Resilient Reign Page 2

  “We. I won’t leave you here in Molave and disappear.”

  “Disappear?”

  “Yes, Princess. Either we both disappear, or we continue this masquerade together. I don’t think that either choice is the safe one.”

  “I-I,” I stammered, looking around his bedchamber.

  Roman/ Oliver

  Lucille’s gaze skirted the room, unwilling to meet mine. I wouldn’t rush her. The prospects we were both facing were too unlikely and too dangerous to confront with a rash decision. Before I could ask again about what she saw as our future, Lucille’s focus landed on the large portrait of a child.

  She crossed her arms over her breasts. “I’ve always wondered why Roman would want that portrait in here.”

  Turning, I saw the rosy-cheeked child with fair hair wearing a long white dressing gown. “I agree. It’s odd to have your own portrait in your bedchamber.”

  “No,” Lucille said, her gaze shifting back to mine. “That’s not you. He’s your brother.”

  My eyes widened as I scoured my memory for any information I’d received. There was none. The only sibling I’d been told about was Isabella.

  Lucille went on, “He was the king and queen’s first child, born three years before you, and sadly, gone before you were born.”

  I shook my head. “I wasn’t told about him.”

  “Theodore the third.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “An accident was what I was told. However, I was curious and did further research,” she admitted. “He drowned.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “No one talks about him, yet his portrait is here, and there’s one of the king and queen holding him in the gallery around the staircase in the palace in Molave City.”

  “I assumed that was me,” I said with a shrug. “Roman, the real one. How did the young prince drown?”

  “The report said that a tragedy hit the royal family. Prince Theodore was found in a pond at Forthwith Castle.”

  “Where Isabella and Francis live.”

  “Yes. The castle had been closed after the prince’s death. No one went there. The family used this castle as a vacation home after that.”

  “And now?”

  “Forthwith is beautiful. The Firm had it completely renovated for Isabella and Francis. That was during the time you insisted on renovations here.” Her focus went to the still-open passageway before continuing with a sigh. Closing her eyes as if she wasn’t ready to continue with the present, Lucille went on about the baby. “I think it’s still difficult for the queen and king to visit Forthwith. It’s why Rothy’s birthday was celebrated at the palace in Molave City.”

  Cupping her chin, I gently ran my thumb over her cheek. Yes, even after crying, Lucille was beautiful, but as I’d known from the first moment I began studying her, she was so much more. Her blue orbs swirled with different hues. “You have much greater knowledge than I.”

  “It’s taken me nearly six years to accumulate what I know. You’ve been at this…what? Two months.”

  “Ten weeks, and you’re right. Time is a good teacher.”

  She turned back to the portrait. “I asked you about him once,” she said, “but you wouldn’t discuss your brother, saying you were the only heir. Maybe it wasn’t Roman…and Noah didn’t know…” Her expression paled. “This is all so hard to decipher.”

  “We need to make a decision, Lucille,” I reminded her.

  “What will become of Lady Buckingham and Lord Martin?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If we would leave, as with Lord Avery…what would become of my mistress and your assistant?”

  It wasn’t something that I’d thought out. For me, that list would also include Lady Caroline.

  Lucille looked down at where our hands were once again connected and back up. “I’ve never imagined leaving. I took a vow.”

  “If you ask me, circumstances beyond your control have voided that vow.”

  Her blue eyes widened. “Circumstances. You mean the king.”

  “Princess, King Theo knew that Noah wasn’t Roman. He knows that I’m not Roman, and still, he perpetuates the fabrication.”

  She twisted the gold band on my left hand. “I don’t want a divorce.” Her eyes glistened as she looked up. “I may have hoped for you, wished for you, and prayed for you, but that prayer didn’t bring you into being. King Theo and the Firm did that.”

  My chest ached as I took in her declaration. “You’re right again. That’s another option.” I inhaled and slowly exhaled. “And I believe it is what is best.”

  “To leave or stay?”

  “The divorce is best.”

  “A divorce?” She shook her head. “No.”

  “Princess, that option is your ticket to safety. We divorce and you’re out of Molave and away from the king.”

  “And you’ll marry the princess of Borinkia?”

  I closed my eyes as I laid my head back on the headboard. “Once you’re safe, I’ll try to flee.”

  Lucille shook her head. “He won’t allow it.”

  “Then I too will be replaced.”

  “By whom? What will become of you? How are there so many people who look like Roman?”

  An idea came to mind. “Do you believe that Mrs. Drake, King Theo, Lord Martin, and Lady Caroline are the only people who know the truth?”

  “I also know,” Lucille said with a shrug of her slender shoulder.

  “But you’re not supposed to. What about Mr. Davies?”

  “I suppose if you were to be examined, he’d notice that your body is” —pink came to her cheeks— “different.”

  “He did examine me.” I tried to recall. “It wasn’t long after I arrived. He did a thorough exam. My accent wasn’t as good, but he always referred to me as your highness.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  Pushing back the covers, I stood. Still wearing my shirt and pants, I paced near the bed. “I’m the prince. I can tell the royal physician not to do the procedure. If he knows who I am, my dictate won’t have the same result. My refusal will probably be shared with the king.”

  When I looked back at the bed, Lucille had Noah’s journal in her lap and her eyes focused down at his writing.

  “We should put that back and secure the secret room.”

  Lifting her gaze to mine, Lucille nodded. “We should. But we also need to read what he wrote—all of it. This will help you. His entries can help you not make the same mistakes.” She sat forward. “The conversation with my father. Your dealings may be in these journals.”

  “And Borinkia,” I said, my pulse racing with the prospect of what a treasure trove the journals held. “No. The only mistake would be to stay in this role.”

  My phone, sitting back on the bedside stand, began to vibrate. The clock near the phone read after one in the morning.

  “Who would call this late?” Lucille asked.

  I lifted the phone and read the screen. “It’s my voice coach.”

  “I didn’t know you had one of those.”

  Nodding, I hit the green icon as I computed the time in LA. “Dustin. It’s late on this side of the pond.”

  “Oliver…Man, I’m sorry to call at this hour. Truth is, I hate delivering bad news. I’m not certain what news you’re privy to over there and well, you should know.”

  My thoughts swirled with possibilities.

  Something changed with the universe.

  They changed their mind and wanted the warlord to return.

  No, Andrew would call about that.

  “Oliver?”

  Perhaps it was hearing my real name, but as I spoke, my accent disappeared. “What news? I haven’t heard anything.”

  Lucille’s expression of concern drew me toward her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I listened to the call.

  “It’s been all over the news. Andrew crashed his car.”

  “Andrew Biggs?” My body tensed at the news of my agent. “Tell me that he’s okay.”

  Lucille’s hand came to my back with comfort and familiarity that I didn’t deserve but welcomed.

  “That’s just it,” Dustin said. “He’s not all right. He’s gone.”

  Gone?

  I needed to get back to California. “What about his wife?”

  “He was alone. There’s something that’s odd—something I wanted to run by you. You’ve been with Andrew for a while,” Dustin said. The tone of his voice sent chills over my skin.

  “What?”

  “The news is saying he had a blood alcohol content of 0.13.”

  I sat taller. “That’s impossible. Andrew doesn’t drink alcohol.”

  “I know.”

  “Are they suspecting foul play?” I asked.

  “No. It just hit me wrong. I wondered what you thought.”

  “What time did the crash occur?”

  “Before noon yesterday. The BAC was just announced before I called you.”

  My pulse thumped in my temples and my empty stomach twisted.

  Could someone have targeted Andrew?

  Why?

  I said a silent prayer that my gut was wrong. However, in case it wasn’t, I lowered my tone and spoke clearly. “Man, erase my number from your phone. Any records or recording of my voice work, delete every fucking second. You don’t know me or what has become of me.”

  “You don’t think that Andrew’s death could have anything to do with you?”

  “I sure as fuck hope not, but the thing is, the Firm contacted me through Andrew. They knew he was a loose end.” My gaze met Lucille’s. “I’ve committed to this role. Things have gotten increasingly dangerous over here. Please don’t mention me or where I am to anyone.”

  “Shit, Oliver, you’re freaking me out.
”

  “You were already freaked out. That’s why you called.”

  “I’ll delete everything. Tell me,” he said, “are you safe?”

  I reached for Lucille’s hand. “No. But I’m working on it.”

  “I could call the American Embassy.”

  “Don’t do anything, Dustin. Pretend you never knew me.”

  With a nod and our goodbyes, I disconnected the call and met Lucille’s gaze.

  “What happened?” she asked, her blue stare swirling with emotion.

  Clearing my throat, I brought my accent back to life. “Recently, the king asked me who knew I was here. Me, Oliver Honeswell. I told him the only one who knew was my agent. I mean, Mrs. Drake contacted him. They would have record.”

  “What about the man who just called?”

  “I never mentioned him.”

  “And something happened to your agent?” she asked.

  “Car crash with a 0.13 level of alcohol.” I held tighter to her hand. “Andrew stopped drinking years ago.” Taking a deep breath, I asked what I couldn’t ask anyone else. “Do you think it’s possible that the Firm is responsible?”

  Lucille’s resolve solidified as she sat taller. “Six weeks ago, I wouldn’t have even considered the possibility. I would have said unequivocally no.”

  “Today?”

  “Today, the answer frightens me.”

  “I don’t want you frightened. But we have to face the facts.”

  “Right now,” she said, “I don’t want facts. I want you to shed those clothes and climb back into this bed. Then I want to lie in your arms and feel safe until I must go to my own bedchamber.”

  “Princess, it’s not that simple.”

  “Then make it simple, Your Highness. You are the prince.”

  Lucille

  I feigned sleep as Lady Buckingham entered my bedchamber. I’d been there, alone, for nearly two hours. Thankfully, I’d gotten some sleep in Roman’s bed. He’d done as I asked and after securing the journal and hidden room, shed his padded shirt and clothes and joined me wearing his long silk pajama trousers.

  Hidden by the dark of his room, I settled beside him, my head on his hard shoulder and my arms around his trim and defined torso. “If the procedure works,” I said, “the divorce is off.”

  “Theoretically,” he answered, his arm holding me close before his lips kissed my hair.

  “If we flee, we will be found.”

  Roman’s body moved with the nodding of his head.

  “What if we stay?” I asked.

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  Lifting myself over him, as my vision adapted to the low light, I met his stare through the darkness. “The answers you need to succeed are in that room. We must continue pretending we know nothing of Noah, and I know nothing of you.”

  His palm cupped my cheek. “Do you think Roman is being kept somewhere, like The Man in the Iron Mask?”

  “I can’t imagine King Theodore doing that to his son.” I lowered my forehead to Roman’s bare wide chest and inhaled his scent. The lingering bourbon and cologne, mixed with a unique spiciness, was solely this Roman’s. “He has to be alive,” I said, my words muffled by his skin. I lifted my head. “That’s where they’ll get the sperm.”

  I didn’t know if I was right—I couldn’t fathom another possibility.

  The future heir must be blood.

  Right?

  Roman’s command cut through my thoughts. “Refuse.”

  “The procedure? I would not.”

  “Refuse anyway.”

  I inhaled. “May we discuss this at another time, Your Highness?”

  Palming my cheeks, his lips met mine. The way our heads turned, aligning our lips, was evidence of our growing familiarity. The twisting of my core and tightening of my nipples were confirmation that my body had accepted Oliver as my husband.

  It wasn’t only my body.

  My heart had accepted the impostor.

  Was it wrong?

  I hadn’t looked for another man.

  He’d been given to me.

  My thoughts of anything else faded away. Only the present mattered as soft moans came from deep in my throat, and I willingly accepted his tongue. Mine joined the tango as the friction between us sparked our mutual desire. Flames raced across my skin as his touch roamed down my back and behind. My hands ran over his toned torso and up to his broad shoulders. Each indentation and muscle warmed under my touch.

  This was the man I’d dreamed of marrying.

  One who I desired and made me feel desired.

  If only life could be this easy.

  As I fell asleep my body tingled with the energy of our union. With dangers lurking around, it was exhaustion that allowed the two of us to settle in each other’s embrace.

  At the sound of my alarm, I grudgingly eased out of his bed and slipped on my nightgown and dressing gown. With one last glance at the sleeping man, his dark hair mussed, the shadow of scruff on his cheeks, and his firm lips parted, my chest ached with the knowledge of his impending departure. Without a word, I quietly made my way to the other side of our apartments.

  After cleaning myself and adding bloomers, I slipped between the cool sheets of my bed. The thoughts I’d pushed away returned with a vengeance.

  Where was the real Roman?

  How did I not know that the man I married was gone?

  Divorce?

  My upcoming procedure?

  As Lady Buckingham entered my bedchamber and opened the large drapes, I watched with barely parted eyes.

  “Your Highness,” Lady Buckingham said with a curtsy once the room was filled with natural light.

  Pushing myself upward, I sat against the headboard.

  Her gaze narrowed as she scanned me from my hair to the blankets. “I’ve been concerned.”

  “About?” I inquired.

  “The prince. Last night he was…I waited for your call.”

  “Do not worry. He was agitated about his return to Molave City.”

  “The physician’s orders?”

  “The prince is aware of those orders. That too was part of his agitation.”

  “Are you…well?” she asked. Bowing her head, she looked at me through veiled eyes. “I took the liberty, during the night, to check on you.”

  Shit.

  I worked to keep my expression emotionless. “That was very kind. I’m as well as can be expected.” I threw back the blankets, exposing my nightgown, well aware that Lady Buckingham was looking over my exposed skin for evidence that things had not gone peacefully last night.

  “I will fetch your clothes for today.”

  “The prince will be leaving,” I said, trying unsuccessfully to stay detached.

  “Yes, ma’am. He’s currently in his offices. The cars are being made ready.”

  “His offices? This early?”

  “Lord Martin mentioned some business in Molave City, the diplomat banquet, and soon it will be the Fifteen Eurasia Summit. The prince is attending with the king. I will bring you your schedule after your breakfast is delivered.”

  My schedule.

  “I’ll be expected for banquet,” I said, hoping that I wouldn’t be left alone behind the walls of Annabella Castle. The winter weather meant my love of the gardens would no longer sustain me. I could prepare the conservatory for the spring flowers.

  “That is up to the prince.”

  Once Lady Buckingham styled my hair, applied a small amount of makeup to my face, and helped me dress, she made a call to the kitchen and disappeared.

  It wasn’t long until my breakfast was delivered.

  As the maid set the dishes on the small table in the connecting parlor, I was struck with the reality that she had only brought one set of dishes. Roman wouldn’t be joining me.

  After the maid left, I found myself drawn to Roman’s suite within our apartments. My heart beat faster as I knocked on the outer door. With no answer, I twisted the knob and slowly pushed the barrier inward. Holding my breath, I waited for a rebuke.

  In all the years of our marriage, I’d never entered his suite without him present. And only recently had I entered without a summons.

  “Your Highness,” I called.

  My voice echoed through the rooms. Step by step, I made my way through the apartment, passing the parlor, the prince’s smaller office, a bathroom, his library, and to the entrance of his bedchamber. Biting my lower lip, I turned the knob and entered the same room I’d left much earlier this morning.