He had also destroyed fragile bonds that if he did not repair were going to result in the end of his marriage. He would not accept that, but he was not sure what to do to fix the problem. He felt helpless and that was not a pleasant feeling.
A prince in line to the throne should not be helpless.
He would not be if she cared for him…her love would be a tie that could bind them together, even if he’d made a few rather ugly errors of judgment. But she did not love him. Though, for a second there…just before she had gone to sleep, he had thought she was going to say she loved him. And he had wanted to hear the words. Very much.
She had not said them, though, and he could not help wondering if it had all been a figment of his imagination. Even if she had loved him once, and he thought that was possible, she loved him no longer.
Why did that knowledge hurt so much?
As she had pointed out. Love was not part of their marriage bargain.
But he wanted her love. He…needed it. Somehow, he would convince her to stay married…and perhaps in doing so, give himself another chance at the love that had warmed his very soul before he realized it was ever there. She had married him loving him and only now, looking back, could he recognize that.
She probably thought he did not care, but she was wrong. He cared very much. She was wrong, too, about divorce being the only solution to their dilemma. Just as she had been wrong that his phone calls hadn’t meant he missed her. Only now did he recognize how many things she had taken the wrong way and he did not know how to fix that, either.
He had been trained to be a ruler among men, he had not been taught how to soothe a woman’s emotions, how to convince her of his affection. He and
He’d taken for granted that she knew many things that in retrospect he had to admit had not been as obvious to her as they were to him. He could not be sure if that was a man-woman thing, or something unique to their personalities, but it did not matter either way. She had made faulty assumptions just as he had. If he could admit the fault of his own reasoning, and everyone accepted he had a corner share of the market on stubborn, she could, too.
* * * * *
“You’ve got to be kidding. Having the procedure right now is impossible.”
In a rare moment of solitude,
She was not used to these frank discussions they had been having when for almost three years, the only earthy talk that ever happened between them was in bed. Even then, there were things she simply would not discuss. He’d blown the lid off the taboos in their marriage when he’d taken care of her the other night and seemed to have no desire to go back to the more circumspect relationship they had once shared.
Accepting that truth with what grace she could muster, she argued, “That’s not the only thing to consider. Your father is coming home from the hospital today and he will be convalescing for a while yet.”
“Well, at least until he is well enough to begin taking over some of his duties again.”
“That will be six weeks from now,” he said grimly.
“Yes, I know.”
“It is my body.” But the words came out breathy. His touch was doing things to her and he wasn’t even meaning to, she was sure of it.
Though casual affection was another thing she was not used to from him and didn’t know what to make of it now.
“Sì. It is your body…a beautiful, generous body that it is my privilege and responsibility to ensure you care for adequately.”
“You’re my husband, not my father.”
“Your father would have ignored your pain. I will not.”
He was right, but somehow that memory did not have the power to hurt her as it once had. “I don’t want your father upset.”
The breath froze in her chest for a second and then she inhaled as her heart started tripping. He had commented many times when they were making love how much he adored having her hands on him, but never had he said anything outside the bedroom. “Um…your dad…”
“But he’s still weak.”
“Do not let him hear you say that.”
“Precisely. He would not thank you for trying to protect him at your own expense. I only thank God Mamacita decided now was the time to come back into his life because I do not think the rest of us would have been so successful.”
“They’re a good couple.”
“Yes. It is too bad they took so long to figure that truth out.”
“Infidelity isn’t something you can easily dismiss.”
“Not my father in himself or Flavia in him, I know…but she seems to have come to terms with the past as has he.”
“I’m glad.” She loved both proud people and was so happy they had found each other again.
“I also, but do not think you are going to derail this conversation. I have spoken to your doctor in Miami and he has agreed to fly here in four days to perform the operation.”
“You had no right to call him,” she gritted. “And I do not want to have the procedure here.”
“I told you why I did that.”
“I do not agree with your reasons. You should have told me. This is the truth.”
She looked out over the grounds. They were sheltered from a view of the palace by trees and shrubbery, but she could see the spires rising above the treetops. “You are too arrogant for words sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. He was so unapologetic, but he was being bossy for her benefit. Not to hurt her and deep in her heart she knew that. “It only makes me mad enough to spit nails sometimes.”
“I cannot imagine you spitting anything, my proper little wife.” He spoke close to her ear, his lips settling in a gentle kiss against her temple before he pulled his head back.
It was a full three seconds before she could respond. Because she knew she had to fight the impact of that kiss, she forced herself to dwell on the unpleasant side of reality. “A proper wife could give you a child. I won’t be able to and if I have the surgery here, the whole world will know about it. You’ll be labeled heartless and selfish when we divorce.”
In a totally unexpected move, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto his lap, then cupped her face so she had no choice but to meet his eyes. “There will be no divorce and if you attempt to leave me, I will be labeled worse than that.”
“What do you mean?” she asked and was embarrassed by how weak her voice sounded.
“You will not leave me,
“You’re not talking kidnapping…you can’t be.” But by the look in his eyes, she could tell he was thinking about it. “That’s ridiculous,
“Who says my ancestors were marauders?”
“They were pirates, plain and simple. They used their ill-gotten bounty to establish a country, but they were not the pillars of society their descendants became.”
“Are you saying I am a pirate beneath my layers of civility?” he asked, sounding an awful lot exactly like that.
“No…I am attempting to remind you that you are one of those rational, civilized descendants.” She looked into his eyes and what she read there made her shiver.
“I would have agreed with you…before, but in the last weeks, I have discovered a heretofore unknown streak of primitive possessiveness where you are concerned that hearkens back to my ancestors quite effectively.”
“So you do realize it’s there…”
“Yes. And you must also, which then means you should realize how foolish it would be to attempt to leave me.”
She glared at his complacent certainty. “If I decide to walk, I will walk.”
She meant it, too. Maybe she didn’t descend from Sicilian pirates, but she had the blood of Romans running in her veins as well as a good dose of American assertiveness.
Chapter 11
“Do not decide to walk.” The pleading in his voice was more astonishing than the fact he’d allowed his primitive streak to show so blatantly.
“What will you do?” she asked softly, trying to read his expression, but not understanding what she saw there.
He was silent several seconds and then he sighed. “Follow you.”
She laughed because it was absurd. He was more proud than his father and if Vincente had been unable to bend enough to apologize for behavior he had known was reprehensible,
“Puppies are harmless. I am not. Make no mistake…I would follow you.”
“But your duty—”
“My first duty is to you, my wife…and to our marriage. I will not let you go.”
He would…if she really wanted to go. Primitive streak, or not…he was a modern man. But what he was saying here was that he would not make it easy. She didn’t know if she had the strength to fight both him and her own desire to stay. However, she wasn’t sure anymore, either, if she had the strength to stay in a marriage in which she was not loved.
It hurt, as much or more than the endometriosis. She’d learned something last night. Her pain and vulnerability that resulted from loving where the feeling was not returned had made her misinterpret his actions, thereby adding more hurt to her beleaguered heart. Without his love, wouldn’t she continue to do that very thing?
No matter how much she might want to avoid it.
She laid her hand over the one against her cheek. “You have to be reasonable about this. Please,
“I am not the one being unreasonable here. It is both foolish and dangerous for you to wait to have the surgery. And it is criminally shortsighted for you to believe we must divorce.”
“I am infertile. I cannot give you an heir.”
“Your doctor said that IVF had a seventy percent success rate with endometriosis patients.”
“That is still not a guarantee.”
“Neither is unhindered fertility.”
“But there’s a better chance for you to have children with a woman who does not have endometriosis.”
“I do not want another woman!”
She dropped her hand and leaned back with a jerk, stunned by his vehemence. “That’s just guilt talking.”
He shook his head, barely banked rage glittering in his dark gaze. “It is not guilt. You are my wife. I want you to remain my wife. If there is no other man, why are you so intent on ending our marriage?”