She froze, her heart hammering hard. “Theo.”
It was futile, any union between them. Surely he knew that. Surely it was why he had come to her. He would find someone else to wed. Someone young and innocent and royal. Someone who didn’t have dirt beneath her nails from the cutting garden and stained skirts. Someone who deserved him, too, she hoped.
“My name at last.” He smiled, and she felt the effects of it all the way to her toes. “I have dreamt of hearing it spoken in your voice at least a thousand times these months we have been apart.”
“Theo,” she repeated, a whisper, a plea. “Please don’t. It’s too painful.”
His wandering thumb swept over her cheekbone now. A simple touch, and yet it filled her with so much yearning, such fire.
“What is?” he asked.
“Loving you, knowing you will wed another.”
The confession was torn from her; her pride scarcely allowed her to make it, but she knew she had no choice. They had always spoken plainly, and although their circumstances had changed vastly, he had come to her today. That had to mean something.
“Is that what you think?” He gave an incredulous laugh, and she might have been distressed that it was over something she had said, had she not also been pleased to hear levity from him.
“What else am I to think? You must marry someone befitting your station.”
“No, Marchioness. I must marry the woman I love. The woman who has been the inspiration urging me through every hour of each day until we could be together again.” He kissed her softly, sweetly, fleetingly, and she thought she might melt. “You, my love, queen of my heart. Will you marry me and be the queen of my people as well?”
She swayed and caught the lapels of his coat for purchase. “Your people would never accept me.”
“They accept me, and they will accept my choice of bride.”
He spoke sternly, confidently, as if there were no question. But, oh, Pamela knew otherwise. For they had made love without him withdrawing from her, and she had not become with child. The discovery had been simultaneously the source of relief and tears, the first month of his absence.
“You need a queen who can give you an heir,” she protested quietly, blinking furiously to keep the next rush of tears from falling.
“There is no reason to suppose you cannot,” he countered.
But she would not allow either of them to cling to hopes that would almost surely be dashed. “I may not be capable of bearing a child after what happened before, the babe I lost.”
“Then one of my sisters will inherit the kingdom, should that come to pass. Stasia, Emmaline, and Annalise would all make excellent queens.”
“Your sisters,” she said, thinking of the younger princesses who had been left in the dubious clutches of his evil uncle. “Are they well?”
“They are.” His expression turned mournful. “We were able to give my brother Reinald the funeral he deserved. We are healing together, healing the kingdom and our family. But there has been someone missing these last four months, and I had to cross an ocean to find her and bring her home with me where she belongs.”
He was being insistent. Of course, he was. Had she doubted that a man who would survive what he had would not also be firm in what he wanted for himself and his future? Even if that meant a queen who could not provide him heirs.
“I am glad they are well,” she told him, “and I am glad your kingdom is healing.”
He took her hands from his shoulders and brought them to his lips for a reverent kiss. “All we need now is you.”
“I’m not fit to be queen, and you know it.”
He released her hands and surprised her by reaching out, his finger stroking her neck. She felt a tickle inside her bodice and realized he was pulling at the golden chain she wore every day, hidden within the modest decolletage of her gown.
“What is this?” he asked softly, thickly.
“Theo, don’t.”
The necklace tugged free, his ring hanging from it, landing directly over her heart.
“You wear my ring,” he said, triumph in his voice.
Of course, she did. Because she loved him, and it was all she’d had left of him. More furious blinking occurred as she tried in vain to clear her eyes of the tears welling, fresh and hot and burning, within them.
