Chapter Twelve
“I like your wife.”
Gabriel tried to smile instead of tense at his father’s warm approval. “She is…” He watched her move around the room, talking to people at this interminable coronation where people wanted to congratulate him on his earldom and he wanted to jump out a window.
But Evelyne positively glowed. She spoke to anyone and everyone. Despite the baby bump, she seemed to simply glide through the room. People responded to her. They lit up right back. She had a warmth about her that Alexandre and Ines could not quite pull off.
Father chuckled, reminding Gabriel he was standing there, then patted him on the back.
“Your mother was worried this was some sort of…ploy to help Alexandre out, but it’s clear you quite enjoy her.”
Enjoy. Obsess. Was there a difference? “She is having my child.”
Father made a noncommittal kind of sound Gabriel did not know what to do with. “Well, with all these changes to Alis thanks to Alexandre’s rule, and a child on the way, your mother and I are pleased we will be able to spend more time with you and your new family here.”
Family. Gabriel tried not to grimace at the word. At the idea that he would never be able to create the kind of family his parents had. That nothing would ever be safe if he let himself fall too deep into it all.
Still…
“I am glad you two will be able to make the trip more often. Evelyne is quite excited by the idea of our son having such good grandparents.”
“I’m not sure how you spoil a prince rotten when you aren’t royalty, but we’ll figure it out.”
Gabriel smiled in spite of himself. Though he tried not to look forward, to imagine what it would be like to have a son, to watch his parents be grandparents, he could not deny that making his parents happy always eased something inside of him.
But more, the easing came from the fact that Evelyne was now making her way toward them. Dangerous, dangerous woman.
“It is a good thing, son,” his father said, somewhat cryptically by Gabriel’s estimation. “Not always easy. Certainly not something you can skate through, but it is good.”
Gabriel looked down at his father. Skate through felt a bit like an accusation.
Before he could decide what to say, Evelyne approached them.
“I hope you are enjoying yourself, Mr. Marti. Pardon me, Manuel.”
“It is so good to be home, Your Highness, and not worry for my or my family’s safety. Your brother will be a good king and make Alis the country I remember as a boy, I have no doubts.” He turned to Gabriel and grinned. “And my son shall be quite the earl.”
She beamed at him. “I have the utmost faith in the both of them.”
“As do I. If you’ll excuse me, I must find my wife. Make sure some young man hasn’t tried to abscond with her.” He gave Evelyne a little bow and then moved off.
Gabriel watched Evelyne watch his father go. She had a bright smile on her face. No signs of exhaustion when no doubt she had to be. She had been running herself hard these past few days. It was clear she was determined to take some pressure off Alexandre’s shoulders.
She finally looked up at him, her smile bright and her eyes full of happiness. “I love them,” she said emphatically.
Gabriel made a noncommittal noise, realized it sounded like the one his father had made. Would his son take on this tradition?
Would Gabriel know how to handle the weight of that? Ever?
Evelyne took his hand in hers and gave him a bit of a tug forward. “I am afraid you are required by princess law to dance for at least one song with me.”
“Are you not tired yet?”
“Not yet. Wired. I’m sure I’ll crash when it’s all over, but for now I would like to dance with my husband.”
Husband. It was a farce, but the more Evelyne acted like it was real, the more it felt real. And he had to do a better job of keeping that wall up between them. Some kind of formality.
But she led him to the dance floor, and he did not know how to deny her when she looked so happy. He had promised Alexandre that he would ensure her happiness.
And he wanted to. “You look beautiful. I have not been able to take my eyes off you.”
“I know.” She moved in easy rhythm, that content and somewhat smug smile never leaving her face as he pulled her close for the dance. “I like having your eyes on me.”
That ever-present heat crackled between them.
He thought if this did not exist, perhaps it would not all feel so perilous.
If he simply liked her. But he did not know how to save her from this combination of every feeling—like and lust and need and frustration and this strange, bubbling lightness that reminded him far too much of hope.
So much like when he’d been a young man, but worse somehow. Deeper and more complex.
What was there to hope for here? That he somehow controlled himself for the rest of his life and never did anything violent and dangerous in an obsessive rage? Never reminded her of her evil father?
What impossible amount of control would appear out of nowhere considering an impossible lack of one had led him here?
“I think I felt the baby move earlier,” she said as they easily moved on the dance floor to the music. “You’re going to call me silly, but I swear I felt this flutter of him when Alexandre announced you earl.”
“Yes, I will call you silly. If you felt anything, I’m sure it was coincidence.”
“Well, I will choose to consider it a son’s approval of his father.”
“Ridiculous.”
She laughed and lay her head against his shoulder on a content sigh. “I knew you would say that.”
They danced for the rest of the song and into the next. For the first time today, amid the chaos and attention and stress, he found himself relaxing. He held her close and enjoyed the bump of their child between them.
He did not allow himself to think of the way she spoke to the baby growing inside her, the way she thought a fetus would hear the worlds earl and do some little internal jump for joy.
He was afraid if he thought too much about any of it, fell beneath that surface he was trying so desperately to hold on to, all he would create was ruin.
He needed space, and with the celebration winding down, and in her condition, he knew he could find it.
“Come, let me take you to bed.” He cleared his throat. “To sleep.”
She tilted her head up to study him. Smiled. “Perhaps I should not like to sleep.”
He wanted to smile back. He wanted to get lost in the gold flecks in her eyes. He wanted so many things.
But he kept that wall up, that detachment. He fought with everything he had to keep that erected.
He made their excuses, escorted her back to her rooms and right to the bed—not for anything but rest.
“Sit,” he ordered her.
She looked up at him through her lashes. “I only follow orders if I like where they’re going to lead.”
“They’re going to lead to rest. You’ve pushed yourself these past few days. Fine enough if it were just yourself, but you are carrying around an extra human being.”
“Boring,” she muttered, but she sat down on the bed as he’d ordered.
He knelt and enjoyed the way her breath caught in spite of himself. But he was not giving in to the nagging want that hounded him constantly. He was going to ensure she got some rest.
He undid the fanciful buckle of her heels and removed one shoe and set it aside.
“Gabriel?”
He glanced up at her, saw there was a seriousness in her dark gaze that had him pausing. He did not encourage her to continue, but he watched her face as wariness crept into him.
“What happened when you were younger?”
He stiffened in spite of himself. He didn’t know what she was getting at, except that of course he knew. He removed the other shoe and got to his feet. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific.” He picked them both up and walked over to her closet.
“The thing that changed you. That Alexandre saved you from. Your mother mentioned a change. I think they’re one and the same, and I think I should know what they are.”
He turned to face her slowly. She sat on the bed, a beautiful, stunning delight. He wanted to touch her, glut himself in her, over and over again forever.
He could distract her with that, avoid this question, but it would not be avoided forever, he knew. She simply wouldn’t let him avoid it forever, and then what?
Did he lie? Did he get angry? Or did he do the one thing he’d never really done—because Alexandre knew what had happened because he’d been there, witnessed it. Gabriel had never had to explain it.
Perhaps…he should. Perhaps this had been the answer all along. Instead of a secret to hide, a tool to keep her from falling any deeper into accepting this obsession that would only hurt them all.
She would be frightened by this story, and he did not want that. With a bone-deep reaction, he did not want her to look at him differently than she did now.
But wants were dangerous, weren’t they? If she didn’t hero worship him, perhaps they could solve this problem. He wouldn’t run away, she was right. He would not desert her or their son, but if there could be barriers…
To keep them both safe. They could have a marriage like Alexandre and Ines. For the greater good. A workable partnership, but none of this passion, none of these time bombs ticking inside him.
He had been depending on himself and himself alone to have control, but if Evelyne knew, if she understood, perhaps their control together would solve this.
He held on to this hope with a surge of determination. It had to be the answer. So he went about telling her something he’d never truly explained to anyone.
“I met a girl during my last year at St. Olga. She was a little bit older than I was. Perhaps a little bit more…worldly to my more privileged life. But I was quite taken with her.”
“What was her name?” Evelyne asked softly.
“Gia.”
“I hate her.” She did not say this softly, and there was something…amusing about the simple jealousy that shouldn’t exist and certainly shouldn’t be funny. Nothing about this was a laughing manner.