Lover Be Mine: A Legendary Lovers Novel (27 page)

A half hour’s walk downhill brought them to a
vivid blue lake. The water was crystal clear and glittering, since the sun had just
risen above the treetops. They searched along the pebbled shoreline until they found
a flat rock out of the shadows and settled down to eat their breakfast.

They spoke little. The peaceful tableau was good for his soul, as was Sophie’s presence.
Jack felt himself healing, his thoughts of revenge fading away.

Sophie didn’t press him for a decision then, or later when they packed up the remains
of their meal and headed back to the palace.

Climbing uphill took longer. Sophie was a little breathless and his own pulse was
more rapid by the time they reached the gardens. His pulse faltered, though, when
he saw a man slowly approaching, recognizing the elegantly garbed figure as his father.
At the sight, Jack felt himself stiffen automatically. He was also aware that Sophie
moved closer to him protectively and took his hand.

They continued along the gravel path until they came face-to-face with his father.
Up close, Prince Raoul did not look quite as elegant, resting his weight on a silver-handled
cane, his complexion pale.

“Might I have a word with you?” he asked in a low voice.

“On what subject?” Jack replied, giving no quarter.

“I wish … I
hope
to try and explain why I abandoned your mother.”

At Jack’s grim silence, Sophie spoke up quietly. “I shall leave you two to talk alone.”

“No, stay—please.” Jack tightened his fingers around hers, then inclined his head
at his father, signaling
his consent. This confrontation had been a long time coming, and he was finally ready.

With a curt sweep of his arm, he gestured toward the gravel path, inviting the prince
to precede him. “After you, your highness.”

Instead of returning
to the palace, Prince Raoul settled on a stone bench amid the roses and flowering
hawthorns. He politely offered Sophie a seat beside him, but she remained standing
loyally next to Jack.

“You called me weak,” the prince began in a low voice, “and you were not mistaken.
When the Revolution grew bloodier, I did not dare face the wrath of my royal father
by refusing his summons home. I did as he commanded—and I have regretted it every
day of my life since. I did not mislead you, Jack. I grieved deeply for your mother.”

Jack kept his lips clamped shut, all his muscles rigid.

“You were also somewhat correct about my choices,” his father continued. “I could
have abdicated my responsibilities and given up any claim to the throne. But I loved
my country. I had sworn a solemn duty and had obligations. When you are royalty, you
are not your own person. My life was not my own.”

When Jack’s fists clenched, Sophie placed a gentle
hand on his arm, so he forced himself to listen to his father’s excuses.

“I swear to you, Jack, I loved Clara with as much ardor as it is possible to love.
We met in Paris, where I was studying, and fell in love at first glance.” The prince’s
eyes grew distant, as if he was remembering. “Those were the happiest years of my
life. I could not marry her, however, for I was already promised to wed in a purely
political alliance. The illicit nature of our liaison did not matter to Clara, nor
did the increasing danger facing the aristocracy in France. Before I left Paris, I
begged her to return to England where she would be safe, but she refused. She said
her life was with me and that she wanted her son to know his father.”

“You failed miserably to protect her,” Jack ground out between his teeth.

“I know.” The prince hung his head. “The precautions I made for her safety proved
utterly inadequate. Paris is many leagues from Navartania, so I did not even know
for some months that Clara had perished or that you had gone missing. I lost both
of you that day.… My one true love and my only child.”

Tears were seeping from his father’s eyes, Jack noted with frustration. It was hard
to maintain his fury in the face of such naked contrition. Prince Raoul seemed a broken
man, not the villain Jack had always painted him.

Silence reigned until the prince found the strength to compose himself. “The moment
I learned the terrible news,” he explained in a rasping whisper, “I traveled to Paris
to find you, against my own father’s express wishes. I learned from your mother’s
friends
there that your uncles had already rescued you, so I followed you to England. I badly
wanted to claim you as my son, Jack. However, Lord Beaufort insisted that I had no
right. He would not send you away to live in a foreign country when you had a home
and family there … young cousins your own age to befriend and console you.”

Prince Raoul finally lifted his gaze to meet Jack’s. “I was persuaded to think of
your best interests. When I inherited the throne many years later, I tried again,
you will remember. By that time you were seventeen—nearly grown—and your heart was
hardened against me. I do not blame you,” he added hurriedly upon seeing Jack’s dark
expression. “I merely hoped … dreamed, that one day we could begin anew, before it
was too late. I may die soon, Jack. I was injured in a hunting accident last autumn
and never fully recovered.”

“Ah,” Jack murmured sardonically, “we come to the reason for your interest in our
reconciliation.”

Sophie spoke for the first time. “What sort of injury was it, your highness?”

“An arrow pierced my side when one of my games-men misfired.” Prince Raoul placed
a hand tentatively over his ribs and winced. “The wound turned putrid for a time before
finally healing but left a scar that is still quite painful.” Dropping his hand, he
continued. “My wife lived for fifteen years but she bore me no children. Naturally
I worry about the succession and wish my country to have a good ruler. The crown will
go to a distant cousin’s son, whom I greatly dislike. But my chief reason for wishing
you as my heir is
more personal. Navartania is your birthright, after all.”

“Do not pretend you are concerned for my sake.”

His father’s dark eyes held bleakness. “It is no pretense. You are my flesh and blood.
My son. The day of your birth was the proudest moment of my life. Even if you do not
succeed me, I want badly to know you better.” Prince Raoul hesitated. “You need not
decide yet to accept the throne, but I would be grateful if you would remain in Navartania
to permit us time to become a little acquainted. Please, will you not stay with me
awhile longer? Think on it,” the prince urged when Jack declined to answer.

Using his cane then, he rose slowly and turned his attention to Sophie. “I thank you,
Miss Fortin. You were indeed correct. I needed to speak with my son.” After sketching
a bow, he left her alone with Jack in the sunlit gardens.

After a moment, Jack slanted her a frowning glance. “What did he mean about you being
correct?”

Sophie replied without hesitation. “Last night after you left the dinner table, I
gave him a piece of my mind. I demanded to know if he only wanted to secure the throne
or if he wanted more. He vowed he cared about you and not merely the succession, so
I advised him to be honest with you and said that if he had regrets, he should tell
you so.”

“You expect me to forgive him, don’t you?”

“Not at all,” Sophie said evenly. “You must decide for yourself, Jack.”

“But you have an opinion.”

“Certainly, but my opinion is irrelevant to your conflict with your father, as is
the dilemma with my
parents. You should only reconcile with Prince Raoul for your own sake. I
will
say that if you don’t, the anger will continue to fester inside you.”

Her advice was perfectly reasonable, Jack knew, but logic was not enough to overcome
his natural resistance to reuniting with his detested father.

“Prince Raoul does seem sincere in his remorse and his deep love for your mother,”
Sophie pointed out. “I don’t know if a reconciliation between you is possible, but
his desire to know you better is understandable. And you might remember that he may
be dying, Jack. It would be kind of you to grant this one wish of his.”

“There is your tender heart again,” Jack muttered in a humorless drawl.

“True. He may not have much time left, though. Perhaps you should take this opportunity
to know him better. You might later regret letting it pass by. Family is important,
Jack. A father’s love can be a precious thing. Blood should be thicker than past grievances.”

Jack snorted. “There is no chance in hell of my ever loving him.”

“What would your mother have wanted?” Sophie asked suddenly.

The question caught Jack off guard. He’d never considered his mother’s perspective
before. He was not surprised by Sophie’s gentle persistence, however. Moreover, she
wasn’t asking him to excuse his father for the past, merely to look to the future.

“You don’t have to accept the title and duties that come with it,” she said in that
same calm, sympathetic tone.

Something in his chest eased. The rage inside him was fading, just as Sophie wanted.

Knowing he would do her bidding, Jack felt his mouth twist ironically. “Very well,
I will stay another few days.”

Her resultant smile held its usual glowing warmth. “I am glad. I should ask Prince
Raoul to send a message to my aunt, informing her that I am well and mean to remain
here with you for a while longer.”

“No, I will see to it,” he replied, draping an arm around Sophie’s shoulders and steering
her toward the palace.

An hour later, Jack sought out Prince Raoul to inform him of his decision. “Miss Fortin
has convinced me to remain in Navartania for a few days more.”

His father’s expression was one of profound relief and gratitude. “I am in her debt.”

“You should not raise your expectations,” Jack warned. “You must understand I have
no desire to rule your country, particularly if it means leaving my home. My life
is in England.”

“I do understand. But I am curious, why did you come here if not to claim your inheritance?”

“Solely to save Miss Fortin from being forced to marry an English duke. Her parents
hunger for a title and are compelling her to wed him to improve their station.”

The prince’s raised eyebrow showed a hint of confusion. “But
you
are betrothed to her, are you not?”

“Not yet. Her parents don’t look favorably on my suit, and she is determined to honor
their wishes. Our families have long had bad blood between us, in addition
to the issue of my baseborn origins. If I were royalty, they might perhaps reconsider
their opposition. Otherwise, my only course would be to persuade Sophie to disavow
her parents.”

“I expect you will succeed. You have your mother’s passion.”

Jack thought it best not to be drawn into any further discussion of his mother or
of his difficult courtship of Sophie.

“I can well comprehend why you would want to wed Miss Fortin yourself. She is very
beautiful.”

“Yes, she is.”
Inside and out
.

“She cares for you a great deal, I think. You can see it in her eyes, in her voice
when she speaks of you.” The prince’s expression grew bleak again. “My marriage was
not a happy one. I hope yours will bring you great joy.”

When Jack didn’t answer, the prince cleared his throat. “Would you and Miss Fortin
consider allowing me to show you the palace and grounds and then join me for luncheon
afterward? If you are willing, I should like to introduce you to my—to our—country.”

Jack hesitated before finally nodding. “I am willing.”

“Then shall we meet in the Great Hall in a quarter hour?”

“Yes.”

Jack started to turn away, then halted and glanced back at his father. “Your injury—you
said it still pains you?”

“A great deal, yes.”

“I have a friend who was shot while serving in the
British cavalry,” Jack commented. “He was deathly ill from a fragment of bullet still
lodged in his chest. Once that was removed and the putrification stanched, he was
able to recover. Perhaps you suffer from a similar affliction.”

The prince frowned thoughtfully, then shook his head. “My physicians have said nothing
more can be done.”

Jack shrugged. “You must do as you like, but if I were you, I would consider seeing
an English physician. There is a particular surgeon in London—a colleague of my cousin,
Lord Traherne—who is known for his brilliant if unorthodox theories. He might be able
to help you.”

Once more Jack started to turn away, but Prince Raoul spoke again. “Jack … do you
have any memories from when you were very small?”

“What sort of memories?”

“Of me. Of us. You were always begging me to ride. Do you recall when I would take
you up before me on my horse? Or lift you onto my shoulders? You squealed with laughter
and joy. Those were your mother’s favorite times, watching us at play.”

A long-ago scene such as his father described flashed in Jack’s mind. A sunny morning
with his mother and his father. The delight. The laughter. The love.