“Why are you doing this to me?” she gasped as if she were out of breath. “Why did you follow me? Can’t you understand that I don’t want to see you again? I didn’t want you on the mountain and I don’t want you now.”
J.T.’s brain was beginning to clear of the fog that had invaded it when he was touching her. “I came to protect you,” he said, but his voice had an unusual thickness to it, as if his tongue were swollen. He cleared his throat. “I just wanted to demonstrate how unsafe it is for you to be here alone. I could have been your attacker.”
“You did attack me,” she said. “Now will you please leave me alone? I am here to meet my husband-to-be.”
“He’s supposed to protect you? That little—”
“Stop it!” she said, and there were tears in her voice. “He’s not big like you. He’s not, as Gena says, divinely handsome, but he is suitable. Can’t I make you understand that I have more to think about in a marriage than bed pleasure? You cannot be my husband so please stop…stop touching me. I am going to love Count Julian. Do you understand that? I do not want you to protect me or even be near me. Now, would you please return so I can meet my lover in private?”
J.T. was glad the darkness hid his face and she didn’t see him wince at her use of the word “lover.” “You are right,” he said at last. “But I do have a job to do.” His voice was formal to the point of coolness. “My president has asked me to guard you and I plan to do so. I am not sure that your little count isn’t part of the conspiracy to harm you, so I plan to stay near you while he’s here.”
“What does Julian have to gain by my death?” she asked, exasperation in her voice. “He gains by my being alive.”
“Does he?” J.T. asked softly. “He will marry a hardheaded, stubborn wench of a queen who will make him walk two paces behind her, and he will never be more than a prince. Knowing you, you would never allow him any control of the country. This morning he gave an order to a soldier and you countermanded the order—and the soldier obeyed you. I don’t think a banty rooster like your count is going to like a lifetime of that.”
Aria was silent for a moment. “And if I am dead?” she whispered.
“Your little sister will inherit. Whoever marries her will rule the country. He’d have to since Gena is incapable of governing anything.”
“But Lanconia is so poor. Why would anyone want control of it?” she asked.
“It’s not as poor as you think. Listen! Someone is coming.” He leaned closer to her. “I’m not leaving you alone. I’m going to hide but I’ll be near. And fasten your hair back up,” he snapped before disappearing into the shadows.
Aria tried to pull her hair back but she had no pins to hold it. Her hands were shaking too badly to do much anyway. Until Jarl’s words, she had made excuses for the attempts on her life because she hadn’t been able to see any advantage to her death, but she knew what he said was right. What did he mean that Lanconia wasn’t as poor as she thought?
“Aria, my darling,” Julian said, pulling her into his arms. “Alone with you. I never thought it would happen.” He began kissing her face. “Your hair is down. How very intime.”
Aria was intensely aware that Jarl was near them and listening. She pushed Julian away but still held his hands. “It is good to see you alone at last. Come and sit down and talk.”
“Talk in the moonlight? Oh, my darling, no. Let us make love.”
“Julian, please,” she said firmly, and drew him to a curved marble bench. “I think we need to talk. We have never talked about our future together.”
He kissed her hands, first the backs then the palms. “I thought I was marrying a country but I find I am marrying a woman.”
“After we are married, what do you plan to do? I mean in Lanconia. Do you plan to adopt charities? What form of sports do you play? I really know very little about you.”
“How delightful that you are interested,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her lips, but she drew back. He sighed. “I have never been interested in sports. Other than riding a bit, that is. I was trained to run estates. I believe my father hoped he could make back some of the wealth my grandfather frittered away. But he could not. Everything was lost.” There was bitterness in his voice. “All I have left is my lineage and my knowledge. I came to Lanconia because I heard there was a crown princess to be had but I…” His voice softened. “I had not heard she was so beautiful. Aria, our marriage will be very happy.”
“Yes, perhaps,” she said, “but what do you plan to do after our marriage?”
“Be a
king, of course,” he said as if she were an idiot.
“I see.”
He began kissing her hands. “Yes, my darling, you will be a beautiful hostess. I shall buy you Paris gowns once this foul war is ended and we will entertain nobility from all over the world. We will produce lovely children and I shall teach our son how to be a king.”
“How will Lanconia pay for these gowns and entertainments? Shall we tax the peasants?” There was an edge to her voice. “Shall we take a third of their crops and leave them with hungry children?”
He dropped her hands and sat up straight. “You shall leave payment to me. I will manage everything. You have merely to plan the menus.”
Aria was shaking, both with anger and fear. Here was a reason this man could want her dead. And if a man who was supposed to love her could want her death, what about the unknown people?
She put her hands over her face. “Oh, Julian, you don’t know how heavenly that sounds. To not have to wake up every morning worried about making decisions! I should love to fly to Paris twice a year for the new collections. And I’d love to have children. I would spend a great deal of time with them if I didn’t have to worry about…about serious, government problems.”
In the darkness, J.T. nearly burst out laughing. It was a perfect imitation of Dolly, minus the southern accent. How many times had he seen Dolly pretend to be helpless then end up managing everyone? J.T. almost felt like warning Julian.