in Colorado. The man she had fallen hopelessly in love with within the space of one week—like the worst kind of romantic fool.

He came back.

She couldn’t see the camera flashes any more, couldn’t even hear the questions—being shouted at him now as well as her. He strode towards the podium, the crowd parting. Jumping onto the raised platform, he slung his arm around her waist. The heavy weight of it seemed to pull her out of the nightmare and into something even more fraught, even more painful.

He can’t have come back for me. He doesn’t love me.

‘Okay, quieten the hell down,’ he shouted to the reporters, his deep voice cutting through the furore like a knife. The room fell silent.

‘Our marriage is great. I’m here to support my wife.’ His arm tightened on her, tugging her against his side in a show of strength, of love, which only made the pain worse. Because she wanted so much to believe it. But she knew it wasn’t true. ‘Now maybe stop focussing on dumb gossip and concentrate instead on helping the Queen to find two people who matter to her.’

He turned to her and pressed a kiss to her cheek—making the room explode again—before whispering in her ear for only her to hear. ‘Let’s get the hell out of here.’

She followed him off the podium, the press secretary and the police chief fielding the questions as Travis led her up the staircase at the back of the stateroom, to her library.

But once they were inside the room, away from the media hordes, she gathered what was left of her courage and her strength and pulled her hand out of his.

She walked into the middle of the room, the scent of lemon polish suffocating her.

She turned to find him watching her, with the intensity she had once found so exciting. But it only made the chasm inside her feel more real. And more empty.

‘Why are you here? Why did you come back?’ she asked, her voice surprisingly firm, given that she was breaking apart inside, because she knew he could only have returned to fulfil the terms of their agreement.

‘Haven’t you figured it out yet, Belle?’ he asked, softly.

She shook her head.

He walked towards her. ‘I’ve done something real dumb,’ he murmured, his voice low. ‘I’ve fallen in love with my fake wife.’

He placed his rough palm on her cheek. She reared away from him, even as the fierce yearning gripped her all over again.

‘Please don’t touch me,’ she managed, but her voice broke on the words, shaming her even more. ‘And please don’t lie to me.’

She might be needy, desperate, delusional, but she refused to let him see her break. Or she would have nothing left when he walked away again.

‘I’m not lying, not this time,’ he said, his voice implacable, the gaze coasting over her full of admiration and something else... Something fierce and...

She yanked herself back for the second time. But it was so much harder this time.

‘All I need to know is do you feel the same way?’ he asked.

‘Please don’t ask me that,’ she begged, hating the neediness in her voice. ‘It isn’t fair.’

The tears rolled down her cheeks, the tears she had promised herself she wouldn’t shed. She scrubbed them away with impatient fists.

He stepped forward again and grasped her shoulders to tug her against his chest. That sure solid chest, the steady beat of his heart something she had come to trust.

‘Damn it, Belle, I’m sorry. I was a coward.’ He wrapped his arms around her. Strong and unyielding, but it wasn’t enough to control the fear. ‘I knew what was happening between us. It was always more than just sex. But I didn’t want to acknowledge it, because it would mean admitting I needed you. And I haven’t admitted needing anyone since I was a kid.’

She lurched out of his arms again. The accusation sharp in her voice to hold the traitorous tears at bay. ‘I—I don’t believe you... You left me, like they did, when I asked you to stay.’

The words spewed out on a wave of vulnerability, leaving her feeling more exposed. But when he grasped her upper arms, and pulled her back towards him, this time she couldn’t resist the urge to be held. To matter.

‘I know, baby...’ He pressed his cheek to her hair. ‘Like I said, I was a coward. But if you can forgive me, we can build something better. I swear.’

The bubble of hope pressed against her ribs, but the fear of rejection only made it more painful, more terrifying. ‘You have to tell me why.’

He lifted his head, his expression tortured, yet sincere. ‘Why what?’ he said, but she suspected he knew what she was asking.

‘Why did you find it so hard to admit there was more between us?’ she forced herself to ask, demanding more from him despite the terrible uncertainty that still remained between them. ‘Why did you walk away when you knew I needed you to stay?’ She sighed, finally asking the question she had asked once before, and he had refused to answer. ‘What happened to that boy, Travis, to make him so sure he didn’t need anyone?’

He swore softly, then let her go. She felt the loss immediately. But the hope expanded in her chest when he crossed to the library’s tall, mullioned window. And stared out into her kingdom. The kingdom she wanted so desperately to share with him.

‘Does it have anything to do with your father?’ she asked.

He swung round. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Because I know exactly what it feels like to never be enough,’ she said simply.

He stared at her for the longest time, then he turned back to the view of the gorge. But when he began to speak, she could hear the insecurity in his voice, which he had always refused to share, until now.

‘When I was twelve, he came to one of my events. For some dumb reason, I thought he was there for me.’ He hitched a shoulder, the movement stiff and jerky and so unlike him. ‘And I was overjoyed. I knew I could win—I was the favourite.’ He dropped his head, his back so rigid she could feel him remembering the pain of that rejection, and her heart hurt, too. ‘I figured if I could ace the field, he’d finally want me. I killed myself that day, took a ton of dumb risks. But what I didn’t know was that a couple of the other competitors were his real sons, the kids he was really there to support.’

He shook his head. ‘I climbed onto the podium to take the gold, so proud of myself and what I’d achieved and sure he had to be too. In that moment, I had all these wild fantasies, that he would come up to me, that he would offer to be my dad, that he would apologise for never being there for me...’ He cursed under his breath.

‘My mom was there and she spotted him, too. She saw how devastated I was when he looked at me like I was nothing, as he left with his “real” sons,’ he added, lifting his hands to do air quotes. ‘It gutted me, that he still didn’t want me. But it crushed her, too—which was worse somehow, because she had always been there for me and he never had.’ He turned back towards her. ‘Ever since then, I made sure never to open myself to that kind of rejection again. It was just me and my mom and we were fine. And when she was gone, it was just me. And that was the way I liked it...’

He headed towards her. His gaze roamed over her face, and made her feel truly seen—not just the competent queen, but the strong woman beneath, and the vulnerable, terrified girl too—as he always had.

‘Until you came along and blew that I’m-the-only-person-I-need crap to smithereens.’

She gripped his hands, held on tight. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Sorry he was so unworthy of you. You deserved a much better father than that.’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘We both did... But don’t tell me you’re sorry, Belle, just tell me I haven’t spilt my guts for no reason.’

She felt the smile crack her face—at the forthright way he spoke to her—and the smile reached into her chest to wrap around her heart. They had a long way to go yet. She had never loved anyone before, never needed them the way she needed him. And never trusted that they could love her back with the same fervour.

But the hope felt worth the pain now. And the obstacles ahead of her, ahead of them, didn’t feel so scary any more, if they could face them together.

‘You didn’t,’ she said. The tear that edged down her cheek, though, didn’t hurt any more. ‘I want to make this work, to build something better, something that could last. You mean so much to me, too. I need you with me, Travis,’ she said, the hope in her heart obliterating what was left of the fear.

‘Thank God,’ he murmured, then covered her mouth in a furious kiss, which showed her not just how much he wanted her, but how much he needed her, too.

She kissed him back, with the same fury. The same fervour. But as her mind drifted towards pleasure, her heart continued to thunder against her ribs.

She drew back, forced to confront the whole truth.

‘I want to make this a real marriage, more than anything in the world,’ she said. ‘To make us a real family. But how do you feel about being Androvia’s consort for ever?’ she asked.

She loved him beyond reason, but her life was not her own in many ways. And he would be taking on a commitment far greater than simply loving her, if he were to join his life to hers, fully.

She held her breath, scared to hear his answer.

But he only grinned, and cupped her cheek in his rough palm, his expression unguarded, and so full of love she thought she might burst from the sheer wonder of it all.

‘I love you, Belle,’ he said. ‘Your fierceness and your compassion and your determination to see the best in everyone and I especially love that reckless, artless, passionate girl you keep hidden from everyone but me.’ He wrapped his arms around her, to hold her close, and pressed his lips to her hair. ‘But I also love your loyalty, and your steadfastness,’ he murmured. ‘And your selfless dedication to this country.’ He pulled back, his expression intense, but still full of that charming irreverence she loved.

‘I’d like to make it my country, too,’ he added. ‘But be warned, I’m never going to be great at dealing with the press, or sitting for hours on end listening to boring speeches, or handling all the other protocol and security stuff that goes with your job.’ He planted a fierce kiss on her lips, rueful amusement shining in his eyes when he spoke again. ‘But if you can handle how crap I am at being a consort, I can sure as hell handle living in a palace and having my wife being the Androvian queen.’

She beamed back at him, so moved by his declaration, she felt as if her heart were going to explode out of her chest now with sheer joy.

She knew, too, he would be a much better consort than he believed, bringing his own special brand of authenticity and approachability to the role, which she already adored and she knew her subjects would adore, too.

‘Understood,’ she said solemnly. ‘I love you, too, Travis.’

He tugged her back into his arms, his gruff chuckle reverberating in her heart.

But then he slayed her all over again.

‘Before we get to grips with any of that, though,’ he said, his tone sobering, ‘we need to find the rest of your family for you, first.’

‘Yes,’ she whispered, banding her arms around him and blinking back tears again at the realisation he already understood exactly how important Mel was to her. And how anxious she was about her disappearance. But as he held her, and she listened to the sure steady beats of his heart, she somehow knew they would find a way through this, together.

And whatever it took, he would help her to bring Mel home.

A home that meant so much more to her now, because he was in it, too.