Neither man was the man who had coldly sent Zakharian agents to an eighteen-year-old to tell her to forget any dreams she had of a handsome prince. Neither man was the man who wanted her to destroy the child they might have created.
Why had she believed those two agents when they said Andre had sent them? Because she’d been young and unsure of herself, unsure of Andre. Because he hadn’t said he loved her during their incredible night together...not even once. Because he hadn’t called her, hadn’t written—not even an email—in the two months since she’d left Zakhar, not even in answer to her love letters and emails. And because at the time she’d asked herself who else but Andre could have known about that night.
Now she was asking the same question, but from a different perspective. It couldn’t have been Andre—mind and heart were telling her she must have been wrong all these years. But if not Andre, then who? Who else had known? And why had he never responded when she’d tried to contact him?
A knock at the door to her suite startled Juliana out of her contemplative state. She dried herself quickly, making sure she didn’t rub off the birth control patch on her hip. “Just a minute,” she called out, frantically drawing on her underwear and wrapping her bathrobe tightly around her. “Who is it?” she asked when she finally reached the door.
“It is I, Miss Richardson. Daphne,” the palace maid assigned to her called from the other side of the door. When Juliana unbolted the door and opened it, the young woman bobbed a little curtsy, smiled and handed her a sealed envelope bearing the Zakharian royal crest. “His Majesty regrets the intrusion, but requests I give you this as soon as possible.”
“Thank you,” Juliana said, staring at the envelope but slightly bemused by the curtsy. Daphne had done her best to wait on her hand and foot the entire time she was here, but she’d never curtsied before, and Juliana wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Daphne’s cheeks were very pink when she said, “Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Richardson? May I lay out your clothes for you? Bring you breakfast? I know you told me in the past you did not wish for breakfast to be brought to you, but...”
“No. Oh no, I’m fine, thanks.” Juliana was consumed with curiosity about the envelope, but good manners dictated she wait until she was alone. If only Daphne would go...but it seemed the maid was disinclined to leave.
Another blush suffused Daphne’s cheeks. “Please do not hesitate to call for me if you need anything,” the maid insisted. “Remember, two rings on the buzzer, and I will be here directly.”
“Thank you,” Juliana repeated, starting to be amused at the young woman’s overeagerness to serve. When she finally closed the door a thought occurred to her. It’s almost as if she were auditioning, she told herself with a little smile. Then the smile faded as she asked, Auditioning for what? The answer, when it came, seemed almost impossible. Auditioning to be my personal maid. Not just now, during the making of King’s Ransom. But for the future. Her future with Andre.
She broke open the seal with fingers that trembled and pulled out the crisp notepaper, scanning the few sentences in Andre’s incisive handwriting that slashed boldly across the paper. Then read them again. Slowly.
Juliana, the note said. I trust you slept well. I watched you sleep until I could no longer bear not being in the bed next to you. Until I could no longer bear not holding you as you slept. Until I could no longer bear not holding you as I have dreamed of doing since that first night. But you needed sleep, little one, and I could not deny you that. When you wake...whenever you wake, I will be waiting for you in the little library, where it all began for me so many years ago. Come to me, Juliana. Please come to me there. I will be waiting. Andre.
Andre was waiting for her. That’s all Juliana could think of. She dressed hurriedly, choosing one of her comfortable, lightweight summer dresses with a floating skirt that made her feel deliciously feminine. This one was in her favorite lavender blue. She brushed her hair and thought about pinning it up for coolness, but decided against it as a memory from the night before came to her. Andre twining her long hair around his throat, his eyes closed against the feel of it heavy against his skin. As if he had dreamed of doing that, too. As if he had dreamed of so many things where she was concerned.
She hurried toward the little library on the second floor, so lighthearted her feet barely touched the ground. When she reached her destination she recognized Lukas on duty today, standing guard by the door. As he’d done the first time she’d met Andre in the little library, Lukas opened the door for her, then quietly closed it behind her.