Too wound up to settle, he paced the large room, back and forth, back and forth. Angry with Juliana. Angry with himself. More angry with himself than with her because he hadn’t meant to confront her, hadn’t meant to accuse her. And he damned well hadn’t meant to throw the threat at her that he had every intention of being her lover again...now and forever. Because it had been a threat, no matter what he’d told her. A threat. A promise. A plea.
He stopped pacing and sank into the leather-and-ebony chair behind his desk, disillusion battling with despair for dominance. This is not working out the way I had hoped, he thought sadly. The way I had planned. He drew the small box out of his pocket and flicked it open, then set it on the desk before him and stared at the ring it contained for several seconds, the central stone reminding him poignantly of Juliana’s eyes. Why did I think it would be easy after all these years?
He couldn’t get it out of his mind there was something he wasn’t seeing with regard to Juliana. Something she wasn’t telling him. Something important. He still thought it had something to do with DeWinter despite her denials. And if she wouldn’t tell him, he would just have to get his answers out of the other man. No matter what he had to do to get them.
* * *
Andre left the ancient dining hall where the household staff was serving a buffet dinner to the cast and crew of King’s Ransom. He’d already learned neither DeWinter nor his wife were in attendance. Nor Juliana for that matter, but for once his eyes weren’t seeking her out. He was going to get answers. If not from Juliana, then from DeWinter. To that end he’d ordered his bodyguard to stay behind—over the man’s vehement objections—because he needed privacy for what he was going to do, what he was going to ask.
But before he could head up the Grand Staircase, his cousin Zax caught up with him. “Andre! A moment, please!”
He paused with his foot on the first step and turned. “Can it wait, Zax?”
“No.”
Andre sighed, but not so his cousin would notice. “What is so urgent?”
Zax’s normally austere expression was even more forbidding than usual. “What is this rumor I hear that you are considering allowing women in combat?”
“It is no rumor. I intend to bring it to a vote before the Privy Council later this week.”
“You are pushing too far too fast, Andre,” Zax warned. “Was it not bad enough your first royal proclamation threw open the doors to allow women to serve in the military?”
“Are you still on that? It has been three years.”
“Auxiliary service behind the line was bad enough. But now you want women in combat? Serving alongside men?”
“Combat service will not be mandatory,” Andre explained in his reasonable way. “That was never my intent. Just as military service is completely optional for women, so, too, will combat service be optional. You have no sister, so perhaps you do not see this the same way I do. But Mara is right when she says women should make the decision for themselves—that career path should not be arbitrarily denied them merely because they are women.”
Zax ground his teeth. “Mara is wrong. Combat is no place for women. You should know that—would you have wanted women serving beside you in Afghanistan? I certainly would not, not even as chopper pilots doing search and rescue as I did, or medevac. You are asking too much of the people this time. And the military—”
Andre cut his cousin off. “What of the military?”
“The men have remained loyal to you through all the other changes you have implemented, politically and militarily. But this may be the last straw.”
Andre gave Zax a steady look. “It is the right thing to do. If I must compromise my conscience to retain my throne, I will surrender the throne and keep my self-respect.”
Zax made a gesture of frustration. “It is not a matter of surrendering your throne—nothing so easy as that. You are playing with fire, Andre. Two assassination attempts in the past three years by traditionalists—”
“Like you.”
His cousin’s eyes hardened but he nodded. “Yes. Traditionalists, like me. Men who opposed the changes you implemented. Two attempts—foiled by the grace of God.”
“The grace of God—and the devotion of the men guarding me,” Andre corrected. “The would-be assassins are dead and I am still alive.”
“And I am ultimately responsible for keeping you safe despite yourself. Despite your actions that make you even more of a target than you would otherwise be. Do you know how difficult that is? Hell, Andre, I can think of a half dozen ways to kill you myself, at no risk to me.”