"I told you, but you didn't believe me. If you had-"
"Told me what? When? You mean, about your juvenile record? Don't they seal those?"
"No. Not that. Back at the castle. When I was picking the lock. I told you I used to be a burglar, but you just laughed."
"Now, wait a minute-"
"See? You're doing it again. Maybe if you'd taken me seriously the first time, you wouldn't be entertaining crazy ideas about something that just ain't-gonna-happen." She was scrambling off the bed. still clutching the sheet. He could feel her body trembling as she slid past him.
"Okay, hold it right there." He shook his head again, no longer feeling the least bit like laughing. "Good God-I think you are serious. Do you mean to tell me you actually were a burglar? Convicted? As in…jail?"
She nodded, chin lifted, arms folded across the wadded-up sheet she was holding to her chest.
"Does Lazlo know? Okay-foolish question-of course he'd know-he knows everything."
Her mouth tilted wryly. "Where do you think he found me? I don't know how, but he got me released-paroled into his custody, actually. He convinced me there were better uses for my talents than stealing rich people's jewelry…made me clean up my act, get healthy, get in shape. Sent me to college, trained me, gave me a job-one I happen to love, by the way. One I…don't want to lose."
She watched his face change as it hit him. The pain.
Though none of it showed in his voice as he said softly, almost gently. "That's it, isn't it? Not that I can't marry you. It's that you don't want to marry me."
"Not you! Don't you understand? I don't want to marry a king." She paced angrily, dragging the sheet like an oversized toga, furious with him for being hurt, with herself for hurting him. and with him again for making it necessary, for bringing up the subject she'd been dreading, tiying so hard not to think about. "Look-to you, being king is a simple matter of obligation. Of duty. Not to mention the opportunity to fulfill your lifelong dream for your people. But for me…my God, Nik-" she whirled, trembling, to face him "-the idea of being queen, being married to a king-it would be like being trapped. Put in a cage. I know what royals' lives are like- I've seen it firsthand, in my job. They're on, all the time. They have no privacy, no personal freedom. I couldn't live like that. I'm sorry, I just couldn't." She gave a desperate, hiccupping laugh. "And, I know the romantic thing is supposed to be, all for love, right? Well, I've seen how that works out firsthand, too. Up close and personal. My mother gave up everything to marry my father, and look what happened. She was miserable. In the end, she messed up both her life and mine. It doesn't work, Nikolas!"
He'd watched her diatribe in patient silence, with set expression and glittering eyes. Now, he lifted one shoulder and said stonily. "Then I won't be king."
She gave another helpless, hurting laugh and stared past him for a few moments, fighting for control. When she was sure she had it, she drew a breath and said in a low, husky voice, "Yes. you will. You know you will. You have a duty to your country, your father… may be even to destiny." She laughed again, lightly, this time. "You'll go down in history. Nikolas…the father of Silvershire's democracy. Future generations of schoolchildren will be required to memorize your birthday."
"Rubbish." Nikolas snapped, then got restlessly to his feet. "Okay, you're right. I suppose I'll have to be king, but not forever. Just long enough to bring about free elections. Then my duty's done. I'll be free-"
"Elections? Free? Are you kidding me? In any election you'd win in a landslide. With your charisma, King Weston's long-lost son, the kidnapped prince? If you didn't run, they'd write you in. Probably proclaim you king by acclamation!"
"Okay, fine-" he folded his arms on his impressive chest and drew himself up to his equally impressive height "-if I'm the king, I can bloody well choose who I want to be my queen."
"Listen to you!" She threw up her hands in exasperation, then had to grab hastily for the sheet. "My God, you sound like a king already!"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's all about power, Nikolas. When men have power, they think they can have everything their way. Just like my father."
"Oh, okay-that's what this is all about, isn't it?" It was his turn to throw up his arms. "Your father. You're still mad at the jerk for taking you away from your mother. Well, let me ask you something, sweetheart. Where do you think you'd be, if he hadn't done that? If you'd stayed in that trailer park with your mum-what would you be doing right now? Working as a cocktail waitress, playing blues in some New Orleans pub? Do you think you'd have gone to college? Would you be working for the Lazlo Group? How many abducted kids do you think you'd have saved? Would you have met me?"
She could only stare at him, holding herself rigid while furious unreasoning tears gathered in her throat.
"Think about it." He reached out to brush her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Ask yourself if you like your life the way it's turned out. Then, ask yourself if you'd have anything you have now if your father hadn't come for you and taken you back to Florida. Ask yourself if you'd have anything different, if you could go back and change it. Think about how mad you are at your father for giving you this life." He let his hand drop away from her. and his voice hardened. "Think about it, Rhia. Then get over it."
She gave a gasp of rage, whirled and made for the bathroom-an exit that would probably have been much more satisfying if she hadn't first had to untangle her legs from the sheet.
In the sanctuary of the bathroom, she gripped the edge of the sink and leaned on her hands, staring blindly down at them and breathing hard, teeth clenched. Refusing to let the tears come. Thinking, I'm right, dammit-I know I'm right!
While hovering anxiously over her, another Rhia-a heartbroken Rhia-was wailing. What are you doing, you silly fool? The last thing you wanted to do this morning-the last thing you 'd ever want to do-is fight with Nikolas!
The angry Rhia, self-righteous Rhia, turned her back on the sink and the mirror and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Dammit, Nikolas. Damn you. Why did you have to go and ruin things? Why did you have to ask me to marry you?
I can't…just can't. I don't want to be a queen. It would never work, no matter how much I love you.
With that thought the heartbroken Rhia and the angry Rhia coalesced into one, with a shaft of pain so intense it doubled her over. Oh, Nikolas, I do love you. I do… She rocked herself, arms folded over her breasts like broken wings, heedless of her unhealed burns, refusing to allow herself the solace of tears. Maybe it's just as well. Yes-it's good this happened now, while I'm still strong enough to say no.
She sniffed, and slowly, experimentally, unfolded herself. Discovering that she felt stronger, quieter inside, she washed her face and dressed in the clothes she'd worn the day before and washed out last night in Nikolas's sink. Except for the bra-no way could she wear that. She'd have to do without. The pullover was still damp, but the coolness felt good on her burns.
When she opened the door, Nikolas was just disconnecting the telephone. He glanced at her and said, in a voice as neutral as his expression. "I've summoned a cab. Rang Elliot on his handy, as well-he's warming up the chopper. All right with you if we grab coffee and a bite at the airport?"
"Sure, that's fine. Coffee's all I want, anyway." She wasn't hungry. Nikolas had fed her well the night before…in more ways than one. But the memories that tried to sneak into her mind through that door were too fresh, too raw. and she slammed it firmly shut on the beginning ripples of pain.