Swallowing hard, Dominique said the only thing she could. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” the princess said simply. “Now, let’s go find my brother.”
Ten minutes later, Aisling stashed Dominique in a small informal drawing room near the back of the castle. It was close to the exit leading to the palace gardens, where Ronan and the wedding guests would be waiting for her. For them.
Dominique clasped her hands together, squeezing her fingers tightly, as she paced back and forth across the carpet. She wanted to lie, to give Ronan another reason they couldn’t go through with this wedding, but she couldn’t. She had to tell him the truth, even if it would hurt to see the disgust on his face. Or worse, relief.
She heard the knob on the door turn and froze. She straightened her spine, lowering her hands to her sides, her fingertips brushing the small ceremonial sword belted around her hips, as the door swung open, revealing Ronan. He wore a formal suit, the type a fae man wore for a ball. Or his wedding.
He looked…beautiful. The navy fabric of his coat brought out the bright blue of his eyes and emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. Tan pants clung to his thighs and were tucked into knee-high brown boots. He looked as though he could have stepped out of a historical romance novel. And just like the heroine in a book like that, Dominique’s heart started to race at the sight of him.
Ronan stopped in the doorway, his eyes moving over her from head to toe. “You look—” He stopped speaking and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. “You look perfect.”
Dominique took a deep breath, her fingertips lightly pinching the silky material of her overdress. She still hadn’t figured out what she wanted to say but it was too late now. He was here. She was going to have to spit it out.
Ronan finally seemed to take in the expression on her face. He strode across the room, stopping just in front of her and grasping her biceps with his hands. “What’s wrong? What happened? Did your parents come back?”
Dominique shook her head. Her throat closed at the concern on his face. He appeared as if he cared about her.
“No, no. It’s not that,” she said.
“Did my mother or father do something? Say something?” he asked, his hands tightening on her arms.
“No,” she answered, her voice stronger this time.
“Then, what has this look on your face, Princess?”
Dominique took a step back, forcing Ronan to release her arms or move with her. He released her arms, but he stayed close. “I can’t do this,” she said. “I can’t marry you.”
He scowled at her. “Why the hell not?”
She tried to take another step back, needing some distance between them, but Ronan caught her elbows in his hands, yanking her closer.
“Answer me,” he demanded. “After I—” He paused, gathering his thoughts. His hands gentled on her arms, but he didn’t release her. “If you’re still worried about what your family might do, don’t be. They’ve already been taken into custody.”
Dominique shook her head, the news that Graciella and Jurgen were no longer roaming free barely making a dent in the chaotic thoughts in her mind. “It’s not that.”
“Then, what?”
“I—” Dominique shut her mouth. She couldn’t say it. Not when she knew what his reaction would be.
Ronan shook her gently, forcing her to look at him. “You waited until the very last moment to make this decision. I think I deserve an answer.”
“I can’t marry you because I love you!” she cried.
His hands loosened on her arms, falling to his sides, as he stared at her. “What?”
Dominique took a step back and gave into the urge to pace. She walked back and forth across the carpet, five steps each way. “You wanted to marry me because you knew I wouldn’t fall in love with you and make your life difficult when it was time for us to separate. But I did fall in love with you. And if I marry you, I know down in my bones that I’ll die when you set me aside. I’m not exaggerating or trying to gain your sympathy. I just know I’d fade away into nothingness if you left me after years together.”
Dominique couldn’t force herself to look at him. She couldn’t bear to see whatever might be in his face.
She took five steps, turned, and started to take another step but she slammed into a hard body. Hands grabbed her by her shoulders, one sliding down to the base of her spine. The other cupped her chin, forcing her to lift it. To look him in the eye.
Her breath caught when they’re gazes met. He didn’t look disgusted. Or angry. Or even relieved.
He looked…happy.
“Let me get this straight—you don’t want to marry me because you love me?” he asked.
