Читать книгу Shock Heir For The King - Clare Connelly - Страница 12

‘I’M SORRY.’ SHE blinked slowly. ‘I thought you just said you were...’ She laughed, a brittle sound of disbelief. ‘I mean, is this some kind of joke?’

But she looked around the penthouse with new eyes, seeing the degree of luxury and wealth as if for the first time, understanding how uniquely positioned a person would have to be to enjoy this kind of residence. And it wasn’t just this ludicrously expensive apartment—how much would something like this even cost? More than she could imagine, that was for sure. And she saw everything through the veil of his words and her stomach dropped and her knees shook. Because it was so obvious now.

Even then, staying at a hotel, he’d been so different to anyone she’d ever known. He’d spoken to her of ancient myths and he’d weaved magic into her being.

He’d been totally unique. A king.

‘It’s no joke. That weekend with you was my way of trying to ignore the reality of how my life was about to change, of pretending I wasn’t about to take the throne and the mantle of King. But I do not believe in hiding, Frankie. And so I left you in order to return to my country, my people, and my role as ruler.’

His words came to her from very far away.

He was a king.

Which meant... Oh, God. She reached behind her for the sofa, dropping down into it with a thud and drinking her wine as though it were a lifeline.

‘Yes,’ he agreed, moving closer to her, the word drawn from deep in his throat. ‘Our son is my heir. He is a prince, Frankie.’

‘But...he’s not... We weren’t married.’ She clutched at straws desperately. ‘So doesn’t that mean he can’t be your heir?’

His expression darkened and he took a moment to answer. ‘It complicates matters,’ he agreed eventually, with a shrug. ‘But nothing changes the fact he is the future of my people.’

She swallowed, his certainty formidable.

‘Do you remember the Myth of Elektus?’

She swayed a little, the words he’d spoken that night burned into her memories. ‘No,’ she lied huskily, staring out at New York.

‘My family has ruled Tolmirós for over a millennium. Our line remains unbroken. Wars and famines consumed neighbouring countries but, within the borders of Tolmirós, life has been prosperous and stable. The myth of our First Ruler is one my people hold in their hearts, even now. It is believed that my family’s lineage is at the root of Tolmirós’s wealth and happiness. Leo is not simply a boy—he is the fulfilment of a myth and ruling Tolmirós is his destiny, as much as it was mine.’

The magic he’d wound around her heart was weaving into her soul once more, and her beautiful child, who was so kingly, even as a child, began to pull away from her as she saw him as a figure of the fabric of this faraway country.

But he wasn’t only the heir to Tolmirós’s throne: he was her son. A child she had grown in her belly and nursed through fevers and helped to take his first step. He was a child she’d read to every night of his life, played ball with, lain beside when night terrors had caused him to cry out.

‘My people need him to come home, Frankie. He is part of that myth—he is our future.’

Her eyes swept shut on a wave of desolation. ‘You speak of your people, and you speak of his destiny. These are the words of a king, not a father.’ She turned to face him. ‘How can you not care about him as your son? He is a little boy and for two and a half years he has existed and all you care about is his destiny to rule a country he hasn’t even heard of. You haven’t asked me a single thing about him!’

His eyes glittered at the truth of her accusation. ‘You think I am not burning to know every single detail about my son? You think I am not desperate to meet him and hold him to me, and look into his face and understand him? Of course I am. But first I must secure your understanding for what will happen next. We must move quickly if we are to control this.’

‘Control what?’

He expelled an impatient breath and his nostrils flared.

‘Our marriage.’

‘Marriage?’ She paled visibly. ‘I’m not marrying you!’

‘With respect, Frankie, that decision was taken out of our hands the minute you conceived Leo.’

‘That’s not how I see it.’

‘Then let me be clear: there is no reality where I will not be raising my son as my son and heir.’

‘Fine. Be his father. Even let him be the heir to your damned country—’

Matthias’s expression darkened.

‘But don’t think you can show up after three years and try to take over our lives. Whatever we shared that night, it was fleeting. Meaningless. Just like you said. And it’s over. You’re just some guy I frankly wish I’d never met.’

His cheekbones were slashed a dark red. ‘That may be the case, but we did meet. We slept together and now we have a son. And I cannot ignore that. We must marry, Frankie. Surely you can see it’s the only way?’

She drew in a shaking breath at the finality of that, and fear trembled inside her breast.

‘No.’

‘No?’ he repeated, and then laughed, a harsh sound of disbelief. ‘You cannot simply say “no” to me.’

‘Because you’re a king?’

His eyes narrowed watchfully. ‘Because I am his father, and I will fight you with every breath in my body to bring him home.’

‘He is home!’

‘He is the heir of Tolmirós and he belongs in the palace.’

‘With you?’

‘And you. You’ll be my wife, the Queen of a prosperous, happy country. It’s not like I’m asking you to give him up. Nor to move somewhere unpleasant. You wouldn’t even have to live with me—I have many palaces; you could choose which you wanted to reside in. Your life will be significantly improved.’

‘How can you say that? I’d be married to you.’

‘And?’

‘I hardly even know you!’ The words flew from her mouth and her body immediately contradicted them. Her body knew his well. So well. Even now, dressed as he was, she saw him naked. She saw his broad, muscular chest, his swarthy tan, his wide shoulders, and her insides slicked with moist heat as—out of nowhere—she remembered the way he’d possessed her utterly and completely.

‘We will get to know each other enough.’ He shrugged. ‘Enough to raise a family together, enough to be a good King and Queen.’

He spoke dispassionately, calmly, but the words he spoke, the images they made, filled her with a warm, tingling sense in her gut. ‘It’s that easy for you?’

‘I’ve never expected any differently.’

‘Wait a second. You told me tonight that you’re engaged. So what’s your fiancée going to say about this?’

‘There is no such person. I haven’t yet selected a bride.’

Frankie felt as if her head was about to explode. ‘“Selected” a bride?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘You make it sound like shuffling a deck of cards and drawing one at random.’

‘It is far from a random process,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘Each of the women have been shortlisted because of their suitability to be my wife.’

‘So go back to your damned country and marry one of them.’

He swept his heated gaze over her body, and goosebumps spread where his eyes moved.

‘Think it through,’ he said finally. ‘What happens if I do as you say—if I return to Tolmirós and marry another woman. She becomes my Queen, and Leo is still my son. Our son, mine and my wife’s. I will fight for custody of him and, Frankie, I will win.’ A shiver ran down her spine at his certainty, because she knew he was right. She knew the danger here, for her. ‘I will win, and I will raise him. Wouldn’t you prefer to avoid an ugly custody dispute, a public battle that you would surely lose? Wouldn’t you prefer to accept this and simply agree to marry me?’

‘Simply?’ There was nothing simple about it. ‘I would prefer you to go right away again.’

He made a small sound—it might have been a laugh, but there was absolutely no humour in it. ‘No matter what we might wish, this is the reality we find ourselves in. I have a son. An heir. And I must bring him home. Surely you can see that?’

The city twinkled like a thousand gems against black velvet. She swallowed, her eyes running frantically over the vista as her brain tried to fumble its way to an alternative. ‘But marriage is so...’

‘Yes?’

‘It’s so much. Too much.’ She spun back to face him, and her heart thudded in her chest. Marriage to this man? Impossible. He had embodied so many fantasies in her mind but, over time, the lust which might have become love, given the proper treatment, had instead turned to resentment.

He’d disappeared into thin air, and she’d made her peace with that.

Now? To expect her just to marry him?

‘Why? People do it all the time,’ he said simply, moving across the room and pouring a generous amount of Scotch into two tumblers. He carried one over to her and, despite the fact she didn’t drink often and the wine had already made her brain fuzzy, she took it as if on autopilot.

‘Do what all the time?’ Her mind was still fumbling for something to offer that might appease him.

‘Get married because it makes sense.’

Now it was Frankie’s turn to make a strangled sound. Not a laugh, not a sob—just a noise driven by emotions emanating from deep in her throat. ‘People get married because they are in love,’ she contradicted forcefully. ‘Because they can’t bear to spend their lives apart. People get married because they are full of optimism and hope, because they have met the one person on earth whom they can’t live without.’

She spoke the words with passion, from deep within her soul; they were words that meant the world to her. Words by which she lived. But each word seemed to have the effect of making Matthias withdraw from her. His handsome face tightened until his features were stern and his eyes flinted like coal.

‘A fantasist’s notion,’ he said at length. ‘And not what I’m offering.’

It was such an insult that she let out a sigh of impatience. ‘It’s not what I’m asking for—not from you, anyway.’ She ignored the strange thumping in the region of her heart. ‘I’m explaining that marriage means something.’

‘Why?’ He took a step closer to her, his eyes so focused on her they were like a force, holding her to the spot.

She frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Why can it not just be that it makes sense?’

‘Making sense,’ Frankie said with a shake of her head, trying to break free of the power his gaze had over her ability to think straight, ‘would be us working out how we’re going to do this.’ It hurt to think of sharing Leo, but she pushed those feelings aside. This was about Leo, not her. ‘You are his father, and it was always my wish that you’d be involved in his life. I can bring him to Tolmirós for a visit, to start with, and we can allow him to gradually adjust to the idea of being the heir to your throne. Over time, he might even choose to spend more time over there, with you. And of course you can see him when you’re in New York.’ Yes. That all made perfect sense. She nodded somewhat stiffly, as though she’d ordered a box neatly into shape. ‘There’s definitely no need for us to get married.’

‘I say there is a need,’ he contradicted almost instantly. His voice was calm but there was an intensity in his gaze. ‘And within the month.’

‘A month?’ Her jaw dropped, her stomach swooped and spun.

‘Or sooner, if possible. We must act swiftly. There is much you need to learn on the ways of my people. Much Leo will have to learn too.’

‘Hang on.’ She lifted her hand, pressing it into the air between them as though it might put an end to this ridiculous conversation. ‘You can’t talk like it’s a foregone conclusion that I’ll marry you! You’ve suggested it and I’ve said, “Absolutely not”. You can’t just ride roughshod over me.’

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. ‘Do you think not?’

‘Definitely not. Unless you think I’m not a sentient person, capable of making my own decisions?’

‘On the contrary. I think you are very capable of that—which is why I’ll expect you to make the right one. But be assured, Frankie, regardless of what you think and feel, I have no intention of leaving this country without my son. It is obviously better for everyone if you come with him as my fiancée.’

She sucked in a breath as the truth of what he was saying settled around her. ‘You’re actually threatening to take him away from me?’

‘I’m asking you to marry me.’

Her eyes swept shut. ‘Telling me, more like.’ When she blinked her eyes open he was closer, so close her palm was almost touching his chest.

‘I’m asking you,’ he insisted, almost gentle, almost as though he understood her fear and wanted to ease it. ‘I’m asking you to see sense. I’m asking you not to put me in a position where I have to fight you for our child.’