Julian took Aria’s hands from her face. “My darling, I’ve never been sure how you felt. You are making me the most happy of men. Tomorrow I will begin work. I must look at Lanconia’s revenues and we can begin planning our wedding.”
“But the king—” Aria began.
“Bah! He is an old man. He knows nothing of what is going on. I must prepare for when I am king. Come, let us return to the palace.”
“Do I get no more kisses?”
“Of course, darling.” Quickly, he kissed her lips. “This cool air is not good for you. We must return.”
“No,” she said. “I will stay here awhile longer. A girl needs time alone to contemplate her marriage,” she said flirtatiously.
“I don’t like it, but all right.” He kissed her hands again and turned swiftly down the path.
Aria stayed sitting on the bench for a moment until she heard J.T. move behind her. She fought back tears. Was it not possible for someone to love her for herself and not for her kingdom?
She stood quickly, hands clenched at her sides. “Are you happy now?” she spat at J.T. as he emerged from the darkness. “Did you enjoy finding out that you were right? Julian wants Lanconia, not me. He plans to become king and relegate me to the nursery. An American housewife has more power than I am to have. Why aren’t you laughing?”
He pulled her into his arms, holding her hands down as she flailed against his chest. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said, stroking her hair.
Much to her shame, Aria began to cry. “I used to know he only wanted to marry me for my country, but I seem to have forgotten. I thought maybe he did love me. I’m a fool! Is it not possible for someone to want me? Just me—without Lanconia.”
J.T. turned her chin up to face him. “Baby, if you didn’t have this damned country tied around your neck like it was the Titanic on its way down, I’d take you and run.”
“Would you? You’d want me as a woman?”
“I’d want you home with me throwing your red blouses in with my white T-shirts, telling me that you will not iron, and making me crazy by dancing in a skirt cut up to your hip.” He moved his hands to her face. “Honey, I’d want you there to wash my back. I’d want you in my arms when I woke up in the morning.”
He brought his mouth to hers and began to kiss her with all the lonesome hunger he felt for her. “Stay with me tonight. Don’t let me wake up alone again.”
“Yes,” she whispered. She forgot where she was. She was once again Mrs. Montgomery and she was free to laugh, free to dress in an absurd costume and not worry that she was letting people down. She was free to eat with her hands, free to choose friends, not restricted to people who might not write stories about the intimate details of her life.
She clung to him, remembering and savoring those few glorious, heavenly weeks.
Then a bird called, giving its long sweet song to the night air. It was a rare bird, found only in the mountains of Lanconia and therefore treasured, protected, and honored as its national bird.
It made Aria remember where she was.
Violently, she pushed away from J.T. “No, no, no,” she screeched. “You are the devil tempting me. I am not an American housewife. I am a princess—a crown princess—and my life belongs to my country. I do have Lanconia tied to me—no, we are part of each other. We are not separate. Do not touch me again, do not try to make me leave my country. If I did not love Lanconia so much, I would never have met you. Oh, how I wish I had never met you. I was content before. I didn’t even know there was a life other than mine. You have made me very unhappy. I wish I had never seen you! I hate you!”
Still crying, she began to run down the path toward the palace.
J.T. followed at a discreet distance, making sure she was safe. He was torn between feeling miserable and elated. She had missed him. Underneath the princess was the woman.
But what she had said was true. Was he selfish to want to make her say that she wanted him and not some little blueblood? He was here to do a job and that job did not include making Her Royal Highness cry.
Love didn’t matter; desire didn’t matter. They could never be together except temporarily and she knew that even if he seemed to forget. From now on he swore he was going to keep his hands off of her. In fact, he was going to help her find someone to marry. Someone who would stay out of the way. Someone not overly ambitious. Someone who liked her as much as he did.
Someone impotent, so he wouldn’t touch what belonged to J. T. Montgomery.
J.T. corrected himself, followed Aria until she went past her guard and into her room, then, sighing, he made the long trek to his own empty bedroom.
Chapter Nineteen
J.T. was waiting for Aria the next morning outside her bedroom door and started walking with her down to breakfast.
“You cannot do this,” she hissed at him.
He paid as much attention to her protests as he usually did. “I want to have a look at the books of this place.”