Page 49 of Daring to Love

His arms squeeze me tightly against his chest, and I hum as his strength pours into me.

“Don’t mention it. I’d rather it hadn’t happened, but fuck…” He trembles violently. “When I saw him holding you down, I saw red. I’m glad I came at the right time.”

The knuckles on his right hand are banged up with scrapes, and I lift it gently to my lips and kiss them carefully.

“I need to tell you something,” I start. “Please don’t interrupt me, okay? I need to get it out.”

I raise my head and meet his questioning eyes.

“Surely it can wait…”

I shake my head.

“I’ve already put it off for far too long, mon cœur. I can’t keep doing that.”

He frowns, his jaw grows hard for a few beats, but then he relaxes his head against the headboard and nods.

“Okay. I promise to try and stay silent, sweetheart.”

My lips quirk up at his small attempt at lightening the mood.

“Remember that old article in the French paper?”

He nods again.

“I’ve read it so many times, I practically know it by heart.” I take a deep breath and push through my nerves. “I don’t know if you managed to translate it, but it mentions briefly that my parents – my adopted parents, that is – are close to the British royal family.”

His arms jerk once around me, but I keep going.

“Well, Maman went to boarding school with a distant relative to one of the princesses, and they stayed close years after. But then she – the princess, I mean, she…” I fumble, now knowing the right words, yet I must. “She became pregnant, but not with her husband…” I stop talking for a moment, my heart beating like a staccato against my rubs. “Through their mutual friend, the princess knew that my parents couldn’t have children of their own, and she couldn’t keep the child as it would’ve brought a huge scandal down on not only herself but her husband as well. The tabloids would catch wind of it and it would ruin her if that happened.”

Once more, I raise my head to look at him.

“I…I can’t tell you her name. It’s not only my secret, it’s hers as well. Please don’t ask me to do that.”

“What are you telling me, sweetheart?”

I breathe deeply through my nose.

“The child was born at a private hospital in France – a hospital with staff hired who knew not to ask questions or the handsome sum they got paid would vanish. Soon after, my parents travelled to Avignon, and I came with them. I am that child, Fin.”

Understanding lights up his eyes, and I watch him closely, my tummy swarming with butterflies.

“So,” he murmurs softly, “why now, after all this time, does your parents want you to come out of hiding, so to speak? Why risk the exposure with this entertainment piece?”

I relax against him and stare into the room.

“I suppose they feel I’m holding myself back…Daddy even told me that I’m denying the possibility of a future by keeping somebody else’s secret, and that isn’t fair to me.”

His chest rises and falls steadily underneath my ear as the silence stretches between us once more. More than once, I open my moth, only to shut it tightly, because the truth is I have no idea what to say now that all’s out in the open.

I know I’m putting all my trust in him, but it feels right…despite the fact he’s a journalist and the scoop of the century has been handed to him on a platter, there’s not a shadow of a doubt in my mind that he’ll betray my trust.

He loves me.

It’s as simple as that.

“Thank you for telling me. Am I going to have to call you Your Royal Highness from now on?”

I gasp at his teasing and punch him lightly on his chest.

“You buffoon, you…”

My words die on my lips as they are captured by his, and I open my mouth on a sigh at the gentle way his tongue laps at mine. I bury my fingers in his thick hair and let him lead me, and as our tongues tangle together in a slow dance that makes me lightheaded, I marvel at the strong bond we have.

We don’t talk much after that, as if we both need to absorb and think about all that’s happened today, but truth be told, I don’t need words.

I only need him.

Him and his love.

The rest are merely details.