Page 110 of One Night with a Prince
But his hand gripped hers, and his voice shook. He might not need a father—but he needed to know he had one.
“Speaking of fathers, I almost forgot,” the prince said, turning toward a nearby door that led to an adjoining room. “Come in, General. You were right—there was no treachery involved after all.”
“Treachery? What do you m—” Christabel broke off as a man stepped into the room. “Papa!” she cried, and ran to his side. “Papa, you’re here! You’re back!”
“Yes, dearling, I’m back.” As he enveloped her in his embrace, all the changes and difficulties of the past two months swamped her until she couldn’t restrain her tears. Her father gripped her tightly and said in a voice gruff with emotion, “There, there now, Bel-bel, since when does my brave little soldier cry?”
“You must forgive my wife,” Gavin said tersely. “She’s been worried sick about you.”
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“Oh, Papa,” she choked out, “I am so sorry…for everything. For showing Philip the letters…for betraying your trust—”
“Nonsense,” he whispered, “do not blame yourself. Your fool of a father should never have kept those letters in the first place.” He lifted his head from hers. “A point that His Highness has made abundantly clear.”
She turned a wary gaze to the prince. “You don’t mean to punish him, do you?”
“For serving England?” the prince said dryly. “Routing Napoleon? Protecting his regent? The country would probably take up arms against me if I did, especially since all is now well.”
“Then why did you mention treachery?” Gavin snapped.
Her father was the one to answer Gavin. “When His Highness heard that you were married, he assumed you had somehow coerced my daughter into sharing the content of the letters with you. And that the two of you meant to tender your own demands in exchange for them. As soon as I landed at Dover two days ago, he had men waiting to bring me to London to witness this meeting, so that if anything went wrong, I could coerce her into doing the right thing.”
“I take it His Highness doesn’t know my wife very well,” Gavin said. “I haven’t met a man or woman alive who could ‘coerce’ Christabel into anything.”
Her father eyed Gavin consideringly. “Still, she does have a kind heart, and it sometimes leads her to trust the wrong sort of man.”
As Gavin bristled, she left her father’s side to go to his. “Not this time, Papa.” She slipped her hand in Gavin’s. “I know that you have good reason for your concern, and until you know him better, you won’t believe me. But Gavin is the finest man I’ve ever known.”
Gavin squeezed her hand. “I swear I would never let harm come to your daughter, sir,” he said in the most solemn tone she’d ever heard out of him, except for perhaps when he’d spoken his wedding vows.
“And if you give me the chance, I’ll prove I can be a good husband to her.”
Papa looked at them together, his face wary but resigned. “We’ll see, Mr. Byrne. We’ll see.”
“The ceremony will begin in ten minutes,” the prince said. “Ladies are not allowed in the gallery, so you will have to wait here, Mrs. Byrne.”
“I’ll keep her company,” Papa said. “We have much to tell each other.”
“Yes,” she told her father, “but if you could give me a moment alone with my husband first before he goes in—”
“Of course.”
After he and the prince left, she turned toward Gavin, her heart swelling with pride. “So my wicked Prince of Sin is to be a baron, is he?” she whispered as she straightened his cravat and brushed a speck of lint off his fine black coat. “Your mother will be so happy.”
He gazed down at her tenderly. “As a wise woman once told me, my mother will be happy if I amGenerated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlhappy.”
“And are you happy?” she whispered.
“I was. Until you told your father that I’m the finest man you ever knew. Are you certain I can live up to that, darling?”
“I’ll make sure that you do,” she said lightly.
“And how do you mean to do that? By shooting at me?” Though his dry tone held a hint of the old Byrne, the bitter cynicism was gone.
“By loving you.”
His eyes darkened, and he kissed her, long and slow and tender. “Now that, my sweet, is a prospect worth reforming for.”
