How to Love a Princess (19 page)

With that came anger. It
coiled low in her gut, then grew and grew, brewing into a fury to match the
raging storm outside.

Damn the man.

She was on her feet,
marching from her office, up the stairs, down the left fork from the landing,
her body fuelled on anger aimed as much at herself as at Nicolas for the
impending devastation.

Nicolas was bent over a
long table, test tube in one hand, the other hovering over the keyboard of his
computer.

“Why?” she demanded from
the doorway.

His gaze flew up, his
instant grin of recognition faltering before it fully formed. “Catherine.”

“Why are you doing this?”
Arms clasped about her midriff to hide the trembling of emotions, she took a
slow walk up to the table.

With precise, visibly
controlled movements, he slotted the test tube in its stand, then straightened.
His eyes hardened and he had the audacity to feign innocence. “Doing what?”

“The meeting you’ve
requested,” she snapped, her glare every bit as hard as his. “You couldn’t even
come to me. You went behind my back to Erling.”

He stared at her for a
long moment, then the tension in his eyes and jaw relaxed. “I didn’t go behind
your back, Catherine. I emailed the details to Erling, well aware your approval
would be required, down to the last attendee and item of discussion.”

“Don’t be pedantic. You
know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Actually, I don’t.” He walked
around the table.

For a moment, she thought
he was coming at her, to take her in his arms, to kiss her senseless, to make
her forget. As he’d done this afternoon without a trace of guilt. Her spine
stiffened, preparing to defend what little was left of her heart. Instead, he
headed for a cabinet, hunkering down to delve inside it. As if her accusation
was so trivial, so inconsequential, it required only half his attention.

She turned to blast him,
never mind that all he gave her was his back. “I’m talking about this
afternoon, Nicolas. You let it happen—no, you
made
it happen, allowed me
to believe.”

Her words choked on the
realisation of what she was saying. Why she really felt so blindsided.

She was an idiot. A fool.
She’d told herself she was listening to her head, giving and taking with a
clear understanding of the limits and consequences, when all the while she’d in
fact been trusting in those whispers of her heart.

Nicolas came up with
another set of test tubes, looking at her with a bland expression as he went
behind his table once again. “If you’re asking me to regret this afternoon,
Catherine, then the answer is no. Neither am I some ogre in this wonderland you
live in.”

“You deliberately deceived
me.”

His jaw went rigid. His
hand came up, the stand of test tubes rattling precariously as his arm swept
outward. Cursing beneath his breath, he broke off from her heated glare to
concentrate on putting the rack down carefully.

And then, finally, Nicolas
gave her his full attention. “We had a mutual understanding. Nothing would
change your mind and nothing would change mine either. Are you so damn self
opinionated that you assumed only your side of the bargain counted?”

Her chin lifted
stubbornly, her eyes ice blue and cutting through him. “Don’t shift the blame.
There’d have been no bargain if I knew of your intentions.”

“Intentions?” Nicolas bit
out irritably. “All I did was request a meeting with you and your advisors and
a panel of experts. Only you could make that sound evil.”

Her eyes narrowed into
him. “And you didn’t come directly to me because you knew it would interfere in
the bit of fun you’d planned for the afternoon.”

“No.” Nicolas rubbed at
his temples, then dragged his fingers down his face. When he’d sent that email,
his only intention had been to stay as far away from Catherine as possible to
spare them both the agony. “I emailed Erling because he is your secretary and,
as far as I’m aware, handles your first line of correspondence.”

The silence lasted, until
he was eventually forced to move his hands and look at Catherine.

“You should have told me
and you know it.” She sounded more sad than angry now. “You should have told me
before carrying me inside that cabin. If you’re as innocent as you want me to
believe, then tell me why you didn’t and don’t you dare pretend it never
crossed your mind.”

His conscience went ragged
at the truth. He should admit it and let her win.

Nicolas shook his head on
a sigh as his heart refused to give up so easily. “I asked you to give us that
moment away from everything else, just the two of us, and you agreed. I thought
you meant it. I certainly did, which is the reason I never mentioned the
meeting.”

He didn’t feel noble about
the partial omission, but then he was beginning to wonder if there was anything
noble about love at all.

He’d come close to walking
away in that first week he’d come to Ophella. No matter how much he’d protested
Catherine doubting him, he
had
almost walked; the first time his
dedication to saving life had ever come into question. And hadn’t he’d wished
Catherine dead, if only for a split second, to spare his aching heart? He’d
taunted Geoffrey and pressurised Catherine to bend to his will, more than
likely breaking up an engagement in the process.

Nicolas knew he was no
saint, but he’d always had compassion first, until proven wrong. Now it felt as
if all he knew was anger, fighting and duplicity.

All
in the name of love lost, found, and if he wasn’t totally ruthless, lost again.

“You’re the one who
insisted this fight wasn’t personal,” he added when she showed no sign of
relenting. “What happened this afternoon has nothing to do with Ophella and how
you decide to rule it, right or wrong. I won’t apologise for not bringing up
your business diary in between kisses.”

Catherine could think of a
hundred retorts to that, but she felt as if her emotions had run the gamut and
now she was back at anger, a place she didn’t want to be. Besides, her anger
had nothing to do with right or wrong, with Nicolas’s stubborn opposition and
their difference of opinion. What she wanted to hit out at was the inevitable
conclusion of the path he’d chosen to go up against her.

“And what if I refuse to
grant this meeting?” she asked, steeling herself for his attack.

It came. The cold disdain
set in his jaw. The hard questions in his dark stare, as if he debated what
he’d ever loved about her, whether he’d ever truly known her.

“I never took you for a
coward, Catherine. Are you afraid to hear what that panel of experts has to
say?”

She didn’t argue. She’d
rather he keep his reasons than voice her own.

He brought his fist down
hard, but, at the last moment, he splayed his fingers to brace his palm on the
table with a show of absolute control. “You should be, you know. I realise you
don’t trust my judgement in this, but you might not be able to ignore a team of
geologists and toxicologists so easily.”

“I do trust your
judgement,” Catherine protested quietly. “And I hope you’ll trust mine. This
meeting will do nothing to persuade my mind otherwise, so I don’t see the point.”

“There’s more than one
point. I’m hoping one or more of those experts will join my investigative
team.” He shook his head at her. “But you won’t see the importance of that
either, will you?”

They were going in
circles. Again. “Think what you will, Nicolas,” she said, slowly backing toward
the door.

“I prefer to
do
,
Catherine. This doesn’t stop here.”

“What—what do you mean?
There’s nothing more—”

“Isn’t there? I wonder if
your council of advisors would dismiss the relevance of informed decisions as
quickly as you do.”

“They don’t have the power
to overrule me,” Catherine warned.

“Maybe not, but at least
they have the power to make you listen, something I’m clearly unable to
achieve.”

Trapped! So cleverly, so
neatly. She could hardly protest her council from calling a meeting to hear the
facts from all available sources and advise. It was what they did.

“You don’t understand,”
Catherine said hoarsely, then turned and fled to the one man who did.

“It gets worse,” she told
Gascon at the end. “These people are his peers. Colleagues he works side by
side with.”

“This
is
bad.” For
once, Gascon refrained from muttering something about maybe Nicolas being
different. “On the bright side,” he added, sounding anything but, “he won’t be
losing to his wife. You’re just another tyrannical ruler who refuses to listen
to solid reason.”

“Finally,” she said
dourly, “you appreciate why I had to do what I did.”

Her way, a relationship
had been destroyed. If she’d given in to her heart, if she’d married Nicolas
four years ago, the man himself might very well have been destroyed by the
upcoming confrontation.

Catherine felt no triumph
in being proven right. She’d never before wanted to be so very wrong.

She avoided Nicolas for
the rest of that evening. Or maybe it was he who avoided her. He didn’t come
down to supper. She spent a trying evening making polite conversation with the
Talacon men when all she wanted was to curl up on her bed and weep for what
she’d lost. Once she eventually made it to her bed, she didn’t cry. She stared
blankly at the wall, her mind as numb as the rest of her, refusing to think,
feel or fear.

She was Princess Amelia
Catherine of Ophella. Four years ago, she’d done the right thing, the only
thing, and now Nicolas was reaping the benefits of that decision. He would
survive. He would remain a strong force to be reckoned with. He’d return to his
own world with nothing more distressing than a few bad memories. He’d return to
be the man he’d always been, was always meant to be. She hadn’t destroyed him, as
her mother had destroyed her father, as her grandmother had destroyed her
grandfather, as her great-grandmother…

Catherine fell asleep on
those thoughts and awoke the following morning tired and restless from the
onslaught of fitful nightmares. On her way down to her office, she bumped into
Nicolas coming up the stairs.

His greeting was curt and
done in passing. His quick steps didn’t miss a beat.

“Nicolas,” she called him
back, watching his shoulders tense as he paused, regretting the impatience
crossing his brows as he turned. “Erling will start arranging your meeting this
morning. I expect he’ll be in touch shortly for more particulars.”

“Good,” he responded
bluntly, then continued up the stairs.

“Absolutely bloody
wonderful,” she muttered sarcastically to his dismissive coldness, at the same
time hoping he’d keep it up. She could do with a good reason to remain
impartial to him for the next few days.

Which was exactly why her
tummy had no right to turn over at the sight of him smiling at her a couple of
hours later.

He stood at the doorway of
her office, his gaze soft and warm on her, the slant of his lips changing into
an arrogant grin as he came inside. “I thought you might like to know that the
serum is complete. I’m about to administer the first dose to your mother.”

He had every right to be
pleased with himself, Catherine thought as she fell back in her chair. All else
dwarfed beside the wave of serene joy that swept through her as she stared,
somewhat dazed, at the man who was indeed a miracle worker, at least this time
around.

As if reading her
thoughts, he perched on the edge of the desk near her and grew serious.
“There’s no hundred percent guarantee here, Catherine, not until we see if your
mother responds.”

But Catherine wasn’t about
to lose faith in him now. “She will,” she said firmly.

“I think so, too.” He
reached for her hand, then thought better of it. His grin, however, was back.
“Damn, I think she will. Would you like to come up with me?”

Catherine was on her feet
before he could regret the offer.

“There won’t be any
immediate improvement,” Nicolas said with a chuckle.

“There will be,” she
countered with a teasing grin that wavered only slightly. “I feel better
already and I’m not even the patient.”

This time he did catch her
hand, his fingers folding over hers in a comforting gesture as they walked side
by side. The reminder of how strong, compassionate and reliable Nicolas was
fogged some of her happiness. Only yesterday, she’d given him every reason to
be frustrated and furious with her, yet here he was, sharing her relief and
joy, giving comfort, stating in no uncertain terms with every action, word and
look that as long as he was around, she’d never have to face anything on her
own.

“You were so mad at me
this morning,” she started.

“I still am.” His fingers
tightened a little on hers and, when she glanced up, there was a gleam in his
brown eyes. “In fact, I’m furious.”