Inside the coach, Hannah appeared shaken by the interaction.From the way she wouldn’t meet his gaze, Michael suspected she was considering leaving.
Did he want to be a part of this royal family, though he was undoubtedly the black sheep?Instinct made him consider leaving it behind.They didn’t want him—of that he had no doubt.But if he turned his back upon them, he would not see Hannah again.He was torn between a life he didn’t want and a woman he did.
The journey toward the border was a jarring, rough ride.The miles passed, and still Michael didn’t speak to Hannah.She was twisting the ring around her finger, deep in thought.When the afternoon sun began to drift lower in the sky, she turned to him and asked, “What did you think of the prince?”
“I think he’s afraid.”As any man would be, when faced with an unexpected piece of the past.
“What about you?Are you afraid of what will happen?”
Michael shook his head.“I’m not the one with a kingdom to lose, sweet.”
“He’s your brother, isn’t he?”She looked troubled by the prediction, as though she didn’t want it to be true.
He nodded.“I’m probably a bastard son.They’ll want to be rid of me, for appearance’s sake.”
She shook her head, meeting his eyes with her own.“I don’t believe that, Michael.I saw the portrait of the king in the library.You are the very image of your father.”Deep green eyes stared into his.“If anyone is a bastard son, it’s the prince.”
Chapter Eighteen
Hannahstaredoutthewindow of the coach, feeling more and more uneasy about their circumstances.Now that Fürst Karl and Michael had met, she didn’t doubt that the threats would worsen.
Michael rested his wrists upon his knees, glancing outside at the forest.“I don’t think there can be a good outcome for me, Hannah.There’s too much at stake.”
“But if the kingdom rightfully belongs to you...”
“I don’t want it,” he admitted, shaking his head.“I know nothing about Lohenberg.I was brought up in England as a fishmonger’s son.I couldn’t be a prince, even if I wanted to.”
He’d already discarded the idea; she could see it on his face.He didn’t believe he was capable of governing the people.But he was the sort of man who had seen the darker side of poverty.He would know, better than anyone, how to help those who were less fortunate.
She rested her hands upon her skirts, leaning toward him.He needed to put aside his doubts and reach for the future he deserved.“You could.And I think you were meant for this.”Thinking a moment, she asked him, “If it weren’t for you, how many more men would have died at Balaclava?”
“I didn’t save enough.”
“But many more lived.”She reached out to touch his cheek.“You’re a man who takes care of others.Your men.Mrs.Turner.”She forced him to look at her.“Me.”
“I’m no good at it, Hannah.”He glanced at the lavish gilt interior of the coach.“I don’t belong in a Schloss like that.”
“And what if they are your real family?You’ll simply turn your back on them?”
A harsh laugh escaped him.“They turned their back on me.”
“You don’t know that.There are a thousand things that might have happened.Give it a chance.Find out the truth.”
“And what about you?”he asked quietly.“What will you do if we find out I’m the prince of this country?”
She stared at the ring on her hand, turning it over to hide the diamond-and-aquamarine cluster.“I suppose I’ll go to Germany.”
He took her hand and turned the ring back to reveal the stones.Shrugging, he said, “I need you to translate for me.After that, it’s your choice.”
There was no mention of wanting her there.She had hoped he would ask her to stay, to tell her that she meant something to him.But he didn’t appear to care whether or not she stayed.It battered her foolish dreams, and she berated herself for even thinking of it.
Crestfallen, she chose her words carefully.“You’re remembering more of the language every day.You were born knowing it; it’s only a matter of time before you remember everything.You don’t need me.”
Tell me you do, she pleaded silently.Let me believe that last night was important to you.
But he said nothing.
Hannah glanced outside so he couldn’t see her eyes brimming with tears.“The Graf was right.We shouldn’t have pretended to be married.”Her face felt brittle, and her throat tightened in a struggle for control.
