The Royal and the Rebel (Royally Pitched 2)

He reached for her and pulled her into his arms. Her fight-or-flight instinct suddenly paralyzed with the want of tenderness and understanding.

“Listen to me, please. I don’t mean you’re ignorant. But not knowing when other parties—who might want to hurt you—know your past, it makes you vulnerable to attack.” His words registered, and his hand smoothing her hair calmed her. “We would never do anything to hurt you, Juliana. Please,” he begged, “you have to know this instinctively. You are ours.” He shook his head, “No, you aren’t ours. You are us. You don’t belong to us; we belong to each other. We’ve got you.”

“Go on. You’ve found something, so tell me,” she said, her voice unwavering.

Jamie leaned back and cupped her face, scanning her features for confirmation. He nodded and started again. “It took me the better part of the last couple of weeks. And it’s a bit of an unbelievable story.”

Jules nodded. She was ready. She wanted to hear this.

“As you know of our own history, the lines of Europe were redrawn following World War I. It’s how our nation came to be.”

Juliana knew this and rolled her eyes. They’d had to memorize the treaty, word for word, which had pulled the three tiny principalities together as a nation.

Jamie saw her exasperation and shook his head. “Of course you know this. Apologies.” With his quirky smile, he continued, “When this happened, there were royal families who found they no longer had any place in the new-world order. They dispersed to other countries. Some found gainful employment, some lived off their holdings, some married into other royal lines—usually those who still retained their power—and some plotted. They couldn’t let go of the old-world values and expectations. Our mother’s parents were plotters. They aligned themselves with those in power and rode the wave—both good and bad.”

“Right.”

“We were seven when you came to us. At that age, one day, a baby just appears, making the theory of a stork delivery seem possible.”

Juliana chuckled. She knew she should be apprehensive about whatever he was going to tell her, but she just wanted to know. The subtle shift from scared to anticipatory must have registered to Jamie because he stopped hedging.

“If you asked me a year ago to remember the circumstances of how you came to be, that’s what I would have said. One day, we had a sister. Our parents were gone a lot with duties. So, even a stretch of a number of weeks without seeing them wasn’t odd.”

“Jamie,” she implored.

“When your engagement to a Barrington was announced unexpectedly, I pulled your adoption paperwork from Father’s safe. Father’s name wasn’t the only one. You were adopted by both Mother and Father.”

Juliana sat back, stunned. She tried to formulate a response, to articulate a question, but there was a disconnect between her brain and her mouth. Jamie didn’t continue. That intuitive gene of his allowed her the space and silence to process the extraordinary news.

In the void, her mind swirled, conjuring biblical and fairy-tale threads. She had been found floating in a river, swaddled in linens. She was really a princess who was loved by her parents, but they’d hidden her away for her own safety. Or she had been kidnapped by an old witch who wanted her for her magic, so the witch could stay young forever. Then some primitive survival instinct kicked in. The answers were here; all she had to do was ask for them.

Returning her gaze to Jamie’s, she studied him. Instinctively, she knew he was waiting for her to ask. In Jamie’s case, the eyes really were the mirror of the soul because the understanding and empathy and love he had for her were like a lighthouse, guiding her home. And he understood her question without her having to voice it. He knew she was ready.

“Your mother is my mother’s sister. Her twin.” He smiled at her. Twins ran in the family—twice. “She was married off to a prince of Persia”—he waved his hand—“former prince. You get what I mean. They wanted to install him on the throne of a small principality, following a staged military coup. When he refused, wanting to continue to live an ordinary life, raising horses, they began to threaten him, his wife, his future family. When his wife found herself pregnant in the midst of all of this, she concealed it. She had her twin sister come for ‘convalescence’ at their estate. And when the sister—our mother—returned home, she did so with a child. Two months later, your parents were killed in a single car accident.”

“And ten years later, your parents were assassinated,” she stated.

“We can’t prove the two are related, but it’s as close as we’ve come to understanding our parents’ deaths.”

“Your parents,” she said automatically.

“No,” Jamie argued firmly. “My parents are our parents. They adopted you, raised you as their own, loved you.”

She couldn’t help the arguments springing to her lips. The answer to all her inner insecurities had finally come gift-wrapped in political intrigue, assassinations, and royal tidings. Funny to only now realize that she truly was a princess. Total cock-up. Like a popped champagne cork, her emotions bubbled to the surface. She felt flushed, antsy, claustrophobic. The emotions she’d always kept tightly coiled began to unspool into a fantastic heap. Before she could fully process her actions, she was up on her feet.

Jamie rose with her, the look in his eyes placating. “Jules,” he said softly.

“I just … need a moment.”

But she began looking around, gathering her clutch, moving inexorably for the door.

“Juliana,” Jamie implored.

She ignored him. Her car—her escape beckoned.

Before she could listen to reason or be incapacitated by Jamie’s pleas, she fled.